Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/305287.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester, John_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Canon
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-04-12 Chapters: 9/9 Words: 66869
****** Shadow of Our Fathers ******
by saucyminx
Summary
     When they are young Sam and Dean meet because of a hunt. It’s an
     instant connection but life conspires to tear them apart. When they
     are brought back together by fate – things have changed so
     drastically there may be no chance for them. (non-brothers)
***** Chapter 1 *****
John Winchester glanced quickly across the front seat of the Impala before
whipping his arm out to cuff Sam lightly on the shoulder. "Stop fidgetin' boy -
you're driving me insane."
"Okay," Sam huffed, "first of all teenagers fidget and I'm pretty sure you
weren't hatched old so I know you know that and you're already insane." Sam
grinned as he rolled his window down.
One of the only good things about spending half his life in the car was this
time of year. It was spring and the air was warm enough that his feet weren't
freezing in the car and he could crank the window down for fresh air without
his Dad bitching at him. Folding his arms under his chin, Sam leaned on the
door, closed his eyes and let the wind blow his hair back off his face.
The last hunt had kind of kicked Sam's ass although there was no way he was
going to admit that to his Dad. They had spent about three months arguing about
whether or not Sam could quit school when he turned sixteen. His Dad's argument
was always the same: hunting supernatural shit was too dangerous for a sixteen
year old, Sam should have a better life than his Dad did, school was important.
Sam had been relentless. After all, hunting was what he knew. They had spent so
much time moving from place to place that Sam never had a chance to make any
friends, didn't join any teams, never handed in any of the papers and
assignments he worked on.
When Sam's birthday had rolled around in May his Dad had finally given in.
Sam's first hunt had been pretty routine. Salt and burn with a dash of fear
thrown in when Sam had momentarily been knocked on his ass by a rather pissed
off spirit. That night had kind of hit it all home for Sam and he realized what
his Dad had been dealing with for so many years. And that spirit? It really
hadn't been all that pissed off when it came right down to it. He didn't figure
he was going to be missing much by not attending five or six different high
schools over the course of the year.
They'd been hunting together for less than a month and Sam already had a nice
scar across his cheek and a puckered looking stab wound on his forearm. The
scar was from a flying kitchen knife and the stab wound was from a pissed off
werewolf they'd encountered during its monthly change. Sam wasn't so scared of
werewolves because it was him who managed to tag it with a silver bullet but he
looked at screwdrivers in an entirely different light every time his eyes
passed over the scar.
His Dad seemed pretty proud of Sam which felt good - so Sam sucked it up and
didn't complain about how his muscles ached from all the exertion and the front
seat of the car was too cramped for someone who was already over six feet tall.
He just folded his giraffe like legs into a semi-comfortable position whenever
they ended up back in the car and tried not to fidget too much.
They were, as Sam liked to think of it, driving to nowhere. His Dad had come up
with some vague notion that they would head in the general direction of his
friend Pastor Jim and if something came up they'd take care of it. The family
business.
"I'm hungry," Sam turned his head to rest his cheek against his arms so he
could peer over at his father.
"You're always hungry."
"I'm a tee-"
"I know, I know," John laughed. Sam liked the sound and savoured it; John
didn't laugh nearly enough. "You're a teenager," John finished in that deep,
gravelly voice of his.
Looking smug, Sam turned back to stare out the window.
-=-=-=-
It had started with blanks.
For awhile Dean didn't notice them simply because it was just that, chunks of
time where he'd seemingly fall asleep in one place and wake up in another. He
shrugged it off, assuming that the last semester of school combined with the
part time job at the diner his dad insisted he pick up was finally wearing on
him. And he never woke up too far from where he'd started so really Dean
figured he wasn't so much sleep walking as he was zoning out while attempting
to complete daily routines.
Then it changed. Dean woke up with blood on his hands that certainly wasn't his
own and no real recollection in the slightest as to how it could have gotten
there. He was in an alley four blocks from his house and it was dark, though
the last thing he remembered was stepping off the school grounds into mid
afternoon sunshine. To say he was disturbed was putting it lightly. For days
afterward Dean lived in a silent paranoia, flinching whenever the phone rang or
someone knocked at the door. What if he'd done something? Hurt someone? Why
couldn't he remember?
Things spiralled downhill from there. At eighteen years old Dean Archer had
thought he was on the cusp of his future. In a few short months he'd be out of
high school and on his way to the University of Kansas, the rest of his life
was spreading out before him and Dean was more than ready to snatch it up. He'd
spent eighteen years living under his father's roof, a man who was more than a
little controlling and far too opinionated for Dean's taste, he'd done his time
and now Dean was finally going to be free.
Until the black outs started.
After the blood on his hands incident - with no resulting consequences - Dean
used the rationale that he'd had a bloody nose and simply, somehow, got it only
on his hands and not his face. When nothing happened for the next couple of
weeks Dean thought he was in the clear. Then it came back with a bang. Dean had
been walking the familiar path to school in the early morning sunshine and the
next thing he knew he was waking up in a motel bed, in a room he'd never seen
before.
It was more than a little disorientating and it took Dean over an hour to
discover he was in Topeka in a rundown motel off a back road. The room was
empty, everything was in place, and Dean had no idea what had transpired. It
was another two hours before Dean worked up the courage to call his dad,
terrified just thinking about the way he'd react. Which turned out to be a
thousand times worse than he could have expected, especially when he learned
three days had passed since his walk to school.
Needless-to-say, the drive home had been stiff and uncomfortable. Dean's
father, Abraham, asked him over and over to confess the truth, admit what he'd
done, but Dean had no answers. They fought - or Abraham yelled - for the first
half hour of the drive and Dean felt panic rising up in him. It wasn't as if
this situation comforted him, not knowing where he'd been or what he'd done
scared him more than he ever could have admitted. And he opened his mouth to
tell the man that but before he could the world went dark.
-=-=-=-
When Dean woke he was in their living room and something was pressing down into
his chest. It took a moment for him to realize it was a rope, wound back around
his arms and hands and binding him in place. "Dad?" He called, confused and
slamming instantly into fear once more.
"I'm sure Jim. There's something in my son and it's not human," Abraham was
saying as he paced in front of the open doorway, phone pressed hard into his
ear.
Not human. Dean didn't even know where to begin with that information. What
could be in him? He knew his dad was into the whole religious thing, he often
dragged Dean with him to Sunday services before Dean turned eighteen and
reasoned he was mature enough to pick his own way. He also knew Jim, if he was
the man Dean was thinking of, was a Pastor. It didn't offer Dean much in the
way of an explanation.
"Dad?" Dean called out once more, bile churning in his stomach unpleasantly.
"Dad? What's going on? Untie me, Dad, come on." He squirmed uncomfortably under
the restraints and looked pleadingly up at his pacing father.
The man only spared him half a glance and whatever other pleas Dean might have
had were lost under the new surge of darkness.
-=-=-=-
Abraham Archer considered himself a wise man. He also considered himself a good
father but even good fathers could raise slightly less than perfect children.
Not that he expected perfection from his son but this? This was a
disappointment. At first Abraham had suspected his son might be doing drugs,
somehow that felt almost more easy to accept that the truth. Dean was raised
with a strong faith, in a strong foundation; Abraham did what he could after
his wife left when Dean was just a boy. His heart never should have been weak
enough to allow this.
A long call with Pastor Jim had sealed the idea of his son's possession in
Abraham's mind. This wasn't his son that was saying these foul things,
blaspheming the Lord and all his good works. Dean's eyes were solid black, only
clearing to his inherited crystal green for brief moments when the demon in him
seemed content to allow Dean to surface. It was progressively getting worse and
Abraham knew their time was limited. They needed to fix this.
Jim offered a solution in someone he called a hunter. People apparently trained
in exorcisms along with a selection of things Jim didn't seem inclined to go
into. Abraham thought better than to ask. After gaining reassurance that Jim
would call the person who could help, Abraham disconnected his line and dragged
a chair over to sit in front of his son.
"Oh Dean, where did I go wrong with you?" Abraham sighed heavily as the boy
twisted and jerked under the ropes binding him. Dean's heart was weak; he was
likely giving in to temptations Abraham hadn't been aware of.
Resolving to insist Dean return to church on Sunday mornings, Abraham settled
in to wait. Filth continued to fall from his son's lips and he stopped seeing
the familiar green. There were only black eyes now and snarled words that
echoed around his usually peaceful house. Abraham curled his hands together and
prayed for his son's soul.
-=-=-=-
Head tilted to the side, slumped down on the seat - Sam could tell by the tone
of his father's voice and the clipped way he spoke that something was
happening. When the phone was off and tossed on the seat between them Sam
rubbed at his eyes for a few seconds and pushed himself back up on the seat. “A
job?”
“Yeah,” John Winchester’s expression didn’t soften one bit.
“We headin’ there right now?” Sam’s brows drew together as he studied his Dad’s
face. It had been at least two days since his Dad had shaved and his charcoal
colored beard was already quite thick. He was doing that squinting thing with
his eyes – staring ahead up the highway as though he was pissed off at it and
could make it submit with willpower alone.
Sam watched his Dad’s fingers curl tighter over the steering wheel for a few
moments. “It’s a possession, Sam. A friend of Jim’s asked him for help and I
think it sounds like something that we need to help with.”
Nodding slowly, Sam shifted so he could lean against the door. “Never seen a
possession. This gonna be bad?”
“Well, most of the work is done. The shitty stuff anyway. Listen, I think maybe
you should sit this one out, Sammy.”
“Aw Dad, don’t start with that again. You know that I can back you up and if
I’m gonna get any better at this you have to let me-“
“Sam, he’s only eighteen.”
That gave Sam pause for a few moments. Rolling his lips together he thought
about it – thought about having something like that happen to him – losing
control of his body and mind and being terrified. “Then, he needs us. That’s
what we do.” He did catch sight of the strange look of pride that crossed his
Dad’s face just before he turned away.
“Grab my journal, son. You got an hour to read up.”
-=-=-=-
Sam stood beside his Dad at the open trunk watching as he pulled out various
things: a flask of holy water, some extra rope which he slung over his
shoulder, a container of salt which he handed to Sam. “You got the ritual
marked?”
Sam nodded and followed his Dad up the steps to the front door and watched his
hesitate for a moment. “Listen, Sam – it’s gonna say things.” His Dad dropped
his gaze slightly and Sam watched his expression change to that softer one
again. “Demons – these pieces of shit – they mix up lies and the truth so you
can’t believe a damn thing that they say. But it’s hurtful and fucked up,” he
turned to look at his son, “Just remember you can’t believe what you hear.”
A little taken aback, Sam nodded slowly and gripped his Dad’s journal tighter.
“Yeah, okay Dad. Don’t worry ‘bout me let’s just fix this guy then you can get
me a beer.” Smiling slightly Sam pressed the journal hard against his thigh and
reached out to knock hard on the door.
The door creaked open and revealed a man about John’s age. Sam unconsciously
stepped a little closer to his father – sliding almost behind him to let him do
the talking.
John tilted his head slightly, peering around the door frame to get a clearer
glimpse of the man. “Abraham? I’m John Winchester and this is my son Sam.
Pastor Jim told you about us?”
Sam nodded when his Dad introduced him and watched as relief moved over the
man’s face. They got that a lot – always before people realized what a shit
storm could happen before things got better.
"Yeah, come on in, please." Abraham pulled the door open wider and gestured
down the hallway. "I. My son. Dean. He's in here." The hand he extended shook
slightly and his eyes drifted uncertainly toward Sam then back toward a low
growl further inside the house.
The sound was unsettling, unnatural and sent a ripple of fear sliding down the
sweat cooled flesh of Sam's back. He followed his Dad into the house. It
smelled strange, maybe frankincense - a rich and thick smell that made Sam
breath shallower. The back room was dark and Sam could see his Dad's shoulders
tense as they walked into the room.
Just like Abraham had said, his son was in the room. He hadn't mentioned that
his son was trussed up to a heavy wooden chair. The rope was almost cutting in
to the guy's flesh and Sam stepped forward completely on instinct to move over
and help him.
John's arm snapped out. "Stay back Sam." Taking a knee in front of the chair
John reached out to push sweat soaked hair off the young man's face.
"Dad?" Sam shuffled closer.
"Open the journal Sam." John sighed - it was that sigh that was heavy with
tension - the one that always made Sam move a little faster.
By his Dad's side in moments Sam held the journal out open to the page with all
the Latin text on it.
John took the journal as he stood. "Remember what I told you, Sam."
"Yeah little Sammy, remember what good ol' dad told you," the bound boy sneered
the words, solid black eyes locking on Sam. "Sure he tells you everything. All
about the goodies and the baddies, this supernatural shit. All about your poor
mama and her broken lost soul."
Sam took a step back as his father's words started softly in the dimly lit
room. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas-"
"Dad?" Sam's voice wavered, his eyes locked on the inky darkness of the other
boy's eyes. Dean. He tried to remind himself that this monster possessed him,
his name was Dean and he was barely older than Sam. Mom. Sam's mom had died
when he was a kid and it was one of those things that John didn't discuss. Sam
had learned to live with it - these gaps and the lack of answers. This was
unnerving though. "You don't know my Mom." Sam's voice was quiet and he tore
his eyes away from those black pools.
John whipped his head to the side and spat, "you remember what I told you,
Sam." Spinning back to face Dean, John raised his journal again and continued.
"mnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta
diabolica, in nomine et virtute Domini Nostri Jesu Christi, eradicare et
effugare a Dei Ecclesia, ab animabus ad imaginem Dei conditis ac pretioso
divini Agni sanguine redemptis."
"Don't know your Mom?" Dean repeated back and laughed, a hollow cold sound.
"Fuck Sammy, your Mom is all the talk downstairs. Dear little Mommy likes her
fun behind the blade. Course, you don't off yourself without bein' a little
fucked up in the end. Dear old Daddy knows all about it, you ask." The words
were panted, growing more breathy as John continued with his chant. The boy's
body twisted and writhed under the ropes, chair skidding across the floor.
The words were whirling around in Sam's mind. His mother. "She didn't-"
"Sam!" John's voice cut through the chatter and filth coming out of the boy's
mouth.
Starting, Sam turned to face his father, head tilting slightly as his eyes
widened. "Sammy, you listen to me. This thing will say anything to get away.
You get behind him and hold the chair still. You hear me, boy?" John's voice
was gruff, his eyes nailing Sam to the spot.
"I didn't know - what if-"
"Fuck, Sammy. You do what I tell you right now or you get out of here," John
yelled. Turning back to the journal John's voice began the low, rumbling chant
again. "Non ultra audeas, serpens callidissime, decipere humanum genus, Dei
Ecclesiam persequi, ac Dei electos excutere et cribrare sicut triticum."
Finally jolting into action Sam ran around the chair and managed to get a good
grip on the back and turn it back so the boy was facing his father. The Latin
was all starting to run together in Sam's mind - not that it ever made sense to
him. He knew what his father was reading, recognized it all but now it was
real. Bile started to rise up in Sam's throat when he felt the heat from the
boys back seeping across his own skin.
"She didn't even want you Sammy," the boy growled, barely more than a whisper,
meant only for Sam to hear. "You were just a baby and she didn't. Want. You.
What makes you think you're worth anything now? You think you're meant to
hunt?" Dean's head fell back and solid black eyes fixed up on Sam, lips curling
into a sneer. "I'm giving you two, three years tops. You'll be just as fucked
up as her. And we've got a nice comfy spot waiting in hell for you Sammy, can't
wait to see you there."
Tearing his eyes away from the murky darkness, Sam focused in on his father's
lips. The words were still pouring forth and Sam could feel the demon thrashing
the boy's body back and forth against the ropes. He could feel the thickness of
the air in the room - the way the boy's body was thrashing was so violently.
The bile was back in Sam's throat, his teeth clenched so hard he thought they
might crack with the pressure.
"D Eus coeli, Deus terra, Deus Angelorum, Deus Archangelorum, Deus
Patriarcharum, Deus Prophetarum, Deus Apostolorum, Deus Martyrum, Deus
Confessorum, Deus Virginum," John's voice droned on and on and Sam watched
every movement of his Dad's mouth.
The words were swirling again and Sam concentrated on trying not to puke while
he held the boy as still as he could. Dean, he reminded himself. He didn't want
Dean to get hurt because his Dad was going to make this right, get the boy
back.
"Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen." John glanced up at Sam, waited until his
son met his gaze and nodded.
Almost choking on his own fear Sam spat out, "Amen."
The body slumped against the ropes for a long moment and Abraham stepped
shakily forward, eyes wide. "Is it over? Is the thing gone?"
"Get me a glass," John ordered as he yanked the flask out of his inside jacket
pocket. When no one moved he turned and glanced over at Abraham, "get your son
a glass of water." Watching until Abraham finally headed out of the room John
spun the lid off the top of the flask and set it on the floor as he kneeled
down. "Sammy? Loosen the ropes a little and hold his shoulders so he doesn't
fall."
Sam reached down with trembling fingers to loosen the knots in the taut rope.
There was more in John's eyes than the orders he was throwing out. This was
always the hard part - this was when they had to convince themselves it was
over so they could help this guy. "You're okay, Dean. Just a few more minutes
and we'll get you out." Finally managing to loosen the bindings a little Sam
reached back and grabbed another chair so he could sit behind Dean. He slipped
his arm around Dean's body, planting a palm on the man's soaked t-shirt.
"You're good, okay?" He glanced up at his Dad and got a grateful nod.
"Water," Abraham mumbled, voice still tense as he offered the glass to John,
waiting for the man to pour water from the flask before grabbing it once more.
"Dean? Can you hear me?" The man asked his son as he stepped closer, hesitating
a foot away and holding the glass out for Sam.
Dean's head barely lifted and the small hum that left his lips sounded
partially strangled. All he felt was pain. "Wha- what happened? W-who...?" His
eyes opened an inch for just a moment before closing once more.
Taking the cool glass Sam tightened his hold on Dean. "Hey, drink some of this,
Dean." Holding the glass as steadily as he could - because Jesus he'd never
shaken so hard in his life - he tipped the glass to offer Dean the water. "Just
drink a little and we'll untie you."
John glanced up at his son, dragged his hand down his face and blew out a shaky
breath.
Water sloshed across Dean's chin as Sam tilted the cup up and his throat was
nearly audible with two thick swallows. The boy slumped back against the chair,
a shudder shaking his upper body.
"Dean? Are you alright son?" Abraham still hovered a foot away, fingers
threading together and locking in place.
"I don't know what's going on." Dean whispered and his words shook to match the
motion of his body.
John moved quickly as soon as Dean swallowed. "Now, Sammy, cut him loose."
Yanking his knife out of his thigh holster Sam worked quickly to slice through
the ropes at the back of the chair. He held on to Dean until he knew his Dad
had hold of the boy and then moved pushed up to his feet to yank the ropes
away. "Mr... uh... where's Dean's room - we need to get him comfy."
Sam watched as his Dad hoisted Dean forward on the chair then slid his arms
under the boy's shoulders and behind his knees to he could pick him up. "Which
way, Abraham?" John nodded at Sam indicating the journal on the floor. Moving
quickly Sam picked up the journal, the flask and the unused container of salt.
"This way," Abraham seemed relieved to have something to do and he led them
swiftly down the hallway, pushing the first door on the right open and stepping
back to give them room to move. "Can I do anything? Is there anything I should
be getting?"
"I'm eighteen," Dean belatedly seemed to protest, head turned toward John. "I
can walk."
An unexpected smile crept on to Sam's face as he listened to Dean protesting.
There was no way that guy was going to be walking anywhere on his own for a
while but frankly, Sam admired the balls it took to say it. "Mister ... uh,
Abraham? Could you get me a basin filled with hot water and a clean cloth? My
Dad's probably gonna talk to ya for a while and I'll get Dean cleaned up?"
Sam knew the routine. Even someone who had been through something as chaotic
and as invasive as a possession still needed to talk. More importantly, they
needed to listen to what his Dad had to say about the after. Hell, at least
there was an after for Dean. Things could have been a lot worse.
Finally reaching the side of the bed, John let Dean down as gently as he could
as Abraham disappeared to get the items Sam had requested. "You're gonna be
okay with him, Sammy?"
Nodding, Sam brushing past his Dad gently and sat down on the edge of Dean's
bed. He glanced up at his Dad briefly, smiled and turned back to Dean. "I'm
Sam."
"Dean," the boy shifted on his mattress and winced, eyes lifting back up to
lock with Sam's. "Hurts. I feel like I've been tackled by the entire football
team. And maybe the cheerleaders. I... I don't remember. Anything. Just
blanks." Dean's eyes slid toward the door to watch his father enter but moved
quickly back to Sam, an almost pleading light shining to them.
Waiting until the basic was on the night stand John guided Abraham back toward
the door with a palm high on his back. "Let's go talk."
Once the older men were out of the room Sam picked up the cloth and soaked it
in the water for a few moments before ringing it out. Hesitating a moment, hand
hovering over Dean's face Sam smiled. "Can I..." He gestured with the cloth.
"Huh?" Dean's stare was blank for a moment, fixed up on Sam before clouding
slightly. "Uh, yeah. I... yeah. Do I- was I hurt?" His hand lifted to graze
along the side of his cheek, eyes closing and opening slowly.
Sam wiped gently at Dean's face; it was mostly sweat, some smears of dirt and a
whole hell of a lot of freckles. "I don't think you're hurt but you're gonna
feel like you've been hit by a truck." Dragging the cloth down Dean's neck Sam
smiled softly. "How you feel?" The guy's eyes were green, really green.
"Like I've been hit by a truck?" Dean provided, lips barely shifting up into a
brief flash of a smile. "I was... I heard my dad. On the phone. He said there
was something in me." Dean looked up at Sam once more, hand falling hard to his
side as if he lost strength to hold it up.
Pressing his lips together Sam moved the cloth back over to the basin. "You
were possessed." He watched as the expression on Dean's face changed. "A
demon," Sam shrugged. He'd looked around briefly on their way into the house.
There were crucifixes on the walls, a bible on the front table, some religious
tracts. Someone in the house believed. "You guys are religious, yeah?" Sam
scratched his forehead and pulled his leg up on the bed.
"My dad. I've been to church a good part of my life." Dean whispered the words,
chest lifted and fell heavily. "Why? What did I do?" He pushed his palms down
into the mattress, struggling to sit up. "Is it gone?" Dean's arm gave out
slightly as he struggled to stay up.
"Hey," Sam pressed his palm gently against Dean's chest. "Just rest here. It's
gone, you're safe. Remember that water I gave you? There was holy water in it;
you couldn't drink that if you were possessed." Dean's body was starting to
cool down; Sam could feel the cool dampness of his t-shirt. "You want to take
that shirt off? Get under the covers?" His Dad was right about helping people -
it needed to be done - just because of people like this guy.
"I don't. Is this my-" Dean's fingers fumbled with the hem of his shirt, eyes
glazing over as he pulled at the cotton. "I don't understand," he whispered and
tangled his fingers through his shirt. Dean's shoulders hunched together, head
hanging down. He pressed his fingers into his chest and shook his head. "Why
me? Did I do something? I don't... I don't remember all these days. What if I
hurt someone? There was blood... oh god." Dean looked up at Sam with watery,
confused eyes.
"Okay," Sam was a bit out of his depth but he went with his gut, "I'm gonna
help you up." Slipping his arm under Dean's shoulders Sam pulled hard. Letting
Dean rest against him, Sam tugged at the bottom of his shirt and slid it up
slowly. It was soaked clean through and Sam needed to get the guy warm. His
Dad's words were running through his mind - all the things he'd warned him
about - shock. "You didn't hurt anyone. Anything that happened - it was that
demon. Dad and I will figure it out - okay? I promise you that I'll tell you."
Tossing the shirt onto the floor Sam sucked in a breath and wrapped his arms
around Dean. "I wouldn't lie to you. We'll figure out what happened - but no
matter what - it wasn't your fault, Dean." It was kind of making Sam's heart
ache and now he knew where that haunted look on his Dad's face came from some
nights when he stumbled into the motel room so late at night.
Dean leaned heavily into Sam's body and sucked in deep breaths as if fighting
off a choked sob. After some time he managed to pull back enough to meet Sam's
open and honest gaze. "I'm never going to understand why am I? These... that
thing. It just what? Picked me out of the crowd one day?" Dean's brows pulled
together as he stared at Sam. "And who are you?"
"I'm Sam," Sam smiled warmly, just Sam, "me and my Dad - we hunt these things -
supernatural thing that try to hurt people. Pastor Jim called my Dad." Brow
furrowing slightly, Sam raised his hand and stroked Dean's hair back off his
forehead. "These things just choose people; sometimes some people are most
susceptible - if they're young like you and me, maybe upset or something. We
can help make sure it doesn't happen again. You'll be safe now." Sam realized
he was rubbing the small of Dean's back and slid his hand back up to Dean's
shoulder blade. "You want to lie back down?"
"Yeah, I think so," Dean nodded slowly and twisted along the mattress to lower
himself down onto his pillow. His hand shot out to wrap around Sam's forearm,
eyes lingering on his fingers before trailing slowly up to meet Sam's. "Will
you - can you stay? Just for now? I just... it all feels so... weird. I feel
like I can stillfeel it. Like I'm dirty or broken or something." Dean's fingers
uncurled from Sam's arm and he dropped his hand down onto his bed, curling
around the blanket slowly.
"I'll stay, you just rest." Sam stood and pulled the blanket out from under
Dean's legs and covered him up. Dropping back down onto the bed he tucked the
blanket up over Dean's chest. "We'll be around for a few days for sure. Your
Dad won't leave; he's just downstairs talking to my Dad." Sam lowered his
voice- seeing the exhaustion on Dean's face. But there was fear on his face -
of course - Sam sighed and worried his bottom lip between his teeth for a few
moments then he picked up Dean's hand in both of his.
Rubbing his thumb softly against the back of Dean's hand, Sam talked quietly.
He spoke about what they did, how he would wait until Dean was asleep and pour
a salt line in front of the windows and the doors. As Dean's lashes fluttered
closed, Sam murmured quietly about his father's car and how they traveled so
much - his favourite states and anything else he could think of that would keep
the expression softening on Dean's face.
Sam heard John's quiet footsteps after a while, long enough for his leg to feel
like it was falling asleep. When his Dad peered into the room Sam nodded and
carefully pulled his hand back from Dean's and picked up the rock salt. A
promise was a promise. Moving almost silently around the room Sam trailed a
white line of salt in front of both bedroom windows and then the door before
stepping over the salt barrier.
John's hand settled on his son's shoulder. "He'll be fine, his father will come
and sit with him now," he spoke softly and Sam suddenly felt beaten down by
exhaustion.
"I told him we'd be around for a few days. That okay?" Sam blinked owlishly up
at his father. For some reason, it seemed really important not to let Dean
down.
"Yeah, Sammy, we'll stick around for a while. You can probably help him ..."
John waved away the rest of his words. Both Winchesters knew that Dean was
going to have a lot of questions, and that they wouldn't really have all that
many answers. "C'mon, Sam. Food and sleep."
After a final glance over at Dean's sleeping form, Sam turned and followed his
father down the hall.
-=-=-=-
It was dark when Dean woke and there was a moment when panic seeped in and he
struggled against invisible ropes surrounding him. Then he remembered. Sam and
his father - Dean thought his name was John but it easily could have been James
or Jim - had shown up and got the demon out of him. He could easily recall
Sam's soft voice though not the words. The tone had helped him ease into sleep
before but as he slowly rolled on the mattress the boy wasn't to be found.
Instead his dad was there, leaning against the window frame and staring out
into the street. Dean's throat felt dry and scratchy but he coughed around it,
drawing his father's attention to him and frowning at the hard expression on
the man's face. "Dean. You've been asleep for awhile."
"How long?" Dean asked curiously, wincing when the words sounded strangled and
hurt coming out.
Abraham took the chair beside his bed and dug fingers into his arm. "Over a
day. Little more than. The Winchester's have been by a couple of times to check
on you but they said it was best not to wake you."
"The Winchesters?" Dean repeated and struggled to push himself up until he was
sitting. He wanted to ask for some water but he'd seen that look on his dad's
face before. The man wasn't happy. Dean didn't feel like pushing the matter.
"John and Sam. They helped you with your demon." Abraham gestured to the air
between them, telling Dean the source of his father's aggravation almost
instantly.
"Are they still around?" Dean couldn't help asking. He thought Sam had
mentioned something about hanging around for a few days, and he had so many
questions for him, for them both, but it seemed like they lived sort of intense
lives. They clearly did a lot of traveling according to the things Sam was
saying the night before.
"Yeah, for awhile." Abraham pursed his lips and ran his fingers across them. "I
thought you were stronger than this Dean."
The disappointment was tangible in his father's tone and Dean swallowed around
the way it made his insides churn. "Sam said, maybe because I'm young. They...
that they just chose people. I- I'm strong. I didn't want this."
"Your heart and spirit were weak. Demons can't get in those people who are
strong. Haven't I raised you to be strong Dean?" Unlike Dean, Abraham's eyes
were a dark brown and when they were angry, like now, they looked almost black.
It was a bit ironic. Dean got his eyes from his mom and he had a pretty good
hunch most of his personality came from her as well. Sometimes Dean pictured
moments like these and thought how it would be if she were still here.
If she hadn't left, Dean thought she'd be comforting him. Not lecturing him.
Not accusing him of being weak. Dean didn't tell his dad this though, since
he'd just point out her leaving was just as weak. "You have Dad. I'm sorry. I
promise to try harder." Years of making foolish mistakes had taught Dean
quickly that when his father was concerned, the best option was simply to agree
and apologize if necessary. "It won't happen again."
Abraham huffed slightly and shook his head. "No. It won't. You're going to be
spending more time connecting with our Lord. A relationship with him is just
what you need."
Truthfully, Dean didn't quite believe that but he simply forced himself to nod.
"Yes, sir."
"Until then I can't imagine sending you out into the world where anything could
happen." Abraham rose from his chair and started across the room.
It took a moment for the words to click and arrange in Dean's mind and he
finally summoned up the energy to push up, palms digging into the mattress.
"But. School. Dad what about school?" Dean's grandparents had left him a large
chunk of money a few years ago when they passed and Abraham had put it aside,
informing Dean he could use it to pay for his school of choice. Dean had
specifically gone with the state university so he wouldn't have to get
financial aid but the money wouldn't technically be his until he turned twenty
five. His dad had control until then and now it was all flashing before his
eyes. It was sickening enough that, if Dean had eaten anything in the past few
days, he might have thrown up.
"I think it's best if you wait for school until we're sure you won't give in to
worldly pressures while there." Abraham glanced his way and sighed. "I'm sorry
Dean but it's really for the best. Think of what you could have done. You may
have hurt someone, you could have hurt me."
By the time Dean managed to find words Abraham had already left the room and
there was only silence to speak to. His hands laid out before him in his lap
Dean simply stared, shocked and hurt. He felt more hollow and empty now than he
had since the black outs had begun.
Some time later, Dean didn't really mark the passing time, a soft knock sounded
at the door and Dean looked up. Sam was standing there, tall and thin, floppy
brown hair hanging in his eyes even after a hand lifted to push it back. He
looked slightly nervous, tentative, and Dean dropped his gaze. "Hey." He said
quietly and scooted back along the mattress until he sat against the headboard.
"I'm glad you came back. I wanted to thank you. Come on in." Dean disliked the
flat note to his voice but it wasn't as if anyone knew him well enough to
notice it anyway.
Shrugging, Sam smiled away the thank you. "You doin' okay?" He shifted his
weight to his back foot and stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his
jeans.
"I." Dean looked up at Sam and shook his head before nodding. "Yeah. I'm doing
better. Thanks. Tell your dad that too alright? We can... I mean, my dad and
stuff, can he pay you guys back somehow? I can't give much but I have some
coupons for my work." Dean blinked then sighed, shoulders slumping impossibly
lower. "It's probably not my work anymore. I've missed a lot without calling
in. Awesome."
"We don't need anything. It's good to just see you lookin' more like yourself."
Sam smiled and pulled a hand out of his pocket to fiddle with his hair, shoving
it back off his face then tucking it behind his ear. He looked around the room
then his eyes settled on the bed, "can I sit?" Shrugging a shoulder he took a
tentative step closer.
"Yeah," Dean nodded and pushed over on the mattress to give Sam more room. "Is
it- Sam, could have I gotten possessed because I'm not strong? My heart... was
it weak?" He watched the tall boy drop down onto the mattress and reached out,
oddly compelled to grasp his hand but stopping himself at the last minute. That
probably wasn't a normal reaction to things like that.
"What?" Sam looked puzzled, "weak? No," he shook his head. "No, Dean. That's
not how it works, no. Sometimes it just happens, someone's in the wrong place
at the wrong time and those things," Sam tugged on the collar of his t-shirt,
"those things just take who they can get." He was still for a few moments then
reached out to slip his fingers over Dean's hand overcome by the urge to
comfort the other boy. "It's not your fault. Trust me; my dad's seen a lot of
possessions in his time."
Dean nodded and told himself Sam knew what he was talking about, much more than
his dad did at least when it came to matters of possession. These guys
apparently dealt with it a lot. "Maybe your dad could talk to mine about that?
He... I guess he thinks-" Dean sighed and shook his head. "What was I like? You
know, when that thing was in me?" Dean turned his hand under Sam's so their
palms met.
Eyes dropping quickly to their hands, Sam pressed his lips together into a thin
line. Stretching his fingers out slowly he curled them around Dean's hand. "It
wasn't you," he shook his head, "the demon was saying some pretty awful things
but that's what they do. My Dad says they lie and twist things." Hurt flitted
across Sam's face and he sighed and shook his head. "Can I get you anything?"
Sam didn’t want to be reminded of the things the Demon had said about his
mother.
Dean frowned, shaken by the thought that whatever he'd said while he was
possessed brought that pain to Sam’s face. "Maybe some water. I haven't
really... eaten anything or anything but I'm not sure I'm up for it." Dean
squeezed Sam's hand and thought briefly how nice the contact was. "How old are
you?" He asked curiously; thumb sliding along the smooth top of Sam's hand.
"Me?" A bright smile grew on Sam's face. "Sixteen, Dad says I look older. What
about you? You're eighteen right?" His shoulders relaxed a little and then he
suddenly pushed toward the edge of the bed, "shit sorry, you want that water
now?"
"Uh yeah. I mean, I'm eighteen. You can get the water whenever." If Dean had
been in his right mind, if the last few days hadn't have happened, Dean might
have said something like spaz much? As it was, Dean didn't know if he'd ever
feel like himself again. Suddenly everything seemed to press hard on him from
all sides and Dean inhaled shakily, hand squeezing Sam's too tight for a
moment. "Can we go somewhere? I- could we just... I need to get out. Get some
fresh air. Would you go with me?"
"Hey," Sam's expression softened instantly, "sure." Dean’s face was drawn and
pale and Sam thought that fresh air might be a good idea. Long fingers curling
tighter around Dean's hand for a few moments, Sam kept a gentle smile on his
face. "Where are you clean shirts?" Pushing up off the bed Sam withdrew his
hand slowly then took a couple of steps toward the dresser. Eyes still on Dean
his eyebrows lifted slightly.
Pushing to his feet - not intending to have Sam do all the work - Dean swayed
slightly and reached out for the dresser for support. "I'll just..." Dean
gestured to the drawer before tugging at it. "Could you get me a pair of jeans
from the closet? I really should shower but I just... I need out. For air."
Dean felt uncomfortable in his own skin, like this thing that had happened had
permanently changed who he was. "Does this happen to a lot of people my age?"
Dean asked as he pulled a shirt free from the drawer and looked back at Sam.
Moving quickly, Sam pulled the closet door open and grabbed a pair of jeans.
The hangers clanged softly as he turned back to face Dean, jeans clutched
tightly in his hands. "Sometimes, I mean - they pick whoever is convenient
right?" Smiling softly, Sam met Dean's eyes. "Dean, are you sure you're strong
enough for a walk - ya look a bit wobbly there." Stepping closer he reached up
and rubbed his hand on Dean's shoulder surprised at how comfortable the touch
had become.
Before he could really help it Dean was leaning into the touch and nodding
slowly. "Yeah, just have to get my legs steady. Too long lying down." Dean was
slightly relieved when Sam didn't step away as he pushed his sweat pants down.
It was taking actual concentration to remain balanced, like he'd had a few too
many drinks or something. Dean wished that was the case because the
alternative... sucked. "There's a field across the street, and there's this log
I like to sit on. We could go there; it's quiet and not too far." Dean gave Sam
a brief smile, wishing he could match the curve of the boy’s lips that seemed
to fit naturally there. Sam was definitely a nice guy, after the way his dad
reacted to the whole thing Dean was relieved to have him there.
Once he was dressed Dean dragged a hand up through his hair and looked up into
Sam's eyes. "I don't want my dad stopping me. I just need some time. Do you
think you could get me a bottle of water from the kitchen and distract him
while I go out the front door? We could meet in the driveway?" Dean didn't feel
nearly as guilty about sneaking around as he thought he should have but he
figured the past few days counted him worthy of a break.
Hesitating for a moment Sam considered disagreeing. He didn’t want Dean’s
father being worried but the look on Dean’s face convinced him and he finally
nodded and disappeared down the hallway.
Dean used his fingers along the wall to guide him down the hall and out the
front door. He heard his father talking, presumably to John Winchester, but
didn't stop to listen. He didn't want to know what the man had to say about
him. Or, didn't want to hear it again really.
The air outside was pleasantly crisp and Dean inhaled almost greedily. It
didn't really make him feel all better but it soothed some part of his mind so
it helped. He stared at the shiny black Impala in the driveway as he slowly
walked the length of cement. Dean tried to remember if he ever felt normal,
because this unsettling stirring in him felt all too consuming and Dean was
beginning to think his dad was right. He wasn't strong enough.
***** Chapter 2 *****
The water was cool and refreshing on Dean's tongue and he struggled to follow
Sam's advice and not drain the entire bottle the way he wanted too. "We've
lived in this house my whole life," he said quietly and fixed his eyes on the
house across the street, just far enough away that his father's image was a
blur in the illuminated window. "My mom left when I was five or so, just kind
of took off one day so it's just me and my dad." Dean tilted his head toward
Sam and smiled briefly. "I guess you know about that though. What happened to
your-“ Dean dropped his gaze and sighed. “Sorry that's none of my business."
"My mama? Is that what you were gonna ask?" Sam shifted on the log and looked
up - his brows pulling together slightly. "She was," he dropped his eyes, hair
falling forward; "she died when I was little. I don't really remember her -
other than pictures and stuff." Looking back up to meet Dean's gaze he smiled,
"she was real beautiful."
Smiling briefly Dean looked up toward the sky and curled his fingers back into
the log. "Yeah? Would make sense." Dean let his eyes fix on Sam, not explaining
further. Sam had to get his good looks from somewhere. "Have you been doing
this your whole life?" Dean couldn't imagine a life on the road like that, and
the things Sam may have seen.
"Well," Sam shrugged a shoulder, "I just started hunting with my Dad - it was
my birthday in May." Sam pointed at the scar on his arm and blinked slowly.
"Pissed off werewolf." His finger moved to the slight scar on his cheek,
"spirit - kitchen knife." Smiling again he seemed to be comfortable meeting
Dean's gaze. "Why'd you say that? About my Mom? That it would make sense?"
Laughing softly, just a quiet exhale of amusement, Dean used his hand to
gesture the full length of Sam's body. 'You had to have gotten your looks
somewhere right? Of course the only memory I have of your dad is him carrying
me but you don't seem to look much like him.' Dean shifted until his shoulder
rested against Sam's, needing to feel the comfort of human touch after
everything.
A slight blush grew on Sam's cheeks and he opened and closed his mouth a couple
of times as though he didn't quite know what to say. Finally he just slid his
arm along the log behind Dean so that it was there for support. He didn't move
away and simply turned his gaze away, staring off out into the distance. "You
feeling better today?"
Leaning into Sam's side Dean slowly shook his head. "My dad says it's my fault.
That I was weak. I think he found my secret porn stash." Dean said it with a
laugh, meant it to be a joke because if his dad had really found it. Well,
demons would be the least of his worries.
Smiling slightly at the attempt at humour, Sam lifted his hand to Dean's arm.
"You're cold," he sat back a little, "here." Shrugging his jacket off he slung
it around Dean's shoulders then pulled him close, hand rubbing up and down
Dean's upper arm. "Don't want you to get sick." They were quiet for a few
moments, and then Sam spoke softly. "It's not your fault. It doesn't matter how
strong you are - you can't fight things like demons without, you know, tools
and incantations. If they want you, they'll take you."
It was nice to hear even if Dean wasn't completely sure it was true or not.
Turning his head toward Sam, Dean blinked slowly and wet his lips. The last
however many days was weighing on him, a heavy pressure in his stomach, and
Dean needed some release. Which he used as the rational for leaning forward,
closing the distance between them slowly. Dean's lips were pretty dry and he
just had enough time to wet them before they pressed to Sam's.
Sam's lashes fluttered down to his cheeks for a few moments as his lips brushed
softly against Dean's before he pulled back. His eyes were wide when they
opened, glistening in the moonlight. "What was that for?" There was a crooked
grin on Sam's face as he dropped his eyes, hiding behind his hair.
"Just felt like something I wanted to do," Dean whispered and attempted to
judge Sam's reaction from the four brief words and the cute little up tilt of
his lips. "It was good, yeah?" Their sides were pressed together now, Dean
could feel Sam where their knees met, thighs to hips, arms and shoulders. It
was comforting, like Sam just being there was tethering him down to the ground.
Dean decided he'd really like to do the kissing thing again.
"Yeah, was good." Sam glanced around briefly, then tilted his head and peered
at Dean out of the corner of his eye. His eyes were wide in the darkness,
blinking slowly, and then his fingers slipped over Dean's thigh. "I liked it."
His tongue darted out to wet his lips and the smile twitched on and off his
lips again as though he was unsure what to do.
Wetting his lips once more Dean adjusted on the log, hand extending and only
slightly shaking as he brushed Sam's hair back from his forehead. This wasn't
the first time he'd kissed a boy but the only other time had been after way too
much alcohol and Dean only vaguely remembered it being not so pleasant. It
didn't mean he wasn't curious though, and interested - if the way his blood was
heating in response to Sam's hand on his thigh was anything to go by. "Yeah, me
too," Dean spoke only loud enough for Sam to hear before leaning close once
more, allowing Sam to close the distance if he wanted.
It was more like Sam fell forward rather than moved and his lips were suddenly
against Dean's once more; gentle and soft, almost tentative and definitely shy.
He sucked in a surprised breath as Dean's lips parted - then his own lips
followed, moving slowly. Spreading his fingers apart he gripped Dean's thigh
like he was holding on for his life and his other arm pulled Dean closer to his
chest. "Aren't you cold," he whispered, lips brushing Dean's softly with each
word.
"Mm wearing your coat," Dean pointed out in a faint gasp. Sam was strong. Dean
could tell just from the way he pulled him close. It sent a strange twisting
thrill through him he'd only ever gotten before with girls, like when he could
see down their shirt or when they were skirts too short. Only this wasn't a
girl and Dean couldn't decide if that idea turned him on more or if Sam's
fingers digging into his muscle was the source to his near instant hard on.
"You cold?" Dean asked in a quiet whisper as his hands settled on Sam's chest,
rubbing slow circles down.
Sam's head shook back and forth slowly and he leaned far enough back to flip
his leg over the log and behind Dean so he could shimmy closer. Slipping both
arms around Dean's waist Sam slid closer, the rough bark of the log rasping
against his jeans. And then he was pressed up closed against Dean like he was
stealing warmth and the smile spread on his face again. "Not now," he murmured
and rubbed his cheek against Dean's.
Having never experienced a connection like this, something more than just
physical, Dean felt almost out of his element. But in an entirely awesome way.
"I've never really kissed a guy," Dean admitted, head turning so his lips could
slide once more against Sam's. "I've wanted to though. I mean, I thought about
it. It's nice, feeling something that's not..." Dean didn't know how to
describe the way the last few days had felt.
"I have," Sam smiled, "kissed a guy I mean." His eyes widened rather suddenly,
"don't tell my Dad though. Not that you would..." Sam shifted again, fingers
slipping under the bottom of the jacket to settle on the warmth of Dean's side.
"This was the first time my Dad took me to, well, on this kind of case. To be
honest," Sam blew out a breath and rested his chin on dean's shoulder, "it was
pretty scary. Was real worried about you."
It wasn't particularly something Dean wanted to picture, how he'd been, and he
vaguely remembered Sam being dismissive before when he asked about it. But
curiosity had him pressing the topic. "Did I talk a lot? I have bruises on my
arms so I must have squirmed around a lot. Whatever I said must have pissed off
my dad or something. At some point. I think he's angry with me, he's not-" Dean
looked up toward the stars and half shrugged. "Whatever. So are you like, gay
then? Or bi? How... how far have you gone?" Dean briefly smiled, letting his
hands settle on Sam's thigh.
In response to the flood of questions Sam pulled back a little, blinked for a
few moments, eyebrows raised. "That was kind of two completely different
conversations there, Dean." Settling his chin back on Dean's shoulder he spoke
softly. "I don't know what happened before we got here but you were - the demon
was kind of crazy. Sayin' things that were," Sam sighed softly, "things that
maybe weren't true. Your Dad seemed more scared than anything but he had you
tied and maybe that's how you got bruised. Does it hurt?" Sam's fingers drifted
up Dean's arm, stroking gently.
"I'm okay," Dean chuckled softly, mostly because Sam's concern made him feel
good. It was a stark contrast from his father's reaction at least. "I hope I
didn't say anything... I mean. I know it's not really me. Or it wasn't me. But
that doesn't stop things from hurting." Dean pressed his lips together and
stared hard up at the stars as if they could provide some solution for a
problem he wasn't even full aware of yet. "My dad is keeping the money I was
going to use for school. He wants me to get more in touch with God or
something. Because he thinks it's all my fault." Dropping his gaze Dean looked
at Sam and frowned. "Stupid."
"It is stupid. I told you - it's not your fault that this happened. My Dad,
maybe my Dad can make him understand some more." Sam sat back a little,
shivering slightly as he moved further away from Dean's warmth. He waited a
while, saying nothing then in a firm gentle tone he spoke again. "This kind of
thing happens to people, there's no rhyme or reason to how it happens and it is
no reflection on you." There was a strangely open expression on Sam's face -
like he had no fear that Dean would know him. "Do you believe me?"
"It seems like you know what you're talking about." Dean met his gaze and for a
while they simply stayed that way. Dean wished he could say he was reading into
Sam's soul just by holding his gaze but it wasn't really that at all. There was
something though. It had never been Dean's thing; to put names to connections
and have things just make sense. Life was too complicated. "You're older than
sixteen. Maybe not physically but I can see it. Do you ever stay anywhere? Like
with a home and stuff?" Dean reached out and tugged on the man's arm because
clearly he was cold and he liked him near.
Laughing softly, Sam settled easily back into Dean's warmth. "My home," he
shrugged a shoulder, "is the Impala and whatever Motel room we're in for the
week. Sometimes Dad gets a bee up his ass about staying somewhere - like right
now - he wants to make sure you're alright. Thinks he can do more to fix
things." Tilting his head slowly, peering into Dean's eyes Sam looked serious.
"Promise me something?"
Reaching up, Dean slid his finger down the stony set of Sam's jaw, surprised by
how grown up the boy really could look. "Alright, I can say I'll promise you
something." Dean blinked under the weight of Sam's gaze and wondered briefly
what it would be like to have no home at all. "But I'd have to say it's all a
matter of reason. Whether I can promise you or not."
"Promise me that we'll stay in touch when I leave? If Dad decides we're leaving
- it will be sudden, but I'll get a message to you somehow. Let you know how to
reach me?" Leaning forward Sam pressed his lips to the corner of Dean's mouth,
lashes resting on his cheeks for a few moments. "Promise me you won't forget
me?" There was something sad and heavy in his voice, almost too serious for
someone his age.
Dean had no idea how long he'd actually known Sam, everything was still too
blurry, but he couldn't imagine not knowing him now. "You saved my life." He
informed Sam in case he didn't know, or didn't see it in that light. "I could
never forget you now. So if you tell me how, we'll stay in touch. I promise."
Dean turned enough to capture Sam's lips in another kiss. It was odd, how the
action simultaneously turned him on and comforted him, soothed him like no kiss
ever had. Or touch for that matter. Maybe he was just at a weak place at the
moment but he was quite suddenly inclined to push things further.
Sam stared for a few moments, tongue finally darting out to sweep across his
bottom lip. Bringing their lips together once more, Sam folded his body into
Dean's. Sliding his palm under Dean's t-shirt he moaned softly but the sound
just disappeared into the darkness around them. He was shivering, maybe from
the cold, maybe from the sensation. His palm was cool against Dean's skin,
rough, scarred.
It was easy to part his lips under Sam's and sweep his tongue forward, eagerly
searching for more hidden tastes he wouldn't be able to name no matter how long
he tried too. Sam's hand felt surprisingly cold against his body but it heated
him regardless, had him arching up into the touch. Dean moaned into the kiss
and pressed forward harder, moving quicker, sliding his hand up into Sam's hair
to hold him steady to thoroughly devour his lips. It pulled another moan from
him and Dean decided kissing Sam was like a head rush.
Hooking his leg up over Dean's Sam was almost wrapped right around him; There
was something almost desperate in it and yet, alluring. He moved his lips
against Dean's, tongue sliding forward to cover every surface - drift across
Dean's teeth, the roof of his mouth. Sam was exploring, learning. A shuddering
wave of motion traveled the length of Sam's body, pushing him almost impossibly
closer, lips, chest, and hips - even his legs tightened around Dean's body.
The night air was still crisp in the beginning of spring but Dean felt
overheated. That didn't stop him from wanting more of Sam however. He pulled
the boy down with him, falling back onto the cool grass. "Sam," Dean gasped and
tugged him in again. He could feel Sam's dick, pressing into his thigh and Dean
moved his leg up experimentally to roll against it, testing how Sam would
react. This was far hotter than any sex he'd had before.
Spreading his long body along Dean's, Sam moaned softly as his hips ground
forward against the other man's thigh. When he gazed down into Dean's eyes,
there was a flush on his cheeks, "Dean - are you sure - I mean..." His lashes
drifted closed for a few moments as he arched his spine slightly against the
body beneath him. "Don't want to take advantage..." It was a murmur that
disappeared into almost nothing as his lips sank down over Dean's once more.
Yanking his head back Dean ignored the dirt and grass pressing into his skull
and arched his hips up, making his own arousal obvious to the boy. "Really
fucking sure," Dean moaned when the boy adjusted his body angle so their
crotches met and pressed. With a hand wrapped around the back of Sam's neck
Dean dragged him down to crush their lips hard together once more.
"It's," Sam's breathing was already rough, "you're," he panted softly as he
stared down at Dean. His palms thumped down into the dirt beside Dean's head
and he let his legs slide down so he was straddling the older man. As soon as
he ass hit Dean's thighs Sam shifted up, dragging his crotch up against Dean's
and moaning. Long hair fell forward over his eyes as his fingers curled into
the dirt and grass. "Dean," he murmured as his hips tilted back and forth.
Sliding his hands down Sam's body Dean curled his fingers into the small of the
boy's back to grind harder up into him. "Touch," Dean muttered before thrusting
his tongue up into Sam s mouth once more. This was just what he needed, a
physical connection tying him to this world. He didn't know what he was really
asking for, just that he wanted it. More and right now.
Pushing at Dean's t-shirt, Sam slid it up the older boy's body. His broad
fingers moved in small circles on Dean's skin, eyes following, slight smile on
his face. "Touching," he teased as he glanced up at Dean's face. His expression
changed slightly as he searched Dean's face for answers to questions he hadn't
quite formulated yet. Dean's skin was smooth and warm and Sam found himself
dragging the pads of his fingers gently over the dark lines from the ropes.
The shudder that curled down Dean's spine was less from the sudden chill and
more from the way Sam's hands made him feel. "Clearly," Dean whispered and
smiled for just a moment before arching up to capture Sam's lips. He was
already addicted to kissing this boy. "Sam," Dean arched up into the younger
boy's body, pushing his fingers up under Sam’s shirt to spread across his skin.
Leaning down into the kiss, Sam kept his hands moving and slid them straight up
over Dean's chest to curl around his neck. His tongue slid forward again,
slipping across Dean's bottom lip and into the heat of his mouth. He wriggled
slightly so Dean would curve his hands over Sam's back - holding them closer
together. He could smell the earth around them, the grass crushed under his
knees and the old wood from the old log beside them.
Dean could feel Sam along the length of his body and he gasped in deep lungfuls
of air in between kisses. "God you're a great kisser." Dean mumbled and tugged
Sam down. He kissed him until his lips felt numb and his lungs hurt from the
lack of air. He had no idea how long they had been out in the field but he
didn't really care. Sam was the definitely the best thing that ever happened to
him. Despite what led up to it.
Finally, tearing his lips away Sam let all his weight fall on Dean. He worried
briefly if he was hurting him - putting too much pressure on his bruises, but
Dean didn't seem to be in any pain. Slipping off Dean's body Sam curled up at
his side and tugged the jacket over him. "I really want to stay here with you,
but I need to get you back inside." Stretching up he nuzzled against Dean's
cheek, breathing in the unfamiliar scent of his flesh. "Maybe-" he pressed his
lips to Dean's cheek, "could I get the car tomorrow and come and get you?"
Going back in the house probably the least appealing idea Dean had ever heard
but he knew it was only a matter time before his dad went looking for him.
"Yeah. Alright. But you'll come see me again? Can we like, hang out or
something? Go see a movie?" Dean reached out to tuck hair behind Sam's ear and
leaned forward to brush their lips together.
"A date?" Sam grinned, flashing his dimples and gripping the jacket covering
Dean a little tighter. "You askin' me out on a date, Dean?" He was glad it was
dark because he could feel his cheeks pinking up even as his heart started to
thud a little louder at the idea of being on an actual date. Sam's life didn't
lend itself well to dating, making out, fumbling around in the back seats of
cars and dark alleys sure, dating? No.
Chuckling softly, Dean half shrugged. "Yeah maybe a date. Unless you're anti
dates or something. Man date? Or two guys hanging out. I just want to see you
again and do more of this." Dean grinned and tugged him down for another kiss.
Laughing softly against Dean's lips, Sam curled a hand behind Dean's neck.
"I'll come and get you tomorrow afternoon, Dad said you should get out and walk
- we could have coffee and hang out." He watched as emotions fought on Dean's
face. Obviously the guy didn't want to go back in there. "Are things ... I
mean, if I can ask - are things gonna be okay with you and your Dad?"
“I think so.” Dean nodded slowly and reluctantly sat up. "I'm sure it'll work
out." Dean wasn't sure he believed it but he wanted to. "It takes time," Dean
knew that. He reached out for his shirt and tried not to shake at the prospect.
Straightening his own clothes, Sam groaned as he got back to his feet. "Keep my
jacket for tonight," he smiled shyly, "would make me feel better." There was
something strangely sad about Dean, the way his eyes softened sometimes when he
was thinking, the way his smile seemed less than it should have been. Sam
suspected that thing weren't working out between Dean and his father - but he
would talk to his own Dad later and see what John thought.
He held his hand out for Dean, "come on." Waiting until Dean's cool fingers
slid over his palm, Sam pulled the older boy up to his feet and slid his arms
under the jacket and around Dean's waist. "It's strange," he sighed and pressed
his lips to Dean's temple, "I feel like I know you, like, way more than I do."
"I know. Maybe it's what we shared," Dean suggested and smiled up at Sam
slightly. "You’re sweet. Thanks for..." Dean didn't even know where to begin.
Sam was amazing in so many ways.
Tugging on Dean's arm, Sam pulled him around the side of the log - "No thanks
needed. Come on - our Dad's are gonna think we ran off." He threaded his
fingers through Dean's without even thinking about it and leaned closer to
press a quick kiss just in front of Dean's ear. "I bet your Dad will be
different now he's been talking to my Dad, he will have explained a bunch of
things. Maybe it will help?" He blinked a few times, staring down at Dean - the
green of his eyes was only just visible in the distant light from the
streetlights.
Smiling a little brighter Dean nodded and tugged Sam in, pressing a hard kiss
to his lips for a lingering moment. "Yeah, you're probably right. Maybe I
should talk to your dad at some point, so I know what he said to my dad." Dean
stared down at the ground for a long few minutes before looking up at Sam.
"He's not right. My dad? I know I keep asking I just... if it's me... if
there's something in me..." Dean couldn't escape the thought and how much it
terrified him.
Sam's hands moved quickly to Dean's cheeks. "Hey," he stared into Dean's eyes,
"there's nothing bad about you. Nothing. D'you hear me?" Thumbs rubbing gently
across Dean's cheeks, Sam felt agitation stirring in his stomach. Dean's father
should be helping him, supporting him, not making him feel like he was to blame
for any of this. "You are not to blame, you didn't do anything to make this
happen. Do you trust me?" His brows drew together for a few moments, God he
wished he could just show Dean somehow and make him understand.
It was odd that the answer to Sam's question came so easily. "Yes, I trust
you." He smiled up at the man, more genuine this time, and stepped forward to
wrap his arms around him in a hug. "I know it's not me. I know it. I just
wish... my dad." Dean buried his face in the curve of Sam's shoulder and sighed
softly before pulling back. "Okay, let's go in before... yeah. Hey do I look
like we just made out hardcore?" Dean smirked for a moment as he stared up at
Sam, finding it harder than should be to let go of him.
Laughing, Sam reached up to smooth down Dean's hair and pick some grass off of
him. "You have really rosy cheeks," he couldn't help running his thumb over
Dean's bottom lip. "Your lips are a little swollen," but that just made Sam
want to kiss them even more. He stepped back, reaching for Dean's hand again.
"Yeah, a little, you do but we'll walk slow." Catching his bottom lip between
his teeth he bit down hard and started to walk back to the house.
"So how long have you known that you like guys?" Dean asked, glancing to the
side to peer up at Sam. "Your dad doesn't know?" He was ready to not be talking
about the possession for awhile. Maybe forever. Or at least until his dad
brought it up again because that was nearly unavoidable.
"I think he might know. We spend a lot of time together and it's not like I go
on about swimsuit models or bring girls back to the Motel room." Sam shrugged a
shoulder and blew his hair off his forehead. "We have an understanding - it's
just the way we are with each other. Don't ask a lot of questions, we just know
that we're there for each other when it matters. As for how long," a small
chuckle bubbled up out of Sam's chest, "I don't really know. Guess, as far back
as I can remember I thought about guys more. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love
a beautiful curvy chick, but guys," he shrugged again as he found himself at a
bit of a loss.
His fingers tightened on Dean's hand briefly; a small squeeze. "Muscles,
harder, being a little rough maybe," Sam's voice had softened as though he was
telling Dean a secret and he supposed he was. It wasn't like he had ever told
another human being any of this. "What about you?"
"I've thought about guys before. Watched gay porn," Dean snorted a laugh and
shrugged. "Mostly been with girls though. A couple girls. It wasn't that great.
So maybe I'm bi. I need to explore the guy thing more though," Dean looked over
at Sam and grinned, bumping their hips together. "Can I ask how far you've
gone? If it's all it suggests it might be?" Dean could definitely think about
doing more things with Sam, and it certainly wasn't unappealing.
Heat flooded Sam's cheeks, "kissing, touching mostly, I just got my driver's
licence and Dad said I could quit school this year on my birthday so we're on
the move now. Don't know what will happen. Didn't know this would-" He bit down
on his bottom lip and dropped his eyes so he could hide behind his hair.
Chuckling softly Dean nodded. "Yeah, I didn't really... I mean... I guess
kissing you was a little spur of the moment but it just seemed right." Dean's
steps slowed almost to nothing as they arrived at the sidewalk. He could see
shapes in the light of the kitchen window, his father pacing, and his frown
returned. "So I'll see you tomorrow then?" Dean glanced over at Sam
uncertainly.
The porch light flicked on and Sam dropped Dean's hand, stepping back a little
and squinting in the sudden brightness. "Yeah, I'll be here about three?" Sam
grinned and started to lean in toward Dean again.
The door clicked and swung open making both boys start. "Jesus Christ, Sam
where ya bin?" John Winchester tugged his jacket on and closed the door behind
him. "Dean, your father's waiting for you in the kitchen." He walked over and
when he reached Sam he glanced at his face, did a double take and turned back
to Dean. "You need some more rest son."
"Thanks Mr. um... John, sir," Dean mumbled and glanced toward the door of the
house, shoulders slumping. "I'll just... well... see you later." Flickering a
smile toward Sam Dean half shrugged a shoulder and headed for the door,
ignoring the dread curling through him for what was likely to be an unpleasant
conversation. "Have a nice night," Dean turned slightly to stare at Sam for a
moment before turning back to the door.
Both Winchesters watched Dean move up the path and disappear through the front
door. Sam scratched at his cheek then rubbed his arms.
“He was wearing your jacket.” John folded his arms and leaned back against the
car.
“Yeah, he was cold.” Sam couldn’t help the smile that inched on to his face.
“Nice guy?
“Nice guy.” Sam folded his arms across his chest, feeling the evening chill now
Dean was gone.
“Gettin’ in over your head?” John turned his gaze toward his son’s face.
Blinking, Sam looked down at the path for a few moments then over at his Dad.
“No Sir, don’t worry.” Sam knew the rules. Don’t get wrapped up in the personal
side of things. He just wasn’t sure that he believed it this time.
“Well,” John hesitated a moment like he was going to pursue it, shook his head
and pushed off the car. “Get in ya idiot – you look frozen.”
“Wasn’t so cold before,” Sam muttered as he pulled the passenger door open.
Rubbing his hands together briskly he watched he father sink down behind the
wheel. “You think his Dad’s gonna freak out? Lose it?”
John’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Did Dean say something to you about his Dad?”
He slipped the key into the ignition and fired up the engine.
Reaching down to slide the heat dial toward heat Sam couldn’t help a slight
shiver. “Just a gut feeling. He didn’t really talk about it,” Sam sighed and
turned slightly to face John as he backed the car out of the dirt driveway, “ya
know how sometimes you just get a feeling about things? It was like that. Maybe
something’s not quite right between them. Dean said that his Dad figured it was
all Dean’s fault – that somehow he’d done something wrong, something that made
him deserve this.”
Tilting his head to the side John put the car in drive and headed off down the
road. “Yeah, he said as much to me but I spent a lot of time trying to explain
it to him. Shit, Sammy, the guy’s almost a religious fanatic. I mean, you know
I got no problem with people believin’ in things but man this guy he’s at the
far end of that spectrum.”
Nodding Sam turned and reached into the back seat for a hoodie. He yanked it
down over his head, keeping the hood up. “So, we’re gonna stay for a while?
Maybe, you could spend some more time with him – Abraham – and I could spend a
bit more time with Dean?”
John licked his lips and smirked slightly. “Give Dean some support?”
“Yeah, right?”
Laughing, John reached out a punch Sam gently on his shoulder. “Take that hood
off, ya look like a thug.”
“Hey, Dad,” Sam shoved the hood back and tried to brush his staticy hair back
off his cheeks. “When Dean was possessed, those things the demon said about
Mom-“
John’s voice was void of emotion. “Sam, I told you – Demon’s mix up truth with
lies.”
“But they tell the truth sometimes?” He looked out his window, watching the
lights in the distance.
“Sometimes, I suppose. But it’s the way they mix it all up, Sam – it becomes
something different.”
“Did Mom kill herself?” He blurted the words out; they’d been simmering since
he’d heard them. Now that he’d spent some more time with Dean he knew they’d
come one hundred per cent from the Demon. From Hell.
“Sam, this isn’t the time for this talk. Your Mom was a complicated woman-“
“That’s not a no, Dad.” Fear gripped Sam’s spine, cold and uncomfortable.
“Not now. Not here. Not because some fucking Demon told you mixed up shit about
your - Mary.” He almost spat the words out.
Sam turned back to face his Dad – surprised by the outburst – startled by how
sick the fear made him. He’d never had a single reason in all his years to
mistrust his Dad and now, that was all kind of falling apart. What did not now
mean? Did it mean the Demon was right and there was more to the story than Sam
knew? Did it mean that there was a piece of truth in there?
Too stunned to say much of anything, maybe not even wanting to know the entire
truth, Sam turned back to the window and stared out into the darkness. It was
going to be a quiet night in the motel room. And Sam already knew he was going
to have nightmares all night of a beautiful blond woman cutting people to
shreds in Hell.
-=-=-=-
The conversation with his father went about as well as Dean expected. Despite
whatever John said to him the man seemed convinced Dean had more issues than he
let on. They’d spent a good hour arguing until Dean was so tired he could
barely see straight. All he could think before falling asleep curled under his
sheets was Sam and how much he wanted to see him again.
The following day Dean lay in bed, listening to his father moving around the
house and ignoring when he knocked on the door. Shortly after lunch he left to
head to work and Dean rushed through a shower and sandwich just in case Sam
showed up sometime soon.
It was later in the day when Sam did appear and Dean exhaled in relief when he
pulled the door open and saw the boy there. "Hey. I was hoping I'd see you
soon," dean hesitated, looking outside to see if Sam was alone before reaching
out to tug his shirt hem.
Stepping forward into the house Sam grinned and kicked the door shut behind
him. He glanced around quickly, hand already slipping over Dean's hip. "You
alone?"
Stepping into the touch Dean nodded slowly, head falling back just an inch to
meet Sam’s gaze. "Yeah, my dad went to work. I dreamed about you." That last
part kind of slipped out but Dean didn't care as much as he thought he would.
It was good. He grinned and wrapped his hand up behind Sam's neck, pulling him
in for kiss in greeting.
Sam made a small noise of agreement and pressed his lips against Dean's. "You
taste good," he murmured. It was like this made him believe that the night
before hadn't been some sort of crazy fantasy he'd made up. "You're real." Sam
ginned against Dean's mouth, "I sometimes, well, don't think I'm crazy." He
pulled back a little and stared down into Dean's eyes. "It's an occupational
hazard, sometimes; I can't believe things are real." His hand drifted up to
Dean's freckled cheek, "like you."
"That must be scary sometimes," Dean murmured before bringing their lips
together once more. He stepped into Sam's body and wrapped arms around the
boy's body, needing to feel him closer. Sam was already becoming a comfortable
presence and Dean used his warmth to calm the nerves still lingering from last
night. A small moan left his lips into the kiss as Dean pressed harder forward.
The force of Dean's movement knocked Sam off his balance a little and he
laughed softly. The laughter disappeared quickly though, replaced only by a
burning heat that he'd already come to associate with Dean. There was a part of
Sam that knew this was crazy, feeling like this so soon after they had met -
but he felt in some way they were connected by something. If he'd learned
anything hunting with his Dad it was that there were lots of things that didn't
have to be seen to be believed.
Sucking in a deep breath through his nose Sam slid his hands over Dean's hips
and spread out his fingers on the other man's back. Dean was warm and Sam could
feel the muscles moving beneath his t-shirt as they swayed closer together.
Running his tongue along the seam of Dean's lips, Sam couldn't help letting his
hands fall and hooking his thumbs over Dean's waistband.
"Wanna..." Dean stumbled back, pulling Sam with him down the hall. He told
himself it was just so they weren’t in the hallway but truthfully he wanted Sam
in his bed, above him once more. Their lips met and they collided for a moment
into a wall before stumbling into his bedroom. He rolled his hips hard into
Sam’s, hands fumbling down his sides and slipping between them to brush against
the half hard bulge in Sam’s jeans.
Heart thumping away in his chest - Sam let himself be pulled - then turned them
so he was walking Dean backwards. "Dean," his hands slid up to Dean's face -
holding him still against the door to his bedroom. "What? I thought you
wanted," he nipped groaned and ground his hips forward as Dean's hand brushed
his hip, "to go out?" Eyes locking on the older man's for a moment Sam smiled
softly, "you sure you wanna..." he wasn't making assumptions, knew he'd stop
the moment Dean said so, but God - there was something there that he couldn't
ignore. Something almost tangible was thick in the air between them; he slid
his hands forward, curling them around Dean's neck the sliding them up through
his hair.
There was no doubt in Dean's mind what he wanted. And it involved Sam on him,
maybe with no clothing. "Yeah. Yeah definitely wanna." The back of his knees
hit the bed and Dean fell back onto his mattress, exposing just how hard he was
for the boy.
Licking his lips, Sam blew out a breath. "You're pretty hot, you know that?"
His lips twisted into a shy grin as he shrugged out of his jacket and let it
fall to the floor. Biting down on his bottom lip he moved closer, standing
between Dean's legs and kicking them apart gently. Resting one knee on the
mattress right next to Dean's crotch Sam took in a deep breath and reached down
to slide a finger down the hard line in the front of Dean's pants.
Dean wasn't really ashamed at the way his hips rolled up so easily into Sam's
touch. "W..what do you wanna do?" He gasped softly and curled his fingers in
the bed sheet, hooking a leg around Sam's upper thigh. "I wanna do... Wanna
touch and whatever you want." His body lifted slightly, reaching out to snag
Sam and pull him closer.
"Touching," Sam murmured, "touching is good." Sam reached out with shaking
fingers and shoved at the hem of Dean's t-shirt - letting it bunch up under his
palms as he pushed it higher and higher. Dean's skin was pale but for the
bruises, they were darker now, raised red in some spots where they rope had
burned. "God," Sam hissed, fingers moving automatically to trace the marks.
"Does it hurt?" He shifted, his thigh pressing harder against Dean's crotch and
feeling his own dick grow heavier at the touch.
"Touching without clothes would probably be better," Dean pointed out and
grinned slightly, the expression faltering when Sam's fingers flicked across
his nipple. Dean moaned softly and pushed up enough to help Sam slip his shirt
off then watched as Sam's joined his on the floor. "Your body..." Dean sucked
in a breath and pressed forward so his lips slid across Sam's abs, sculpted
enough to show he worked out.
Hands pressing into Dean's hair, nails scraping across his scalp - Sam moaned
softly. It was good, feeling someone's lips on his flesh again; it had been a
long time since Sam had been touched and there was something gentle and urgent,
strong and affirming about the way Dean was touching him. He pushed on Dean's
shoulders slightly, creating enough space between them for him to tug on the
button and zipper of the man's jeans. Glancing up at Dean's expression he knew
it was okay; Deans cheeks were flushed, his lips parted, damp and glistening.
Sam undid the jeans and pulled them down along with Dean's boxers. "I love your
skin," he murmured as his rough palm slid up over Dean's stomach, running back
along the jut of hipbone. Again, he trailed his finger tips over the bruise-
dark flesh, "don't wanna hurt you." He pushed up off the bed long enough to
shimmy out of his jeans then climbed over Dean and sank down against his body.
It was so much more intense now they were naked; the soft was smoother, the
hard was rougher and Sam could feel his dick aching so badly.
Tentative, not wanting to cause Dean anymore pain, Sam lowered himself slowly -
gently. "Okay," he breathed out the moment he was pressing down against Dean's
body.
Dragging his teeth down his lower lip, Dean arched up into the heat of Sam's
body pressing down on him. "Not gonna hurt me," he quietly insisted, fingers
dancing across Sam's arms. "God this feels good. You on me, holding me down."
It was an unexpected kink, being controlled in such a way, but Dean soaked it
in and revelled in the sharp thrill. "You're gorgeous," Dean murmured as he
peered up at Sam.
Smiling shyly, Sam dropped all the way down and buried his face in Dean's neck.
Dean's flesh was warm and smooth - and Sam couldn't help the tremor of
excitement that ran down his body. "Dean," he murmured. The name felt thick and
rich in Sam's mouth. Falling slightly to the side Sam ran his hands up Dean's
arms and pulled them high above the other man's head. Circling his long fingers
around Dean's wrists, he held his hands there - pinned to the mattress.
Dean's face was gorgeous, long dark lashes had fluttered closed across freckle
covered cheeks. Lapping and sucking at a patch of skin just below Dean's ear -
Sam moaned quietly as he rocked his hips forward to pressed his heavy dick
against Dean's hip. "Crazy," he murmured as he dragged his lips down Dean’s
throat. Crazy, wanting someone so much when they hardly knew each other.
Dean wasn't even aware his body could bend the way it was, arching up into
Sam's heat and rolling to create more friction. "Good. Good crazy." He groaned
and tugged his hands still pinned, testing Sam's strength and no longer
surprised by how it only added to the pleasure. "So so good," Dean moaned as
Sam's body burned against his.
Sliding his free hand down Dean's body, dragging blunt nails across Dean's
chest and over his abs. The way Dean's body curved up, following Sam's hands
was hot - but then - so much of what Dean was doing was hot. Hooking his leg
over one of Dean's Sam stretched his body along Dean's side, fingers slipping
through rough curls at the base of the man's swollen shaft.
"Jesus," Dean gasped and jerked up into the touch, surprised by the intensity
that such a brief little touch sent through him. His hands shot out to snag
around Sam's neck and tug him down hard, slamming their lips together roughly.
His palms moved down along the smooth lines of Sam's shoulder, fingers pressing
over each bump of his spine. "Sam," Dean moaned as their lips broke apart,
lungs expanding as he sucked in a deep breath.
Stroking his fist up Dean's cock Sam moaned softly. He swallowed. Thoughts of
all the things that they could do together were drifting through his mind and
it was making him so hard, so turned on. He wasn't even sure he knew what he
knew to do with all the lust that was riding him. When he tugged gently on
Dean's cock he felt the man's body arch up, listened to the sweet moan that he
swallowed up in another kiss.
It wasn't the first time someone had touched his dick but Sam seemed sure, more
familiar with the equipment. Dean huffed a momentary laugh before digging his
heels into the mattress to gain leverage to push higher up. "We should... we
could..." he actually had no idea what they could do, what came next in the
progression of things, but he wanted and clearly Sam did as well. ”Want to
touch you," Dean mumbled, running a hand down Sam's side and leaning up for a
kiss once more.
Laughing softly, Sam pulled Dean closer by slipping his free hand under the
man's neck and cinching it tighter. He held Dean tight against him, like
somehow they could just forget everything around them; make their own little
words of flesh and sighs, soft moans and touches. Hand still stroking slowly
along the ridged flesh in his hand, Sam licked and sucked his way down Dean's
shoulder. "You can touch me," he grinned against Dean's arm, lifting his head
slightly to gaze up at his face. "I won't break whatever you do will feel
good." Sam was pretty sure that even though Dean was older than him, he was
feeling a bit insecure.
Dean didn't know where to begin as far as touching went. His fingers slid
repeatedly across Sam's back, curving with the muscles and shifting as Sam's
moved. Dean's breath caught in his throat as his fingers slid along Sam's hip
bone, inching closer to the heat of the boy. "You're just..." Dean shook his
head, unable to find words as his fingers ghosted over his hard dick. It was
enough to make him swallow thickly and look up into Sam's eyes, ensuring this
was okay even as his fingers curled around the hard skin, squeezing enough to
creature pressure.
Sam's body jolted at the touch; it was like electricity charging through his
body. Closing his eyes he clamped his teeth down on his bottom lip and let his
head fall down against the bed. Panting softly, hips rocking forward to chase
the touch he finally managed to open his eyes and resume stroking Dean's cock.
"Yeah, please," he murmured, "touch me like that." Eyes fluttering open Sam
leaned forward to catch Dean's mouth with his again.
As their lips slid together Dean let the stroke of his palm match Sam's,
squeezing in time with him, brushing his thumb over the slit. They rocked into
each other in waves, chest half brushing as their lips continued to collide and
fingers stroked. "Fuck," Dean gasped, mind spinning from the pleasure Sam's
large hand around his dick brought. He thrust his hips up toward Sam's body and
twisted his wrist, quickened his pace of strokes along his skin.
Dragging his mouth down Dean's neck Sam latched on to the man's Adam's apple.
He sucked hard, tongue rasping over the light stubble. It was slightly salty, a
light sheen of sweat covering Dean's neck and Sam hummed softly against the
overheated flesh. His hips were still moving, rolling forward into Dean's hand
with each downward motion of the man's hand. It wouldn’t take much more for Sam
to come - just feeling the heat and pleasure that was working its way through
Dean's body was turning him on so much he could barely stand it. Stroking
Dean's dick faster Sam ran swept his thumb over the head and shifted his leg up
higher to press against the other man's balls.
"Jesus," Dean moaned loudly and pushed his body up, lashes falling and lifting
in quick succession. His fingers hesitated for a moment, temporary lost in how
good it felt to be touched like this, before he caught up with himself. Dean
stroked swiftly along Sam's flesh and felt himself unwinding. "M'gonna," Dean
half mumbled and thrust up, shuddering at the course of pleasure shooting down
his spine. Toes curling for just a moment Dean felt the spark of his orgasm
washing down through him, feeling the hot spray of come along his chest and
working Sam in time with his keening moans.
God - Sam had no hope of staving off his orgasm after watching Dean come. The
heat of come splashing between them, the sounds that Dean made were so hot and
Sam thrust a handful of times before he was coming himself. He cried out softly
and bit down on Dean's shoulder, hard. His hips twitched forward, body writhing
against Dean's as they both rode out the pleasure ripping through their bodies.
For all Dean knew an hour could have passed before he came back down to
reality, blinking slowly as his head fell to the side, eyes fixing on Sam.
"That was... yeah. Yeah." Dean nodded and slowly smiled. His body still felt
like it was humming, and that was the best orgasm he'd ever had. Considering
this was just hand jobs, Dean could only imagine how everything else would
feel. "Wow," he breathed, shaking his head in amusement at himself.
Eyes heavy-lidded and half-closed, Sam wriggled as close as he could to Dean.
"Fuckin' awesome," he murmured. Combing his fingers through Dean's hair, Sam
smiled weakly - "What you lookin' so pleased about?"
Laughing softly, Dean shook his head once more, snuggling into Sam's side.
"Just this... it's good yeah? And generally good things should happen again."
Dean grinned and tilted up until his lips could meet Sam's. "We should most
definitely make this happen again. Soon."
"As many times as we can fit in." Sam's smile faded a little when he realized
that it wasn't a question of if he would leave, it was a question of when. He
watched a shadow pass over Dean's expression and leaned down quickly to kiss it
away. "Dad says we're gonna be here for a few days yet, he wants to spend some
more time with Abrah-your Dad." Rolling on to Dean's body, Sam grimaced.
"Sticky," he murmured.
"Here's what I think we should do," Sam began. "We should clean up," he nodded
and wrinkled his nose right before dipping down to suck on Dean's bottom lip
for a few moments. "Then, you should let me take you out for food."
"Alright, yeah." Dean nodded and tilted up for another lingering kiss before
rolling Sam off him. "I'll get a rag." He smiled softly at the boy, kissing him
once more before climbing off the bed. He'd forgotten that Sam's time here was
limited, that within a matter of days he could be gone. It made something
unpleasant swim in Dean's gut. He padded silently to the bathroom across the
hall and quickly wiped himself off before bringing the warm rag back to his
room, sitting on the edge of the bed to clean drying come from Sam's body.
"What's for food?" Dean asked, watching the way the rag moved along Sam's skin.
Humming happily Sam stretched his long frame as the cloth moved over him. His
spine cracked as he stretched his arms high up above his head, fingers grazing
the wall. "Something not good for us. You like pizza?" Finished his stretch,
Sam settled his hand over Dean's thigh possessively. It surprised him, how much
he already wanted to think of Dean as his.
Chuckling softly Dean nodded and snapped his rag down onto Sam's skin. "Of
course. Only freaks don't like pizza." He grinned and pushed up to his feet and
looked around for his jeans. "I know a place not too far from here, best
pepperoni imaginable," Dean glanced over his shoulder to take in Sam's full
naked body on the bed, caught for a moment in simply staring before coughing
and turning back to his pursuit for his pants.
"It's okay, you know," Sam smiled as he rolled up to sit on the edge of the
bed.
Looking back for just a moment Dean finally located his boxers and tugged them
on, pulling on his jeans a moment later. "What's okay?" He finally asked when
Sam didn't continue.
"Looking at me, I like looking at you." As if to prove his point Sam let his
eyes move down Dean's body and settle on his ass for a few moments before
standing and padding over to him to steal a quick kiss before turning back
again to hunt down his clothes.
"We should take some pictures," Dean insisted suddenly and pulled his shirt
over his head. When Sam looked back at him he couldn't help laughing. "At least
one. Because I'd like to have something physical to use to remember you by." He
murmured quietly, laughter trickling off as he turned away.
"It's not like I'm leavin' tomorrow." Sam dropped his gaze as he tugged his
jeans up. "Enough with the depressing stuff. He stepped over to Dean once more
and shoved his shirt back up to examine his bruises. "I didn't hurt you did I?'
Sam could tell just by looking at Dean that there had been enough hurting in
the guys life. "They look sore," the pads of his fingers trailed over the
darkened flesh.
Caressing Sam's hip for a moment Dean shook his head and smiled softly. "They
aren't. I'm fine and you certainly didn't hurt me. Not in the slightest." He
leaned up, pressing into his body so their lips could slide together. "It
wasn't even rough enough to hurt me." Dean smirked and pushed Sam teasingly.
"Mr. Paranoid."
Shrugging, Sam stepped back and picked up his t-shirt with a shy grin on his
face. "Just care, wanna make sure you're alright." Tugging his shirt down over
his head Sam combed his fingers through his hair and turned with his arms
thrown out to the side. "How do I look?"
"Gorgeous?" Dean suggested and stepped forward once more, catching Sam's wrist
and tugging him forward. "Hey, you know I appreciate it right? You caring I
mean. I- well. There's been a lack of that on my dad's..." Dean shrugged and
half smiled, stepping forward to lay his head on the boy's shoulder. "Anyway.
Thanks."
Wrapping his arms tight around Dean's body Sam smiled into his hair. He wasn't
sure what to say. There was something about Dean? There was a look in the man's
eyes that made Sam want to get to know everything about him? He felt ...
something. "I like being with you," pushing Dean back slightly he flashed a
broad grin at him. "Let's go get pizza."
"Yeah, pizza," Dean nodded and took Sam's hand, squeezing softly. "I'd say this
was a pretty awesome date." He grinned, dropping Sam's hand.
Sam tugged Dean toward the door, "it's just starting."
***** Chapter 3 *****
The song Dean was humming - something Sam had played almost ten times in the
jukebox at the pizza parlour - died on his lips when he flicked on the kitchen
light and spotted his dad sitting at the dining room table. "Uh, hey dad," he
said slowly and unconsciously rubbed his fingers against his lips. They were
still tingling from the kiss he and Sam had shared only moments before and
something unpleasant twisted in the pit of his stomach. They had been standing
in the shadows and to the side of the kitchen window so it was unlikely... but
if his dad had seen... "What's uh, going on?"
"You and Sam went out?" The man asked though clearly he already knew the
answer. "I didn't realize you two had developed any sort of... friendship."
Dean's lips twitched for a moment as he fought off a smile and an inappropriate
response. "He helped with so much, is still helping. 'Cause I have so many
questions about..." Dean gestured through thin air on his trip across the
kitchen to the fridge. They definitely weren't at a place where the word
possession could be used so lightly in conversation. "Haven't you been spending
some time with John?"
Abraham's jaw clenched and he looked to the side before looking back at Dean.
"Mr. Winchester has answered some questions I had but I would hardly consider
any of that something on a social network. I don't want you hanging out with
that kid. He's definitely not any sort of a good influence."
"Excuse me?" Dean turned disbelieving eyes on his father, holding the fridge
open with tight fingers curled around the handle.
"You're letting the cold air out Dean," Abraham pointed out and stood from his
place by the kitchen table, lifting his mug slowly. "And you heard me."
The look in Abraham's eyes was something Dean had seen before and was certainly
familiar with. It had been the same way when he wanted to spend spring break
with his friends at his buddy Jeremy's place last year. He hadn't even been
given the chance to explain that it wasn't a partying thing. His dad was quick
to say no, put his foot down, and Dean wasn't given much say in the matter.
"Dad. Sam is... you can't just say I can't hang out with him. That's not even
fair."
"You have no idea what these people see Dean. It's not the type of thing
someone as weak as you should be dwelling on. As the Lord says Dean, Turn from
evil; do good; seek peace and pursue it." He drained the coffee in his mug and
headed for the sink.
Dean wanted to point out to his father that the Lord never said that at all,
that some guy wrote a whole book of Psalms and for some reason the rest of the
world thought he was worth listening too. There were a million things he wanted
to point out, especially when it came to Sam, but he knew better. Still the
words bubbled along his tongue and he shook his head. "They do good. They saved
me dad, shouldn't that pretty much be the definition of good in your book?"
This time the look on Abraham's face told Dean he was pushing it. The tense
tone of his voice confirmed it. "The Lord deemed you fit to be saved Dean and
you better remember that. Those men just happened to step in when things got a
little tougher. Your spirit is weak and tarnished, possibly more broken than I
could know, and that's how that demon got in. If you continue to associate with
Sam Winchester and his father... it's only going to invite more evil Dean. I
won't allow it. And that's my final word."
Whatever Dean had as a response couldn't seem to form. He stepped back until
his body could lean against the wall for support. His father would never raise
a hand to him, would never strike him even in the form of punishment, but
sometimes his words could be worse a physical blow. He was weak and tarnished?
Was that truly how his father saw him?
Abraham was almost out of the room before Dean managed to get himself to use a
type of logic the man couldn't argue against. "Judge not, that you be not
judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the
measure you use it will be measured to you. Why do you see the speck that is in
your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how
can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when
there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your
own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother's
eye." It didn't really surprise him that he could quote the scripture so
easily, his dad used to read the bible to him before bed as a kid, these things
stuck.
His father turned slowly and curled his fingers around the door frame. "Excuse
me? Are you attempting to quote the Lord's words to me? As if I don't know what
he says? What do you expect Dean? That this would prove your innocence?"
"There's nothing to prove because I'm not any of those things. I'm not weak or
tarnished. I. I'm. I'm a good person. You just don't know me," Dean folded his
arms across his chest and stared hard at the ground.
"You're my son. Of course I know you. I'm not going to tolerate this from you
Dean. You're not allowed to spend time with Sam or John Winchester and once the
school year is over you'll be learning more about how weak your spirit truly
is."
The words were like ice and hung in the air even after Abraham's departure.
Dean blinked slowly and stared at the vacated space, something hollow growing
in his chest. Of course he wouldn't listen to his dad, he'd hang out with Sam
for as long as the boy was around, but the future definitely wasn't looking too
promising. With a quiet sigh Dean pushed away from the wall and slowly made his
way to his bedroom. There was a brand new Bible on his bed and Dean frowned
down at it. Somehow the Bible only made the hollow feeling grow and Dean turned
away before he got sick.
-=-=-=-
Sam tugged nervously at his collar and then straightened his tie again. His
cheeks were still quite red for the laughter that had followed him from the
Motel room. His Dad was highly amused by the fact that Sam had dressed up even
though all it amounted to was his cleanest pair of jeans, a white dress shirt
and a tie under his leather jacket. The only point Sam was trying to make was
that Dean was worth it. Even if John didn't get it he was pretty sure Dean
would appreciate the effort and the surprise date. They hadn't made plans, but
Sam knew Dean would be home.
Rapping three times quickly on the door Sam shoved his hands in his pockets and
rocked back on his heels. His nerves were a little on edge -but it was like
that every time until he was staring into those green eyes and then it was like
his world settled again.
Ever since his conversation with his father Dean's nerves had been on edge,
which was why the knock on his door came in early evening Dean had originally
scowled. Until he pulled the door open and spotted Sam there looking, fucking
amazing. "Sam," he breathed and smiled, leaning against the door frame. "You
look. Hi. Wow. What are you doing here?" Dean was unable to resist reaching out
to tug on the hem of the boy's leather coat. He was thankful his dad was at
work so they could talk and get on the same page with things. "I was hoping I'd
see you soon."
A huge grin spread across Sam's face as he pushed his hair back off his face.
"I'm picking you up for a date. Grab a warm jacket and let's go." Glancing
around quickly Sam ducked down for a quick kiss, "c'mon, cars runnin'."
"But... you're wearing a tie," Dean snagged the end and rolled it around his
finger slowly. "Should I wear a tie?" He couldn't help meeting Sam's grin with
one of his own, wondering what the boy had up his sleep.
"I'm just dressed up for you, we're gonna be outside." Sam gestured nervously
at the car. "I've got a, well, a kind of picnic I guess - even though it's
late. Are you a little hungry?" Shuffling his feet forward he stepped into
Dean's space and curled his fingers over the other man's hand.
Leaning into Sam's space Dean nodded and smiled, finger curling around Sam's
belt loop. "Yeah, I'm more than a little hungry. I'll just... get my coat."
Dean brushed Sam's hip bone with his fingers before spinning on his heels and
heading swiftly down the hall. He couldn't believe Sam had made a picnic for
him and dressed up. And generally just continued to be awesome. Once he was
wearing his coat and stepping into shoes, Dean headed back down the hall to
Sam. "Alright, let's go. What did your dad say?" Dean asked curiously, amused
already at the idea.
"My Dad? You mean about me being all dressed up?" Sam laughed and waited till
Dean's shoes were on before tugging him impatiently out the door. "He laughed
his freakin' ass off. Said I have a crush." Blushing, Sam waited for Dean to
lock the door and continued to pull him toward the car. Not only did he want to
get away from the house in case Dean's Dad was around but he wanted him alone.
He might have also been a little excited about what he had planned.
"I may have a crush," Dean mumbled and laughed softly, shaking his head as they
stepped up to the passenger door and Sam made a point of tugging his door open
with nothing less than a dramatic flourish. "Definitely more than a crush,"
Dean added once he'd slid into the seat and Sam had closed the door. He watched
Sam's hips sway slightly as he walked around the front of the car before
climbing in behind the wheel. "So, is this all a surprise then? Outside the
picnic?"
Taking a deep breath Sam slipped the car into drive and roared out of the
driveway. "Kind of a surprise. I wanted," he cringed and reached out for Dean's
hand, "don't think I'm stupid. Just wanted to spend some time with you, talk to
you and get to know you a bit. So... yeah." The heat on Sam's cheeks was almost
unbearable and he was pretty sure they were probably glowing. Heading down the
highway he tried to keep his eyes on the road ahead.
A pleased grin played across Dean's lips and he squeezed Sam's hand, bringing
it up to press his lips across the surface. "You're sweet. And I would never
laugh at such a good idea! I'm looking forward to knowing you a little bit
more. A lot more. Well, you get it." Dean laughed and turned enough in the seat
to put Sam in his direct line of sight.
Shrugging a shoulder Sam grinned. "Yeah, I get it." Oh, he got it. In a couple
of days he'd developed a stupid-ass crush on Dean that had involved primping in
the mirror, enduring his Dad's teasing and dreading the day that they would
have to leave town. Shaking his head, he pushed the thoughts of leaving town
away. "How was your day?" Threading his fingers through Dean's was second
nature and Sam loved the little thrill it gave him.
"It was uneventful," Dean shrugged and squeezed Sam's hand. In truth his father
had left a note saying Dean was supposed to read a whole selection of chapters
from the Bible and write on them. And he had only because not doing so would
only create more issues and even being eighteen didn't spare him from his
father's wrath. "How was your day? What do you guys do in between hunts?" Dean
was much more curious about Sam's life than his own anyway.
"Annoy the hell out of each other." Signaling, Sam pulled off the highway onto
a dirt road and slowed down a little so they didn't get thrown around too much.
Chuckling softly he glanced over at Dean, "we research, Dad spends a lot of
time at the Library 'cause he's too stubborn to use the laptop very often.
Scour for potential cases, you know," he laughed again, "I guess you don't.
News stories and testimonials that seem too suspicious. If we can find enough
clues to something being supernatural then we take off after it." He smiled and
squinted forward in the darkness looking for another turn off the dirt road.
Dean smiled, thinking about the two men ribbing at each other. It seemed like
the bond between Sam and his father was totally opposite to the one with his
own. Not that there really was a bond at all. "So by take off you mean like,
literally? Will I get to say goodbye?" Dean almost choked on the words,
surprised by how upsetting the very prospect of saying goodbye to Sam was. The
boy was about the only thing going good for him at the moment; Dean didn't want
to lose that.
"Here it is!" Sam blurted out. Pulling the car over to the side of the road he
turned off the lights and peered forward, "end of the airport runway," he
smiled and slid across the seat to settle against Dean's side. "Supposed to be,
I dunno, romantic." The familiar heat was back in his cheeks again.
"Dean, when I leave," Sam sighed and looked down at their fingers twined
together, "I really wanna stay in touch. I know I'm not some great catch or
anything..." he scratched at the back of his neck nervously. "It's like - I
know you and there's something there. Shit, I don't know how to say it."
Sometimes, Sam wished he were older and could sound less like some idiotic kid
when he tried to talk about things. "I don't want to lose touch with you, and
when I can, well, I wanna come back." He dropped his hand to lie along the seat
behind Dean’s neck and his fingers brushed the back of his hair.
Smiling softly Dean nodded and leaned into the touch. "I promised we'd keep in
touch yeah? I understand what you mean, about the something that's there. I
couldn't name it, but I feel it." Sam felt like a bigger part of his life than
Dean could even grasp, which was a bit terrifying but much more exciting. He
wanted to keep going down the path and find out where it led him. "I feel like
you get me and no one does. I don't even. But you do, so that's... it means
something." Dean reached out and laid his hand over Sam's thigh, squeezing
softly.
"Good," Sam felt relief flooding through him and the grin spread back on his
face. Turning quickly he leaned over the front seat and hauled a huge paper
grocery bag back with him. Glancing around for a few moments he slid back
reluctantly and put the bag on the floor then dove into it popping back up with
two beers. "Here," he opened one and handed it to Dean and put the extra one
beside him on the seat. "Dad said he'd skin me if I had more than one but it's
a special occasion."
Hair flopping down over his face Sam dove back down into the bag and sat back
up with two sandwiches wrapped in wax paper. "Chicken and mayo and a bit of
lettuce, hope that's okay." Rolling his bottom lip under his teeth he held one
out to Dean. "I got Twinkies for dessert. I wanted ice cream but I couldn't
figure out how to keep it frozen. Oh! and Strawberries. Am I a goof? Dad said I
was a goof." Wrinkling his nose he fiddled with the sandwich and his eyes
lifted to Dean's face.
Laughing in slightly swooned amusement, Dean shook his head. "You may be a
goof, but in the most adorable way. And I'm not complaining about it." Dean
popped the top on his beer and sipped to wet his tongue before taking the
offered sandwich. "It all sounds great, thank you." Dean had taken a few girls
out on dates but it had always been to fast food places or a step up, like
Village Inn or something. This was, as Sam said, romantic, in the best way
possible. "Thank you," he whispered and gave Sam a small, private smile that
held most of what he was feeling.
"You're worth it," Sam's grin was crooked. "So - tell me your deepest, darkest
secret." Tearing the wax paper off his sandwich and balling it up Sam took a
big bite out of his sandwich. Twisting around on the seat he kicked his boot
off and pulled his foot up onto the seat, tucking it under Dean's ass.
Stalling for time Dean slowly unwrapped his own sandwich and stared down at it
before shrugging. "I think you know my deepest, darkest secrets. I mean the
possession thing. And the maybe a little gay thing." Dean looked up to meet
Sam's gaze and smiled. "So um... besides those. Which are pretty major." His
lips pursed together and he stalled longer by taking a bite of his sandwich. "I
hate my dad," he finally admitted after a swallow, eyes lifting to Sam's once
more. "This is good," Dean held up the sandwich to signify what he meant before
looking away.
Chewing slowly, Sam put his sandwich on the paper in front of him on the seat.
When he'd swallowed he reached out for Dean's arm and squeezed it briefly.
"Hate? That's a pretty strong word. Is it because of the way he treats you? I
mean, I haven't seen it - but the things you've told me that he says." Sam
blinked slowly and reached over for his beer, opening it, and taking a few
sips.
With a shrug Dean grabbed his own beer and took a few long drinks. "Yeah, maybe
hate is a strong word. Dislike with a passion?" Dean suggested and gave Sam a
brief smile. "He just... it's always all religion with him. And I'm not saying
that's bad, sometimes it's good to believe in things but it's like he doesn't
even realize that God didn't write the Bible. That there are dozens of books
from the Bible that the Catholic Church a long time ago decided weren't giving
off the right image. Seriously, why does he feel like we have to live our lives
to that? He doesn't even get the God thing at all." Dean exhaled harshly,
rolling his shoulders to ease off the slight tirade he went on. "Sorry, I may
be a bit passionate about the subject."
"Well, with all the bad things I've seen I'd sure like to believe in some of
the good stuff." Confusion furrowed Sam's brow for a few moments while he
thought about the fact that they'd seen so much evil and so little good. "I
look for good in people. I mean, it probably sounds stupid but with so much
shit - you know - demons and ghosts and spirits I can't help feeling like it's
up to us to be the good." Retrieving his sandwich off the seat Sam took another
bite, thoughtful.
Dean laid his free hand over Sam's calf and massaged softly. "Some people think
that humans are inherently evil. They think that one act written about in the
Bible condemned everyone from then on out." His eyes scanned across the
landscape in front of them and Dean slowly shook his head. "I don't want to
believe that. If there is a God and we're all just doomed to be evil creatures
who hate and fight and tear this world apart, then why does he even bother?
There has to be good right? To make up for the evil?" Dean looked over at Sam,
a little surprised by how serious their conversation suddenly was.
"Well, I think so. You don't believe that people are born evil do you? I mean -
kids, man, they're adorable. They can't be evil." Sam blinked and put his
sandwich down, wrapped it up and put it back in the bag. "There has to be
something opposite to Demons. Everything has an opposite. That's how, I mean,"
he shifted a little on the seat so he could move a little closer, "that's how
we hunt, yeah?" Sliding his fingers over Dean's he smiled. "We exorcise Demons
reading religious rites, we... we use pure things like salt and silver to repel
things that are all twisted inside - twisted and wrong." Sam's eyes widened a
little when he realized is was getting a little worked up. "I don't know, I
mean I've never seen an angel or seen a person repel a Demon on their own."
Squeezing Sam's hand Dean nodded and leaned toward Sam. "I think we're born
good. Some people do evil things, and some are worse than others, but it's what
makes us human I suppose. My dad thinks I'm evil." Dean frowned and reclaimed
his sandwich, taking a large bite. Once he'd swallowed, Dean looked back at Sam
and half laughed. "Of course my dad thinks just about everyone is evil. You
know, he forbid me to hang out with you anymore. And he's making me write
papers about Bible verses. Like that's gonna purify me or something." Sighing
softly Dean shook his head and drained two large swallows of beer from the can.
"Forbid? Me? What did I do? Doesn't he know that we helped you?" Surprisingly,
a spark an anger ignited somewhere in the pit of Sam's stomach. Withdrawing his
hand he fiddled with the cuff of his jacket sleeve. "I mean, his religion
wasn't doing anything was it?" He took a few sips of beer and rubbed his thumb
over the smooth surface of the can.
Frowning at the sudden change Dean laid his hands in his lap and shrugged.
"That's just how he is. He thinks all the things you guys see, that it's bad,
and that you're not a good influence on me. Which is fucking ridiculous because
I'm eighteen, not a child. I don't care what he says; I'm certainly not going
to follow his rule." Dean peered down at his sandwich before lifting it and
forcing himself to take a bite.
"We help people." Sam's voice was soft. It wasn't like he hadn't wondered
sometimes if seeing all this evil was bad, would wear off on him somehow. Maybe
he was tainted - or he would be if he kept going on hunt after hunt. Finally,
forcing himself to look up at Dean and reached out and trailed his fingers down
the man's cheek. "You don't think that I'm-" he cleared his throat, fuck, why
did it matter so damn much what Dean thought of him? "You don't think I'm bad -
a bad influence do you?" Blinking slowly in the darkness Sam shifted a little
closer.
"What?" Dean blinked in disbelief and quickly shook his head. "No. Not at all.
You- I mean- you're the first person I really felt connected to. That can't
possibly be bad. And you and I... the things we feel together, that definitely
isn't bad." With a smile Dean leaned forward until his forehead could rest
against Sam's. "I'm ruining our romantic date. Let's not talk about that crap
anymore okay? I want all the time I have left with you to be amazing." Tipping
his head slightly Dean brushed their lips together before settling back in his
seat to resume eating his sandwich
"That's easy," Sam reached out and curled his fingers around the back of Dean's
neck, "any time I get to spend with you is amazing." That was an absolute
truth. Sam got along pretty great with his Dad considering how much time they
spent together in the confines of the car but this was so different, special.
"Dean?" Sam tightened his grip on Dean's hair.
Settling into Sam's side Dean inhaled his scent slowly and curled his fingers
over Sam's thigh. "Yeah?" He had a brief moment where he considered how nice it
would be to stay like this forever before he pushed the thoughts away before
they could hurt.
"You're gonna be okay right? With your Dad, I mean?" Already, there was some
part of Sam who couldn't stand the thought of anyone treating Dean badly - like
he was something broken or wrong. He also knew that his Dad would tell him he
was being an idiot if he said he wanted to stay in town because of a few days
with some guy. Turning, Sam settled back against the door and pulled Dean up to
rest against his chest. Lips ghosting over Dean's soft hair, he smiled, "I.. I
can't stand the idea of something happening to you."
Relaxing back into Sam's chest Dean considered the best way to answer. He
didn't want Sam to spend time worrying about him once he moved on. "I'll be
okay. I'll graduate soon, and then I can figure something out. Get out on my
own." Dean liked the way he settled against Sam like this, how strong and firm
the boy was. "Hey maybe once I finish school we can go do something. I'll have
some time to be free for awhile, maybe we could meet up somewhere." He smiled
softly at the idea of going somewhere with Sam, spending some uninterrupted
time with him.
Tightening his arms around Dean, Sam smiled. "Like a mini vacation, only let's
not drive." He laughed into Dean's hair and pressed his hand against Dean's
chest. "Sometimes, I get so tired of being on the move. You know, I’ve never
really stayed long enough anywhere to even get to know anyone." Restless
fingers were moving in small circles on Dean's chest. "One day, I want a house
or something - somewhere I can work on the car and put my clothes on hangers.
You know - Jesus - all my clothes are like folded up in my duffel bag all the
damn time." He chuckled again and nuzzled against Dean's temple until the man
moved enough for him to kiss his cheek softly. "What would you change about
your life right now?" He whispered the words almost against Dean's ear, lips
tickling the shell of the man's ear.
Heat curled down his spine, causing Dean's eyes to flutter for a moment as he
shifted back into Sam's chest. "Right now?" He slowly wet his lips and
considered all the possibilities. "I would go with you," Dean finally
whispered, suddenly glad Sam couldn't see into his eyes considering the sharp
prick of tears that stung along his eyelids. "I wouldn't let you go without
me." His fingers curled into Sam's thighs and he rocked his hips back slightly
to adjust on the seat and change the direction of the conversation.
The way Sam's heart was pounding; he figured he could just keep Dean there
forever. He shifted a little on the seat, squeezing his legs against Dean's
hips and lowering his hand to slip his fingers under the hem of the man's t-
shirt. "You'd hate being stuck in the car with me," Sam bit down on this bottom
lip for a few moments. "Dad says I fidget too much and I make obnoxious noises
when I eat – ‘specially chips." It was stupid but the weight of the
conversation was getting to be too much for Sam. There was nothing he wanted
more than to just keep Dean with him but he knew exactly what his Dad would
say. John had already given him a quick John-like lecture about summer flings
and being sixteen years old and hormones and all kinds of other things that Sam
really hadn't wanted to hear.
The heat of Dean's ass right against his crotch was driving Sam completely
crazy. Blowing out a warm breath against Dean's neck - Sam whispered, "you ever
had a boyfriend before?" His hips rocked up gently against Dean's ass and heat
shot through Sam's body making it hard to even concentrate on talking.
"Mm nope," Dean shook his head and let his head drop back to Sam's shoulder,
turning to work his lips over his skin. "You gonna be my boyfriend?" Dean
murmured against his skin and rolled his hips back to meet the way Sam's rocked
forward. He could feel how turned on Sam was, could feel the hard line pressing
through layers of denim and cotton and a moan slipped from his lips. The very
idea of the way they were sitting, what it meant and what it could be, made
Dean a little bit crazy. His mind flashed with the sudden image of Sam bending
him over, taking him, and Dean scraped his teeth over Sam's skin.
"I'll be your," Sam gasped as Dean's lips moved against his neck,
"boy...boyfriend." He dragged his hand up his boyfriend's chest until his
fingers could brush teasingly over an already hard nipple. Free hand sliding
down of Dean's waistband, Sam swallowed, "you make me -" his voice was thick
and almost jammed in his chest, "Fuck I want you." The words slipped out before
Sam could stop them; hissing in a breath he slid his hand down over the front
of Dean's pants and squeezed his fingers around the growing bulge there.
Moaning louder, Dean's hips moved up into the press of Sam's hand then he
ground back and down into his boyfriend, smiling at the internal usage of the
word. "Y-yeah?" He murmured thickly and reached behind him to curl his fingers
over Sam's hipbones. "How? How do you want me?" Letting his head fall back once
more Dean kissed every inch of Sam's neck he could manage, sliding over the
salty skin and memorizing the taste of him.
Stretching his arms back around Dean, Sam fumbled with the button on the man's
jeans then tugged the zipper down. He'd waited as long as he wanted too to get
his hands on Dean, he knew that Dean was as worked up as he was and didn't see
the point in torturing either of them. Well, not in a bad way. Shoving at the
denim he managed to get his hand down inside Dean's jeans and boxers and
suddenly had a hand full of hard, stiff flesh and a boyfriend who was writhing
up into his hand.
"Oh." Dean sucked in a sharp breath, eyes fluttering closed as he arched up
into Sam's hand as much as he could in the confined space. God Sam's hand on
his skin, the way it sent pleasure through him was intoxicating. He made a
point of rolling back into Sam's hard dick with every move forward, trying to
drive his boyfriend just as crazy as he was being driven. "Fuck Sam, s'good,"
the words came out in a gasped murmur and Dean tightened his hold on Sam's
hips, legs pressing against leather.
There would never be enough of watching Dean like this. Never. Sam could barely
hold onto his boyfriend - he was writhing up, hips jolting forward to get more
contact and sinking back down and grinding his ass against Sam's crotch. He
knew this was going to be one of those things he'd remember his whole life. The
smell of Dean's hair, and skin was all around him and Sam breathed in deeply.
None of this would ever leave his mind, the squeaking of his leather jacket
against the door, the soft and sweet moans from Dean's mouth, the heaving
breaths - already - he couldn't imagine leaving Dean behind.
Straining his arm to reach lower on Dean's body Sam moaned softly and turned
into Dean's mouth - sucking and licking his way into the wet heat of his
boyfriend's mouth. Two days and he loved kissing Dean - it felt so natural,
perfect - each slide of silky lips sent small shivers of want spinning through
Sam's body. After shifting once more, tugging Dean closer and thrusting his
tongue forward into his mouth - Sam was finally able to get his fingers curled
around his boyfriend's dick and stroke slowly.
Breathing in sharply through his nose Dean pressed harder back, twisting to get
his lips against Sam's. His hands slid forward to push at his jeans, wiggling
them down his thighs and granting Sam more access to his skin. "Sam," he gasped
as Sam's fingers squeezed for a moment. "I want..." he moaned low in his throat
and thrust up into Sam's hand. He had no idea how out of control Sam could make
him feel, how much it could make his body shutter and writhe almost out of his
control.
"I wanna make you feel good," Sam murmured, lips dragging across the light
stubble on Dean's cheek. He sucked his boyfriend's ear lobe into his mouth and
rolled it gently between his teeth while his fist continued its steady rhythm
on the rigid shaft. God, the heat radiating off Dean's body was amazing. Jammed
back against the door, Sam's back was aching slightly but he found it really
hard to care. Sliding his free hand across Dean's stomach he could felt the way
his abs tightened each time his spine twisted, each time he thrust his dick
forward into Sam's grip. "You're so fuckin' sexy," Sam couldn't help blushing -
but there was just no other way to describe Dean. The way he was moving all
liquid and smooth - he was just sex.
Pushing around, Dean spun out of Sam's grasp and knelt on the seat between
Sam's legs, falling forward to crush his lips against Sam's. There wasn't
enough space for them here, cramped into the front seat, but Dean was going to
make do with the room he had. His leg hit the steering wheel hard and his jeans
made it difficult to move but his hands tugged up into Sam's hair and pulled
back. Dean wanted to kiss Sam as hard as possible, wanted to taste every inch
of him, and his hands dropped hard onto his shoulders. Denim finally slid
between his fingers and Dean fumbled with it, pulling the button of his
boyfriend's jeans up hard to slide it free and tug roughly at the zipper.
"God," he groaned into Sam's mouth and tugged him up off the seat slightly to
pull at the jeans.
Arching up off the seat Sam kicked and shoved to get his jeans further down his
body. He wanted Dean's hands on him, anywhere, it didn't matter. Straining
forward, frustrated, he grabbed the back of Dean's neck and yanked him forward
again into a rough kiss. Nails digging in to the back of the man's neck Sam
opened his mouth wide, tongue sliding forward to sweep over every part of
Dean's mouth. Moaning into the kiss he let his hands trail down Dean's back
until they could settle over the bare flesh of his ass.
Before now Dean hadn't realized the way in which his body could bend but he
tested it, sliding against Sam's body and pulling him until his knees bent up
and back laid flat along the seat. They slid and moved together, getting
tangled in clothing they both tried to remove at the same time. Dean felt like
he was inhaling Sam's air whenever he pulled back enough to breathe and his
mind was swimmingly dizzy, spinning into overdrive. "Sam, god, you're making me
crazy," Dean shook his head in almost disbelief and pulled his boyfriend up
enough to tug his shirt up over his head, sending it over the backseat and
falling back down to taste the stretched skin across his chest.
"Dean," Sam said hoarsely. He was panting softly, breath quick and shallow as
he tried to shift around and grip the bottom of Dean's shirt. The windows were
fogged, the car only lit by the small amount of moonlight that managed to slip
in the windows. Every now and again, Dean would move a certain way and Sam
would catch the glint of light in his boyfriend's eyes. Gorgeous. The word kept
rolling through Sam's mind. Throwing Dean's t-shirt into the back seat Sam
brushed his fingers over the man's chest then finally settled both hands on his
hips.
It took more work than he anticipated, climbing back enough to wiggle the rest
of the way out of his jeans. Dean was winded in the best way imaginable and his
eyes slid over the barely visible flush on Sam's body. He wondered briefly if
there would be more room in the backseat but his fingers were drawn to Sam's
waistline and he nearly lifted the boy up to pull the material off, huffing as
Sam squirmed to get free. "Wanna feel," Dean muttered and wrapped his fingers
around Sam's dick, stroking slowly as his knees pressed down into the car mat.
"No room," he complained with a faint laugh, falling forward to capture Sam's
lips in another kiss.
Sam had wanted Dean's heat against him again, the sweat-slick flesh pressed up
against him. He tugged Dean even closer, completely convinced that if they were
close enough he could feel the distant thumping of Dean's heart. Lashes
fluttering closed; Sam ran his tongue along the flat surface of Dean's teeth.
His hips twitched up every time Dean touched him, every time fingers ghosted
across his flesh. "We could move," he murmured into Dean's mouth, then sucked
on his bottom lip.
"Want you over me," Dean quietly insisted before capturing Sam's lips with his
own once more, tongue working forward with slow swipes. His fingers twitched
along every inch of Sam's body he could reach, constantly moving down and
forward and any way possible that would draw Sam's flesh into his. He was
searching for more, pushing the limits because he'd never wanted someone so
badly. And some part of him seemed convinced that this moment could last
forever if they just kept touching.
"Get up," Sam shoved roughly at Dean and pulled his legs up until he could
kneel for a moment. Shaking his head, trying to clear the lust for a few
moments he climbed over the seat and gazed back at Dean. "Well, get over here,"
he growled.
The way Sam words sounded sent a shudder down Dean's body and he scrambled
forward, fumbling over the seat and falling into the back ungracefully. He
grinned and parted his lips to say something but Sam cut him off with another
hard kiss. Dean melted into it, allowing his boyfriend to lay him back against
the cool leather of the backseat. There was much more room here and Dean spread
his legs, crooking one up to give Sam enough room to settle in between.
Sam held his upper body up off of Dean's and his eyes went straight to Dean's
face. Wriggling his hips slightly he settled down in the V of Dean's legs,
hissing as his dick slid against the heat of his boyfriends. "God," he growled.
He rocked forward again, loving the feel of hard flesh against hard flesh.
"Dean," dipping down he buried his face into the crook of the man's neck,
lapping at the salty sweat that was glistening on his flesh.
There weren't even words to describe the way Dean's mind seemingly spun off
course when Sam's skin met his. Dean groaned and let his head fall back further
to give his boyfriend more room to explore. His fingers curled into Sam's back,
dragging along the skin and pressing hard enough there would likely be red
marks. Not really bothering to care about that, Dean pressed hard and pushed
his hips forward into Sam's, moaning loudly as their dicks slid together.
Sucking hard on the hot flesh of Dean's neck, Sam moaned and rolled his hips
constantly. Finally, sinking down onto Dean's body all the way he slid his hand
forward to cup the side of Dean's neck. The heat of Dean's blood was drawing up
into the skin as he sucked hard, teeth grazing the skin. Ever since the first
time he'd seen Dean's bruises, the marks across his body - Sam had wanted to
leave a mark. A kinder, gentler mark that would mean something so different.
Grinding hard against Dean's hips Sam moaned again and his lips pulled away.
Glancing down he smiled at the darkening bruise low on Dean’s neck.
Panting, Dean slowly shook his head and smiled up at Sam. "You just gave me a
hickey didn't you?" His fingers slid down Sam's side and he laughed roughly,
voice hoarse from the intense arousal rocking through him. "Maybe you should
give me some other ones, that I can discover later." Dean thought about
standing in front of the mirror and looking at the places Sam had marked him.
It made his hips snap up slightly just at the thought, rolling forward and
moaning as their skin collided. "I wanna taste you," Dean murmured, fingers
sliding across Sam's ass slowly.
Huffing out a laugh, Sam slid down Dean's body a little and sucked and bit his
way across the man's collar bone. Scratching his nails down Dean's chest, Sam
muttered, "relax..." Fuck, if Dean's lips went anywhere near his dick right now
he'd come - almost instantly - he knew it. Catching Dean's nipple between a
thumb and forefinger he rode the wave up of Dean's body as his spine bowed up
into the pleasure he was feeling. Dropping one knee down to the floor of the
car Sam slid down and licked at Dean's belly - tip of his tongue darting into
his boyfriend's belly button before dragging down over the downy hair just
above his dick. Dean was hard, his dick thick and heavy, red and weeping; Sam
slid his hand over Dean's balls and squeezed.
Groaning, low in his throat for the seemingly thousandth time, Dean arched up
into the touch of Sam's fingers. How the fuck he was supposed to relax was
beyond on him. Sam's flesh against his was enough to make him so close to the
edge it was almost impossible to fight off. "Sam..." he moaned and writhed
along the car seat, digging his heels into the car door in effort to push his
body further up into his boyfriend's hand. "You're just... c'mon more," Dean
didn't care that he was pleading; he just enjoyed the idea that it might make
Sam a little more insane.
Eyes wide, Sam soaked up every movement of Dean's body - watching the way his
muscles rippled, clenching and relaxing. Leaning forward Sam ran his cheek up
the length of Dean's arousal, closed his eyes and placed a gentle kiss against
the head; his tongue darted out to lap up the pre-come and he moaned softly.
Moving his fingers against Dean's balls, he rolled them, squeezing gently then
tugging.
Sucking in quick breaths Dean rocked up into the touch, hand pushing down until
he caught Sam's hair and threaded his fingers through the soft silk. Dean
hadn't expected the wonderful thrill of warm heat coursing through him and
squeezed his eyes shut. "Fuck," Dean gasped and pushed forward desperately, far
too eager for his own good. His teeth slid along his lower lip, pressing hard
into the skin and wondering briefly if his moans could be heard from outside
the car.
"God," Sam breathed. The taste of Dean's come still lingering on his tongue Sam
parted his lips and sank them down over the head of his boyfriend's dick. It
was wider than he thought and he moaned as the fiery flesh slid quickly past
his lips. Sucking slowly, he let his tongue circle around the ridges and curves
as he explored. He'd had blow jobs before, couple from girls and one guy he'd
met in a high school somewhere. But this, this was different. Dean was
something else, something more. He sucked harder, fingers moving over Dean's
hips to hold him.
Trying not to force Sam's head down hard and along his dick, Dean gasped and
writhed, stuck in the same pattern of responses. It was like Sam was shutting
off some part of his brain and he couldn't think beyond holy fuck Sam's mouth.
By this point he couldn't get his eyes to open, and he could hear his blood
racing in his ears. Every sweep of Sam's tongue and lips along his skin seemed
to make his heart skip beats until it felt like he shouldn't still be
breathing. It was a little terrifying, like maybe Sam was literally going to
kill him via a blow job.
Sam sank his mouth down lower, swallowing and shifting so he could pull more of
Dean's heat inside his mouth. Curling his fingers around the base of Dean's
shaft he squeezed gently and leaned forward until his lips reached his hand.
Humming quietly he ended up moaning. The taste, the musky smell of Dean's body
- everything whirled around Sam - he started to feel like everything was a
dream - or some kind of messed up dream. Sucking harder he pressed his tongue
against the rigid flesh and felt Dean rise up again - pushing his hips up off
the back seat.
The sound falling from Dean's lips was a sure sign he was done for before Sam
could even suck in a breath. Of course Dean was losing himself in the moment,
set into constant motion and his eyes finally fluttered open. This was the
final trigger, the sight of Sam's lips stretched around his flesh. Dean moaned
loudly and tugged on Sam's hair in warning, not even managing a word before he
his muscles were tensing and his orgasm was flaring through him. For a moment
he half stuttered Sam's name before the word disappeared in loud moans.
The flood of hot come shocked Sam at first but the throb of his boyfriend's
dick in his mouth was so hot that Sam's own hips shot forward against the edges
of the seat. He couldn't hold back and as he swallowed, tongue sliding in his
boyfriend's release Sam moaned and sucked in a breath then jolted forward
again, coming so hard his vision blacked out. Pulling back off Dean's shaft Sam
fell forward, panting, arms wrapped tight around Dean's hips.
Dean sucked in quick breaths until he felt like the world wasn't tilting
dangerously beneath him. Finally he blinked his eyes open and smoothed a hand
through his boyfriend's hair, smiling in post blown haze. "Damn that was hot,"
he grumbled and sighed with an air of contentment. "Did you need..." Dean
rubbed Sam's arm slowly, sliding up to cup the back of his neck and tug him up
slowly.
Shaking his head slowly Sam could feel a heat creeping up over his cheeks.
Averting his eyes he smiled shyly. "No, I..." He slid his cheek down Dean's and
lapped at the sweat covered skin. Sucking in a deep breath, he kneeled up and
fumbled around on the floor until he found his t-shirt. Wiping himself off then
cleaning the seat he climbed up and looked over at Dean nervously. "Sorry,
you're just," he sucked in another breath and blew it out, "you're hot and you
taste-" he closed his mouth quickly and dropped his gaze. Sometimes, it sucked
being sixteen and being so turned on he felt like he was gonna die from it.
Grinning slowly Dean shrugged and pulled Sam forward, kissing him hard. He
thrust his tongue into the boy's mouth and chased his taste around until there
was nothing left but Sam. When he finally pulled back he was breathless and
significantly colder. "It's hot. Trust me." He murmured softly and let his nose
brush against Sam's. "You're hot. Together we're like fire or something
equally... hot." Dean snorted at himself and shook his head. "Gimme a break,
just had my brain sucked out my cock."
Laughing against Dean's lips, Sam couldn't help shivering slightly. Flailing a
hand down on the floor he found his leather jacket and crawled back to lean
against the door. "Can we stay a little longer?" He held out his hand,
"c'mere." He really wanted Dean back against him again, lying on his chest so
he could hold him. It felt like that's where he belonged. His eyes were wide in
the darkness, hand held out.
Taking Sam's hand Dean settled into his body and curled against him, sighing
once more. "I like being here with you," he murmured quietly and pressed his
lips to Sam's chest, breathing in his scent slowly. "Could just stay here
forever," Dean murmured and blinked slowly, eyes growing heavier.
Spreading the jacket out over them Sam tucked it around Dean. "Me too," he
murmured into his boyfriend's hair. "I never had boyfriend before." Warmth
settled deep in his belly at the idea and he couldn't help smiling again. He
really could stay there for the rest of the night quiet happily; he loved the
feel of Dean's breath puffing out warm and moist against his chest.
"Yeah," Dean agreed and nodded, arm settling around Sam's waist. "Next time I
get to suck you," he pointed out and grinned, keeping his eyes closed.
"Next time I'm gonna insist." Sam grinned and nuzzled into Dean's hair. "You
think-" He licked his lips, "maybe more before I go?" He held his breath
wondering if he was wanting too much too soon.
"Like... more stuff?" Dean blinked his eyes open slowly and tilted his head up
to peer at Sam. "Like... what did you have in mind? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I'd
be okay with- you know, with basically anything." It was completely true; Dean
wanted Sam way more than he was prepared to admit.
Shrugging a shoulder Sam closed his eyes and slid a hand up through Dean's
hair. "Like, I dunno, sex..." his voice trailed off and he massaged the back of
Dean's head. "I want to," he swallowed, "fuck you." The words didn't seem right
- made it seem something less than what it should be but it was the only way
Sam could describe it. And, hell, that was what he wanted. The idea of being
inside Dean, feeling that heat everywhere and watching his boyfriend come apart
under him - Jesus - it was the best image ever. "It's okay if you don't want
to, I mean I know that I'm young and - and I'm not all that classy or anything,
you know..."
A flush grew across Dean's face and he swallowed thickly, struggling to get his
mind to work. It felt like his body was already stirring once more and Dean
squirmed slightly so his dick wasn't in direct contact with his boyfriend's
body. Just in case. "Uh... yeah. Yes. I want. Yeah, I want that," Dean nodded
and pressed his lips to Sam's collarbone. "God the idea alone," he grumbled and
smiled slowly, pressing his fingers into Sam's side. "I want my first time to
be with you." Truthfully there was a part of Dean that wanted Sam to be his
only but that was probably more of a teenager thing, easy to fall in love. If
you could call it that. Which Dean thought he could.
Relief washed over Sam and his shoulders dropped. He hadn't even noticed quite
how tense he was once he'd finally managed to get the words out. Heart thudding
away in his chest Sam hooked his leg over Dean's and pulled the jacket tighter
around them. "Do you have to go back home to night?"
Considering the consequences of not going home, Dean frowned for a moment
before shaking his head. "No. I don't have to go back. I just gotta call and
leave a message. I'll tell my dad I'm staying at Jeremy's." Dean pushed up
enough to stare into Sam's eyes. "We gonna sleep in your car?" He grinned,
amused at the idea.
Excitement flooded through Sam's body. "My Dad's gone out of town for tonight.
I have, I mean, there's the hotel room. S'not very nice but it's clean and we
could," he shrugged. "I'd really like it - and we might not get another
chance..." The words kind of hung there between them, the unspoken
acknowledgment that Sam would have to leave sooner rather than later.
Some part of Dean's mind warned that he should be smart about things, should
really think and consider if this was the smartest course of action. But it was
Sam. And even after only a few days, that meant more than most things in his
life. "Yeah. Okay. Let's go there." Dean brushed their lips together, leaning
into Sam to make the kiss linger. When he pulled back he smiled and bumped his
nose against Sam's. "We can sleep in the same bed and everything."
"That's what I want...most." Sam had never fallen asleep next to anyone - not
even as some stupid sleepover lined up in sleeping bags with friends. It just
seemed like it would feel so safe and warm and - Sam could feel that he was
turning into the biggest sap alive. "Are you cold? I'm frozen" Sam laughed -
almost giddy now that he knew that Dean was coming back with him. "What d'ya
say we got back to my room and have our Twinkies?"
For a moment Dean just stared at Sam then he burst into laughter, too loud in
the quiet space of the car. It felt like he laughed for too long, not even sure
if Sam joined in before finally calming down enough to suck in a deep lungful
of air. "Whoa. Sorry," he gasped and shook his head. "I got drunk off you I
guess. But that amused me. Greatly." Dean nodded and grinned at Sam, shuffling
up in search for his clothing.
Sam was still chuckling as he tried to wriggle back into his jeans. He kept
bumping into Dean which, of course, resulted in a kiss almost every time. When
he grabbed his shirt he grimaced and tossed it back onto the floor opted for
just pulling his jacket on. Shivering slightly he wiped at the condensation on
the window and peered outside before pushing the door open and climbing out of
the car. "Jesus," he groaned as he stretched his arms up over his head, "I'm
way too tall for that back seat." Holding out his hand for Dean he grinned down
at him.
Taking Sam's hand Dean allowed himself to be pulled from the car and he
stretched as well. He wasn't nearly as tall as Sam but he was close and hadn't
even realized how cramped he was until he was free. "Let's go back to your
motel room," Dean grinned at him and pressed forward for a kiss. A sharp jolt
of anticipation and excitement crawled through him and Dean stumbled away to
climb into the passenger seat.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Sam had never been more nervous about anything. Considering he had just
finished his first demon exorcism and had faced down a werewolf and a shape-
shifter that was saying something. He slipped into bed beside Dean; the sheets
were fresh and crisp and rasped over his bare skin. He was so used to the smell
of Motel rooms that he didn't even really think about it anymore. This time,
all he could smell was Dean. Shifting closer to Dean he blew out a shaky breath
and draped his arm over his boyfriend's waist. "You always feel so warm," he
murmured.
"Warm blooded and all," Dean mumbled, attempting to hide his nerves with the
offhand, casual remark. His eyes drifted along Sam's face, fingers following a
moment later, mapping out the smooth lines of his jaw. "I'm nervous," he
finally admitted, smiling uncertainly up at Sam and shrugging. "It's a good
nervous, but it's there none-the-less." Tucking under the sheets Dean moved
closer to Sam until there was not even an inch of space between them.
"Me too," Sam whispered. His arm slid further down around Dean's back, fingers
brushing the top of his ass. "We ... is it okay? I mean, I don't mind. Really?"
Sam let his lips barely graze across Dean's, "I'm quite happy if we just sleep
here, together." Blinking slowly he smiled against his boyfriend's mouth.
Humming softly Dean shook his head slowly. "It's okay. More than okay.
Definitely." Dean deepened the kiss, enjoying the way his lips tingled even
though they were already plump and numb from all the kissing before. "I want...
god I can't even tell you. I got this idea in my head of you on me, and I can't
escape it. It's literally driving me crazy." Chuckling softly Dean pressed into
the kiss once more.
Sam's dick throbbed at Dean's words and he rolled quickly over onto him.
Pinning Dean down against the mattress he smiled and took his mouth again,
tongue sliding forward over his lover's lips. "Like this?" His dick was already
full and heavy, pressing hard against the smooth skin of Dean's hip. Rolling
his body down and forward he rubbed along the length of Dean's body and moaned
into the kiss.
Moaning quietly Dean nodded, head digging back into the pillow. "Y-yeah. Like
this." He arched his body up into Sam's, as much as possible, and leaned up to
capture Sam's neck between his lips. He sucked hard enough to pull a bruise to
the surface and fell back when he was sure the area was marked. Dean smiled at
the mark and ran a finger across it, blinking slowly. "You're definitely some
kind of crazy."
"Mhmmm," Sam's lips buzzed against Dean's and he chuckled softly. Smile fading
slowly he held himself up over Dean's body and stared down into those dark
green eyes yet again. "You're really special, you know." His voice was deep,
sandpaper rough and even as heat was rising to his cheeks Sam sank his body
down and licked his boyfriend's mouth open again. Heat flooded Sam's body; he'd
never wanted anything so much and been so scared all at the same time. Arms
trembling slightly he tucked both hands under Dean's head, tilting the man's
head to the side so he could deepen the kiss.
Dean's heart fluttered in his chest as he moulded up into Sam's body, opening
his mouth wide, allowing his boyfriend to search every inch of his mouth. It
was amazing how easily Sam could reduce him to a puddle of nearly nothing all
at once. His arms wrapped around Sam's body, pulling him in tight and holding
him there. As far as Dean was concerned, they could kiss for hours and he'd be
content. Especially with Sam over him like this. He moaned into his boyfriend's
mouth and rolled his hips forward to slide friction over his hard cock.
Gasping into Dean's mouth - Sam's hips rocked down again - his entire body was
a wave of muscles contracting and relaxing. God, he just didn't ever feel like
he was close enough to Dean and it scared him so fucking much. Heart clenching
tight Sam slid off Dean's body so he could run his hand down the length of him.
There was nothing about Dean's body that Sam wanted to forget; the coppery
colour of his nipples and the way they hardened so quickly when he teased them,
the curves of his muscles and how they fluttered and rippled under Sam's palm.
Eyes wide, panting, Sam dragged his palm down over Dean's cock - swallowing
thickly as anticipation sparked through him - he spread his fingers wide over
Dean's thigh and massaged the muscle.
There were so many things in Sam’s mind. He'd spent enough time on the Internet
to know how sex happened, how it worked, what he had to do - but fuck - having
Dean spread out beside him like this was making it really hard for him to
breathe.
Falling back onto his pillow Dean gasped softly, sucking a breath in a moment
later. He could just imagine Sam's hand moving up, exploring yet untouched
parts of his body. "Sam," he breathed and threaded his fingers up through Sam's
hair and squeezed. "Do you have, I mean, you know um, things?" He flushed and
felt stupid for being embarrassed by such a practical question.
Nodding slowly, Sam actually felt a little relieved. "I - yeah, I do." Sam
shrugged and ducked down to sink his teeth into his boyfriend's shoulder. "I'm
good at research," he muttered. He stroked his hand back across Dean's swollen
dick, kissed away the bite and rolled away for a moment to grab the lube off
the night table. Holding it up for a moment he placed it carefully on Dean's
chest. "Oh," his smile faded, "did you mean a condom?" Blushing furiously Sam
shifted back a little, "I didn't think, because - I mean, I've never and
you..." He shrugged and pushed up. "There's a drug store down the street, I can
go and get some, uh, one." He smiled down at Dean, "don't go anywhere?"
"I just meant the lube," Dean was quick to explain, pushing up to his elbows.
"I. Yeah, I mean I've never. And you've never. So it's okay right? I kind of
want to feel all of you." They were both blushing by this point, and both were
hard, and Dean bit his lip over a grin. "We're such fumbling virgins. I'm
pretty sure it's supposed to be all smooth and stuff. At least it is in porn."
Dean grinned and lifted his hand to smooth down Sam's side.
Laughing softly, Sam wrinkled his nose and dived back down over Dean. "I'm a
lot of things, but I'm not smooth. And you are so much better than any kind of
porn." Snatching up the lube Sam held it in his hand to warm it and took
advantage of Dean's position to crush their mouths together again. Anxiety
morphed back into anticipation as their laughter faded and Sam's free hand slid
down his boyfriend's body to settle once more around his arousal.
Dean kissed Sam roughly back, channeling his nerves into the intensity of the
kiss. "Sam," Dean breathed as he fell back, exhaling slowly. It wasn't really a
request and Dean realized he just enjoyed saying Sam's name. It was pleasant
and warm on his tongue so he repeated it and smiled softly up at him. "I want
everything. But, we'll go slowly? Just in case? I haven't ever touched myself
there or anything." His face couldn't possibly get redder but Dean felt the
heat radiating on his cheeks.
"I'd never hurt you," Sam murmured. Leaning across Dean's chest Sam kissed a
path down his lover's neck, pausing to nip gently at his Adam's apple. Rolling
to straddle Dean's hips, Sam bent down and licked and teased his way down. His
tongue flicked over hard nipples and he rolled each one between his teeth in
turn, moaning softly as Dean's chest pressed up into the touch.
Further down his lover's body Sam gripped Dean's hips, thumbs digging hard into
the dip just below his hip bones. God, it was one of the best parts of Dean's
body - the way the bone jutted out just below his abs. Diving down Sam sucked
at random patches of skin across Dean's abs, his lower belly, the sensitive and
silken skin just at the top of his thigh.
For the second time in one night Dean was at a total loss because of the way
Sam's lips felt on his skin. A low, guttural moan fell from his lips and his
fingers curled down into the bed sheets, body pushing up off the mattress as
his heels found purchase along the bed. He wanted everything all at once, heart
doing its now familiar slam against his chest. "Fuck, so good," he mumbled, low
and deep as he writhed beneath Sam's lips.
Smiling softly, Sam hummed quietly. He wasn't even going to try and speak - he
could hardly breath and could feel his hands trembling as he moved lower on
Dean's body. Kneeling between his boyfriend's legs Sam pushed them back
slightly, eyes widening as they trailed down over Dean's body. Like it was
drawn there, his hand moved up to the swollen flesh of Dean's cock. The skin
was ridged, and dark, the head glistening as pre-come leaked from it. Moaning,
Sam flicked the lid on the lube and poured some on his fingers. Lifting his
gaze to Dean's face Sam slid his hand down over Dean's balls and rubbed gently
at the puckered skin of his ass.
At first Dean's body instinctively shied away from the touch but he pushed
against it and rolled back down until Sam's fingers slid over the skin once
more. His eyes fixed up on Sam, staring intently as pleasure shot up his spine.
There was something so forbidden about the brief touch alone that had Dean
moaning through slightly parted lips. The nerves and anticipation were back
full force now but Dean spread his legs wider, offering Sam more room to
explore, too curious to deny him anything before they'd even begun. He nodded
in silent encouragement and scraped his teeth over his bottom lip.
Leaning down, Sam dragged his tongue up the length of Dean's cock. Flicking the
tip of his tongue across the head he pushed his finger forward, pressed hard
enough against Dean's tight hole that the tip of his finger finally was
engulfed by the heat of his boyfriend's body. Tongue darting out and lapping at
the head of Dean's cock Sam raised his eyes again to watching his lover's face.
"Shit," Dean gasped in shock at the burn and intrusion of Sam's finger. It was
coupled with the sweep of his tongue over his cock and Dean felt torn between
the pleasure and pain. Focusing in on the pleasure, Dean found it easier when
his hips shifted, pulling Sam's finger in slightly and easing the burn. It only
took a few moments for it to stop stinging and changing to a slightly
uncomfortable full pressure. But not bad. And Dean was too intent on the idea
of Sam being buried in him to stop now. "More," he insisted quietly and pushed
up on his elbows to stare down at his boyfriend.
Licking his lips, Sam crouched down lower and ran his tongue over Dean's balls
a few times before opening his mouth wide and sucking one completely inside his
mouth. Moaning, his own dick aching and feeling a bit like it would explode he
pushed his finger further inside Dean - feeling his lover's muscle relax
slightly. Sucking hard, tonguing the soft skin in his mouth - Sam pressed
another finger forward and slid it gently inside his lover's heat. It was
completely different than anything he'd imagined. The musky scent of Dean's
body was rich and thick in Sam's nose.
Dean felt overloaded, mind spinning out of control as Sam stretched him open
and worked his skin between his lips. Each breath he pulled in was shaky and
unsure, filling his chest and just as quickly emptying. He was a writhing,
moaning mess, squirming down into Sam's fingers as the fullness eased off to
something that was definitely enjoyable. "Fuck," he groaned as Sam's tongue
moved along his skin, fingers stretching him further apart. "More," he pleaded,
hands shifting restlessly along the sheets.
Lapping and sucking his way up Dean's cock, Sam twisted his wrist slightly so
he could slip a third finger deep inside Dean. He pushed hard, faster this time
- and sank his mouth down over Dean's cock as he did. Sucking hard, he rode the
lift of his boyfriend's hips and twisted his fingers slowly. Spreading his
fingers apart his worked his lover open, slick with lube, heat rising in his
own body with every movement.
"Oh," Dean gasped when Sam's fingers unexpectedly brushed against the spot in
him that caused sparks to shoot in front of his vision for a moment. His
muscles clenched around Sam's fingers and his body practically bowed up into
his mouth, heels digging hard into bed. "Y-you," he managed to growl, dropping
hard onto the mattress and moaning loudly when Sam's fingers twisted within
him. There was no lingering pain any longer and Dean was relieved to know this
was better than he imagined.
"Dean?" Sam was panting, flushed, his hips rolling slightly. "Can I?" Moaning
softly he sucked at the head of Dean's cock, tongue circling the sensitive
skin.
Nodding quickly Dean looked up, blinking lust from his eyes to stare at Sam.
"Y-yeah. Yeah. God." He fell hard back on the bed when Sam pulled his fingers
free, pleasure shaking down his spine. "Want you in me," he managed to gasp,
pulling his legs up in anticipation.
Blinking a few times, Sam swallowed then finally convinced his hand to reach
out and find the lube. Squirting more of the slick liquid onto his hand he
stroked it over his own cock, moaned loudly and squeezed his eyes shut for a
few moments. Wiping his hand on the sheet he dragged his hands up the back side
of Dean's thighs and smiled down at him. There were so many emotions flooding
through Sam's body and mind - he was shaking.
Grabbing the base of his dick Sam lined up and pushed gently. His hands drifted
back to Dean's thighs, fingers digging into his muscles. Biting down so hard on
his bottom lip that he tasted blood, Sam held still for a moment then pushed
forward again. The head of his cock jolted and suddenly it was past the tight
ring of muscle and surrounded by a heat he'd never experienced before in his
life.
Dean found himself holding his breath, eyes squeezing shut as he willed his
body to adjust to the way Sam seemingly split him apart. His fingers curled up
around Sam's shoulders, holding on as Sam slid further inside him, deeper,
filling him in a way he hadn't known was possible. "Jesus," he gasped and
pushed down, pulling Sam in. Dean's muscles clenched tightly, tensing his
shoulders, and he had to force himself to inhale to get his body to relax. Dean
could feel Sam's weight pressing him down into the bed and it kept the thrill
rolling up in him. "Just. Do it." Dean hissed and rolled back into his
boyfriend's cock.
Prying his fingers off Dean's thigh, Sam reached forward and brushed his thumb
over Dean's softening cock. His boyfriend's words ricocheted through his mind
and Sam's hips rolled forward. Dean's body resisted for just a moment then Sam
slid deep inside his lover. It was almost unbearably tight; Sam had to struggle
to stay still when all he wanted to do was draw back so he could slam forward
again. His body was pressed flush against Dean's ass and his brain just stopped
working. Lost completely in the sensation Sam let his head fall back as his
fingers curled unconsciously around Dean's cock. "Holy fuck," he murmured.
It took several long minutes and deep, lingering breaths in order for Dean to
get his body to calm enough to handle the intrusion. It faded gradually from
burning stretch, to that uncomfortable full, to something more. Dean was
acutely aware of the connection they now shared and once he was certain it no
longer hurt, his hips moved tentatively, rocking up into Sam's hips. He pried
his eyes open to stare up at his boyfriend, muscles clenching around Sam's cock
tightly. "S'okay Sam, you can move," he whispered, head rolling along the
pillow slowly as Sam's hips twitched deeper inside him.
Sam whimpered at the sound of Dean's voice. Dean's face was gorgeous - his
cheeks were flushed dark red, his lips swollen from a night of too much
kissing, his eyes were dark and wide and full of want and Sam's heart tumbled
over itself trying to beat faster. "Dean," he whispered, fingers sliding long
and slow up his boyfriend's shaft. He pulled back, dick sliding free of Dean's
heat for a few moments before he snapped his hips forward and sank himself deep
again. "Fuck, Dean..."
Sam couldn't stay still any longer - the ache in his cock and the heat spinning
through his body was just too much. Slow at first, eyes bleary and hardly able
to focus he thrust forward slowly, hips rolling back and forth in a slow
motion. The sweet noises that Dean was making made Sam ache even more, sending
shivers running up and down his spine. He loved the way his boyfriend's body
was bowed up, spine twisting and arching to get more, the best contact.
"Fuck, Sam," Dean keened his lover's name, arching almost completely off the
bed into the thrust of Sam's hips. He clenched around Sam's cock, pulling him
in deep with each thrust and sucking in quick lungfuls. "God. Harder." He
groaned and hooked his leg around Sam's upper thigh, attempting to hold him as
close as possible. He'd never felt something so pulse-racing, couldn't even
prepare for the way his heart skipped beats.
Hands snapping forward, Dean clung to Sam's forearms and groaning, loudly and
bending his body up in an almost unnatural way. Sam's thrusts increased speed
when Dean practically forced him, flexing his muscles along his leg and pulling
with his arms. Dean kept his eyes pried open just to watch the pleasure paint
across Sam's face each time he clenched around him. "S'good," he gasped and
slid his teeth over his lower lip.
Sam felt like his heart was going to explode in his chest. Everything ached and
buzzed and heat flooded through his limbs like they were dipped in fire. It was
everything he'd imagine and so much more. Fingers splayed on the backs of
Dean's thighs Sam thrust hard forward; his abs clenched he snapped his hips
forward sending his cock pounding into Dean's heat time and time again. Every
part of Sam wanted to try and make this last forever, being this close to Dean
- joined - connected. Better than anything else, closer, but he could already
feel his orgasm building like pressure deep inside him.
Something electric was crawling down Dean's spine, resonating up his veins and
sparking through his senses. It was almost too much to handle. Dean couldn't
suck in quick enough breaths, couldn't get his lips to form any words, just
moans and keens and sharp gasps. His hands slid along every inch of his lover
that he could reach, curling fingers into the back of his neck and pulling him
down roughly on top of his chest to crush their lips together. Dean thrust his
tongue forward into Sam's mouth the moment their lips met, sweeping across
every inch of Sam's mouth he could reach. He was going to lose it within
minutes; he could feel it already, orgasm spiralling quickly out of his
control.
Moaning loudly, Sam slid his hand between them and stroked Dean's cock slowly.
It was awkward and Sam didn't give a shit- he just wanted Dean to feel as good
as possible. Angling his hips slightly with each thrust Sam tried to find that
place again deep inside his lover that would make him come apart. As soon as he
hit it - he felt Dean's muscles clamp down around him, gasped and cried out.
His orgasm shot through him like wildfire, every muscle in Sam's body clenched
tight then released and with a final thrust he could feel his cock pulsing long
and hard.
There were half a dozen thrusts in quick succession where Sam drove into his
prostate and that combined with the quick stroke of Sam's hand on his dick sent
him spiraling into his release. "Sam," he gasped, moaned louder and fell into
his orgasm. His muscles tensed with each wave until Dean melted back into the
mattress, eyes falling shut only because it felt like too much effort to keep
them open. "Damn." He murmured some time later, still panting heavily to regain
control of his breathing.
Groaning, Sam collapsed against Dean's body - shifting his hips slightly so his
softening dick slid free. Mumbling something completely incoherent he circled
his arms around Dean's waist and let the man take his weight. He kissed Dean's
stomach and sucked in the scent of them, together. "I - Jesus, Dean..." giving
up on speech Sam sucked softly on a patch of skin just above his boyfriend's
collar bone.
A weird wave of emotion shot through him and Dean moved forward, trying to
press as close to Sam as possible. He clung to him, holding on as tight as he
could. This had been something other worldly; it meant more than any of the
other times he'd shared with girls in the past. Sam meant more and that was
almost scary. "I know," he mumbled, wanting to tell Sam how much he wanted him
to stay, wanted to go with him, keeping his mouth shut only because he didn't
want to ruin the moment.
Launching his body into motion, Sam crawled over Dean's leg and slid up to lie
beside him; he settled into the crook of Dean's shoulder, an arm and let thrown
over Dean's body. He didn't care if they were sticky with come and sweat - he
wasn't letting go of Dean any time soon. Fingers curling and uncurling on
Dean's chest he tilted his chin up to whisper, "are you okay?"
Nodding quickly, Dean briefly smiled and exhaled sharply. "Yeah. God. That was
amazing. Seriously. It was just..." Dean couldn't even think of words to
describe what it was that Sam made him feel. Just that it was the best thing
he'd ever experienced and no matter what happened, he would always remember it.
"Was I? I mean, I was, it was good? Really good? Yeah?"
A deep laugh rumbled in Sam's chest and he slid his hand up to cup Dean's
cheek. "Perfect," he mumbled and tilted his chin up to kiss the side of Dean's
jaw. Too perfect to leave. Closing his eyes against the cold flood of
apprehension Sam nuzzled into Dean's neck. "Was better than anything..." he
didn't bother trying to explain what he had done before, it was pointless. Now
was what mattered. He had Dean right now.
"Yeah, was," Dean nodded in agreement and swallowed around the rising emotion.
He settled into Sam's side as much as he could, inhaling his scent greedily. "I
hope we have time to do that again before you go," he whispered, fingers
tightening over Sam's arm.
Sam's brow furrowed slightly, an unfamiliar tightness pressing in on his
throat. "God, I've never wished before that I didn't have to leave somewhere."
It was strange even saying it- he lived on the road, he knew all the rules -
they were safer if they kept moving - there were people out there who needed
their help, people just like Dean. The problem was; no one was just like Dean.
"You should get a cell phone so I can get in touch with you."
"Yeah, I have a part time job so I think I can do that." Dean knew his dad was
against the idea of him having a cell phone but there were prepaid plans out
there that he could use and keep the device secret. "I'm never going to forget
you," he whispered into Sam's shoulder, already knowing the words were truer
than anything he'd ever said. This night, every single moment with Sam, was
going to forever be burned in his mind.
"You say that," Sam shifted so he could gaze up at Dean, "like you're never
gonna see me again." A shiver passed down his body and he pushed up onto his
elbow so he could get a good look at Dean's expression. "You're gonna. Right? I
mean, if I come back - you'll see me?" He suddenly felt every bit of his age.
Insecure, wondering if he'd done something wrong or stupid even while he could
see on Dean's face it was nothing like that.
"If you come back, when you come back, yeah. Yeah I'll see you. I was... I
mean, I was kind of hoping you'd still be my boyfriend? Would that be weird? I
know it would be really long distance but," Dean shrugged and smiled softly,
staring off to the side. "I don't really think anyone will ever top you. Uh, in
a figurative and literal way. So. Yeah," Dean laughed at himself and met Sam's
eyes questioningly.
Smiling Sam reached up and dragged his palm over Dean's stubbled cheek. "Yeah,
I mean - I don't want anyone else." It was so strange, to know that and Sam
knew that his Dad would probably argue with him but still, there were some
things that Sam just knew. "I'll come back, I promise. You promise you'll be
here?" He grinned; thumb moving over Dean's full bottom lip once then trailing
off down his chin.
"If I'm not here, I'll tell you where I am. That's a promise." Dean laughed
softly, amused how easy it was to make quick promises with each other. He
believed them though, so that was what mattered. They fell into silence for a
few minutes and Dean lost himself listening to Sam's heartbeat. "Talk to me,"
he finally requested, eyes closed but mind oddly awake. "Tell me anything, just
wanna listen to you." Honestly, he just wanted to continue to feel that
connection with him. It seemed too important to let go.
"I miss my Mom." Sam had no idea why it was the first thing that popped into
his head and subsequently out his mouth. Maybe it was just the conversations
he'd been trying to have with his father. So far - he'd had no success. "When
the Demon was talking to me, us, me and my Dad - it said some things that
didn't make sense to me." Sam's brows drew together as he thought about it.
"I never really knew what happened to her, I was so little - and I guess I just
didn't ask. She was dead and I knew what that meant so," Sam shrugged and
reached behind him for a discarded t-shirt. After making sure it was his t-
shirt he wiped at Dean's stomach, cleaning up his release a thoughtful
expression still on his face.
"The Demon said that my mom - well, that she'd killed herself." Saying it out-
loud, using those words made it all seem a little too real. Tossing the t-shirt
behind him onto the floor Sam settled himself across Dean's chest and blinked
up at him.
Staring down at Sam in shock, Dean blinked a few times, not sure what to say in
response to the confession. "And... is it true? Did you ask your dad about it?"
He thought about Sam hearing that information, coming from his mouth, and shook
his head. "I said that. Or well, my body did. How can you even stand being with
me after something like that? I'm sure it wasn't pleasant. I can still feel
that thing sometimes." Dean pursed his lips, reaching out to tuck Sam's hair
behind his ear.
The expression on Sam's face softened instantly. "It wasn't you - it was the
Demon. I know that." He leaned slightly into Dean's hand and dropped his gaze.
"I tried to talk to my Dad, he just says now's not the time and things like
that. But that's kind of an answer don't you think?" Worrying his bottom lip
with his teeth Sam blinked up at Dean. "Do you think that means she did?" It
was a pretty loaded question; Sam wasn't just asking if his Dad was lying, he
was asking if his Mom was in Hell - by her own hand.
Dean didn't even have to know the whole story to get some of the unspoken
intensity of this question. "I. God Sam, I'm not sure. I, do you want me to
answer that? Honestly?" He stared uncertainty at Sam, pressing his lips
together.
Nodding silently Sam took a deep breath.
Wetting his lips slowly Dean looked across the room, blinking something wet
from his eyes. "I think your dad would have denied it if it wasn't true. Why
wouldn't he?" Dean could see the crestfallen look on Sam's face and he wish he
could have given him a different answer. But he wanted to be honest.
Smiling briefly, Sam then frowned and dropped down to rest his cheek against
Dean's chest. Tears welled up in his eyes and he tried to focus on Dean's heart
beat, slow and steady below his ear. "So, he kept it from me all these years...
and she-" Sam’s throat clamped down on his words and a tear slid down his
cheek. He knew exactly where his Mom was if she had taken her own life -
trapped in a place with all those Demons and creatures that Sam and his Dad
hunted.
As far as his religion went, Dean knew exactly what it meant, Sam's mother
committing suicide. He pulled Sam hard against his body holding him close and
pressing a hard kiss to the top of his hair. "And he won't talk to you about it
at all? Maybe he just needs some time?" Dean couldn't imagine carrying that
type of weight on his shoulders, a secret like that from Sam for so long. "How
old where you again? I know you told me but, rough night and all." Wetting his
lips once more, Dean stroked a hand soothingly through Sam's hair.
"It doesn't matter," Sam wiped at his face with the back of his hand. "I don't
remember her - she took herself away from me. And he won't tell me anything.
Guess that makes you the only person I know who's never let me down." Letting
out a growl Sam nuzzled down against Dean's chest. "That's life right? Bad
things happen and ya move on. Just deal with it." Sam pushed down the anger and
mistrust and all the other negative feelings that were fighting to gain control
of him.
Pushing up until he was sitting against the headboard, Dean pulled Sam into his
arms and held him close, kissing his temple hard. "It is life, yeah, but
there's more to it. Life I mean. It's something great. And I know there are all
these shitty moments but the good ones? That's what makes life worth it." Dean
wanted to help, wanted to calm the ache in Sam's heart that was so clear by his
tone of voice. It was like a drive pressing hard into him. "I know how it
hurts, losing your mom. No one can ever replace that." He sighed softly and
nearly cradled Sam against his body, despite the boy being bigger.
"I know, really," Sam shifted in Dean's arms. "I don't care anymore. My Dad -
well- it’s not easy being raised a hunter but this doesn't surprise me. We ...
he and I don't see eye to eye on a lot of things." It was a complete and utter
lie but Sam didn't want to bring everything down. "What about you, your turn,
obviously I don't have anything good..." Blushing Sam tilted his head up so he
could see Dean's face. "'Cept you."
"And I've got you. So, that's about it." Dean smiled and shrugged. It was odd,
the place he lived in. Some kids his age might have rebelled pushed against it,
run away. But Dean wasn't like that. Even as a child he'd been repentant after
angering his father. Dean thought it might be his craving for the constant
stability. He could only distantly remember the departure of his mother and how
that had changed things. It had terrified him and he never wanted to be back in
that place. "I don't really have anything good either. Maybe that's why we've
connected so much. Two boys with crappy lives finding a common bond over
possession. Man, what a how we met story." Dean smiled slightly, shaking his
head as he laughed softly.
Taking a few deep breaths Sam smiled, "I'm gonna come back. Dad lets me keep a
lot of the money I get when I hustle pool." Sam stiffened slightly realizing it
was yet another thing that Dean didn't know about the Hunting way of life.
Eyebrows lifting Dean pulled back enough to meet Sam's eyes and he slowly
smirked. "You hustle pool? Seriously?" Dean hadn't thought about it before but
now that he did, it was a mystery as to how the Winchester's got paid. It
wasn't like his dad had offered him money or anything, and it seemed unlikely
anyone else would. "So that's how you guys get by? Hustling pool?" He asked,
just curious.
Wincing, Sam looked away and felt shame colouring his cheeks yet again. "I'm
only good at that, Dad does some weird stuff with credit cards - applies or a
bunch of them and uses them for emergencies and stuff. I've been playing pool
for years, used to play to kill time while Dad was talking to people about
hunts and stuff." Leaning back a little Sam pressed his lips together for a few
moments. "A real job would be cool," he said shyly, "if I had more school I'd
want to be a vet - but that's expensive and years of school. Maybe one day I
could work at one of those shelters where they keep abandoned animals or
something." Yeah, maybe one day.
Smiling slightly, Dean nodded. That was a nice thought, Sam settling down.
Maybe Dean could join him. Shaking his head to rid himself of those lingering
thoughts Dean looked at Sam and smiled once more. "That would be cool. Maybe
you could own one. Getting a business degree is easier; you could do it through
a community college, maybe even online. What about school? Do you have your
GED?"
A little taken aback by Dean's enthusiasm about school, Sam laughed softly.
"Nah, I just quit - Dad said I could when I turned sixteen. Doesn't really
matter for what we're doing. I just kill things and clean up messes. Don't need
much of an education to do that. When I need to know things I get online or I
got to the Library." Smiling up at his boyfriend Sam reached up and smoothed
Dean's hair back. "Sounds like you like school."
"I like the idea of being something more and getting out from under my father's
thumb." Dean shrugged. He didn't really want to think about school. He'd be
going back soon and there was likely loads he missed while possessed and now,
while his father was insisting on a short break to clear his mind. "I got
accepted to a state university but... I can't go. Not right away." Dean thought
back to his unpleasant conversation with his dad about school and frowned.
"Money issues."
"Is it really expensive? I have like five or six hundred dollars you could have
- if that would help." Sam had never bothered to look into college because he
knew it wasn't what lay ahead for him.
Smiling brighter at Sam's willingness to spare his own money for him, Dean
shook his head. "No, it's not that. I had a college fund but, my dad, well, he
has control of it until I'm older and he doesn't want me to go. It's too late
to apply for financial aid. He says I have to go to some religious camp this
summer, straighten me out." Dean shrugged, trying to belittle the weight of the
notion. A full summer at a religious camp, Dean couldn't even imagine what it
would be like.
"Straighten you out? What's wrong with you?" Sam didn't mean it as a joke - he
genuinely couldn't imagine Dean's father not being proud of him. "Are you gonna
go?" There was a desperate tone in Sam's voice that even he noticed. If Dean
was sent away to a camp it would be impossible for Sam to find him, let alone
visit him.
"I'm not sure I have a choice. I could run away or something but I have
literally nothing. I only get to keep a little money from my pay checks; dad
takes the rest for rent and bills, food, things like that." Frowning, Dean lost
himself for a moment in the hopelessness of the situation before looking up at
Sam. "What else can I do? I'm not like you; I don't have any street smarts. I'd
probably end up getting killed out there."
Sam's eyes widened and he turned in Dean's embrace so he was facing him dead
on. "Come with me." It was the easiest thing in the world to say. Sam didn't
care that he'd suffer probably a month of filthy looks from his Dad and
lectures about having to teach Dean to take care of himself, paying his way. It
would all be worth it.
"What? Like now? When you go?" Dean's eyes widened to match Sam's and he
stared, trying to decide if that was something he could even do. "And we'd
hunt? You'd teach me how?" Dean's mind was spinning now, considering the
possibility of going with Sam, being with him all the time. "What would your
dad say? Would he allow it?"
Shrugging Sam scrambled up and practically crawled onto Dean. "Aww, he'll be my
Dad - he'll be polite to you about it - understanding, say you can come with
us. Then he'll make me pay by bitching and complaining at me. You'd have to
earn your keep somehow -but you're smart I could teach you. And - if you wanted
I could teach you hunting ... stuff." Sam shrugged again, eyes brightening more
with each word. "I think it'd be better if you didn't hunt. I mean, at first
maybe but then we could go off on our own and you could go to school somehow
and be a ... be a... What did you want to do at school?"
Laughing at Sam's excitement Dean shrugged. "No idea. I kept chasing ideas
around. Nothing really solid comes to mind but I'm sure I could figure it out."
Dean felt a little crazy for actually considering Sam's offer, he'd never done
something so spur of the moment, but now his mind was reeling with
possibilities. "I... God. Yeah. That would be so much. A whole different life.
I can't even imagine." He shook his head but the smile lingered there.
Sam nudged his fist against Dean's shoulder. "Come on. Say yes. You and I - we
could be real boyfriends, you know get to know each other even better. We could
share a motel room; I won't make you pay for anything until you can. Or...or if
you don't want to," Sam blushed and dropped his eyes, "I can get you your own
room. I can make enough hustling to make sure you're okay." Leaning down Sam
pressed his lips to Dean's softly. "Come with me. What's to stay here for?"
In truth, there was nothing. Dean wasn't close enough to his friends to miss
them; his only real attachment was now sitting here with him and asking him to
come along on some crazy whirlwind of a life that Dean had never dreamed would
be his own. "Yeah, okay," he nodded slowly, allowing the idea of saying yes to
settle in his mind. "But I want to share rooms. Alright? And I want to do all I
can to pull my weight, pay for things. I'm sure you'd like a little kept boy
and all but..." Dean grinned and tugged Sam forward, kissing him because it
felt like the best thing to do after such a monumental decision.
As soon as their lips parted Sam sat back on Dean's thighs and stared at him.
"Yeah?" His heart did some strange jumping thing in his chest and started to
race a little like all the times his Dad told him he'd had too much coffee.
Nodding again Dean smiled brightly. "Yeah. Really yeah. Man." Dean thought
about trying to live out of a duffel bag, what he could back and bring, what
would be best to leave behind. Besides his entire life. "I guess I have some
work to do. You gonna run things past your dad first then? What if he
completely freaks and says no? Can you explain why?"
"He won't say no. Dad never says no to me when I really want something." Sam
grinned and pushed his hair back off his forehead, "but I'll talk to him up
front if it will make you feel better." Snatching Dean up into his arms, Sam
laughed and pressed kisses all over Dean's face. "Okay, if you ever tell anyone
I got this excited about anything I'll beat yer ass."
Laughing louder Dean squirmed in Sam's arm, rolling them on the mattress and
struggling for control. Sam was much stronger so it was easy for the man to pin
him down. Dean grinned up at him and rolled his hips up. "Yeah, yeah, you're
secret is safe with me. I promise." Dean grinned and ran his hands along Sam's
arms. "God, it's gonna be amazing isn't it?"
"It already is." Sam pulled Dean's arms high up above his head and dove down to
bury his face in his boyfriend's neck. "Now, where were we..."
-=-=-=-
"I said no, Sam." John paced over to the chair at the small motel room table
and sank down into it looking quite weary.
"Dad, he's got no reason to stay here," Sam stormed across the room and threw
his arms up in frustration. "You said yourself that his father doesn’t
understand what happened to Dean...that he was possessed. The things he's said
to Dean- Dad - we can't just leave him here I think that guy might do something
crazy."
Sighing, John picked up his coffee cup off the table. It was his third attempt
to try and drink it. "Listen, Sam - we can't just take off with someone's son.
I do think Abraham has some issues but I don't think he'll hurt Dean. He's a
religious zealot not a serial killer."
"Jesus Christ, Dad!" Sam sat down in the chair opposite John and leaned on the
table. "You should hear the way Dean talks. His Dad is just wearing him down,
making him think that it really is his fault that he was possessed. You know
that's not okay. And...and we're not taking him, he wants to come and he's
eighteen already and he can take care of himself and make his own decision, I
know it because-"
The coffee cup slammed down on the table so hard the handle cracked off and
coffee splashed up and landed on the table rather dramatically. "Fuck Sam. You
think I don't know what's going on here? I'm not completely stupid, or blind
for that matter. I know that you and he are - whatever the hell people call it
these days. But you're sixteen years old Sam. What the hell do you know about
relationships and living with someone twenty-four seven. You fight with me! You
fight every decision I make and you want to bring along someone else? This is
ridiculous. I should haul your ass out of here and get as many miles between us
and this town as I can."
Both Winchesters were silent for a few long moments. The tension was thick
between them - almost tangible.
Sam's heart started to sink. "Dad, please. Dad..." he drew in a shaky breath
then cleared his throat. "Dad, I don't ask you for a lot. I accept that this is
the way we have to live - but you taught me that we save people. We don't leave
people in situations that are bad for them - that hurt them. Dean is being hurt
by this - his father thinks he's a monster." Sam could feel the telltale blush
creeping up his neck toward his cheeks. "And yeah, it's more than that - it's
about me and him. We don't abandon people we care about. I'm sixteen but you
know I'm older than that inside, experienced so much stuff. Shit Dad, I've seen
more in the past few months than most people see in a lifetime. That's gotta
buy me the right to make some decisions."
John shook his head slowly and lowered his eyes to the mess on the table. "Sam,
this is big. This isn't like deciding to leave school or wanting to go on a
hunt alone or something."
"I know," Sam shrugged a shoulder and crossed his arms as if he could insulate
himself somehow from his dad's words.
John lifted his gaze, studying Sam's face for a few moments. "I don't know that
you do understand yet, Sam. This is someone's life that you're talkin' about
changing. And what if you bring him along and something goes wrong between you
two? What if you don't want to see each other anymore?"
Sam's head snapped up and he wriggled uncomfortably in his chair.
"It's not like that we-"
"Don't you lie to me boy. Like I said - I'm not stupid- I know that moony
expression on your face and I know it probably feels like it will be forever
but-"
"When did you know you loved Mom?" Sam cocked his head to the side and leaned
forward on his seat. His father had told him the story a hundred times.
"That's completely different." John huffed and sank back in his chair.
"You knew that you loved Mom- knew you wanted to marry her the very day you met
her. Why is this different? I'm not even saying that Dean is forever but Dad, I
know some things." Sam combed his hand through his hair and then rubbed at the
back of his neck. "I know that the only time I've slept without a nightmare for
months was when I fell asleep with his arm around me. When.. when I feel
something - anything - I want to tell him about it - share it - because it
feels better. " Sam leaned closer to his father and lowered his voice. "I'm not
naive Dad. I know that there's a big chance that this may not work out - but
there's a bigger chance that it might be something really great. And... if I
drive away with you - we'll never come back. It will all be over and I'll never
know." Sam reached and squeezed his Dad's arm. "I want to know, Dad."
John sat there blinking as he looked down at Sam's fingers curled around his
wrist. Reaching his free hand up he rubbed it down his face. The sound of his
almost-beard rasping against his rough palm was the only sound in the room.
"Sam, this is a big one."
"I know." Sam nodded, squeezed his Dad's wrist again and sat back. His heart
was thundering in his chest because he had no idea what he was going to say if
his Dad actually said no to him. It hadn't occurred to him that that might
happen until it was entirely too late.
"He's gotta learn how to take care of himself. We can't be trying to cover him
every moment." John's voice was gruff.
"Yes Sir." Sam sat up straighter, hope sparking in his chest for the first time
since the conversation had started.
John drummed his fingers on the table for a few moments. "And, if things go
south between you two - it cannot affect our work, you hear me?"
Nodding, Sam allowed himself a slight smile and finally loosened his grip on
the arms of his chair. "Yes, Sir, I'll make sure it doesn't."
"You're still my son, Sam. And, like it or not you're still sixteen years old -
so don't you be getting any big ideas about leaving because I'm gonna have you
with me till I think you're old enough to be off on your own."
"Yes Sir." Sam grinned.
"Fine. Now leave me be so I can finish what's left of my coffee."
Sam was up and out of his chair so fast he knocked it over backwards. Spinning
he picked it up and grabbed his jacket off the bed. "Thanks, Dad you won't
regret-"
"Sam shut up and git before I change my mind." John slid his broken cup closer
to him and inspected the contents. "Must be fuckin' crazy," he murmured.
Impulsively, Sam leaned down and pulled his dad into a quick hug then stepped
back and grinned even brighter. Snatching the car keys off the table he headed
out the door and slammed it behind him. It was a five minute drive to Dean's
but it felt a hell of a lot longer. By the time Sam pulled up in front of their
house he was vibrating with excitement. Bounding up the front path he banged on
the door. It was after noon so Dean's dad should be at work. He banged again
and yelled "Dean! open up."
Dean had slept in because, honestly, Sam and he hadn't really done much
sleeping the night before. So truthfully he'd just gone back to bed when Sam
dropped him off at home earlier. That was why he answered the door in his
boxers and a thin t-shirt, rubbing at his eyes against the bright light hitting
him. "Hey, didn't think you'd be here so soon." He half smiled and pulled the
door open further.
"Did you go back to sleep?" Sam pushed into the house and kicked the door shut
behind him and pushed Dean back against the wall. He smelled like sleep and Sam
could feel the heat coming off his boyfriend's body in waves. "Ohh you're sexy
when you've just woken up." He couldn't help sliding his hands up under Dean's
t-shirt, hell, it wasn't leaving much to the imagination to begin with and Sam
was in a particularly good mood.
Moaning softly, Dean pushed up into Sam's hands and smiled sleepily. "I, yeah.
Went back to sleep. How'd it go?" Dean could already feel heat burning through
him, just the sight and brief touch and it was like he was melting. "God. Your
hands." He wet his lips and shifted forward, reaching out to cup Sam's hips.
Sam dragged his teeth down the shell of Dean' ear. "Dad said..." he sucked on
his boyfriend's ear lobe gently and then whispered "yes." Growling softly, Sam
nuzzled into Dean's neck, drawing in his sleep scent. "We leave tomorrow." It
felt like Sam's insides were all trying to get out - everything in him sort of
flopping upside down. It was a bit like being on a roller coaster ride.
Grinning brighter than he could ever remember grinning, Dean tugged Sam's hand
and pulled him down the hall, kicking the door to his room shut behind them.
"Fuck yes," he laughed and kicked at the clothes spread out across his floor.
"Let's fucking celebrate." Dean pulled him in and crushed their lips together.
A few minutes later he pulled back enough to whisper, "I can still feel you in
me." It was going to be a great day.
***** Chapter 5 *****
There was something pleasant in Dean's dream and he was fairly certain it was
Sam though he couldn't really see him. Just the touch, the feel of lips, warmth
and something so comfortable Dean wanted to get lost in it for as long as
possible. His dreams shifted to the day before, Sam taking him on this bed;
maybe he could still smell them on the sheets. An afternoon in sunshine,
laughing and touching, enjoying each other and thinking of the future they were
going to have. Even in his sleep, Dean smiled, imagining his lips moving
against Sam's in their goodnight kiss.
Something loud crashed through his room and instantly pulled him from the
pleasant dreams, causing him to sit up swiftly. He blinked rapidly to clear the
sleep from his eyes, looking down at the duffel bag by his closet before
someone cleared his throat and his gaze shifted to the door. Dean didn't expect
to see his dad there, nor did he expect the harsh line of his jaw or the color
of red flushing his skin. If he stared hard enough he was pretty sure he could
see the man's nostrils flare.
It sent off warning signals in his mind and Dean was instantly aware of his
lack of shirt, of the purplish bruises Sam had left on his skin, of his lips
that still felt kiss swollen. "D-dad?" He stuttered in surprise, pulling his
sheet up over his body, pressing it to his chin. "What's going on?"
"Filth," Abraham spat and his fingers curled into fists. Dean spotted a Bible
in his left hand and his heart sank. "You. Filthy. Filthy child." The man was
past the point of anger, as if he'd been sitting on this thought for hours,
turning different reactions over and over in his mind, brewing on whatever it
was that had sparked this.
Dean's stomach churned and he wished desperately that he was wearing more, that
he was more coherent, that he hadn't just been dreaming about his boyfriend in
ways that felt so suddenly wrong that it seemed painted on his skin. Like his
Dad could see it all and was judging him on that. "Dad? I don't... I don't
understand. What's going on? What?" He pushed along the mattress, searching the
ground for his clothing.
"Do not lie with a man as one lies with a woman; that is detestable." Abraham
quoted the scripture flawlessly, not needing the Bible in his hand though he
held it up as if to remind Dean. As if he even needed to know where it was
from. Dean didn't. It was Leviticus 18:22, Dean had known that for years.
And it told him what he needed to know, why this was suddenly happening now.
Fuck. Somehow they'd slipped up, they'd been seen. "Fuck." Dean gasped in
shock, pressing the sheet harder into his chest. His chest shook with the speed
of his breaths, inhaling and exhaling sharply. "Dad. Dad. No. This... it's not.
It's not what-"
"I saw you, and don't you dare lie to me boy." Abraham stepped forward and
curled his fingers around Dean's arm, tugging him off the mattress hard enough
to pull him from the bed and drop him hard on the floor.
It stung, and was made even worse because Dean could still feel Sam. That sense
that his father could read his mind, see his thoughts, intensified and Dean
felt so sick and dirty he thought he might be sick. "What? What did you see?"
Abraham nearly hissed, shaking his head so violently it looked painful. "I
can't even speak about that disgust. You. My own flesh and blood. I didn't
raise you to be a fag."
There were arguments, Dean knew them, that it wasn't about being raised in a
particular way, wasn't about decisions made or choices already past. It was
just who Dean was and Sam. Sam brought out that part of him that felt warm and
full and loved. He couldn't remember ever feeling that way. "It's not like...
no Dad. It doesn't work like that. It's... it's more. Sam is more. I. I love
him." He whispered, nearly pleading, and turned on the floor so he wasn't
sprawled out on his ass on the floor in just his boxers. His fingers pulled at
the nearest shirt and tugged it on.
"If a man lies with a man as one lies with a woman, both of them have done what
is detestable. They must be put to death; their blood will be on their own
heads." Abraham quoted once more, swift and clipped words.
What terrified him, what made his blood chill and his heart stutter painfully,
was the look in his father's eyes. He believed what he was saying, quoting
these ancient scriptures that didn't sync up with his religion at all. Dean
pushed to his feet, tugging his shirt down and sucking in a sharp breath.
"That's not right. Sure you've got the words and that's fucking great but all
that. It was before Jesus and forgiveness and isn't the point of your religion
in the first place is to love and accept? He who has no sin cast the first
fucking stone Dad." Dean's face heated with anger, fists clenching. His eyes
darted to the duffel bag and he wondered if he was strong enough to knock his
dad out of the way and get out of there. Get to Sam. Get the fuck away.
Judging from the way Abraham's eyes narrowed at his outburst, Dean wasn't sure
he'd be able to make a clear get away. Fear slammed hard and fast into his
chest but Dean reasoned the man couldn't keep him locked away forever.
Eventually he'd have to go somewhere, and Dean would get the hell out of there.
"Don't you even dare to talk to me about my religion. You're nothing. You're a
disgusting, perverted, sinner. And I won't tolerate it. You think you're going
to go off with that little fag and his wicked father? You honestly think I'd
let you do that?" Abraham growled and stepped back, crossing the room and
stepping into the hallway.
For a moment Dean thought the man might return with a gun or something. He had
a brief flash in his mind of his father killing him in some flash of anger, and
he thought of Sam. What would the boy do? Would he be alright? Would anyone
ever tell him what had really happened? God this couldn't be happening. Dean's
vision blurred and he thought he might simply pass out. At least maybe then his
death would be painless. Hopefully.
When Abraham did return it wasn't with any weapon of any sort. Instead he was
followed by two big, muscular men that crowded the confined space of Dean's
bedroom. He opened his mouth, as if to ask if these men were going to kill him
for Abraham, but his father cut him off with a sharp slap across the side of
his face. Dean was so stunned by the action he simply stared down at the
ground, not moving from the way his head had snapped to the side at the slap.
"You're coming with us boy." One of the burly men growled and stepped forward.
His hand was big enough to wrap around Dean's wrist and leave room to spare. He
tugged Dean easily forward as if he weighed nothing at all.
"Dad," Dean gasped in surprise, looking pleadingly at his father. "Please.
Please don't do this. I. Please. I'll just go. I'll go and never come back. You
can keep my money, everything. Please." In a last ditch effort Dean stopped
holding himself up, let his knees give in and fold down. He collapsed down onto
the hard floor, a dead weight.
Abraham stepped forward and grasped Dean's short locks, jerking his head up.
"When I get to Heaven, I'll be held accountable for you. I'm not going to let
you tarnish our family. You're going and they will fix you. They will get that
evil from you. Then I never want to see you again, you'll spend the rest of
your life making up for your sins."
A harsh sob tore through Dean and he tried to fold in on himself, nearly
screaming when his dad's fingers tugged hard enough on his hair to lift his
knees from the floor. "Please. God, I. I'm not those things. I can be good. I
can be better. Just please don't. Sam. Sam will never know. Please tell him.
Tell him I lov-"
"Shut up," Abraham snarled and back handed Dean hard enough to send him
crashing hard back into floor.
Dean could taste blood across his tongue and his head throbbed. He was shocked,
stunned, too much for him to even properly process. He only felt the yank on
his arms as the two men lifted him from the ground and dragged him from the
room. Mumbled pleas fell stuttered from his lips and Dean attempted to break
free, a useless attempt.
When they crossed the threshold outside hope flickered in Dean. Maybe Sam would
be out there, maybe he'd come in time to stop them, to save him once more. But
it was barely past sunrise and the street was empty. Dean opened his mouth to
scream but a large hand clamped over his mouth and kept it in.
The hopelessness didn't really settle in him until he was thrown in the back of
a van and the door was slammed shut. There were no windows but Dean could feel
the car moving. And he cried now not for himself, but for Sam. This would ruin
everything. Even if he magically managed to escape the torture that was sure to
follow, Sam would think he simply disappeared, as if he had no interest in
being with Sam at all. The only good thing in his life and Dean knew it was
gone. By the time he was released Sam would be long gone. And, since they'd
decided he would go with, Dean didn't even have his number.
"Fuck," Dean gasped in pain, not physical, a hollow, empty thrumming in his
chest. He curled in on himself and bumped along the cool metal of the van.
-=-=-=-
Sam was leaning against the outside of the passenger door the Impala and
staring down the road for the first sign of Dean. He'd wanted to go and pick
Dean up at the house but his boyfriend had been adamant about meeting them a
few blocks away. It made sense, Dean had argued, to make sure that no one saw
him leaving in their car. The Impala - even Sam had to admit - kind of stood
out in the sleepy little town.
And so - Dean would meet them at nine in the morning, carrying his duffel bag.
That's why Sam was staring. As soon as he saw Dean he was going to meet him
half way to help with his stuff.
Kicking at a rock by his sneaker Sam glanced down into the car. John was spread
across the front seat re-claiming some of the sleep he said that Sam had robbed
him of.
Smiling, Sam turned his eyes back up the road. Still no sign of Dean. When he
tugged his phone out of his pocket he was surprised to see that it was already
nine fifteen.
Something unpleasant stirred in the pit of Sam's stomach. Hunter's instinct his
Dad would call it. That gnawing sensation that something was wrong.
As far as Sam could see along the road it was empty. From where Dean lived it
was only a ten minute walk to where the Winchesters were waiting.
Pacing around the car once, Sam scuffed his sneakers through the gravel and
dirt. Dean would come - Sam was certain of it. He'd seen the look of joy on
Dean's face when they'd talked about the places they would go. Just like anyone
else his age, Dean wanted to travel; he wanted to get out and see more than his
hometown had to offer.
Sam's mind drifted back over their time together. It was all so real it made
his heart ache with happiness. He couldn't remember what it was like before he
knew the feel of Dean's hands on his body, the taste of his kisses, the heat
... Shaking his head Sam smiled as he pushed his hair back off his face.
"Sammy?" John had rolled down the window and Sam hadn't even noticed. "Where is
he?" Coughing away the morning rough from his voice John pushed the door open
and climbed out of the car. "What time is it, Sam?"
"He'll be here," Sam answered as he returned his gaze to the street in front of
them.
"That isn't what I asked you. What's the time?"
Annoyed, Sam flipped his cell phone open again. "Nine thirty five." After a
last glance up the street he turned to his Dad. "Maybe he got stuck at the
house or something."
Scratching his head Sam stared back up the road. Dean would come. He jumped
when John's hand settled on his shoulder.
"You know, Sammy. It's a pretty big decision to leave your home, your family
and just take off." There was gentleness in John's voice that Sam hadn't heard
in a very long time.
"He'll come Dad. He really wants this." But - there was still that nagging
doubt in Sam's mind.
"What if," John sighed and squeezed Sam's shoulder before letting his hand
drop. "What if he just couldn't do it or his Dad said something that made him
change his mind?"
"No," Sam pushed off the car and took a few steps away. "He promised me that if
he wasn't here he would let me know why. He promised, Dad." He is the one
person who's never lied to me.
John dragged his hand down his face and started back around to the driver's
side of the car. "Get in - we'll head over to the house."
Sparing one last glance up the street Sam pulled his door open and slid down
onto the seat. "He probably got caught up talkin' to his Dad, right?"
As he urged the car forward, John sighed. "Maybe you're right, Sam."
Of course, it only took a few minutes for them to arrive at Dean's house. There
was nothing out of the ordinary that Sam could see. He pushed his door open
slowly and walked up the front path.
He rapped his knuckles against the hard wooden door. Smiling, he thought of the
day before and Dean answering the door all sleep-tousled and adorable. It
almost made him wish that Dean had over-slept and Sam would be waking him.
Laughing softly, maybe a little nervously, Sam raised his hand again and
knocked harder.
Turning to the car he caught his Dad's eye and shrugged. If he leaned over far
enough he could see through the front window - it was dark inside, quiet.
"Sammy?" John had a worried expression on his face.
"I'll just check around back." Sam could already feel the cold fingers of
regret trailing over his flesh. Dean had promised that he wouldn't' let Sam
down, leave him guessing. He'd promised not to be liked everyone else.
Climbing through the bushes at the side of the house Sam pulled himself up to
Dean's bedroom window.
Empty.
Even Dean's duffel was gone. Sam had helped Dean pack it just the day before.
They were still naked, rosy skinned and overheated from sex. Sam had pulled out
the clothes from Dean's closet that he'd though he would need and Dean was
folding and packing.
Sixteen hours ago and now the room was empty. Sam let himself back down to the
ground and let his forehead rest against the wall. There had to be a mistake.
"Sam?" John’s voice was soft, a deep rumble not far behind Sam. "Sam, I think
it's time to go." John didn't sound mad or worried, in fact, he sounded a
little relieved.
It wasn't until Sam looked up that he realized how everything had gone so
wrong. He should never have let himself be so happy about something. Wishes
weren't real, things didn’t' happen simply because you wanted them badly
enough.
Clearing his throat Sam pushed himself back off the wall. "Give me a minute,
Dad - I'm just gonna leave a note."
John didn't move for a few moments then Sam heard the crunching of his
footsteps disappearing.
Searching in his pocket Sam pulled out the piece of paper and pen he'd stuck in
their earlier. He'd been making a list of things to tell Dean, ways that Dean
had already changed things - a gift just to help with the sadness his boyfriend
might feel as they were leaving.
Now, the list just made him feel stupid. When he scratched out the things he'd
written down the lines were heavy and angry. Sam's heart was already retreating
behind the protection of anger. Thinking for a few moments Sam finally started
to write: Dean, You promised not to do this. Why couldn't you have been here?
If you change your mind call me. 555-6785 - will have that number for a few
months. Sam.
There were a million things Sam wanted to say but it all felt kind of stupid
now things had worked out the way they had. Walking back around to the front
door Sam folded the paper and shoved it through the mail slot. He couldn't help
staring at the door for a few moments before turning and trudging back to the
car and climbing in.
"Sammy-"
"Don't,' Sam cut his father off and pulled his jacket tight around him. "It was
a stupid idea - you were right. Just..." he sighed. "Let's just go."
Hesitating for just a few moments John started the car up and pulled out onto
the road.
Sam let his head rest against the cool glass of the window. There were tears in
his eyes, on his cheeks but he didn't' bother wiping them away. He wanted to
remember how much this hurt so that he wouldn't fall for it again. There was no
happily ever after for people like Sam and the sooner he accepted that fact the
better.
Still, he couldn't help looking for Dean's face on every person they passed as
they headed out of town. There wasn't a single one with that contagious smile
and sparkling green eyes.
Yeah.
No happily ever after for a Winchester. Sniffing Sam closed his eyes and bit
down hard on his bottom lip so his Dad wouldn't hear him cry.
***** Chapter 6 *****
-=-=-=- TEN YEARS LATER-=-=-=-
"Father Archer?"
The timid voice of the little boy stopped Dean in his tracks and he turned,
smiling softly as he stepped toward him. "Yes Matthew? How can I help you?" He
stooped slightly to bring himself on eye level with the child, knowing it was
easier to be trusted when you shrugged off the height and presence of an adult.
Matthew twisted a rag between his fingers and Dean was temporarily distracted
by the dark red stain covering the white surface. "Matthew? Is that blood?
What's happened?" He reached out for the rag but the boy held onto it tight.
"There's just... it's David. He just got really angry and then his eyes turned
all black and he hit Nicholas. But I don't think he meant to, really, I don't
even think it was him." Matthew stumbled over the words in a rush, almost eager
to ensure to Dean that his older brother wasn't a bad kid at all, that
something was wrong.
For the third time in less than a month Dean bristled. It wasn't something that
happened often, hadn't for years and years, but Dean felt the cold chill shoot
down his spine in a way that left him no choice but to stand or collapse to the
ground. Why this was happening now, here, he couldn't be sure, but there were
some things he could only bury so deep. And this was a memory too familiar to
ever be completely forgotten. "Where is your brother Matthew?"
"We locked him in the shed, because he just... he wouldn't stop hitting
Nicholas. And." Matthew's shoulders trembled and Dean could hear the clog of
his nose as he sniffed loudly.
Forcing himself to kneel once more, Dean put his arm around the child and
pulled him forward, embracing him tightly. He'd known the Conrad family for
five years now, a single mother struggling to raise two boys who might have
been too much for even a full family unit. But they were good kids who tried,
who came to mass each week, who were always ready with memorized verses for
lessons. It was unfair that they should be left to deal with this situation.
"Why don't we go check on him okay?" Dean finally suggested when the quiet sobs
from the child subsided. As Matthew stepped back, Dean smiled reassuringly and
ruffled his hair. "Hey, it's going to be okay. You trust me right?"
"Yes, Father Archer." Matthew nodded and took Dean's hand as he stood.
Possession.
It was a term Dean hadn't spoken allowed in ten years and the word alone
brought forth a swell of intensity he couldn't dwell on to save his sanity. To
save his purity. It came attached to a name Dean couldn't utter even in his
thoughts and, if he thought on it too long, his emotions would get the best of
him.
"Why were his eyes black Father Archer?" Matthew asked with the air of
innocence belonging only to a child.
Any adults who may have seen him, the handful that had seen the two other
people experiencing this, denied the change of eyes, as if accepting it was
simply too much. Dean found it disheartening that those of faith could believe
in a God and assume there was nothing to oppose that Heavenly creature. For
every good there was evil, this was something Dean knew.
"Well," Dean answered slowly, treading with caution. "Sometimes, bad things
come into people, not because the people are bad, it's sadly just the way the
spiritual world works." The child led him down the path outside the church,
winding along a dirt back path to his house a few blocks away. "Matthew, do you
remember how we learned about angels?"
"Yes sir," Matthew nodded, eyes lifting up toward him and reflecting sunshine
bursting through tree branches.
"And do you remember how we learned about the Devil, and how he's against God?"
Dean prompted, smiling when the boy nodded once more. "Well, the Devil has his
own form of angels, though they aren't good. They're called demons and-"
"Father Archer." The crisp call of his name caused Dean's jaw to clench shut,
eyes shooting up toward the robed man walking briskly down the path toward him.
"What is going on here?"
Matthew opened his mouth to speak but Dean laid a hand over his shoulder,
squeezing once to silence him. "Just a little trouble with the Conrad boys,
nothing to worry about. It seems David got in a fight with Nicholas Perry; I
was just going to make sure everyone was alright. Nothing to be concerned with
Father Morton." Dean's smile was tight and forced, eyes fixed on his fellow
Priest to suggest no sign of deceit. It made Dean uncomfortable to lie to the
man but his attempts at addressing Possession with the last two had gone
thwarted and had lost him some points of credibility. Dean knew for a fact that
this was real but even those of the utmost faith struggled to believe.
"Perhaps I should accompany you, to be safe." Father Morton, Tim if they ceased
to be official at any point, shifted his gaze down to the hand on Matthew's
shoulder and back up.
It sickened Dean slightly that he could understand what the man wasn't saying
aloud. Never be alone with a child. That was the first rule, above those of
faith even, and Dean sighed. "If you wish." He couldn't imagine two Priests
alone with a boy was any better but Dean often shied away from stirring up
trouble. He'd always been that way and the one time he'd attempted to,
everything had changed.
They walked the rest of the way to the Conrad house in silence. Dean was
grateful that Matthew didn't pursue his questions about his brother's dark
eyes. When they stepped into the back yard Nicholas Perry was leaning the shed
door, blood dripping down his nose and onto his shirt. He looked terrified and
Dean quickened his step, flinching when the shed door shuddered from the force
of someone slamming into it.
"Nicholas, are you alright?" Dean asked swiftly and pulled him from the door,
stepping in to keep it shut.
"What are you doing? Is David Conrad in there? Let him free," Father Morton
insisted, staring at Dean with wide, shocked eyes.
"It's not that simple," Dean protested but Father Morton grabbed his arm and
pulled, rough enough to get Dean to stumble out of the way.
The door burst open with a snarl from the boy inside and Dean felt Matthew
slide in behind him, clutching to his legs.
"Well, well, look who we have here. Dumb and dumber. I do enjoy you religious
folk, always so amusing." David Conrad stepped from the shed and pointed toward
each Priest in turn, gaze lingering on Dean. "Don't I know you?"
"His eyes..." Father Morton whispered and a quick glance to the side told Dean
that his skin was pale.
"Don't listen to what he says," Dean spoke over the demon that was babbling now
about a God who'd forgotten his people and had no interest in their filthy
world. Dean knelt and turned to Matthew, curling fingers over his shoulders and
forcing their gazes to meet. "Get inside. Stay there. No matter what happens,
don't leave."
Matthew only hesitated for a moment, then a wicked, cold laugh fell from
David's lips and he turned, bolting for the house as fast as his little legs
could carry him.
"Aw, that's too bad, I liked that kid. He was such a cutie," the demon snarled
and rolled his neck slowly. "You know, I really like this town. Everyone is
just so friendly and, as it turns out, they're all pretty open to me. It makes
it really fun to crush them all up inside. Like Lillian, she was just a blast."
Dean could see Father Morton's flinch from the corner of his eyes. Lillian was
the last person to deal with the possession. Now she was locked up in the state
penitentiary after being convicted of killing her husband and three month old
child. It was an event that had shaken this little town, following the double
murder and suicide of Henry Jacobs the week before. The most horrible things to
happen in Ida Grove, Iowa in the six years Dean had lived here. "In the name of
the Holy Father-"
The demon cut Dean off with a solid fist into his jaw, sending him reeling to
the side. "Don't waste your time, Father. We both know you're nowhere near
strong enough to get rid of me." It stepped closer and for a moment Dean saw
the lingering baby fat from the thirteen year old boy the demon was residing
in. It made it very difficult to fight back. "I see that little darkness in
you. I know what you like. I know what you want."
"Oh heavenly Father," Father Morton seemed to snap into action from beside
them, stumbled back a step as he made the sign of the cross along his chest,
eyes fluttering. "Remove this evil from our presence."
"Keep it up Priesty, let's see where it gets you," the demon laughed and
meandered away from Dean, back to the tool shed. Father Morton continued his
prayer, eyes closing as his head tilted back to the Heavens. "Oh yes, God, save
us! Save us! Whatever will we do?"
Dean realized what was happening too late to stop it. Father Morton continued
his desperate plea, Dean could taste blood on his tongue, and David was
stepping from the tool shed with a pair of garden sheers. "Tim," Dean spat,
heart slamming hard into his chest.
Nicholas Perry, who Dean had forgotten was standing right there, screamed at
the first loud squelch of metal being driven through black robes and into solid
flesh. Dean's stomach churned bile and he coughed loudly, reaching out as if he
could stop the scene from playing out. The laugh that echoed from David's body
only faded as the boy's head tilted back and a thick cloud of black smoke blew
upward to the sky.
"What? What's-oh my god. Oh god," David nearly screamed the word, hand still
curled around the handle of the sheers that were implanted firmly in the
Priests chest. Blood was pooling along the grass and for a moment everything
seemed to freeze before Tim Morton's body fell limp into the puddle.
Dean could hear Nicholas being sick, could hear the sharp and quick inhales
from the clearly shocked David, and his knees felt weak. Clearly this was more
than it had been for him before. They needed help, needed someone like... They
needed someone who could stop this demon for good.
-=-=-=-
Sam stretched his arms up high above his head before he shrugged his leather
jacket off. His arm was itching like crazy. Pushing the top of his t-shirt up
he checked out his week old tattoo. It was healing pretty well all things
considered.
All things, being a salt and burn, a fake haunting and a bar brawl prompted by
someone not liking the way Sam had looked at them. He hoped that the day
stretched out ahead of him would be a little better.
Like usual, Sam had rolled out of bed late and headed out for coffee before
coming back to the Motel. He hated finding new hunts – it was a pain in the
ass. Small towns were usually his best bet – places where people still cared
about one another. They were always more likely to pay Sam something even if it
was as simple as parts for the car or bags of food and supplies.
Grabbing the laptop off the table – Sam kicked out of his black leather boots
and stretched out on the bed. While he waited for the wireless to connect he
grabbed some moisturizer off the night stand and slathered it over the peeling
tattoo. Might as well take care of it seeing as it was there. Payment for a
hunt. Nothing more than a run-of-the-mill haunting but the guy who had
contacted Sam was a tattoo artist. So – Sam now had a simple Japanese landscape
on his upper arm.
Wiping his hands on the quilt Sam started to browse through his usual bookmarks
then finally took to Google to try and find something.
An article from Iva Grove, Iowa caught his eye. Older guy killed two people
then himself, a woman killed her child and her husband. “Fucked up people,” Sam
muttered. That was why he kept to himself. People were just shit; they couldn’t
be trusted and would sooner stab you in the back than tell you the truth.
However, even for the human race – this seemed like a few too many deaths for
such a tiny community.
Shaking his head Sam scrolled further down the page only to discover that the
same town was also home to a thirteen year old un-named boy who had killed a
Priest. A Priest. That was pretty heavy for a kid. Now, there was no love lost
between Sam and religious folk but, fuck, attacking a Priest with garden sheers
at thirteen? That was pretty over the top. Overkill, always suspicious.
Sam bookmarked the page in his browser and pulled up the map program on his
phone. He could get to Iva Grove in about four hours, not ideal but it seemed
like a town that might be just scared enough to need someone with Sam’s
particular skills. He could use some cash – or some free garage time and parts
so he could work on the Impala.
-=-=-=-
The drive took a bit longer than he had expected and by the time Sam pulled
into town it was late afternoon. Slowing the car down to a crawl, he moved down
the streets checking out the place. It was easy to spot the Church. There
weren’t any tall buildings in Iva Grove and he could see the cross at the top
of the small steeple glinting in the late afternoon sun.
Leaning his arm out the window Sam tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in
time to the song on the radio. At least there was a decent station – sometimes
– in these little hick towns he could only get talk radio with never ending
shows about bingo and farming and local gossip or worse, loud and obnoxious
preachers.
When he finally pulled up in front of the Church he realized he wasn’t even
sure why he was stopping there. Whatever, it was as good a place to start as
any? The most recent killing had been the Priest and there was usually more
than one Father in a place like this. Climbing out of the car he stretched and
stared over the cemetery in front of the small Church. The recent graves were
easy to spot and there really were too many of them considering the town’s
population.
Slamming the car door Sam shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it through the
open window. He always liked to piss people off as soon as possible and he
figured the tattoos would go a long way toward that. Smirking, Sam turned from
the car and headed up the front walkway to the big Oak doors.
When he pulled the heavy doors open it took a few moments for his eyes to
adjust to the dim light. He wandered forward, eyes glancing over the message
board at the front. The doors to the main Sanctuary were propped open and Sam
wandered in. His boots clumped loudly on the wooden floor, his keys jangling as
he strolled down the main aisle. Looking up, he brushed his hair back off his
face. The stained glass was kind of cool – the Church was small – but kind of
quaint. Holding out his arms Sam bumped his fingers over the end of each pew
then dropped his gaze to the front altar.
There was a robed man whom Sam went ahead and deduced was a Priest. They didn’t
call him hunter for nothing; finely honed investigative skills. Laughing at
himself he walked up to the second pew and sat down, hooking one leg over the
back of the bench in front and stretching the other down the aisle. Yet another
reason not to go to Church – the seating was definitely not designed for
someone who was six foot four.
He watched the Priest, unsure whether the guy was praying or simply standing
there. Sam generally didn’t care what people thought of him but he didn’t
particularly want to interrupt the guy if he was praying or something –
especially seeing as he was probably trying to deal with losing his colleague.
Clearing his throat, Sam dragged his thumb across his bottom lip. “’Scuse me,
Father?”
Dean had heard the person came in but wasn't sure if he could handle another
round of questions. They'd been none stop for the last few days and it was
wearing on him. He sent a silent request upward and slowly curled his fingers
together. Turning toward the voice, Dean's eyes fixed on the lengthy form of a
person he hadn't expected ever to see again. It was possible his heart stopped
and he struggled with the name, not sure he could muster up the courage to say
it after so long. "Y-you." He whispered, eyes fluttering as if the image would
clear and change to something different. It didn't, the person remained,
however different. So very different but still distinct features Dean pretended
he never dreamed about.
"Whoa..." Sam dropped his leg off the pew and shifted forward. His stomach
clenched and actually felt a little nauseous. It was the eyes that gave Dean
away; just like all those years ago they were still so green and sparkling.
"You've got to be shitting me. You're a Priest?" Sam pushed up from the pew and
stepped out in to the aisle taking a few steps backwards.
Almost on instinct Dean flinched at the curse word. It was the place of the
Lord after all and there was something sacred about it, even if it was merely
stone and fabric. "I. I am. Yes. And you..." Dean's eyes swept over the tattoos
on the man's arms, over the hard line of his shoulders clearly visible through
the thin white shirt he wore. Something he'd been trained against, brainwashed
against, sparked in his mind and Dean stepped back. "You look so different." He
whispered, taking another step back and another because his knees were shaking.
Blinking a few times Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, ten years will do
that to ya Father." The title came out sounding cold and Sam took another step
backwards. "Anyway, I obviously zigged when I should have zagged and have ended
up in the Twilight Zone so I'm just gonna..." he gestured in the vague
direction of the door. Every time he blinked he felt a bit like there should be
another person standing in front of him when he opened his eyes and each time
it was still Dean he felt a little closer to throwing up.
The name still wouldn't form on Dean's tongue and he was moments from letting
the man just walk out the door. He could dismiss this entire moment and try to
gain his stability somehow. But pieces clicked together too quickly and Dean
took a fast step forward. "Wait." He called out, stopping at the first pew and
curling his fingers around the wood. The man stopped and waited, his eyes were
cold enough it made Dean's chest hurt. He really had no idea what had happened,
though Dean knew he wouldn't. It hurt to know it was true. "We. Our town. We
need your help. Please." it was hard to force the words out but Dean focused on
the pained faces he'd seen too frequently over the last few weeks.
Reaching into his back pocket Sam pulled out his wallet with a shaking hand and
managed to get a business card out of it. He held it up then dropped it on the
pew. "Bobby Singer - give him a call. He can be here in less than a day. I-
" Sam shook his head and turned quickly, striding back down the aisle. A
Priest. After everything Dean had been through - the way his father had treated
him - he'd become exactly what his father wanted. Anger was starting to bubble
up inside of Sam. All these years never knowing and this was how he found out.
A moment of hopelessness consumed Dean and he stared at the vacant door, heart
hammering hard in his chest. It wasn't until the man could no longer be heard
in the church at all that Dean managed to get himself to move. His robes
billowed around his legs as he rushed down the aisle and out the door, shoving
the large oak doors open and lifting a hand to shield against the bright rays
of sunshine. "Sam." He called out, caught off guard by the way the name so
suddenly bubbled out his lips. It nearly took his breath away and for a brief
flash Dean thought he might simply burst into tears.
Clearly the name came as just a surprise to the man, Dean watched that tense
line crawl down Sam’s spine and his body tense. He didn't turn, hardly
acknowledged he'd heard anything except the way his steps halted. "It's
possession." Dean forced himself to say around the lump in his throat. "There's
a demon, Sam, and he's killing innocent people and destroying lives. Tim,
Father Morton, was killed by a little boy I used to teach verses too and-" he
cut himself off and stepped back, suddenly unsure if he wanted to pursue this
further. It was obvious the man was anything but pleased to see him, Dean
wasn't inclined to learn how much he may dislike him.
Lowering his gaze, Sam squeezed his eyes shut. Hands clenched tight into fists
he turned around slowly and blinked his eyes open. Dean looked terrified and
confused and Sam stared him down. "You're a Priest," he almost spat out the
word, "can't you just do an exorcism yourself?" A muscle was twitching in his
jaw and he rolled his shoulders trying to work out some of the tension that was
strangling him. Dean. God, he'd fucking loved that guy. It was so stupid - Sam
was so stupid. Sixteen, and just like his Dad said - it would never last.
The weight of Sam's cold stare was too much for Dean and he looked away,
staring at the gentle sway of the trees. "No. I can't. Exorcism is not
something often taught to Priests, not anymore. I wouldn't know how to track
down the demon anyway, he's been moving around a fair bit." Taking another step
back, Dean smoothed his fingers down the black cotton across his chest and
slowly shook his head. "I understand you don't wish to stay. I um, I'll just
call your friend. Sorry I-" Dean looked up, flinching because Sam was still
staring at him and the gaze was unnerving in its intensity. "Is there anything
I can do? I mean, do you need a place to stay for the night? I could call
Eileen, she runs the motel." It was in Dean's nature, the desire to help
others, and that had only strengthened in the past few years. It would do
nothing to heal he and Sam's history but he offered regardless.
"Why didn't you show up?" Sam's face was void of emotion even if his throat was
constricted so tightly he could barely breathe. Taking a step closer he felt
his mouth twitch into an almost sneer. Ten years he had wanted an answer to
that question; it had eaten away at Sam over the years. Unresolved and gnawing
away at him - he couldn't just walk away from the answer. The trembling in his
hands was now a direct result of the fact that his fists were clenched so tight
he was pretty sure his nails were going to draw blood. There were so many
things running through his mind - he wanted to lash out - punch Dean - but he
knew that it wouldn't begin to fill the hole inside him.
It was unnecessary to ask Sam what he was referring to and within moments
Dean's mind was transported to ten years ago, to the barely there glimpse of
his future, a life he'd never live. "My father saw you and I kissing," Dean
whispered. He would be honest, would tell Sam whatever he needed to know
because lying was no longer an option. It never really had been. "They... took
me away. To a gay reprogramming camp." In his mind there was the spark of
memories, of all the things that had happened to him that summer, and Dean
crossed his arms over his chest, staring hard at the ground. "By the time I was
released, it was months later. Too late." Dean shrugged and took another step
back.
A harsh laugh burst out of Sam's mouth. "So - you just go away to camp and come
back wanting to be a Priest." Each time he tried to draw in a breath of air it
felt like Sam's heart would break in half. "Unbelievable," he murmured. Lifting
a hand Sam dragged his fingers through his hair. He'd been right - the answer
did nothing to change the way he'd felt the day Dean was supposed to leave with
him and it did nothing to change the way he felt now.
"Listen," Sam's eyes moved to Dean's once more, "I need some parts for my car,
a place to work on it and somewhere to stay. You arrange all that and I'll help
you." It was obvious that Father Archer wasn't any more comfortable than Sam
was and the idea of staying suddenly seemed preferable to letting Dean off the
hook. Yeah, it was petty and probably wouldn't make Sam feel a damn bit better
but sometimes - that was just how life worked.
There was a dull ache that lived permanently in Dean's chest and, at most
times, he managed to ignore it. Now though it expanded and curled inside him
and Dean had to half turn away so Sam wouldn't be able to see the stricken look
on his face. He wanted to tell Sam what he'd been through, what led him to this
place and decisions he'd been forced to make, but it seemed unlikely to help.
Dean had grown accustomed to pain in life, but it was never enjoyable. "Follow
this road to the edge of town. The motel is there. I'll call Eileen and arrange
things. Ben is the local mechanic, he will have whatever parts you need. I'll
have him contact you." Dean stepped toward the oak doors until he could grasp
one, acting as if it wasn't a support for him to remain standing. He couldn't
bring himself to look at Sam so he spoke to the trees instead. "This is where I
will be if you have questions. Thank you for helping." The urge to go find
quiet solitude was pressing in on Dean and inhaled slowly to gain control over
himself.
"So, that's it? Gonna run away again?" Shaking his head Sam stared hard at
Dean's back. "You seriously think if I drive away I'm gonna come back to ask
you anything?" His voice was quiet but he knew Dean could hear him. Dean was
probably focused on everything he was saying. Seeing Dean was like scrambling
his insides and expecting it to all work the same way. His head was aching, his
heart pounding like he was getting ready for a fight. Nothing had prepared him
for seeing this man again, nothing. Not all the times that Sam had fantasized
when he was still a kid that somehow Dean would find him, apologize and have
some grand story about how they'd just missed each other. Even up until a few
years ago Sam still wondered. But then ... John had died. It seemed like that
was just the breaking point, the place where the roads diverged and Sam opted
for the road with the least amount of pain on it. It was easier to shut down
than carry on feeling.
Turning to meet the gaze, Dean found himself once more shaken by how very cold
it was. He searched hazel for the memory of the only person he'd ever loved,
the person he would have give anything for if only he could. "I never ran
away." Dean corrected, not wishing to fight with Sam but sensing he saw things
through a very different set of eyes. "I was given no choice in the matter. Two
men twice the size of you dragged me away and threw me in a van. I'm sorry I
could never tell you." Dean looked down at the cement before him and pressed
his fingers into his heart because it hurt. "If you never wish to see me or
talk to me again, I won't force you. I simply appreciate your help, these are
good people and don't deserve this suffering." Looking back up, Dean could see
that Sam wasn't pleased by being thanked. He tried to remember Sam's smile but
that only made the ache in his chest swell to bursting.
"You're so different." Sam couldn't see the boy he'd fallen in love with. This
was such a different version of Dean - like all the edges had been buffed off
of him time and time again until there was only a small piece of him left. He
was watered down. It was in that moment Sam realized he had to get away from
the Church - away from Dean. There was no clear idea in Sam's mind of what he
had wanted, a fight, some sort of believable excuse, to see Dean's smile, for
Dean to tell him it was all real. He had no idea what he wanted beyond wanting
to get the hell away from Dean.
Gazing over at the Priest Sam felt his expression soften for a moment then
confusion tore through him again and he turned quickly. "I'll be at the motel,"
he tossed over his shoulder like it actually mattered. There was no way that
Dean would come to him. No reason to. When Sam reached out for the car door he
could see his hand shaking; that hadn't happened since he was a kid. Nothing
rattled him anymore; he'd seen pretty much everything there was to see - a
lifetime of hunting had seen to that. But this? He wasn't prepared for this.
Sinking down onto the front seat Sam glanced back toward the Church where Dean
was still standing. Father Archer. There weren't big enough swear words for
this one. Their eyes locked for a few moments and Sam nearly got back out of
the car; he was itching for a fight, a confrontation, something that would make
him feel. Dean had apologized, handed Sam a perfectly plausible excuse, looked
at him with that half way to blank Priest stare and Sam felt nothing.
It was odd, the way Dean's heart seemed to stutter in protest as Sam drove
away. A large part of him already believed that he wouldn't see the man again
and that had him turning away, tugging the doors of his church open. Dean
locked the door and pulled at his robe, settling for just the black pants and
shirt, white collar still visible. The only reason he'd worn the robe in the
first place was because a church official had been expected that morning. With
the death of Father Morton, Dean was currently running the church alone, the
two other men who usually resided there had taken a sabbatical not a week ago.
Dean could use a sabbatical now, some time to simply sit and dwell on Sam, how
he'd changed, what he'd lost. He wouldn't though. Dwelling on Sam, it was no
longer a possibility. Instead he walked swiftly to the back office and pulled
the phone close. It wasn't like Sam was going to come back at any moment and
ask to sit down, have a conversation, but Dean would do all in his power to
ensure the man was taken care of while in this town. Maybe he'd even dip into
the church funds to send Sam some money, because the idea of sending him away
with nothing but stale memories of their re-acquaintances was almost
unbearable.
-=-=-=-
The storm inside Sam broke when he was what he assumed was about halfway to the
Motel. Shaking so badly he could barely hold the steering wheel Sam pulled
over. As the dust settled around the car, Sam's lungs struggled to pull in air.
This was not what Sam had planned for: far from it.
This was enough to have Sam wishing his father was still alive because even
John Winchester wouldn't have seen this coming. There was something completely
wrong about the memories that still lingered in Sam's mind after all these
years. Flushed skin, his fingers splayed across Dean's bare hip, that burning
heat clamped around his cock.
Laughter that closely bordered on hysterical busted out of Sam. Father Dean
Archer - Sam's first love - his first fuck. "A Catholic fucking Priest." Sam
spoke out-loud because he was having trouble believing he wasn't having some
crazy drug-induced nightmare. A Priest with a demon problem. It was like the
beginning to a dirty joke.
By the time Sam pulled the Impala back on to the road he felt calmer, more
centered. Enough time had passed that he'd almost managed to convince himself
that he could just get what he needed - deal with the demon and get out If it
weren't for the sweat that was still coating the palms of his hands - it would
be just like any other case.
The Motel was small, unassuming and well cared for even if it was past its
prime. Not that Sam really cared; most of the places he stayed had carpet so
filthy he didn't' even bother taking his boots off. Sleeping under the sheets
looked like it might be a distinct possibility at this place.
Eilleen or Ellen - Sam had already forgotten her name - was nice enough. Father
Archer, she assured him, had telephoned and explained that Sam was a guest of
the Parrish. When he left the office he had a room key, directions to the local
garage and the Sheriff's telephone number. Sam had spent a little too much time
on the wrong side of the law to be making use of that one. Eileen or Ellen had
even let Sam know that the cafe round the corner would provide his meals - they
would even deliver. Dean had been busy since Sam had left the Church.
Unloading the car quickly, Sam unlocked his room and stepped through the door.
Far better than what he was used to, Sam would be quite comfortable there.
Salting the doors and windows was the first thing Sam did at any Motel. The
Demon in Iva Grove sounded like a nasty piece of work. There was no way Sam
wanted to have a surprise run in with it.
His hand lifted unconsciously to his chest - to the spot where he'd had a
protective charm tattooed. Seeing Dean possessed all those years ago had left
images seared into Sam's mind that he'd learned to live with - but - as soon as
he's tumbled across a tattoo that could protect him - he'd been glad to get it.
Possession wasn't something to fuck around with.
Toeing off his boots Sam sank gratefully onto the soft bed. The drive , and no
doubt, the encounter with Dean had drained him. By the time he'd managed to
fluff up the pillows and roll over on to his stomach - his lashes were already
fluttering closed.
-=-=-=-
It was probably only supper time when Sam awoke but he felt as though he’d been
asleep for days. His eyes were sticky and sore, his throat raw and dry.
In only a few moments everything cascaded back into his mind and he groaned. If
it weren’t for the fact that the Impala’s carburetor was on its last legs Sam
would have headed out the moment he saw Dean.
Dean. Jesus Christ. Sam groaned again. He was gonna have to come up with a
whole new vocabulary because the irony was killing him. Rolling over to face
the window Sam could see the golden light of the late afternoon glow behind the
curtains. A dull rumble sounded in his midsection. There was nothing in Sam’s
bags for him to eat so he was going to have to make a trip over to the café
sooner rather than later.
Stretching his arms high up above his head he wrinkled his nose at the smell of
stale sweat. He should definitely find time for a shower before he subjected
anyone to his company. Dropping his feet to the floor he padded over to the
small bathroom and closed the door.
-=-=-=-
The café was small and homey – there were local historical photos on most of
the walls and someone’s paintings were for sale near the cash register.
Sighing, Sam walked up to the front counter and stood by the wait to be seated
sign as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
"Hi there," a petite blonde stepped up to Sam, head tilted up with a grin.
"Just one today?" She was already leading him down the row, stopping at the
side of the booth and gesturing toward the seat. "Want a few minutes to look
over things? Or can I go ahead and get things started for you?" Her grin
brightened and she pulled up a notebook.
Sam knew the kind of place he was in. “Club Sandwich and a beer.” He smiled
vacantly and added; “please” when he looked up at realized the girl was smiling
at him. “Hey, I’m staying over at the Motel – Eileen … uh Ellen? She said my
bill would be covered here. Sam Winchester?” Leaning back in the small booth he
stretched his legs out under the table and crossed them at the ankle.
The girl scrunched her face up for a moment before nodding. "Oh yeah, Eileen.
Yup. I seem to remember that. Father Archer said you were to be looked after."
She smiled and scribbled a note at the bottom of the paper she was writing on.
"Anything else? Pie or anything? Our cook Jimmy makes one excellent peach
cobbler," the girl flipped her hair over her shoulder, shamelessly flirting
with Sam.
“If you think it’s great – then, yeah, I’d love to try the Cobbler as well. So-
“ Sam glanced down at her name tag, “Katie, you live around here?” Sam grinned
making it obvious that he knew it sounded like a cheap pick-up line.
Leaning against the side of the booth Katie nodded swiftly, clearly pleased at
Sam's attention. "Born and raised. Probably seems nothing to an outsider like
you, but minus a few problems, Iva Grove is just..." she shrugged and twirled
hair around her finger. "What brings you here anyway? Not really the most ideal
vacation spot."
Leaning forward, Sam flashed his brightest fake smile at the young woman –
small town – she’s probably be a little into the whole bad boy thing he had
going on – but was raised to believe that men should be polite and sweet. Being
a hunter had taught Sam a great deal about human nature, mostly the darker side
of it, but it came in handy.
There were a few people in the café – most of the clustered around the back
counter drinking coffee. They were staring; Sam was used to it. If his height
made him stand out then his tattoos and leather jacket were just the icing on
the cake. Most of the small towns that he passed through weren’t used to people
who looked like him – hell – in a lot of places his reception fell just short
of hostile. So far, Sam would gauge the room here – as undecided.
“Well,” he finally answered, “I’m doing some work for De…uh Father Archer. We
go way back. Hey, Katie – I can’t ask most people about this." Still smiling
warmly Sam leaned forward across the table, "what's been going on here lately?
I mean, I read the paper..."
The smile on Katie's face dimmed slightly and she stepped away from the booth,
shrugging. "It's uh, I don't really know. I can't really talk about it. I...
um, I'm just going to get your order in." She pursed her lips and spun on her
heels, walking quickly around the back counter.
"Damnit," Sam shifted his feet restlessly under the table and sat back. Katie
was probably Sam's best shot at getting information; he sure as hell wasn't
going back to the Church. Gazing back over at the other patrons Sam didn't see
anyone who seemed
like they would be particularly chatty. Turning to stare out the window Sam's
thoughts drifted back to his earlier encounter with Dean. If there had been a
single positive thing about it - It would have been one of those things that
people called serendipity or fate. The odds of them meeting again were almost
astronomical and over a possession again.
He still found it next to impossible to get his brain wrapped around Dean
choosing to become a Priest. And, it was a choice. Dean had to have spent most
of the last ten years committing his life to the Church. Now, Sam was no expert
on the Seminary but he knew that it was not two year program. If Dean had
really wanted a different life he could have left at any time. He could walk
away that very day.
"Here you go, Sam," Katie slid a beer on the table, a sandwich beside it and a
piece of peach cobbler following. "Let me know if there's anything else I can
do for you." She smiled politely, not nearly as flirty and carefree as she had
been before.
"Listen, Katie - I'm sorry for asking... what I said before. Spend too much
time by myself - I forget my manners sometimes." Blinking slowly, Sam looked up
at her from under his hair and gave her a crooked grin. Waiting until her smile
seemed a little more relaxed again, Sam asked "hey is there a bar around here?
Some place I can walk to?" He let his eyes trailed down Katie's body
appreciatively. It wasn't that he was actually interested but he'd worked with
a lot of young woman over the years and Sam figured they all liked to be looked
at even if they would deny it when asked.
Catching her lower lip between her teeth Katie looked to the side, cheeks
flushing in a bright blush. "Yeah, there's Rick's place, just a couple blocks
that way." Katie pointed down the road and smiled at Sam. "And it's okay. I
don't blame you for being curious. It's just... I used to babysit for Lillian
you know? And, I'd never, what happened," Katie blew out a quick breath, eyes
watering as she rapidly shook her head. "Well just holler if you need
anything." She briefly smiled at him before turning away once more.
Sam watched her walk away, noting the tension in her shoulders. It wasn't that
he didn't believe Dean - Father Archer - if anyone could recognize a Demon it
would be him but the damned thing could be anywhere and Sam didn't know anyone
in Iva Grove. It was a little disconcerting to feel like he could walk right
past the demon if it were riding someone and without that tell of slick black
eyes Sam probably wouldn’t even know.
Katie hadn’t lingered at the table longer than she had to. Things could change
pretty suddenly when you asked about murder; but then, Sam was used to being
the unpopular guy in the room. Eating quickly, Sam was finished in about
fifteen minutes; he did take a little time with the peach cobbler because it
actually was good. When he was finished, Sam left a big tip and slid out of the
booth to stretch.
Nodding over at Katie Sam smiled. She was maybe seventeen at the most,
definitely not old enough to go to a bar. "Maybe I'll see you over there later?
Rick's?' He winked at her as he walked backwards slowly.
"Not likely," Katie smiled softly and ducked her head, clearly pleased at being
asked at least. "But I work a lot, so if you're in town a while." She shrugged
and flipped her hair over her shoulder, giving Sam a wider smile. "Don't be a
stranger."
Grinning, Sam turned and strode out into the evening air. Squinting slightly to
block out the streetlights, Sam could just see a sign lit up down the street.
Rick's. Hopefully, if he couldn't get answers he could at least end up with a
good buzz before he had to head back to the Motel.
-=-=-=-
Sliding onto a tall bar stool Sam leaned back against the bar. It was a small
place, pretty typical, had that stale beer and smoke smell of an old bar. There
was a stuffed mountain lion on the end of the bar that Sam found kind of
disturbing. Taxidermy was creepier than any demon he'd ever encountered. He was
still locked into a staring match with the mountain lion when the bartender
walked up behind him.
"What can I get you son?" The man busied himself wiping a glass that was
already clean with his rag, eyes fixed on Sam.
Tearing his eyes away from the big cat Sam turned slowly to face the bartender.
"Beer - whatever's on tap."
"Was a gift," the man said, voice gruff as he twisted the glass in his grip and
filled it easily from the tap. Gesturing with his shoulder to the end of the
bar and the stuffed cat there, he continued, "good friend of mine shot that
thing after a non-stop week of tracking him." The words were said lose and
easy, as if the man had told the story a million times. Leaning forward he sat
the glass on the bar in front of Sam and nodded. "Let me know when you want
another."
Sam tilted his chin up in thanks and turned back to face the open part of the
bar. There were a couple of old guys huddled over a table and nursing their
pints. A pool table was stretched along the back wall by the juke box which
was, rather unfortunately, playing Patsy Cline. Scratching his head, Sam turned
slightly to pick up his beer and take a few long swallows.
Watching the room carefully, Sam waited until a couple of guys headed toward
the pool table then slipped off his bar stool and sauntered across the bar. The
men looked like they were around the same age as Sam, maybe a bit younger.
"Hey, you guys live in town here?" Sam smiled and leaned against the side of
the juke box.
Their eyes met for a moment before the brunette nodded to his friend, some sort
of silent communication. "Yeah, we've lived here our whole lives. I'm Drew,
this is Casey." Drew gestured to the blonde at his side before grabbing his
beer and taking a long drink.
"So - I just got into town, what's it like here? Y'all have a lot of fun on the
weekends? Why's everyone look so serious when I ask questions?" Sam scratched
at the back of his neck and gave innocent a good shot. He'd never done very
well at looking innocent.
Casey snorted a laugh and shook his head. Drew answered. "Yeah, you're
obviously new around here. Nothing fun in Iva Grove. It's been a weird few
weeks, people dying and all. This kid next door stabbed a Prie-" Drew cut off
sharply when Casey slapped a hand hard into his midsection. Looking to the
side, Drew frowned and shrugged. "What's your name anyway? Why are you here?"
"Sam," he stepped forward and held out his hand, "I'm just passin' through
town, thought I might stay here for a few days."
Moving to meet the step Drew shook Sam's hand. Casey just lingered along the
background and nodded a greeting. "Not much worth staying here for unless
you've got someone around. It's our town though, so we're loyal to the core."
"You're not a reporter right?" Casey finally spoke up, pinning Sam with
distrusting eyes.
"A reporter?" Sam laughed, "do I look like I have a job?" Leaning back against
the Juke Box again Sam's laughter died down. "I just do odd jobs - pick up work
where I can." Always best to stick as close to the truth as you can. One of
John Winchester's old rules.
This seemed to satisfy Drew who relaxed and reclaimed his beer. Casey continued
to watch Sam, that lingering distrust almost palpable. "I like your tats man,
don't see a lot of people like you around here. We don't even have a parlour in
town. Where you from originally then?"
Focusing on Drew, Sam lifted his glass to his lips again and chuckled quietly
before taking a drink. "Thanks, Sam scratched at his new tattoo for a few
moments before remembering he wasn't supposed to. "I'm from Lawrence, Kansas -
a million damn years ago, been on the road a while." Taking a few steps closer
to the table Sam took another drink of his beer. "So what's all this about
people dyin'? There a sickness goin' around town or somethin'?"
"No, not really," Drew slowly shook his head and stared down at his beer. "I
mean, I guess, kind of." He sighed, clearly a bit at odds with what was
happening in his town. "It's like, they change into different people you know?"
Drew looked up at Sam, gauging his reaction. "The things they say, the way they
talk. I've never seen it or anything but Nick, he was there when David went all
batshit on Father Morton, he said David's eyes were all dark and he was saying
some real nasty shit like-"
Again Drew cut off at the sharp slap of a hand on his midsection and Casey
stepped forward. "I really don't think it's any of your business Sam. So you
should just butt out." He stared in annoyance up at Sam, eyes narrowed.
"Casey, you're gettin' your boxers in a bit of a bunch there aren't ya?" Sam
smiled down at him. There were a few advantages to being six foot four. "You
should relax," he said quietly as his smile faded.
"Don't tell me to relax. You can't just come in here and ask about private
things without expecting someone to protest." Casey snapped in return.
Beside him, Drew frowned and shook his head. "Dude, it's just genuine
curiosity. Wouldn't you wonder if you read or heard about this shit? Mom's
killing their babies? Kids killing Priests? That is some fucked up shit." Drew
looked apologetically up at Sam and shrugged.
"It's none of his damn business," Casey shot a pointed look toward the other
people watching in the bar before looking back at Sam. "You should just go sit
back down and keep your mouth shut before someone has a bigger issue with what
you're asking." Casey advised in an undertone.
"Don't see how I'm doin' anything wrong." Sam took a few steps back to lean on
the Juke box again. When Casey's eyes were on Drew Sam slid his beer onto the
ledge behind him. More than his far share of bar fights had taught Sam that it
was always better to have both his hands free.
"How would you like it if tragedy hit your town and some punk ass stranger came
in questioning things?" Casey stepped forward, fists clenching.
"Is there a problem here?" An older man came into the conversation, looking
once at Casey before fixing his gaze on Sam.
"Just putting the outsider in his place," Casey grumbled, stance not shifting.
"No problem from my end," Sam nodded a greeting at the older man. "I think
Casey here," he gestured with a nod of his head, "needs to learn who not to
pick fights with. Shifting his weight, Sam pushed up off the Juke Box and
widened his stance slightly. Never hurt to be ready for anything, even someone
who probably couldn't do a damn bit of damage to Sam.
"Is that a threat?" Casey nearly growled the words, stepping closer. "What do
you think Jacob? This guy's been asking about the deaths and he seems a fair
bit to curious if you ask me."
The older man, Jacob, shifted his stance to meet Sam's and glared. "I'd say
that's none of his business. Why don't you just go sit down son?"
"Far as I can see, there's no reason why I can't be standing right here." Sam
was starting to get pretty pissed off. It wasn't like he actually wanted to be
in their shit hole of a town. "I'm just," Sam reached behind him and picked up
his beer, "trying to have a beer and your boy Dewey over here is being kinda
unfriendly."
"It's Casey you dipshit," the man snapped and stepped forward, raising his
fist.
"Is there a problem here gentlemen?" Dean stepped between Casey and Sam
swiftly, not even flinching at the fight he'd just barely interrupted in time.
"Father Archer," Casey dropped his hand instantly and stepped back. "We were
just discussing the right for privacy with this man here."
Dean's eyebrows lifted slightly and he turned slightly to glance up at Sam
before looking back at Casey and Jacob, Drew lingering uncertainly in the
background. "No harm in a few questions. Let's just keep it friendly yeah? You
know how Rick likes his bar nice and peaceful."
"Maybe it's best if he just goes," Jacob suggested, tone still hard and
guarded.
"Ya know, you people sure have a strange way of welcoming people to town." Sam
drained his beer and slammed the empty glass down on the ledge behind him. The
last person that Sam needed to see was Dean, there wasn't nearly enough alcohol
in his system yet for another encounter with the man of the cloth. Glaring at
Dean, Sam brushed past him and headed for the door. If these people wanted him
out of town so badly, maybe he would just pack up in the morning and head out.
With a sigh Dean rubbed at his brow for a moment and shook his head. When he'd
gotten the call from Rick about the stranger stirring up things in the bar,
he'd expected it to be Sam. It hadn't made it any easier to come down here and
ensure nothing happened.
"Sorry Father," Casey murmured, sinking back a step and looking much less
threatening than he had a few minutes ago.
"It certainly isn't a sign of hospitality Casey. Try and be more civil next
time alright?" He nodded at the man before turning to head out of the bar. His
hand lifted in a wave to Rick, who nodded in return, before he pushed the door
of the bar open and stepped outside.
***** Chapter 7 *****
Sam was heading in the direction of the motel in a slow walk and Dean looked
the opposite way down the street to his church before turning and quickening
his steps to catch up with Sam. "I'm sorry about them, Sam. Everything that's
been happening it's really shaken people up and they're just not sure how to
react." Dean shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing up and over at Sam
uncertainly. It still hurt to even think the man's name but he was trying.
God, every time Dean said his name Sam could feel it travel all the way down
his spine. Rubbing at the back of his neck Sam glanced at Dean out of the
corner of his eye. The white collar was almost glowing in the dark, "ya ever
take that thing off?"
"I'm not really supposed too. Outside sleep." Dean said quietly, hands curling
inside his pockets. "At least I'm not wearing the robe too?" He offered and
gave Sam just the briefest smile.
There was no smile on Sam's face. "No one wants me here, Dea-" Jaw snapping
shut Sam's eyes darted over to Dean. "I'm not calling you anything official."
His eyes dropped and trailed along the ground just ahead of his footsteps. "I
can't," he murmured.
Even the beginning of his name on Sam's tongue made him shudder slightly. "You
can call me Dean." He said quietly, watching Sam's feet move along the ground.
"They don't know you're here to help. Most of them can't even understand what's
happening and I'm not really supposed to talk about it. I've tried but, well,
you know better than anyone. It's not the easiest to talk about or accept."
Dean could remember how it was in the wake of his possession, how terrifying
that was.
That brought cold laughter from Sam. "Well, they could always hook up with
someone - having a good fuck seems to help survivors get over it." He spat the
last words like they tasted bad and they did. He'd had ten years to think about
what happened, to wonder if maybe Dean had figured out that he didn't want to
hang around with some scraggly sixteen year old.
Surprised by the way the words made his gut churn, Dean's steps faltered and he
drew to a stop. "I..." He frowned and shook his head. "It was never like that.
Never." Dean had always expected Sam to hold misconceptions about the way they
ended, and he once thought how much he'd like to explain everything, but
clearly it went deeper than Dean knew. The ache in his chest grew and he
stepped back. "Perhaps I should go."
Sam's hand snapped out before he was even really aware of it, his long fingers
curled around the warmth of Dean's wrist. Both of them stopped moving for a few
moments, and Sam's heart was beating so loud he was almost convinced that Dean
could hear it. When he took a step back their shoulders brushed and Sam tilted
his head to the side. "What was it... like? If it wasn't like that?" Emotion
was spinning out of control in Sam's gut and he tightened his grip on Dean's
wrist.
Over the years, Dean had grown accustomed to not being touched. But it wasn't
this touch now that made his heart race, it was the fact that it was Sam and
he'd never forgotten just how the man could make him feel. No matter how
repressed it may be. "It was... you were the only person I ever really loved."
Dean whispered and stared up at Sam, breathing slowly in attempts to control
the spike in his emotions. He couldn't go through this again, despite being
twenty eight years old fear and paranoia at being caught flared up in him and
Dean's shoulders shook. "You were never just... you were my only and..." Dean
looked away, wishing he was strong enough to pull his wrist free. He should
have been but wasn't.
Sam's thumb passed over the tender underside of Dean's wrist. There were a
thousand reasons flooding his mind for why he should walk away right that
instant, a thousand hurts and so much grief and pain that it was almost
overwhelming. "And now?" Sam's voice was soft and he turned slightly, his
breath caught somewhere in his chest when the familiar scent of Dean was
suddenly everywhere around him. Ducking his head down until he could almost see
Dean's eyes Sam whispered, "what am I to you now?"
Air caught in Dean's throat and a sharp inhale sent Sam's scent coursing
through him. Dean could just barely pick out the little things that he
remembered from all those years ago. "I. I never stopped loving..." Dean choked
on the words and swayed forward because Sam felt like a magnet he couldn't
break himself from. The first time it had all happened to fast but was so
amazing and Dean could easily see it happening all over again. Then his mind
sparked with images, with the haunting memories of months locked away and
brainwashed.
Pushing back, Dean stumbled when his hand was tugged free. His eyes fluttered
rapidly and he turned, shaking his head roughly. "I can't. This. I." Dean shook
his head harder and nearly ran down the street away from Sam. This wouldn't
help things, would only damage things between Sam and himself, but it was
probably for the best. Dean was in no place to be anything. He couldn't
accept... everything. Hiding away was the best option; there was nothing more
he could do. Sam would probably hate him now, possibly already did, but Dean
had also grown accustomed to the hollow feeling in his chest.
Until the moment Dean wrenched his arm free - Sam had been pretty cocky -
figured there was nothing that could hurt him. But this, feeling the absence of
Dean yet again, feeling it, perhaps, even more intensely than he ever had
before was probably the worst thing Sam had ever felt. Squeezing his eyes shut
against the pain that was coursing through his system he shook his head slowly
and reached up to push his hair back off his face. Dean's footsteps were still
there, barely audible over the sounds of the sleepy town. They were fading.
Smiling wryly, Sam didn't bother turning to watch Dean leaving. The Motel
wasn't far and bed seemed like a pretty good idea.
-=-=-=-
Opting for an early start, Sam was up and showered by eight a.m. and trudging
down the main street toward the Church. From any point in town the Church spire
was visible. It wasn't all that impressive but there it was, gleaming white and
clear as day from almost anywhere in town. It definitely said something about
the town that the Catholic Church was the town's heart. Ironically, religious
communities could be the most difficult to deal with when it came to hunts. The
way the young men had treated Sam in the bar the night before was nothing new
to him. It was normal, in a place like this community was everything. These
people relied on one another to get by; they were each other's neighbours and
friends, lovers and family. They were everything to each other.
Sam's hand was on the sun-warmed metal of the Church door handle by the time he
was pulled from his thoughts. He'd realized late the night before that he
wasn't going to accomplish anything unless he could get Dean's help. One of the
only people in town that might be able to help Sam to get the information he
needed was Dean, like it or not.
The door squeaked shut behind him and Sam could feel the muffled silence of the
building settle around him. Always so quiet. There was a young woman working in
a small room off to the right of the entrance. She probably wasn't long out of
high school, looked pretty young to Sam. "Excuse me; I'm looking for De, uh
Father Archer?" Sam smiled and stepped closer.
Glancing up, the girl nodded then did a double take, eyes widening slightly.
"Sure. The Father is in his study but he's always open for walk ins. Follow
me." She led Sam out of the room and down a hallway, turning a corner. "My name
is Melissa. I don't think I've seen you around here before." She said
cheerfully as she guided them through the building.
Eyes moving over the dark walls, Sam followed along behind her, "I'm Sam, old
friend of Father Archer's." Lips curling into a cold smile Sam shook his head.
"If he's busy or something I can come back." Sam was starting to feel a bit
like he was torturing himself unnecessarily. He really could just call Singer
and tell him to head on out. Odds were that he would make it before someone
else was killed. Odds. Not working so well in Sam's favour lately.
Melissa's eyes widened and her steps hesitated for a moment. "You're Sam? Like,
the Sam?" She stared at him for a long moment, gaze drifting down to his feet
and back up before turning and continuing down the hallway. "No, I'm certain
Father Archer doesn't mind the interruption. Just this way." She gestured down
a short hallway, turning the corner.
"He's mentioned me?" Sam almost stumbled. He found it hard to believe that Dean
had thought much about him over the years - finding out he might have mentioned
him was kind of jarring. Breathing in slowly he rolled his shoulders and almost
ran into Melissa when she stopped at a closed door.
Smiling softly Melissa reached out and grabbed Sam's elbow to stabilize him.
"Yup, here and there over the years. You're the only person from his past I've
ever heard him mention." Melissa's smile turned slightly mischievous as she
stopped in front a closed door. Leaning forward, she whispered
conspiratorially. "Father Archer is a bit of a mystery around here. It took
years for the town folk to warm up to him. The man is still a bit of a puzzle
to most people but he's friendly and kind, and level headed without being
overtly religious. Some people need that fresh take on life. Anyway, here's his
office." Melissa straightened up and tapped on the door, cracking it open a
moment later. "Father? Sam's here to see you." She smiled at Sam as she stepped
back and gestured into the open doorway. "Nice meeting you Sam, feel free to
stop by and say hello whenever."
A half-hearted smile on his face, Sam held up a hand as Melissa turned to go.
Dean's office was small and the first thing that caught Sam's eye was all the
books. Row upon row of gilded titles lined the single wall of shelves. Stepping
into the room Sam kept his eyes down. "If I'm gonna get out of here soon - I'm
gonna need your help."
Dean, who had been staring out the window for the last two hours, had to blink
light from his eyes in order to properly focus on Sam when he turned to him.
For just a moment he felt compelled to cross the room and tug Sam into his
arms, hold him close in a tight hug. He didn't. "Let me know what I can do."
Dean said quietly and walked toward the desk, leaning against the front of it.
"These people don't trust me." Sam tried to keep his eyes off Dean's face. He
was through with trying to pretend this was anything other than a bad few days
he had to live through. Exorcise the demons and get the hell back on the road -
that was what he needed to do. "I can't even find out if people have been
acting differently. "Got nowhere to start." Leaning back against the door Sam
stared down at the patterns in the worn wooden floor. Somewhere in his mind he
kept thinking, I'll just wait another half a minute then try to look at him but
then that moment wouldn't come.
Watching Sam, trying to gauge what was going on in his mind, Dean frowned
slightly and pushed off the desk, half stepping forward. "I think people might
be more willing to speak with you if I were there too. If that's alright. We
can talk to however you'd like, my schedule is mostly free for the day." Dean
didn't mention that he needed to prepare a sermon for mass, there was time for
that in the night when he was trying desperately not to think about how close
Sam now was.
Scratching nervously at his forehead, Sam finally glanced up at Dean before
averting his eyes to look out the window. "These people," he licked his lips,
"they have a lot of respect for you. You did good - for yourself I mean. You
know," he waved his hand dismissively. If he were to be completely honest, it
was a life that he would have wanted for himself once upon a time. Well, not
the Priest part, but living in a small town somewhere - being well enough known
that you could break up a bar fight by simply walking into a room. Respect. Sam
wasn't sure he'd ever really had that from anyone - except fleetingly from one
or two guys who were on the receiving end of his left hook.
Surprised by the comment, Dean looked away and shook his head. "I don't think
you can really say that not knowing..." He pursed his lips and reached up to
touch his collar, frowning now down at the ground. "Well. Shall we go talk to
some of the people who possibly saw those possessed before it happened? I've
been listening in on things but can't seem to locate a place the demon is now."
Dean couldn't really talk about his past, not now, to Sam. He wouldn't even
know where to begin.
Sam stayed in front of the office door. "You know I hated you for a while but,"
he dragged his hand down his face, "I don't know. I mean, I'm over it - you -
us." Liar. All Sam had managed to do was learn in ten years how to never care
about someone enough to get hurt - shoot before he got shot.
"Oh." Dean looked down at the ground, chest aching as the words stabbed through
him. "I um. Well." He nodded and turned away, walking behind his desk to fiddle
pointless with papers so it would be so obvious to Sam how the simple notion
that he no longer cared for Dean hurt more than still loving him after all
these years. "I don't really know what to say to that." He finally whispered
and shrugged, turning his back to Sam because he couldn't risk their eyes
meeting.
Sam felt a little sick thrill at the idea that he could still hurt Dean - it
was childish, and all that happened was Sam's heart felt that twist of pain
again. Always wanting what you can't have, Sammy. "Well," he shrugged a
shoulder, watching Dean's fingers move restlessly over his desk, "you're
married to the Church I guess, right? I mean, I don't know shit about being a
Priest." Pressing his lips together he slumped back against the door and
propped one booted foot up against it. Dean wasn't getting out of this room
until Sam was ready for it.
"I was under the impression you wanted to take care of this demon and leave."
Dean spoke after several moments, gaze continually turned away. "If that's the
case, then standing here and discussing something you don't even care about
isn't going to help things. So if you would still like my assistance," he
gestured vaguely and finally looked up at Sam even though his eyes were still
blurred with unshed tears.
The distance across the room seemed too far and entirely too little all at
once. Sam had faced down a lot of shit in his time but this thing with him and
Dean was bigger than he'd expected it to be. Glancing up he frowned at the
Priest's glassy green eyes. "So...what? You still care? Is that what they teach
you at Seminary school? Or was that in your gay rehab summer camp? How to care
about ex-lovers and still carry on with life as though it didn't matter..." He
knew he sounded bitter but, fuck it, he was bitter. If things with Dean had
been different when he was sixteen then Sam's life could have gone a completely
different direction.
Oh, Sam had run through all the possible outcomes. They could have spent only a
few months on the road before things went south, Dean might have moved on
eventually, they could have hunted together, hell, even settled down somewhere
- the thing was - some kind of relationship like that might have been the
foundation Sam needed to be someone, someone that mattered.
Shoulders tensing Dean looked away and blew in a quick breath to keep from
getting angry. "Don't pretend like you know what happened to me. The things
they did. You could never even imagine." His fingers curled in tight fists and
Dean's stomach churned uncomfortably. Unbidden his thoughts sparked over hours
of memories that could only be called torture. A shudder coursed down his spine
and Dean's knees weakened enough he was forced to sit heavily in his chair.
"Sam, what is the point of this? You said you're over it, what should it matter
how I feel?" He told Sam how he felt the night before, if the man didn't
decipher it than that was his problem, though clearly not much of one anyway.
Sam was over him.
Walking further into the room Sam moved around behind the desk and dropped down
onto the edge of it, knee rocking back and forth - bumping into the arm of
Dean's chair. "Are you happy, Dean?" A woman had asked Sam that once, was he
happy?. Sam wasn't happy, he was alive. Happy was something he hadn't been in
ten years because happy? That shit just got your heart broken. His eyes slid up
Dean's black shirt, the collar gleaming white like some sort of warning. After
everything Sam had seen he wasn't even sure that happy existed; sometimes, he
wondered if people simply learned to accept their lot in life. It was just that
some lots were better than others.
The question shouldn't have been as hard to answer as it was but Dean suddenly
felt empty at just the thought. "No." He whispered and stared at his desk,
shaking his head slowly. "Are you?" Dean looked up at Sam, giving in to this
line of conversation since it seemed Sam wasn't interested in dropping it.
"Some people aren't meant to be particularly happy." Sam lifted his gaze and
his eyes finally settled on Dean's. It was so strange. People age but some
things are always the same - Dean's eyes were the same. Ten years hadn't
changed the green, the way the man wore his emotions on his face. There were
more fine lines at the corners, his skin had darkened a little, and there were
still those freckles. "My Dad died three years ago," it was a declaration,
nothing more nothing less. Staring straight into those glassy pools of green
Sam licked his lips, "I don't think he was every really happy either. Guess
we're three of a kind."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Dean said softly. He'd always liked John Winchester,
the world felt safe knowing he was around to kill creatures. "My father died
about six years ago. Which doesn't really matter much but I don't think he was
happy much either. Though I suppose my peers would say there's an answer for
that." Dean looked up toward Sam, spinning his chair until their bodies almost
touched. He could feel Sam's warmth and it unsettled him.
"Your peers..." Sam shifted closer so his leg rested against Dean's trapping it
against the desk. "So, the other Priests would say what to Father Archer about
everyone's lack of happiness?" The sensation in Sam's stomach was somewhere in
between anticipation and dread. "Did we deserve to be unhappy because of who we
were?" Sam shrugged a shoulder, eyes still holding Dean's, "or what we did?"
"No one deserves to be unhappy Sam." Dean whispered, staring at the place their
legs touched. "I believe the other Priests would advise religion." Dean knew he
should push away from the touch, stand up and put distance between them. This
was torture. "Does it hurt to be so cold?" Dean met his gaze, thinking maybe
he'd shake Sam up enough to cease this conversation.
"What?" Sam fought the urge to recoil and simply moved his leg away. "You think
I'm cold? When was the last time you touched someone, really touched someone,
or felt something - you think you're better than me because you hide behind
that collar?" Sam pushed up from the desk. "We all hide Dean. Some of us are
just better at it than others." He felt his expression harden again and pushed
up off the desk. "So - you're right - obviously this is a pointless
conversation."
"I never said I wasn't cold." Dean breathed and stood, walking around the desk
and heading for the door. He had told himself ending the conversation was what
he wanted. It wasn't true and that ache in Dean felt so deep it was
inescapable. "Shall I take you to someone who can tell you what they saw? Or
would you like my version of the story?" Dean wanted to tap into the anger and
hurt coursing through him, he wanted to scream and throw things, he wanted to
slam Sam up against the wall... but he couldn't do all those things. So instead
he walked toward the door, stopping inches from it.
"Fine," Sam's voice was gruff and steady, no reflection of the chaos going on
inside him. "Tell me your version." Walking up behind Dean Sam's smile darkened
and he pressed up against Dean's back momentarily. Heat, it was strangely
familiar - the way their bodies just fit and Sam's eyes fluttered closed for a
moment as that familiar smell wafted up toward him. Brow furrowing, he stared
almost in disbelief as his own hand rose and almost settled on Dean's shoulder.
It hovered there, just above the black cotton shirt and then Sam dropped his
arm and stepped back slightly. It wasn't enough distance for Dean to be
comfortable but Sam wasn't feeling all that generous. If he was going to suffer
through this - he figured Dean might as well suffer a little as well.
Not for the first time since Sam's sudden appearance in his life, Dean had to
fight off the spark of tears. He swallowed thickly and pulled the door open,
walking out into the hall without allowing Sam to see how the touch had
affected him. "David, the third possessed, was at his home. We'll go there.
Nicholas was with him and David's little brother, Matthew, was the one to come
and get me. Of course I'd already had some idea what was going on before but no
one wanted to hear about it. Is there anything specific you need to know? Or
see?" Dean didn't look at Sam as he led him through the church and outside.
"What did you see before the kids that tipped you off?" Sam scratched
unconsciously at his healing tattoo. "Why kids do you think? It's unusual for
demons to possess young people; they're generally not in positions of power,
not terribly strong. It's strange don't you think?" It was easy for Sam to step
into the familiar role of Hunter. He knew it well and there were no surprises
there.
Leading him down the side walk toward the path that led to the Conrad house.
"It doesn't seem to be following any sort of pattern at all. Except to possess
people you would think of as innocent. Or..." Dean's steps faltered and he
frowned, head tilted to the side. "I had confession with each three the day
before the demon took them." Something sick twisted in Dean's body and for once
he didn't even consider it belonging to Sam's presence beside him. It hit him
like a punch in the gut and Dean had to bend in half, press his hands hard into
his thighs and suck in a breath. "Me. It's me, isn't it? This thing is... he
said, when in David, he said, don't I know you? Jesus, I should have seen it
before." Shaking his head roughly, Dean tried to push himself up and compose
himself.
Sam's hand hovered again, just above Dean's back then his fingers curled tight
and clenched into a fist before dropping to his side. "Okay, just calm down and
think Dean. Have you heard confession from anyone else since the last murder?"
Sidestepping slightly Sam tried to catch Dean's eye and get him to focus. There
was the hint - there was always a link, a connection; Demons were far from
selfless and were always in it for some kind of reward. That reward in this
case might just be retribution.
Slowly shaking his head, Dean let his mind flick through the last few days
since Father Morton's death. "No. It's been too difficult, having to prepare
the funeral and everything else going on. I've seen no one." And as far as Dean
knew the demon had yet to pick another person to possess. "Those three must
have been the most innocent." For a brief moment Dean's lips twitched in a
slight smile. "Lillian's confession was hardly anything, David's was even less.
The demon must have chosen them because he knew it would affect me more. Do you
think-" Dean cut himself off and looked over at a patch of trees swaying in the
wind. "Sam, could it be the same demon? Is this his way of making me suffer
once more?"
Tilting his head to the side Sam smiled wryly and shrugged. "I don't know but
there's our answer, right there. You hear my confession and we see what that
stirs up." The irony of that statement wasn't at all lost on Sam. He knew
exactly what a confession might stir up but the sudden nervous look on Dean's
face was well worth it. "Shall we?"
"But, what if the demon possesses you? What good would that do us?" Dean
reasoned, not at all into the idea of listening to Sam's confession. He could
imagine some of the things that would hurt most to hear and couldn't think of
how that would change and hurt him.
Curling his fingers under the hem of his t-shirt Sam pulled it up to reveal the
anti-possession charm he'd had tattooed over his heart. He watched Dean's
cheeks colour for a few moments before dropping his shirt. "It's like a
protection ward. I can't be possessed but it might lure the thing out somehow.
What can a confession hurt right?" The expression on Dean's face told Sam that
both men knew exactly what it could hurt.
"Well." Dean had to force himself to look away because Sam's bare chest almost
hurt to look at. Pretty soon Dean was going to be the one to need a confession
if he continued this. "Fine. If you think it will help. I'm insisting we do
things properly though." Dean gestured back to the church. He would need as
much distance between them as possible and Sam seeing his expression at the
man's confessions was out of the question.
"Properly? I don't have to be baptized or anything first do I? Jesus." For
once, Sam had the good grace to actually look embarrassed by his choice of
words. He glanced over in the direction of Dean's hand. "What? You can't be
serious." Sam had never been inside a confessional. For obvious reasons.
"We are trying to fool the demon into following you aren't we?" Dean actually
found himself smiling slightly and crossed through the church to the
confessional, tugging the door open. "In case you don't know, you should begin
with Forgive me Father for I have sinned." At this Dean momentarily smiled even
brighter, eyes lingering on Sam before he turned and stepped inside, closing
the door behind him firmly.
Blowing out a breath Sam ran his hand back through his hair. He'd had to do a
lot of strange things over the years but this pretty much topped them all.
Pulling the door open he stepped inside the booth. There was a small chair that
was facing the other side of the booth and Sam sat down - suddenly more than
aware of his height. His knees banged hard into the booth and he swore,
chuckled nervously then tried to get comfortable. "Do I say it now?" He
whispered, not entirely sure why.
Lips still dancing around the smile, Dean nodded and smoothed his hands over
the fabric on his thighs. "Yes, and go ahead and include how long it's been
since your last confession." Dean had to cover a laugh at that, knowing Sam had
never had one. "Gotta be official." Or maybe Dean was getting some odd sort of
thrill in the weird and unexpected situation.
Rolling his eyes Sam rubbed his hand over his stubbled cheek. "Forgive me,
Father, for I have sinned." His brow furrowed, the words felt weighty and
strange in his mouth - foreign. "And, uh, I've never been to confession." He
scratched at the side of his nose and leaned forward to squint through the
lattice woodwork to try and make out Dean's face. "Now what?"
Generally at this point Dean would quote a piece from scripture but he thought
he would spare Sam. Plus he had a feeling they were going to be here for
awhile. "Now you tell me your sins. Start from... the beginning I suppose. The
ones that weigh hardest on your heart."
"My sins?" Sam cleared his throat and shifted his feet against the rough wood.
"Yes, that's the point of confession. You tell me what it is that you feel
is... changing you. Burdening you." Swallowing thickly, Dean turned toward Sam,
narrowing his eyes slightly to get a better image of him. "I shall listen to
whatever it is you wish to share."
"So," Sam was possibly stalling, "things that I think were wrong? Anything that
makes me feel guilty?" The small wooden booth was starting to feel a little bit
confining and Sam tugged at the neck of his t-shirt.
Slowly shaking his head, Dean smiled, oddly fond considering the circumstances.
"The point is to unburden your soul. So if there are things you think are
wrong, or there are things that simple add pressure to your being, it is
whatever you feel most comfortable telling me." Dean had never needed to coach
someone along so much but it seemed oddly fitting. Considering it was Sam.
"Okay, so like - I stole money from my Dad's wallet sometimes when we were on
the road. Mostly for food but sometimes I just," Sam half smiled even as his
brow furrowed. "Sometimes, I just wanted to go be a kid. You know? I wanted to
buy candy, or play some video games or something like that." Clearing his
throat again Sam looked back up noticing by Dean's silhouette that the Priest
had turned to face him. "Things like that?" He shifted again on the small seat,
denim covered knees rasping across the wooden barrier.
Chuckling softly, Dean nodded once more. "Well yeah, that would be a place to
start. This is different from most cases because you're not really Catholic.
Just... pretend I'm a sounding board. There has to be things eating you up
inside. You can tell me those things and they'll go no further than this space.
Perhaps it will ease something in you." He felt he was treading on uncertain
ground but he was willing to try.
"If I tell you things, you can't do anything about it? Can't say anything?"
Sam's fingers were digging into the meat of his thighs and he had to think
deliberately to loosen his grip.
"My purpose is to listen and provide you guidance when needed." Dean whispered
and tilted his head to the side, bracing himself for what he sensed might be to
come.
Sam's mouth was dry. "When my Dad died... I didn't cry. I blamed him you know,
for so many things. My Mom killing herself, losing you. He was there and...
and... it was easy to blame him." It was so silent inside the booth that when
Sam closed his eyes he could hear Dean breathing. He'd heard that same sound so
long ago. "So - when he died I don't think he knew that I loved him." He raised
his hand to cover his mouth for a few moments like somehow he could stop the
words. It just didn't seem possible now that he'd started - there was something
strangely liberating about knowing he could tell the truth.
Moving his hand slightly Sam could feel a muscle along his jaw twitching. "I-
" Sam's breathed hitched. "I..." Looking down at his hands Sam felt like his
heart was going to pound right out of his chest. "I've been trying to hurt
you," he whispered.
The air caught in Dean's lungs and he stared at Sam through the little cracks,
just making out his form in the darkness. "Why have you been trying to hurt
me?" The issues Sam had with his father needed to be addressed, but that was
going to be a long process, Dean would need time he likely didn't have to work
on it. And this question was selfish, he shouldn't have asked, but it might
send Sam down another line of confessions to help cleanse him in some way.
Sam's voice was quiet, "Because ten years ago I stood by that fucking car and
waited and I kept saying over and over to my Dad that you would come because
you promised. Because I loved you - and I don't think I love anymore because of
you...because of that and now - you're...you're a Priest. Dean, you're a Priest
- celibate - you don't love anymore, you don't want what I want," Sam cleared
his throat to cover his words, "you don't want what I wanted all this time...
before, not now." Eyes heavy with emotion Sam squeezed them shut again. "I want
you to feel as horrible as I did then, standing there staring down the street
like some stupid idiot." He ran out of air as he ran out of words and sucked in
a lungful, then panted softly for a few moments.
Defenses bubbled up on Dean's tongue, the story of what had happened and how
much it killed him to know he'd hurt Sam. The reason he was a Priest now. But
this wasn't Dean's time to confess to anything. And he was too crushed by the
words to really form a full explanation any of it anyway. "And-" his voice
caught and he coughed quietly, trying not to make it known how upset he was.
"Since then. What have you done if you haven't loved anyone?" If Dean were
stronger, bravery, he might have corrected Sam. Because he did love. More than
the man could possibly know.
Dean's voice almost startled Sam and his eyes snapped open. "Wh..What do you
mean? What have I done?" Reaching one arm across his chest he rubbed at the
opposite shoulder, tense.
"I mean," Dean wasn't exactly sure what he meant, what he wanted to know, and
he paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "What things of the last ten
years have affected you the most? Have you been with... people?" That last
question slipped out against his will and Dean looked away.
Sam shifted back unconsciously trying to get further away from Dean. "Are you
asking me that because you need to know or because you want to know?"
Sliding fingers under his collar, Dean ran along the skin and sighed. "I
suppose because I want to. And it would aid in your trying to hurt me."
Apparently something about the confessional made Dean far too honest and he
shook his head. "I apologize, this isn't supposed to be about me. What else
would you like to share?"
Reaching out Sam pressed his hand against the woven wood screen. "You want to
help me hurt you?" It was impossible to hide the confusion in his voice and he
wasn't even trying anymore. There were so many reasons why he should just stand
up and leave, get the fuck out of there and just drive. "I had sex. Why not?"
His voice hardened - he was starting to feel like he was on a roller coaster
ride, "S'like a good hunt leaves me with all that adrenaline and - I guess I
just get it out that way. Is that a sin too?"
"By definition. Yes." Dean nodded and pushed his finger tips into his lips.
"I'm not going to judge you. I'm hardly in a place for that." Of course it hurt
to hear Sam had been with others, especially after everything that led him to
this place, but he knew Sam was aware of that. "How did your dad die?" Dean
changed topics drastically, needing to give his heart a break.
"I think it was a Demon," Sam's voice shook more than he liked and he curled
his fingers over the screen and leaned forward. "I don't really know - he was
alive and then he was gone, it was just that fast. I can't..." Letting his head
fall forward Sam rested his forehead against the screen beside his hand. "I
don't want to miss him but I do because I never had anyone else except-
" Wondering why he was still sitting there, still talking, still hurting - Sam
rolled his head to the side and just listened to the almost imperceptible sound
of Dean breathing.
Staring down at his hands Dean curled them together slowly. "Missing him isn't
a bad thing Sam. No matter how things were in the end, whatever happened, John
knew you loved him. Most father's never doubt their son's devotion, no matter
the challenges. And he loved you in return." Dean hoped it sounded as genuine
as he was trying to make it, because he believed it, in Sam's case at least.
"It's weak," Sam mumbled. "You miss people, you love them - it makes you weak -
open to attack. It's a shit world out there, Dean. Shit. And, it's shit inside
me... are we done? How do we know when we're done?" Sam was on the verge of
cracking. "Someone's always gotta end up being the guy who has nothing left to
lose - 'cause that guy? No one can beat him. There's nothing left to hurt him."
Swearing softly under his breath Sam dragged his hand down the partition.
The words worked to make Dean feel only worse and he nodded, hating that he was
allowing himself to get so caught up in this. Sam was still leaving when this
was done, and Dean would have to deal with the aftermath. "We can be done.
Usually I end with a prayer. I um, I'll just do that silently. You are free to
go." Truthfully, Dean just needed a few moments to get his thoughts in order,
get himself under control. He could hardly imagine facing Sam at this point.
Pushing up to his full height quickly Sam fumbled with the door handle for a
few moments. "Fuck," he yanked at the door and it just rattled uselessly until
he realized he had to push it. There were tears prickling hotly at his eyes and
when he finally pushed the door open he bolted down the aisle. Air. He just
wanted some air. That fucking box was so small and it was ridiculous to say all
that shit - and what had it accomplished? His pulse was thudding at his temple
and when he finally managed to get out the front door Sam was sucking in air
like he'd been drowning. He was drowning. Sam had been drowning since the day
his Father had died and there was no one left to even give a shit. This was why
it was wrong to talk about things... the way he was left all pulled apart.
Dropping to the top step with a dull thud Sam sat down so hard his teeth
clamped down on the side of his tongue. Glaring ahead down the road Sam yelled
in no particular direction, "come and get me you fucker!" The demon bastard
would be listening, or watching and it would know to come. Marked and broken -
Sam would be like some sort of beacon and when the demon couldn't ride him it
would find someone near Sam and they'd have the bastard. It could all be over
soon. Sam needed it to be over.
There was really no point in Dean going after Sam. Nothing could be said or
changed at this point and Dean couldn't recall feeling as hollow as he did when
he finally stepped out of the confessional. Well, he could recall the time but
it was often like a dream in his mind. This was very real and it only grew in
Dean until the pressing in his chest felt so hard he could barely breathe. He
stumbled through the sanctuary and pushed a back door open, barely making it to
the bathroom before he lost the contents of his stomach. He was shocked he
reacted this way, though he felt after so long he shouldn't be. There was too
much in Dean's mind to properly analyze. Now he assumed they would just wait
and eventually Dean would be alone again, the way things were probably meant to
be.
***** Chapter 8 *****
"Excuse me Father?"
The soft voice of his secretary came from the doorway of his office and Dean
didn't bother turning his gaze from the window. He could still taste bile on
his tongue and was working a mint around slowly across his mouth, trying to
calm the racing of his heart. So far it had only barely worked, despite an hour
nearly passing since Sam left the confessional. "What can I help you with
Melissa?"
"Oh, I'm sure it's not me you need to be helping." Melissa answered and there
was something now about the way the words sounded that had Dean turning.
Surprise must have been clearly evident on his face because the girl laughed,
body swaying as she entered the room. "Shit you make the funniest facial
expressions. You know, that might have been why I chose you in the first
place."
Dean's shoulders tensed and his fingers curled into fists, eyes fixing on
Melissa's body. His heart went out for the girl, she didn't deserve this. "So
you are the demon that possessed me before then? Shouldn't you be in Hell?"
Melissa scowled and kicked the trash bucket, sending it skittering across the
room. "I was you little ass. All because you and your stupid little fuck buddy
got all high and mighty. Where is Sammy anyway? I heard rumours he's around and
I'd just love to catch up. You know I know his mom right?"
Swallowing thickly Dean suddenly felt very determined that Sam wouldn't hear a
word this demon had to say. He just needed to figure out how to pin Melissa
down and tape her mouth shut. He had to be stronger than her, even with the
demon. "So what? You crawled out? And now you're going around and killing
people in my town because you think I actually care?"
Confusion momentarily flickered across Melissa's face but it was gone just as
fast. "Of course you care Father. That's the point isn't it? Why else bother
with all this holy shit? It's a real waste too because I'm just gonna kill you
and this will be all you had to show for yourself."
Fighting back the flash of fear, Dean kept his shoulders squared and smirked.
"See, that's the thing right? You don't know me at all. You think I'm a Priest
because I want to care for other people and serve a God that sits up in the
heavens and let's his people suffer below? Why would I want to serve such a
selfish person?"
The demon's confusion lasted longer this time and Dean took advantage of it to
step forward and shove hard at the girl's waist line, hoping to dislodge her.
Of course it didn't work, it took only seconds for the demon to react and Dean
found himself being flung across the office, crashing hard into opposite wall.
He sucked in a deep breath, pain flaring down his spine. "Then why do you
bother?" The demon snarled, stepping into Dean and kicking swiftly into his
midsection. Dean could only gasp and curl in to avoid the pain.
There had always been that Hunter's sense in Sam's mind. His dad had joked with
him about it but it was there, strong and vivid, and for some reason Sam
couldn't put his finger on he needed to go back into the Church. He'd been
sitting outside and staring down the road, watching the occasional car or
person move past. It was almost surreal - but then this feeling - like cool air
breathing down the back of his neck had him on his feet and moving back into
the dim light of the Church.
The crash coming from the direction of Dean's office had sent Sam lurching
forward into a run. The words came easily now, Sam had heard John Winchester's
voice rumble them out for years before he'd become so familiar with them
himself it was like second nature. As soon as he was in the room Sam flung
himself between Dean and the Demon. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,
omnis satanica potestas..." It was wrote, like muscle memory and the ritual
just flooded out of Sam's mouth.
The words seemed to shake the demon and Dean pushed past the pain working
through him and stumbled forward, grabbing at the girl and pulling her arms
behind her back. She had attempted to fling herself at Sam but now Dean had the
upper hand. "Oh hey Sammy," she snarled and pulled against Dean. "You're
lookin'... well, pretty damn shitty honestly. Not getting enough fibre? I hear
that's bad for you." The words were spoken over Sam, coming out gasped and
rough.
Sam stared into the dark pools of Melissa's eyes. "Shut up, you-" Sam tore his
eyes away from the demon's gaze and looked up - focusing on Dean's face.
"Dean..." He had thought this would be so easy that the words would come just
like that always had but everything was too real - too much like that first
night. For the first time in years Sam found himself longing for that stalwart
calm of his father -the deep rumble of his voice.
"Non..." Sam's expression softened as he stared at Dean, "non... non ultra
audeas, serpens callidissime, decipere humanum genus, Dei Ecclesiam persequi,
ac Dei electos excutere et cribrare sicut triticum." Sam's hands moved to
Melissa's shoulders, holding her tight to try and stop the demon from causing
more physical damage.
The demon tried to speak more, tried to come up some come back but Sam's words
were rendering it useless. Melissa's body jerked more though, as if the demon
inside her couldn't stand the possibility of being sent to hell once more. Her
body collided with his chest and Dean sucked in a sharp breath, eyes watering
with the pain he'd been attempting to ignore. His eyes locked on Sam's and he
held tighter, trying to silently encourage the man through a look alone. He
knew Sam was strong enough for this, could do this, and it was almost fate that
they'd be in this together.
"Mnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta
diabolica, in nomine et virtute Domini Nostri Jesu Christi, eradicare et
effugare a Dei Ecclesia, ab animabus ad imaginem Dei conditis ac pretioso
divini Agni sanguine redemptis." Redemption. The word repeated over and over in
Sam's mind as the Latin tumbled from his lips. Eyes locked on Dean's Sam could
see the effort it was taking for him to hold the girl still. There had to be
some redemption, some reason for them to be facing this again. Together.
Sam's brow furrowed as he watched the hurt reflecting across Dean's face. "D
Eus coeli, Deus terra, Deus Angelorum, Deus Archangelorum, Deus Patriarcharum,
Deus Prophetarum, Deus Apostolorum, Deus Martyrum, Deus Confessorum, Deus
Virginum," He wondered if his voice sounded like his father's, that same deep
rumble that had always comforted Sam when he was young. He'd give anything to
hear that voice at his side again.
Melissa's final kick at Sam's leg was weak and he closed his eyes to murmur,
"per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen."
"Amen." Dean couldn't help repeating and he twisted his grip to catch the girl.
The demon had clearly done a number on her in the last few minutes and she was
passed out, body limp. Turning, Dean pulled her up into his arms and carried
her to the couch there, setting her gently down and stepping back.
Straightening sent the pain shooting down Dean's body once more and he turned
away, slowly walking to his desk and resting his hand against the edge. "Thank
you," he whispered, unable to meet Sam's eyes now that the reality of things
had set in. It was over and down with, nothing would change their fate.
Sam wasn't sure what he had expected to happen when the demon was finally gone.
"You could have read that ritual yourself." Sam knew Dean was in pain, could
see it in the tense line of his shoulders. "Are you alright? I can-" Sam
blinked and glanced over at Melissa. "I think she'll be okay." The room was
suddenly too quiet now that the words and screaming had stopped.
"I. Yeah. I'm okay. And I'm sure Melissa will be." Dean glanced her way and
pushed away from the desk, heading steady and slow for the door. "She should
probably get some sleep. And for the record, I couldn't read the ritual myself.
Not officially. Even if I knew exactly which to use." His words sounded
slightly breathless and Dean thought he should just go into his room, check his
body for wounds and lie down. He suddenly felt far too exhausted for his own
good.
"You sure you're okay?" Sam took a step closer. Dean looked terrible and Sam
had never been more torn. Reaching out he curled his fingers around Dean's
upper arm. "Should we call someone, to help you and Melissa?" Even through
Dean's shirt sleeve Sam could feel the warmth of the man.
Swallowing around the way pleasure that one simple touch sparked, Dean shook
his head. "I'll be fine. I'll call Melissa's family and have them come pick her
up. I just... I need to lie down for a little while. The demon got me right in
the stomach." Dean's hand fluttered across his midsection for a moment before
his eyes lifted to Sam. "Are you, are you going to be..." he couldn't bring
himself to finish the question and he shook his head, looking away but not
stepping out of Sam's touch.
"I'll check out that garage, just get my part and take off." Sam's voice was
soft, quiet and he hesitated a moment more then released Dean's arm. "I
won't..." Sam scratched at the back of his head. "Well, if you'll be okay..."
He didn't want to watch Dean leave the room. Turning Sam crouched down by
Melissa and stroked her hair back off her forehead. The way her eyes were
closed, her cheeks flushed from exertion she looked like she had just simply
fallen asleep on the couch. Sam listened to her breathing, steady and strong.
Dean thought he would always remember this last image of Sam, kneeling beside
the girl and so carefully caressing her hair. It was a distinct contrast to how
the rest of his time here had been and it made tears prick along Dean's eyes.
This was some type of cruel punishment, having Sam in his grasp after so long
and being so unprepared. Even if Sam wanted him to act on things, there was too
much Dean was burying inside to fix things anyway.
He didn't stop walking - despite the pain - until he managed to push the back
door of the church open and enter the small house built on the back of the lot.
Usually Dean shared the living quarters with the other Priests; recently he'd
been enjoying his solitude. Though, like most everything in his life, Dean
didn't spend too much time thinking on it. He had this feeling though, that Sam
was right. Dean was colder than the man, and considering how Sam had acted
toward him, that was scary to admit.
Reaching behind his neck Dean undid the fastens on his collar and tugged it
free, dropping it to the coffee table before working swiftly at the buttons on
his shirt. He resolutely didn't think about not getting to say goodbye to Sam,
or the way his arm still tingled from the touch. If his mind were to be
inspected, Dean would probably be one of the worst Priests in the Catholic
Church. At least he didn't harm anyone. Physically.
It hurt to shrug out of his shirt and, stepping in front of the mirror, Dean
could clearly already see the bruises from the battle. Nothing was broken or
ruptured though so Dean figured after some medicine and he'd be alright. He
stood in the middle of the living room, staring at himself in the mirror and
Dean swore when he closed his eyes he could remember the way Sam's hands had
looked running along his body. It started the flow of tears all over again.
-=-=-=-
Sam wasn't sure how long he stayed crouched by Melissa; it was long enough that
his legs were aching. She would be fine, just like Dean had been fine all those
years ago. Sam hoped that, like Dean, she would remember little of her ordeal.
All that was left was to get the part for his car and take off. There didn't
seem to be much point in hanging around any longer than that. He would find
somewhere along the road to work on his car - somewhere that was much less of
an emotional minefield. He would leave. What he'd been so convinced he wanted
to do - get away from Dean and his new life.
Clenching his hands into fists Sam moved slowly out of the office. Ten years
and then this epic collision - and Dean just walked away. No good-bye. A
determined set to his jaw Sam changed direction and headed away from the front
door and back through the main sanctuary to the back door. He'd noticed it the
first day he arrived. Following the path outside took him to a small residence.
The front door was slightly ajar and Sam pushed on it. "Dean?"
He would make Dean say good-bye. Make Dean say what he should have said to Sam
ten years ago - that single word that might have made it easier for Sam to
leave, easier for him to believe that he'd meant something to the man. Moving
down the short hall Sam rounded and corner and sucked in a sharp breath.
Sam's eyes darted from the flesh of Dean's back to the discarded collar on the
table then back. The bitter taste of rejection seeped into Sam's mouth, the
knowledge that Dean had left him for religion, for all the things he'd claimed
to hate about his own father.
The distance between them was easily covered in two of Sam's long strides and
he grabbed a fist full of Dean's hair and yanked the heat of the man's body
back against his own. "Why?" His voice was blood thick and rasped past his
lips. "Tell me why you did this?" He wasn't even sure the question made sense.
His fingers tightened in Dean's hair and he leaned forward. "Why couldn't you
have been there?" Sam's lips grazed hot and dry against the back of Dean's ear
and he felt his own knees threaten to give out.
"Jesus," Dean gasped in surprise, suddenly finding himself against Sam's body,
a pleasant sort of pain trickling down his body from the grip in his hair. "I
told you why I wasn't there." He forced himself to whisper and not think about
Sam's lips on his skin, the way they were suddenly so close he could feel him
along every inch of his body. "It- it wasn't my choice." Dean breathed slow and
even, eyes locking on Sam's form reflected in the mirror.
Trembling slightly, angry that Dean could probably feel it Sam shifted and his
free hand slid over Dean's ribs and around so he could press his palm flat over
the man's chest. "You used me and you left me. You could have come back," he
hissed. "Any time over all these years you could have found me - you didn't try
once, did you?" Sam turned his nose into Dean's hair and inhaled that scent
that was still so similar to the comfort of all those years ago.
"You don't know what I did or didn't do. You don't know anything at all." Dean
bristled slightly in defense for himself, pushing at that emotion to outweigh
the desire suddenly pressing through him. His eyes were locked on Sam's hand on
his chest, he could feel the hard press and the way that combined with Sam's
lips lingering on his skin was driving him crazy. Dean's knees felt weak and he
struggled to keep himself up. "Stop telling me what I didn't do when you don't
even know."
"You looked for me?" Sam's nails curled into Dean's chest. God, each breath Sam
panted out brought his chest so much closer to Dean’s back. He could feel
Dean's ass pressed back against him and slid his hand down the man's body to
grasp his belt. "So, tell me, Dean, how you looked for me. How did you try and
find me." Sam didn't believe a word of it. Lifting his head he met Dean's
watery gaze in the mirror. Sam was surprised at how cold his own gaze was and
his expression faltered momentarily.
Something snapped in Dean, some light that had always been burning low
somewhere in his chest for Sam felt as if it were suddenly extinguished. Like
Sam had finally pushed things too far and Dean could no longer take it. He spun
in Sam's grip, catching him off guard and shoving him hard across the room. His
eyes narrowed on Sam, hurt and broken. "You wanna hear the whole truth Sam? You
want me to tell you all about how I spent four months getting thrown into
bathtubs full of ice cubes? Or how they forced me to watch gay porn and if I
got even the slightest bit turned on they electrocuted me? On top of the shock
treatments that I had to go through four times a day? Or the hours spent in
padded rooms in darkness until I thought I was going to crazy from just hearing
myself breathe?"
Dean's nostrils flared and he could feel the heat radiating from his body,
fingers curling into fists at his side as he stepped toward Sam. "And still all
I could think about was you. Even when they finally sent me on my way and I had
nowhere to go, no home, my father wouldn't even acknowledge my presence. You
wanna hear about how I lived on the streets for six months, got my ass kicked
over and over, nearly died because I was looking for you." Hot tears burned
down Dean's cheeks but he couldn't get himself to stop. The words continued to
bubble from him, finally escaping after so many years of being buried. "All I
could fucking think was how much I still loved you after everything and I never
wanted anyone else. But I couldn't find you, no matter how much I looked, and I
had no food, no home, nowhere to sleep but alley's and benches. I didn't even
have clothes."
Sucking in a sharp breath, Dean finally looked away, wiping angrily at his
cheeks. "So yeah when I was given the option to enter the seminary program
because finally someone fucking cared, I took it. I didn't want anyone besides
you, so I figured a life with forced celibacy was just fine. For all I know you
hated me. And as it turns out, I wasn't wrong. So there Sam, that's the story
of the last ten years." Dean wiped his gaze toward Sam and laughed, the noise
sounding as cold and broken as he felt inside. "And I still fucking love you,
isn't that just ironic?"
Sam shoved Dean away from him, hands connecting hard against the man's
shoulders. "This is not my fault. You make it sound like I had something to do
with it." Sam's blood was boiling, bubbling with anger. This mess was nothing
to do with him. "I spent years watching for you, seeing you everywhere and
seeing the look on my Father's face that meant he knew."
Sucking in a deep breath Sam moved quickly and slammed Dean back against the
wall. Forearm across the man's throat he held him there, feeling the way Dean's
chest was heaving. His eyes moved over Dean's face, tear-streaked and ruddy.
"You're not even the same. You ...you became what your Father wanted you to
become." Crushing his mouth against Dean's, thrusting his tongue forward as his
arm pressed hard against the man's throat he groaned softly. He sank forward
and pressed up as hard against Dean as he could - pinning him there against the
wall.
Anger still shot through Dean in dizzying waves but he lost himself for a long
moment in the kiss, pressing hard against Sam and sucking on his tongue like it
was all he wanted. But Sam's words still burned through him and Dean was tired
of Sam treating him like this. His fingers curled into the man's shirt and he
shoved him as hard as he could possible manage, pain from his previous injuries
tightening in his chest. "Fuck you," he spat when his lips were free, eyes
angry and hard on the man. "Stop thinking you even know me. I'm not going to
stand here and take this shit from you. If you want to be pissed at me, and
blame me for something I couldn't even help than you can just fucking go." He
didn't want Sam to leave, he hadn't from the moment he saw him again not
really, but he wasn't going to be blamed for all of Sam's issues. Like he'd
really had a choice in the issue.
"No." Sam swallowed, standing a few steps away for a few moments before moving
closer. "Don't you dare push me away." Sam's voice was thick, his eyes dark and
narrow. "And, don't tell me..." his voice wavered for just an instant, "don't
you tell me I don't know you. I've done nothing but think about you. Does that
make you feel better? You made me promises you should never have made." Sam's
expression softened for a moment and he squeezed his eyes shut until the blur
of emotion cleared from them. "Stop making excuses, stop..." He knew he was
stronger than Dean and moved swiftly back toward him. In a series of quick
movement Sam had Dean's arm twisted behind his back and slammed him back
against the wall again.
Yanking the man's arm up toward his shoulders Sam used his entire body to hold
Dean there, pressing the man's chest hard against the wall. Panting, blood
hissing in his ears he dragged his lips through Dean's hair and heat shot
through him - rocking him like he was the one who'd been thrown against the
wall. "Stop fighting me," he hissed. "This is all wrong, it shouldn't be like
this. There were all those things we said," his voice cracked and he dropped
his face to the warm flesh of Dean's neck. "You said you loved me..." it was a
whisper, heart-felt and broken and Sam felt his cheeks flush with shame.
"I do love you. But I'm not going to let you make me the bad guy." Dean gasped,
the skin along his face scratching as it rubbed against the wall. "I had no
choice Sam. I would have been there. I was going to be. I had my things, we
packed together, I never changed my mind." He couldn't let this happen feeling
like Sam still hated him, still wanted him to suffer. He felt confined and
restricted to this spot and pain burned in his chest. Moving got him nowhere
and on top of everything he was more hard than he'd been in years, to the point
it was almost painful.
Tears blurred Sam's vision and he smiled slightly through the hurt that was
welling up inside him. Tears. "But..." he swallowed, struggling to breath in
the air he so desperately wanted. "You made yourself into the one thing - the
only thing that would take you away from me forever. "
"You're making it like this. Don't you know I'd be back with you in a
heartbeat? I'd give everything up." Dean whispered the words, eyes squeezing
shut tightly.
The grip Sam had on Dean's arm loosened and he stumbled backwards, eyes lifting
to stare at the strained muscles across Dean's back. "Dean?" Sam wasn't even
sure what he needed anymore, years of trying to erase the way he felt - move
forward one painful step at a time and here he was. Dean was steps away and Sam
felt like it was a thousand miles.
Stretching his arms out slowly Dean turned, almost afraid of what the
expression on Sam's face might be. He was more than surprised to see tears
there. The lines on his face seemed less hard, the tension in his shoulders
seemed uncertain and Dean stepped forward. "The only reason I'm here is because
you're the only one I want." He whispered the words, scared to reach out for
Sam but taking another cautious step. "You're the only one I would give up
everything for. You always have been." Dean's hand extended slowly, fingers
tentatively brushing Sam's arm.
Sam didn't have any words left. His throat was so tight he could hardly breathe
and Dean's touch sent heat sparking up his arm. Swaying slightly, Sam closed
his eyes and tilted his head to the side - focusing on that slight touch. The
first and only time Dean had touched him since he'd found him again. Frozen -
Sam couldn't move, wouldn't, scared to break the fragile moment of calm.
It was one of those times Dean could feel the weight of everything around him,
he knew whatever happened next would likely change them and determine what path
they headed down next. "Sam," he whispered once more and took another step
forward. For just a beat he waited, gauging how Sam might react before his arms
extended and wrapped around the man, pulling him in tight to his chest and
holding him there. It might be foolish, to hug him like this after everything,
but Dean wanted to feel some connection with the man.
A few moments passed before Sam realized what was happening; his body was
rigid, stiff and then it was like something broke inside him. Each part of him
curled forward, relaxed and sank down into the embrace. The stubble on his
cheek rasped against Dean's and he let out a strange sound, half moan, half-
sigh and buried his face in the gentle slope of Dean's neck.
Dean would have been just fine holding Sam against him for the rest of the day.
The way his body sent of waves of heat worked through his bare chest, sank down
into him and seemed to melt all the coldness built up over the last ten years.
They didn't really move, simply stood in the middle of the room with their arms
wrapped tight around each other. Every breath Dean inhaled pulled in Sam's
scent and he thought, this time; he could actually pinpoint the memories from
ten years ago and a week of pure happiness.
The air shuddered out of Sam's lungs and his arms tightened around Dean's
waist. "W..We can't..." Like he'd never been away from Dean Sam's lips latched
on to the man's neck, sucking, licking and kissing frantically. What if there
was no second chance again? Sam could feel all those carefully constructed
walls crumbling. "I need to go back..." somewhere. He couldn't stay at the
Church - it was all wrong and felt so strange and confining. "Melissa. You need
to call," he had to suck in a breath to keep talking and nuzzled against Dean's
warmth, "call her parents then come to me?"
Sam pulled back slightly, staring into Dean's eyes for a few moments and ducked
down to brush his lips across the other man's. "Please, don't..." Sam couldn't
even ask for confirmation, he'd come all this way and couldn't ask for Dean to
promise.
"It's okay," Dean murmured and brought their lips together for another gentle
kiss. "I'll see you soon." There was a lot to do, Dean knew this, but he was
also never more certain of anything in his life. And this time there would be
no one to stop him.
Stepping back, Sam did the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life - and
turned to leave the room. He'd go back to the Motel and wait. One more time he
would wait for Dean. Wiping unconsciously at the tears on his cheeks he walked
toward the front door, turned the handle and started the long walk back to the
Motel.
-=-=-=-
For a good half hour Dean simply sat in his room. He didn't have much in the
way of possessions but what he did have was money. As a Priest his room and
board was covered as part of his salary, and he didn't have a car so he was
simply given the allowance extended for it. Which meant over the past six years
he'd hardly spent any money at all, didn't have a reason too, and now he and
Sam had a large chunk of change. Because already his mind was grouping him and
Sam together.
With that thought Dean kicked into gear, gathering up the few items he had in
his room. At this moment he owned only two pairs of jeans and three t-shirts
that he didn't wear to bed. It was odd, stepping into the denim, and Dean
stared at himself in the mirror. It had been so long since he wore clothes that
weren't black; Dean had almost forgotten the feel. His fingers brushed along
the jeans slowly and a small smile pulled at his lips. He could get used to it.
A small safe was buried in the bottom of his closet and Dean removed all the
books slowly, setting aside a few of his favourite volumes. It hadn't seemed
foolish for Dean before to simply cash his checks and store the money, he'd
never wanted to bother with a bank and this wasn't the type of town with people
who broke into places. Plus this way he could give money for tithes without
needing to go out and get cash each week.
Of course now he had a large pile of cash and only a backpack to store it in.
Dean could almost picture the look that would be on Sam's face when he turned
up with the bag. That was going to be amusing.
Once he'd gathered up the few personal belongings he had, his extra clothing
and the books, Dean hooked the bag over his shoulder and headed out to the main
church. There was the idea of leaving the church without any Priests overseeing
it and Dean felt the wave of guilt for a moment but he would be cheating out
the townsfolk if he stayed here. Dean's heart had never been into his
profession the way it should have been. This was just a place he found himself
for awhile and though he believed in something, he couldn't put a name to it.
Dean moved to his office to check on Melissa. She was still passed out on the
couch and Dean smiled softly before walking to his desk and grabbing the phone,
flipping through the directory to locate her family's number. It was easy to
explain the girl had simply felt a little ill and wanted to lie down, that he
needed to step out for a bit but they could find her on the couch in the back
office.
Then there wasn't much left for Dean but to simply go. He took his time slowly
walking through the church, ensuring the collection box was locked up - just in
case - and things were in a proper order for his once fellow Priests when they
returned. Some part of Dean would miss this place, would miss the people who
always greeted him with warm smiles, but a different part, much larger and
consuming, was jumping at the opportunity to have a life with Sam. It was hard;
spending ten years pretending like he wasn't this man that loved another,
pretending like his connection with God was the most important thing. And even
though he was certain his relationship with Sam was going to take time to make
completely right, he was ready devote some genuine energy and time into the
task.
By the time he left, two hours had passed since Sam had gone back to his motel.
Dean felt it had given them enough time to sort their thoughts out, get
themselves in a better place for what was to come. He walked slowly through the
town toward the motel, keeping his head down to stop anyone who passed by from
immediately recognizing him. Without his familiar clothing he was sure he
looked completely different.
The bag on his shoulder was digging into his muscles, heavy and pressing, and
Dean was more than a little relieved when the motel finally came into view.
Even more so when his eyes landed on the Impala in the lot. It would have hurt
more than he imagined, if Sam had left without him, but the twisted fate of it
would have oddly made sense.
Now he crossed to the motel door nearest the car, heart picking up speed in his
chest. There was so much between them, things that likely needed to be said,
problems that needed to be addressed, but all Dean could think about was
kissing Sam again, touching him, feeling. Which was why the moment the door
opened after he'd knocked, Dean was stepping forward and tugging on Sam's shirt
collar, dragging him in to crash their lips together as hard as he could.
Sam stumbled back a couple of steps as he took the brunt of Dean's weight. A
sound not unlike a moan sounded low and quiet in his chest and his hand were on
Dean - anywhere - slamming the man back against the door Sam closed it then
fumbled around behind Dean to lock it. Tearing his lips away from Dean's and
dragging them across his cheek Sam whispered, "I thought you wouldn't come."
He'd been sitting there in the room for an hour, wondering, waiting - thinking
how he couldn't live through it a second time and wanting beyond want to
believe that Dean would be there.
Arching up into Sam's body, Dean half slid down the wall, only held up by Sam
pressing into him. "I. Of course I came." He murmured, wishing a moment later
that he hadn't said it like that because there probably was nothing of course
about it. "Sam," he gasped as his head fell back, granting Sam more room to
explore. It was impossible to resist shifting up into him, spreading his hands
along Sam's sides and pushing down to curl around fabric and tug up, wanting
flesh and heat.
Sam's hand moved to the front of Dean's neck, his lips moving along the man's
jaw line. "Can't leave me again... I wouldn't..." He wouldn't make it - there
was no going back from this. Sam couldn't feel this, his lips on the rough
stubble of Dean's jaw, the heat between their bodies - he couldn’t feel this
again and have it taken away. Struggling to try and find the words Sam simply
pulled back and stared, hands moving up along Dean's sides to curl over his
shoulders then around his neck. Pushing Dean hard back against the door again
Sam's lips trembled as his mouth opened slightly - but there wasn't enough left
in him to say anything other than, "Dean..."
It was impossible to say who pulled off whose clothing. Everything was a tangle
of limbs and cloth and Dean thought he heard the buttons on his shirt tear
before the bare skin of his chest was finally colliding with Sam's. Their lips
met again, rocking hard together and sliding. Dean groaned low in his throat,
felling all the world like he was just eighteen again and there could never be
enough Sam. He inhaled sharply through his nose, pulling back to gasp. "Need
you. So bad Sam," Dean moaned and slid his hands down Sam's chest, fumbling
with the waist line of the man's jeans, unable to pull at the buttons no matter
how hard he tried.
Growling softly Sam moved them closer to the bed, shoving Dean's hands away
roughly and undoing his own jeans so he could slide them off his slender hips.
His cock was aching so hard he could hardly stand to press up against Dean's
hips while he worked on the man's jeans. As he pushed them down Sam hooked his
thumbs over the man's boxers and slid all the material down off his body.
Slipping his arms under Dean's he pulled him back against his chest - taking
his weight so Dean could step out of his jeans Sam almost lifted him off the
floor. Hands moving over the muscles and warmth of Dean's back - Sam shuddered.
It was so different but so like everything he remembered. The way Dean's lips
moved over his body in the desperate way, sliding, biting, and licking - all
those sensations felt so much like the Dean he remembered.
Something bumped against Dean's finger and he stepped back enough to get a good
look at the man. Sam's chest had definitely shaped out over the years, muscles
rippling along his abs, and Dean's eyes widened for a moment at the nipple ring
there. He'd never thought it would be his thing but the moment he laid eyes on
it he couldn't resist bending enough to suck it between his lips, tugging it
slightly. Dean pulled back after several observational licks of the area,
scanning Sam's marked skin, eyes dipping down long enough to catch swollen
flesh and inhale sharply. "You're fucking hot," Dean murmured, sounding as
surprised as he felt about the fact he found Sam's tattoos and piercing
appealing. "I. Can we? Will you?" Dean couldn't finish his thoughts, hands in
constant movement over Sam's skin.
Sam's eyes widened at Dean's words. "You're...will I what?" he laughed softly,
some of the tension and fear finally easing out of his body, "too far away.”
Reaching out Sam curled his fingers around the back of Dean's neck and tugged
him forward. "You're not supposed to be swearing," Sam's voice was soft, husky
and he dragged Dean's closer again to feel the heat of his flesh. Heart
thundering in his chest Sam couldn't stop sliding his work-rough palms over the
silky smooth skin of Dean's body.
Chuckling for a moment, Dean shook his head, neck extending as Sam's hands slid
along it for a moment. "Got ten years of not swearing to make up for." He
grinned and pushed forward, lips crashing hard into Sam's once more. He hadn't
even realized how much he had missed kissing, missed the taste of Sam until
this moment here. "Want you to fuck me." Dean whispered into the few inches
between their lips and curled his fingers around Sam's hipbone, holding on
tight in case his knees decided to finally give out like he thought they would.
Just saying the words reminded him of the only ever time he'd been with
someone, with Sam, so many years ago.
Sam's eyes widened, and then narrowed as the entire situation started to sink
in. Nodding slowly, he let his eyes follow the flush that was creeping up
Dean's chest and neck. Hands flat against Dean's ribs, Sam slid them around the
man's body and cupped his ass, lifting him slightly and stepping back until his
legs bumped against the bed. Sitting, he slid back slight and tugged Dean
forward to pull him down onto his lap. Heat and anticipation swirled around his
spine sending shivers throughout his body. Everywhere Dean's flesh touched his
Sam could feel the tingling of desire. His hands were in motion constantly, re-
learning the changed landscape of Dean's body.
It was very difficult for Dean to remain patient, to not just throw himself on
Sam and insist he take him now. Dean swallowed the waves of desire coursing
through him and shifted on Sam's lap, hands sliding down the panes of the man's
neck. "This," Dean gasped and pulled back enough to blink at Sam, lips feeling
slick and swollen. "This is forever? Now? You'll take me with you?" Chances
were, Dean would do this even if the man said no because he wanted this more
than anything. He just wanted everything else as well. Dean's hands slid down
Sam's chest, working over the flesh in small circles.
"I'm never," Sam leaned down to suck gently on Dean's bottom lip, "letting you
go again. Never." His vision blurred slightly, maybe tears - he didn't care.
Mouthing his way across his lover's shoulder he moaned quietly and slid his
hands under Dean's ass. Lifting and pulling he got Dean as close as possible,
their cocks sliding together between their bodies. The intensity of it sucked
all the air out of Sam's body, his lungs ached and he captured Dean's mouth
again, too hard, too rough but fuck he needed it. Fear was still seeping out of
his body and each sweep of Dean's tongue softened it, pushed it further away.
Sam wanted Dean like he'd never wanted anyone.
Tangling his hands in Sam's hair, Dean kissed the man so hard he felt he was
trying to suck the life from him, rocking hard into his body so their cocks
slid together constantly. A harsh moan tore through Dean's body and he ripped
his lips free, sucking in a sharp breath. "Never letting you go." He murmured,
noses bumping together as their bodies continued to rock together. Dean kept
his hands in Sam's hair, using it as an anchor as his head fell back, hips
rolling continuously forward out of his control. "Sam," Dean moaned, nails
sliding down Sam's scalp.
Whipping his body to the side Sam slammed Dean down on the bed and rolled on
top of him. Heat hissed through his veins as he finally managed to spread his
body out over Dean's. The heat rising off the man's skin was completely
intoxicating and Sam moved Dean's hair back from his face, combing his fingers
through the soft strands. "I can't... it's been a while since-" Sam couldn't
resist sucking Dean's bottom lip into his mouth for a few moments then letting
it go with a small moan. "It's been a long time since I cared..." Sam
swallowed, a huge lump of emotion battling its way up his throat.
"It's good," Dean insisted, pulling Sam in for another deep kiss. He let the
man feel everything that was coursing through him in the hard brush of their
lips, arms wrapping tight around his shoulders to hold him there. "You were my
last. My only." He whispered as their lips broke, eyes fluttering open to peer
up at Sam. "So it's been a long time in general for me. But I want it.
Everything." His hips rolled up to prove his point and Dean moaned softly,
breathing deeply in attempt to control the way his heart raced.
"You're staying." Sam's eyes darkened, "with me?" It had taken the entire time
that Dean was gone for him to work up to asking that question.
Smiling softly Dean nodded. "Yeah, for as long as you'll have me. I'm yours."
Dean wanted to ask what they would do, if he wanted to keep hunting or they
could use the money to settle down somewhere, but he'd wait to get into that.
"I love you." He whispered, eyes fixed up on Sam.
Closing his eyes, Sam let the words sink in - one at a time. They were words
he'd never expected to hear again in his life and words he'd often thought he'd
never hear again from the one person who truly mattered. When he finally opened
his eyes they were filled with tears again and Dean's green irises were blurry.
Rubbing roughly at his face Sam rolled off Dean and pushed up off the bed to
head over to his duffel bag. Once he had retrieved some lube and a condom he
reached out and pulled the curtains all the way closed. Turning, he finally
managed to turn his lips into a slight smile. "Can't have anyone thinking I've
kidnapped you if they see you in here."
Pacing slowly back to the bed Sam's smile grew. "Big nasty dude with tattoos
taking away their Priest." He watched Dean's eyes move down his body. "We look
different now, ten years..." It was kind of enormous, that amount of time - so
much time passing.
"I'm twenty eight," Dean grinned, almost as if he couldn't believe it himself.
He stared up at Sam before crawling backward on his elbows and feet, situating
himself in the middle of the bed. "You look different too. So, so very
different." Dean stared at him, eyes drifting along every inch of his shaped
body. "So. You just going to stand there?" He grinned slowly, spreading his
legs in a clear invitation for the man. "I've probably got no patience at all
for this type of thing, I just want you in me now." Dean drifted his hand down
his chest, hand just barely curling around the base of his cock.
Kneeling on the edge of the bed Sam tilted his head to the side admiring the
lines of Dean's body. "Thought you weren't supposed to do that..." he let
himself fall forward to walk up the bed on his knees until he was settled
between his lover's legs. Dropping the condom off to the side Sam flipped the
cap on the lube and slicked up his fingers. He fell forward again, fitting his
body between Dean's strong thighs and chasing his lips for a few moments before
catching them.
"I'm not a Priest anymore. Unless you're really into the idea of fucking a
Priest. I could see you being kinky like that." Dean smirked up at him, body
twisting to situation on the bed beneath Sam. Of course Dean hadn't officially
quit but in his mind it was done and that's kind of where it mattered for the
whole religion based profession. "Did it do something for you? I was under the
impression..." Dean trailed off, too nervous about upsetting the moment by
pushing it.
"You do something for me." The words were thick and heavy and Sam sank down
quickly to press the heat of his stiff shaft against Dean's. "I want you, was
always you," he murmured against Dean's lips before thrusting his tongue
forward. The kiss was deep, hard, and maybe too rough but Sam was through
talking. Dean's cock was hard, pressing against Sam's belly with a heat that
was unmistakable. Lust was riding them both hard; now wasn't the time for slow
and gentle. "I'm gonna make you mine again." Sam's voice was a low growl and
rumbled up out of his chest against Dean's mouth. Shifting to the side
slightly, he stretched a long arm down and grazed his rough palm over Dean's
shaft, across the silky smooth skin of his balls and then rubbed the slick lube
against Dean's puckered flesh.
Dean's heart seemed to slam in his chest and he sucked in a quick breath at the
touch, hips pushing down toward it almost on instinct. He could still remember
how it had felt the first time, how nervous and thrilled he'd been at the very
idea of becoming Sam's. Now the idea of Sam making his, claiming him in such a
way, was enough to make him slightly dizzy with pleasure. "Sam," Dean gasped as
the tip of Sam's finger pushed forward, sliding forward all the way in. There
was only a vaguely familiar discomfort but it was odd pleasant if a bit
unusual. Dean dragged his teeth along his lower lip and rocked his body down
against Sam's finger, watching the way it seemed to make the man's eyes darken
even further.
"Don't wanna wait," Sam's voice came out breathy and rough all at the same
time. His heart kicked into overdrive at the feel of Dean's heat surrounding
his finger. Claiming Dean's mouth bruisingly, Sam's tongue plunged forward
again as he slid a second finger tip inside his lover He remembered the feel of
the silky heat; the way Dean's body was writhing under him - flesh alive with
the twisting of his body. Dean loved being touched and Sam's heart clenched
momentarily at the thought of the man spending so many years without it. Biting
hard on Dean's bottom lip, Sam shifted again so he could press their bodies
together.
Like it had been before Dean found himself constantly writhing and moving
beneath Sam. He didn't want to wait either, wanted Sam in him now. "More," Dean
gasped, body arching up into Sam's. "Want you." He didn't care if it was going
to hurt, or that they were rushing head long into things, he just needed to
feel. Too long without Sam, without anyone at all, and Dean was nearly drunk
with the amount of pleasure shooting through him. "God Sam, please," he begged
quietly, pushing up to catch the man's lips in another heated kiss.
Everything around Sam was kind of a blur. Dean's flesh, the ache in his own
cock, the heat - Oh God - the heat of Dean's body as his muscle clenched around
his fingers. He worked Dean's ass open, stretching his fingers apart and
probing deeper with each twist of his lover's spine beneath him. "I wanted
this," he murmured as he finally managed to break off the kiss and bite his way
down Dean's neck, "so long." He thrust three fingers forward hard twisting his
wrist roughly and felt the pads of his fingers graze over the small bundle of
nerves deep inside his lover.
Nearly lurching off the bed Dean felt everything in him was responding triple
time to the way Sam moved, the press of his fingers. Pleasure shot up his spine
in waves that rippled through his body. "You," he gasped, hardly able to
breathe when Sam's fingers rubbed against his prostate once more. Dean thought
he saw the briefest flash of amusement in Sam's eyes and his lips flickered in
a momentary smile. He knew he was begging, almost out of control, and he really
didn't care at this point. He never wanted anything more than Sam, now.
Watching the pleasure on Dean's face made Sam's cock so hard it was almost
painful. Again and again with a simple brush of his fingers he could watch a
wave of pleasure roll through Dean's body. His chest would arch up off the bed,
neck stretching back long and lean and Sam could trace the pleasure - watch as
it settled in Dean's abs. Their hips rocked together slowly as Sam kept Dean
pinned there to the bed. Mine was all he thought each time he caught a flash of
green eyes.
It was enough. Sam pushed up from Dean to sit back on his heels - eyes soaking
in the still twitching form of his lover. "God, you're still so... perfect." It
was almost a whisper and Sam snatched the condom packet off the bed and ripped
it open with his teeth so he could roll it quickly down his cock. Slick fingers
moved over the condom and Sam crawled up the bed to sit back against the
headboard. "I want you," he dropped his gaze as his finger brushed over Dean's
cheek, "come here." He grabbed Dean's hand and tugged hard pulling him up until
he could straddle Sam's lap. His body was caught in shudder so strong that he
closed his eyes just at the sensation of Dean's weight.
Swallowing thickly around the nerves that now welled up in him - Sam seemed
much bigger than he remembered, thicker and fuller but Dean wasn't sure - Dean
leaned against Sam's chest to steady himself. His eyes clenched shut as he bent
back and beneath him to grip Sam's cock around the base, holding him in place
as he lined himself up. The first initial inch stretched him wide, split his
body in a way that had Dean's back curving and his chest vibrating with a
groan. Dean's thighs began to quiver under the pressure of holding himself up
and not simply sinking down onto Sam's body. He could feel Sam's hands on his
hips, helping to guide him, and Dean willed himself to relax, open up to Sam
and take more of him in. Panting so hard he couldn't even form his lover's
name, Dean continued a tortuously slow slide down until he could feel the man
buried deep within him.
Sam's hands moved over Dean's back, soothing and scraping his nails gently over
the flesh. He held his breath until his lungs ached so badly he suddenly just
sucked in air. Heat was all he felt. The heat of Dean's chest pressed against
his, the heat of his lover's neck as he kissed Dean through the worst of the
pain and then fuck the heat of being inside dean. Everything in Sam's body was
magnified a thousand times - his heart thundered, this blood raced and his cock
was aching and twitching; it took every ounce of control Sam had to stay still
and give Dean the time he needed to adjust.
Settling his hands back over Dean's hips Sam moaned and pulled his hips back as
his mouth fell open to let out a low moan. His head fell back against the wall
as his thrust forward again, slowly, so slowly it was like torture - but the
most amazing fucking kind of torture there was. "Dean..."
At first Dean could only hold on, nails digging into Sam's shoulders as his
lover worked slow thrusts up into him. Than the slow pace began to crush at his
nerves and Dean hissed, pushing up with quivering thighs and dropping down as
hard as he could manage from his position. One hand hooked through Sam's hair,
nails curving into his scalp and tugging back as Dean rode Sam's cock harder
and faster. The momentarily space of pulling up followed by the oh so full
feeling when slamming down was driving Dean more crazy than he thought
possible. He didn't even know his body could move the way it did, rocking with
each thrust, working Sam with a twist of his hips and a clench of his muscles.
He moaned his lover's name low in his throat, dipping down to capture Sam's
lips in a rough kiss that intensified as he caught a steady pace with the rock
of his hips.
Sam felt like everything was falling away around them, disappearing until it
was only Sam and Dean. His heart was stuttering out a message that felt
entirely too much like the way it should have always been and Sam's long arms
wrapped tight around Dean's shoulders. He held his lover, sliding Dean's body
up and down the heat of cock - crushing their lips together frantically. "Dean,
fuck," he murmured as his nails dug into the flesh of the man's shoulder
blades. There was so much sensation in his body, over his skin he could feel
his control slipping so quickly.
Dean's body rocked forward into Sam's; frantic and desperate then gentle and so
loving it made Sam's chest clench. All he could do was hang on, palms hand over
hand trying to grab for hold on Dean's sweat-slick back.
Every breath he sucked in was full of Sam's scent and Dean was drunk on it,
eyes feeling heavy as he forced them open to stare at his lover. He could feel
Sam connected with him, almost along every inch of his body, and Dean couldn't
stop moving, needed to increase his speed because he was desperate for more.
"Sam," Dean gasped and dug his fingers into the back of Sam's neck as he worked
for the best angle. The head of Sam's cock slammed into his prostate and Dean
held that angle, rocked into it and gasped at the haze of pleasure shooting
through him. Dean's spine curved back, bending as he moved steadily. "So
close." Dean moaned, clenching around Sam buried deep in him.
The words slammed into Sam's body and he grabbed his lover's shoulders roughly,
lifting him and then thrusting up as he pulled Dean's down again. The heat of
Dean's body wrapped around him time and again, drawing him in then pulling away
so reluctantly. Palm melting into the small of Dean's back, holding him, God,
the way his lover's spine bowed back - perfect and long Sam could feel his
heart almost stutter to a stop.
Heat and desire slammed together in Sam's belly, twisting and twining, sending
shock-waves out along his flesh. He thrust up, hard and fast, anchoring Dean
there and slamming into his ass. The release of his orgasm took Sam's breath
away; years of frustration blew out of his body as his cock ached almost
painfully then pulsed and twitched as he came. The jolts of pleasure had Sam
slamming his head back against the headboard even as he slipped his hand
between them to curl his fingers around Dean's cock.
Dean almost wasn't aware of the beginning of his orgasm, mind already spinning
out of control as it was. Sam's name fell from his lips in a quick moan,
repeated over and over and he pulsed between them, shoulders shuddering and
hunching together. Dean's eyes fluttered slightly and he sucked in another
breath as his body fell hard against Sam's. His arms looped around the man,
squeezing softly. "Love you," he whispered, wanting, needing Sam to hear it and
believe it.
"If you ever leave me again," Sam's hips jolted as the last of his released
worked its way slowly through his body, "I'll die." It wasn't a threat, just a
fact. Sam's theory was that you could lose everything once and survive it.
Once. He had this feeling deep inside him, like a certainly, that if he lost
Dean again - lost this he would just cease to exist.
Tightening his arms around his lover Sam buried his face in Dean's neck,
sucking and licking at the slightly salty skin. Trembling slightly he marvelled
at how Dean's gentle touch soothed his soul, calmed him. "I love you," Sam
whispered. He wasn't sure if Dean could even hear it - but the words were
there.
A small, pleased smile tugged at Dean's lips and he shifted up, groaning as Sam
fell from him and settling in against his side. "I'm not going anywhere." Dean
pressed his lips into Sam's neck, eyes closing as he breathed in the familiar
scent. His arm wrapped around Sam's middle and for now, Dean was content to
simply rest in this place with his lover.
***** Chapter 9 *****
When they woke from a too brief nap it was quickly decided that leaving town
was really the best option. They couldn't even risk going out in public
together while still in Iva Grove because anyone would recognize Dean upon
closer inspection. So they packed up their things and loaded up Sam's car, Dean
sinking low in the seat as they made a stop at the garage for Sam to get the
part needed for his car. He was a little concerned that something awkward might
settle over them, the years catching up and weighing down on them. But it
wasn't an uncomfortable silence when Sam slid back in the car.
There were definitely things they needed to talk about, plans to make that
basically included their entire future, but it wasn't something for the car.
Dean wanted to be able to take Sam's hand and look into his eyes, make sure
they were on the same page because there were a thousand things to be said. So
they drove in that warm silence, Dean reaching out to link his fingers through
Sam's and squeeze softly. He used the time to go over his thoughts, sort
through what he needed Sam to know and what he needed to know from Sam.
By the time they arrived in a new town, a new motel, it was late evening and
Dean was feeling tired once more. That all went away of course when they
climbed out into the cool of the evening and shook the long drive from their
bodies. Dean waited for Sam to return with a room key before trailing in after
him, dropping his bag on a chair and kicking his shoes off. A heavy sigh fell
from his lips as he fell back on the mattress, smiling when it bounced him back
slightly.
"So. We should probably talk about things huh?" Dean suggested, crooking an arm
under his head and watching Sam move.
Sam threw his duffel against the wall and pulled a six pack of beer out of the
paper bag it was in. Sam wasn't sure he was going to make it through a talk
without a bit of alcohol. Opening a beer he hesitated then held it up toward
Dean. "Do ex-Priests drink?"
Rolling his eyes slightly Dean shrugged and pushed up until he was sitting,
taking the beer. It had been a long time since he drank but it seemed
appropriate now. "I don't want to hunt." Dean blurted out, figuring that was
the biggest thing he should lay on the line from the get go.
"I... what-" sucking in a breath Sam held up a hand for Dean to give him a
moment, grabbed a beer for himself and flipped the top open. Pacing over to the
side of the bed he looked around then grabbed the desk chair, flipped it around
and straddled it so he was sitting at the bottom of the bed facing Dean. "Okay,
come again?" Sam took a few gulps of beer.
Dean would much rather have Sam with him on the bed but he figured he wouldn't
do so good at keeping his hands to himself anyway. "I'd rather not hunt. I
won't be any good at it, I would just slow you down, and I'm not sure I could
handle a life on the road." He shrugged and stared down at his beer. "I'm not
going to force you to stop or anything, so maybe we'll have to reach a
compromise or something?"
"An ex-Priest and an ex-hunter walk into a bar..." Sam scoffed. Looking down at
his beer for a few moments he tried to imagine not being a hunter. "Dean," he
said softly, "I don't know how to do anything else."
"Yeah, me either." They sat in silence for a moment before Dean sighed and
rolled over, setting his beer on the nightstand before crossing the room for
his back pack. Without a word he zipped open the back, pulled the clothes and
books free, setting them to side before tipping the bag over and spilling the
cash over the bedspread. "But, I have this." His eyes lingered over the money
before he moved to claim the beer once more.
Sam blinked a few times then scratched at his healing tattoo. "Did you rob a
bank?" Turning his head he stared up at Dean. It was a fair amount of money,
certainly more than Sam had ever seen at one time.
Chuckling softly Dean shook his head and took a long pull from his beer. "No. I
just never spent my salary. No reason to. So it's enough to get us going on
something. You said once that maybe you'd like to work at an animal shelter,
you could do that." Dean smiled softly down at his hands and shrugged. "I think
I'd like to just get a filler job. One of those you have where your work stays
there when you go home. Nothing too fancy. I. Well, honestly I'm more
interested in spending as much time with you as possible but that's probably
not going to work that way." He shrugged and scratched under his jaw.
Smiling sadly, Sam turned his head back to look down at his beer. He flipped
the small tab on the top of the can back and forth until it popped off in his
hand. "I wanna spend time with you," Sam murmured softly, "I got ten years to
catch up on." Rubbing at the back of his neck for a few moments he took another
swig of beer. "It's just - I mean I think you'd be great at anything you tried.
I do." He glanced up quickly at his lover and couldn't help flashing a small
smile. "I just don't know if - I mean, okay, I didn't even finish high school.
No one will hire me." Sam shrugged. "I could hunt and come home to you when I
could?" It sounded horrible as soon as he said it - the idea of leaving Dean
each time he went away. And, what if something happened? Things were different
now.
Frowning slightly Dean squeezed his fingers along the beer can and shrugged.
"Well, if that's what you want to do. I mean, we could do something about the
GED thing. The test is pretty easy, I had to do it. So you could try." His eyes
lifted toward Sam then he looked away. "But, whatever you think is best. I
guess I'll take what I can get." His lips flickered in a smile before he
brought his beer up again.
Sighing, Sam frowned. "Come and sit back down." He waited until Dean moved some
of the money out of the way and dropped back down to the end of the bed. "I
know I'm not so good at this talking stuff, but that didn't sound very
convincing. You don't want me to hunt." Leaning down to put his beer on the
floor Sam draped his arms over the back of the chair so he could rest them on
Dean's shoulders. His fingers grazed the back of his lover's neck gently. "Tell
me the truth. What do you want. If you could have anything."
The beer can twisted between Dean's fingers as he thought over Sam's question.
"Of course I don't want you to hunt Sam. Anything could happen to you out there
and I, I'd just... I'd never know. That's terrifying." Dean looked up at the
man and smiled softly, shoulders lifting in a slight roll. "If I could have
anything it would be you and me settling down somewhere. Getting a place, maybe
a dog or a cat or something, working whatever jobs then coming home to spend
the night curled together on the couch watching movies and just being together.
I know, it's stupid and cheesy and probably not at all appealing, but," Dean
finished with a shrug, eyes dropping to the floor.
"I hate cats." Sam pressed his lips together, a thin pale line as he thought.
Not hunting. Of course, he'd realized he couldn't hunt his whole life but in
Sam's mind that had always meant fifty years old or something. He'd figured
maybe he might even get injured at some point and be unable to get around as
well. Taking a deep breath Sam slid his hands up the cup around the sides of
Dean's neck. "I'm not making promises, but if it's what you want we can try."
Staring into Dean's eyes Sam smiled slightly. "I don't want to go back to
school, or do the GED thing but I will try and get a job at a shelter or
something." He shrugged. "I could work at a garage, I can fix cars and stuff."
Relief was almost immediately evident on Dean's face and in his shoulders as
they relaxed.
"I want you to be happy though." Dean said softly, eyes searching across Sam's
face. "Will you be happy living somewhere?"
Dropping his eyes for just a moment Sam really thought about it. It had been
years since he was truly happy. It wasn't as though he was wandering through
life ready to off himself at any moment or anything like that - but there were
certainly things that should have pleased him and hadn't. Sam's existence had
been flat and almost one-dimensional since he'd lost Dean the first time.. "To
be honest, Dean? I have no idea. But," his fingers combed up through Dean's
hair then his hands slid back down to the lover's shoulders. "I will try and I
promise to tell you if things start to feel weird for me. Is that enough for
you?"
Dean had been hoping for some reassurance, something that would make him feel
like he wasn't forcing Sam to alter his life, but he knew some things would
take time. "Yeah, that's enough." He smiled softly and lifted his hands to curl
along the outside of Sam's arms, gaze shifting along the panes of Sam's face to
commit the moment to memory. "Thank you. I know it's a hard thing, to give up
basically your whole life."
"You know - it's not always about a place." Sam gazed into Dean's eyes, loving
the warmth and love he saw there. "You make me happy." Sam supposed it was
happy, this buzzing of energy and want that was pouring into his body. "You
made me happy ten years ago for just those few days and I ... I think I
compared everything to that all this time." Sam's smiled faded as he dropped
his eyes again, "that's kind of sad I suppose."
Nodding, Dean chuckled softly. "Don't worry. I've been doing about the same
thing. You know, I was probably worse because I was trying to fool myself into
thinking I could just be content and happy in that world I didn't even belong
in." Dean stared down at Sam's thighs, slowly wetting his lips. "I believe in
something Sam, I always have. But, it's never been, it was never the way it was
with my dad. I know you think I just gave in to that, that I was being what he
wanted, but he never even knew. In the beginning it really was just taking a
sanctuary where I could be fed and clothed and safe. Then it was just..." Dean
slowly looked back up into Sam's eyes and sighed. "I know we only knew each
other a few days, but all I could think was, I didn't see any point in living
out in the world without you. And that lasted, through four months of anti-gay
torture basically. So I knew it had to mean something. I just, I don't want you
to think I was ever playing into my father's game. It wasn't that way."
"So, they hurt you in the name of ... religious belief." Sam sat back so he
could take Dean's hands in his and brought them to his lips. "You know there's
nothing wrong with us...with this, don't you? Does it feel wrong?" Sam had
lived his entire life being just who was. It hadn't always worked out great but
for the most part Sam had just believed what he believed and that was how he
lives.
Squeezing Sam's hands, Dean shook his head slowly. "I don't think this is
wrong. Not now. I mean, in the beginning I did. And I thought maybe I really
was as dirty as my dad suggested but, time has taught me some lessons. And it's
not something I worry about anymore." Dean couldn't resist leaning forward to
brush his lips against Sam's. "How could something that feels so good be wrong?
In my entire life, you're the only person I ever loved. That couldn't possibly
be a bad thing." Dean's smile softened, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he
looked down.
Frowning as he smiled Sam moved their hands to tip Dean's chin up higher. "I'm
pretty sure I've never cared about anyone else." Eyes moving across the cluster
of freckles on Dean's cheeks Sam smiled thoughtfully. "So all that stuff I told
you," blinking he moved his gaze back up to Dean's, "in the confessional..."
Shaking his head once more Dean chuckled softly. "We can talk about your dad,
and all of that if you want, but I think it's probably okay if we leave the
pieces involving us back there. What you said, it was the truth and I
appreciate that, and I won't be holding it against you or anything. So, really,
it's okay." Dean dipped forward until their foreheads could brush together.
"Though I suppose this should be the moment where you said anything else you
felt needed to be."
"I just," Sam shrugged a shoulder, "said some pretty shitty things. Just 'cause
they were the truth doesn't mean I should have said them." Brow furrowing, Sam
pushed up off the chair and slung his leg over the back so he could shove Dean
down on the bed and fling and arm and leg over him. Sam hadn't said it out loud
but his current favourite thing was holding Dean in his arms like he belonged
to him. Nuzzling against Dean's ear Sam whispered, "I never really hated you."
"That's nice to hear." Dean admitted and sighed softly, settling into Sam's
warmth. This was rapidly going to become his new favourite place to be. "Hey,
Sam?"
"Yeah?" Sam brushed the tip of his nose against Dean's cheek and tugged him
closer.
Dean smiled and closed his eyes, turning until his lips could brush against
Sam's. "If we get a cat can we get a puppy at the same time and name them Milo
and Otis?" He grinned even brighter and opened his eyes to meet Sam's.
Sam laughed and shook his head in amusement. "You can name your cat whatever
you want. And you can name my dog because I love you."
"Sounds fair," Dean nodded and pushed up to catch Sam's lips in a lingering
kiss.
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