Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3532550.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester/Original_Female_Character
      (s), Sam_Winchester/Original_Female_Character(s), Wincest, Sam/Dean
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester, John_Winchester, Bobby_Singer, Original
      Characters
  Additional Tags:
      Wincest_-_Freeform, Weecest, Body_Swap, Pre-Stanford, Incest, Sibling
      Incest, Angst, Humor, Pining, Alcohol, Alcohol_Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol
      Withdrawal, Non-Abusive_John_Winchester, Witches, Slow_Burn, Slow_Build,
      Dubious_Consent, Mildly_Dubious_Consent, First_Kiss, Case_Fic, Oral_Sex,
      Eventual_Smut, Eventual_Happy_Ending, Original_Character(s), Flagstaff,
      Suicidal_Thoughts, 2000s, Teenchesters, Swearing, Sam's_Bitchface, +55k
      words, First_Time_Blow_Jobs, UST, Wordcount:_50.000-100.000
  Series:
      Part 1 of Consanguinity
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-03-12 Completed: 2015-03-31 Chapters: 14/14 Words: 55818
****** Situational Machismo ******
by candlejill
Summary
     While on a hunt, Sam and John are hit with a mysterious spell causing
     them to switch bodies. Sam is devastated at the repercussions that
     could affect his future. The Winchesters are left with the monumental
     task of figuring out how to change back. Dean, previously believed to
     be unaffected, begins to have new troubling thoughts towards his
     brother causing him to think that maybe he did not escape the spell
     untouched after all.
     Note: There is no sexual relationship between Sam and Dean while Sam
     is in John's body.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Chapter Notes
     Machismo
     noun
     1. A strong or exaggerated sense of manliness; an assumptive attitude
     that virility, courage, strength, and entitlement to dominate are
     attributes or concomitants of masculinity.
"Fuck!" Dean grabbed his head, knees slamming hard to the ground. He pulled
himself into a ball, fighting to shield his eyes. The light blinding him
dissipated as quickly as it burst through, plunging the night back into
darkness. The high pitched screeching around him finally subsided into a low
buzz and it was about goddamn time too.
Dean rubbed his eyes, desperately trying to ease the burn from the unsettled
dirt that caused them to water uselessly. Voice faltering, cracking, and nearly
unrecognizable. "What the fuck was that?" He uttered mostly to himself. Ringing
beating hard in his ears, his words sounded obscured even to himself.
"Everyone alright?" An indistinct voice called across this godforsaken field.
Sam. Dean blinked, clearing his eyes. Sam was calling.
Dean rubbed the sides of his head, soothing the pulsating vibration in his
ears. A weak attempt to calm the throbbing ache, he’d need about a half a
bottle of ibuprofen to even make a dent in the pounding. Maybe graduate up to
Vicodin if Dad would let him near the emergency narcotics. He shook his head
and hoped the damage to his hearing wouldn’t be permanent. He’d be a pretty
fucking useless hunter if he couldn’t hear anything approach.
Expending all energy, he drug his useless body from the ground up onto his
knees. Dean wavered as the earth rolled in tides, cresting and buckling
underneath him. His stomach lurched, mumbling in protest at the lack of
stability. Wait, no. Fuck. It wasn’t the ground, it was his own center of
gravity betraying him. He squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled the earthy smell
around him, lungs expanding and contracting taking dust along with it. Finally,
coughing, he opened his watering eyes, dirt now clung to his tear stained face.
Slowly he focused.
Kicked up dirt was still in the air around him but settling slowly. He saw Sam
and John some distance across the field. The relief of their safety was a
welcomed comfort. They were okay, best he could tell. Both alright enough to
stand at least. Dean squinted looking closer. John's shoulders and chest lifted
and fell recklessly. Unevenly. Dean tensed, unnerved. If he hadn’t known the
man standing there he’d say it was panic. His Dad. John Winchester. John
Winchester doesn’t panic.
Blood coursed through him, suddenly racing to his heart. Dean quickly lifted
his distressed leg. He groaned attempting to support himself and propel forward
standing on coltish legs. Ignoring the ache in his muscles and the pain in his
head, he staggered his way to John.
"Dad, what's wrong. Are you ok? Hey! Look at me!" John refused to drop the
glossy eyed stare from his brother. Dean’s stomach lurched, if Sam was fucking
hurt he’d-. He quickly turned and called to him from farther across the field,
"Sammy? You ok?"
Sam shuffled toward them slowly, holding onto his side.
A rough, shaky voice trembled behind him. "Yeah, Dean," John answered.
Dean whipped his head to his Dad whose wide eyes focused intently in front of
him. John shook his head slowly, mouth hanging open in disbelief. Dean watched
John bring his hands up to inspect, one side and the other, then look back to
Sam.
"Well, shit," Sam said. Dean turned back to see his brother approach.
Scratching his head his brother continued, "Sam, get over here. You okay?" Dean
traced Sam's eyes back to his father who stood behind him cautiously.
"Sam? What is-" Dean stopped. He turned back to study Sam's eyes closely. Then
looked to John, his Dad intently focused on his brother. John looked scared.
"Fuck- Sammy? Is that you?"
"Language, Dean."
Dean pulled an already sore muscle snapping his head back to his brother...
no... this was his father. His brother’s body. "She switched your bodies?" Dean
exclaimed incredulously, blinking back his disbelieving watering eyes.
"Yeah,” John sighed, “Looks like." Sam's body, his father, weighed his hands on
his alien and now very slender hips. Sam’s hips? Someone’s goddamned hips.
"Dad?"
Dean had never heard his father's voice quaver so feeble and unsure. His panic-
stricken eyes were wide and distressed. Jesus, he looked petrified. He looked
young. Dean approached tentatively, like he was approaching a goddamn fawn
instead of an experienced hunter, "Christ, Sam. Is that really you?"
Sam, in his father's body, nodded looking through Dean, eyes still focused
intently on his body. Sam’s body. The body which his father currently occupied.
Dean shook his head, couldn’t believe little sixteen year-old Sammy was in
their father's body.
"Dad?" The gruff voice emitted again, "Dad? Is this- what are we-" He choked
back shaking his head. "This isn't permanent is it?" Voice wavering, near
hysteria. Dean could hear the tense confusion setting in. It made his stomach
churn hearing their Dad's voice so unnerved.
John sighed, and using Sam’s hand, scratched his head. "I don't know, Sam," he
shrugged.
"What?!" Dean was shoved capriciously to the side as his father's body barged
through, "What do you mean you don’t know? We can't stay like this! We- we have
to- Dad!" Sam clutched recklessly at his own body he was standing in front of,
"Dad! I can't be like this! I have school! I have to finish the school year! I-
I-” He cried urgently, “I want my body back!"
"Sam! Sam, just calm down," John replied holding Sam out firmly in front of
him, anchoring him to the moment providing what little support he could. Dean
watched a bit in shock as his father stared resolutely at his own body
breathing rapidly in front of him. "Sam. You need to calm down. Get it
together. We'll figure this out." John gave him a reassuring pat on the arm
before he walked past looking at the ground around them. Searching for any
clues, markings, books or totems. Anything that could lead them to the exact
spell that caused this.
"We'll figure something out?" Sam laughed morosely, "We'll figure something
out?"
"Yes, Sam.” Irritated, John turned, “If she found a way to do this then we can
find a way to switch back. I’m sure this isn’t the first time a hunter was
forced from his body. Be thankful you weren’t turned into a rat. Now, the hunt
isn't over. Get over here and start digging a grave. Both of you. We need to
salt and burn. I don’t want this one to come back and bite us in the ass.” John
sighed, “Where's her body?"
"Jesus Christ," Dean breathed rubbing his hand over his mouth in disbelief.
Looking back and forth from his brother to his father who both turned, suddenly
remembering he was there.
John looked him over carefully, really studying Dean for the first time since
the blinding light. "Dean? You're still Dean, right?" He asked.
Dean laughed incredulously, "Yeah, Dad."
John nodded, looking relieved in Sam's body. "Good. That's good. Okay. Now,
unless either one of you are bleeding out, you boys need to get your shit
together and start digging." John glared at them, “Now. That’s and order.” He
turned back to the ground, searching, “You can have your meltdown when we hit
the road.”
Dean pointed behind Sam. He coughed, "Uh, her body. It's behind... Sam..." He
shook his head and repeated more confidently, "It's behind Sam." Dean's eyes
followed John as he commanded his brother's body confidently over to the
witch's corpse. He forced himself to look away, reaching down for the shovel
near by. It was dark but there was light enough from the moon to dig a grave.
They had been living in Casper, Wyoming when they first heard about the hunt.
John had been passing through a nearby town and learned animals were turning up
dead. Pets suspiciously missing, their bodies always later discovered propped
in an odd presentation, organs missing. Ritualistic, but never too brutally
mutilated. At least, as unmutilated animal corpses with missing organs could
be. Which was a good indication as any that this was done by a human. ‘Human’
used generously if you call gutting Lassie an act of humanity. Rumor had it a
Satanic cult of local teens was terrorizing the small community. It didn’t take
much for Sam and Dean to infiltrated their clique and find out the rumor was
wrong, of course. The local goths, nerds not Satanists, congregated but they
quickly discovered it was only to smoke weed and play D & D. The only spell
they were casting was Magic Missile. It wasn’t a complete bust, Dean at least
scored some pot out of the deal.
The witch actually responsible had been a petite woman with greying hair. She
looked to be in her late 50s and appeared to be like every other 50-something.
Somebody’s grandma. She had seemed nice enough during their recon. But, then
again, they always do.
John discovered she had been using animal organs to call upon a dark goddess.
The witch was getting blessings and bounty from her. But the goddess bitch
quickly got tired of McDonald’s grade animal burgers and decided she wanted to
sample some steak. No longer appeased, she demanded human blood and the witch
obliged. And she was smart. Damn smart. They learned she caused accidents which
resulted in death of her intended targets, no one in town the wiser. Not until
John heard those bodies were also missing organs.
It was supposed to be a simple in-and-out ganking, but the old hag had other
plans. She fled through the field behind her house which resulted in this shit
show down. And, apparently, she was packing an ace up her sleeve.
Dean watched John, now out of earshot, stand over her corpse, lifting her limbs
with his foot before squatting down to inspect closer.
Dean couldn't pull himself away from watching while he worked, straining his
muscles, digging. It was his brother’s body but it wasn't Sam. Dean had never
seen ‘Sam’ so self-assured. He knew everything about the kid. He’d seen him in
every mood and through every temper tantrum imaginable. Sam was an extension of
Dean that he could predict a thousand ways to Sunday, but he’d never seen him
like this. And he knew the sweat he felt trickle down his back wasn’t entirely
from the exertion of digging. Unnerving, yes. And it was doing something to his
stomach, fluttering nervously under his shirt.
Jesus, Sammy looked good with this alpha male bullshit posturing. Too bad the
kid wasn’t always so confident. Dean laughed to himself disparagingly. Fuck all
if watching Sam like this wasn’t kind of turning him on, which Dean recognized
was about every kind of screwed up you could be. He supposed a normal person
would probably feel more unsettled but Dean just attributed his curiosity to
the change in their current… situation. Unconsciously, he stopped shoveling to
stare more appreciatively, studying out of habit if nothing else.
Sam quickly smacked Dean's chest with the back of his hand, "Dean. Don't you
fucking dare."
"Ow," Dean rubbed his chest. “Jealous, Sammy?” He laughed, lifting his eyebrows
questioning. He looked to his brother who was staring daggers at him through
their father's eyes. It suddenly really hit Dean. He wasn’t checking Sam out,
which was disturbing in it’s own right. No, he was checking their father out.
Dean inhaled deeply as the full magnitude of the situation sunk in. "Shit," he
breathed out quietly. He dropped the shovel and put his hands on his knees
bracing himself, "Shit."
Dean stole another glance at his father, moving Sam's body in the cock-sure
manner he was very much not accustomed to seeing. "Shit!" he swore again.
"Yeah," Sam spoke sullenly.
"Fuck, Sammy."
"Don't call me ‘Sammy’,” he griped. “I mean it, Dean. Right now I look like a
burly lumberjack and I am not in the mood,” he narrowed his eyes at Dean, “So
don't fucking call me 'Sammy.'" Gritting his teeth, he jabbed his finger into
Dean’s chest.
Dean rubbed his chest, "Sam, what the fuck are we gonna to do?" He reached
down, shaking slightly as he picked up the shovel and resumed digging, his
brother joining him.
Sam shook his head, dark hair shaking softly, "You're not cruising my body when
I'm not in it. That's number one, Dean." He said strongly using the Marine tone
for emphasis.
Dean defended softly, “I wasn't checking you out, dude. I was just-” He rubbed
his eyes before looking back towards their father again. “Appreciating the man
you’re growing into?” Sam scowled in return. Dean shook his head, "Fuck, Sam."
"Yeah. So you've said."
Dean inhaled trying to shake off his unease. Suddenly, a bitter laugh escaped
him, "But - I mean, now that you can see for yourself, you have to admit you've
got a decent body. All those drills Dad makes you run are paying off, right?"
He lifted his eyebrows suggestively and smiled bright, “You can finally really
see what you’re working with. You and me hit the town together? Think of the
ladies we could get. Now alls you need is to grow some balls, huh?”
Sam scoffed and shook his head.
Turning back to Sam, Dean's eyes went wide. He shook his head in disbelief
thinking just exactly how this looked from the outside. He threw his hands in
the air, "Jesus. This fucking night, man. I just told Dad's body, the one that
my baby brother happens to be possessing, that his youngest son has a hot body.
This is so beyond fucked up. Sam, I don't know how I'm gonna to do this."
"You don't know how you're going to do this?" Sam stopped digging, "I'm the one
in Dad's body, Dean! His. Body. Excuse me if you find my sympathy for you to be
a bit lacking." Sam shook his head, "Just. Figure it out." He slapped Dean's
chest hard, "And keep it in your pants. As thick as he can be about what’s
going on in our lives - you start hitting on him? Even he's bound to figure a
few things out. Things, I for one, hope he never, ever, finds out.” Sam
shivered, “Ever."
“I wasn’t checking you out, dude,” Dean protested. He rubbed his chest, glaring
back at Sam, "You just have no idea how weird this is."
Sam scoffed, "I'm looking at my body 200 feet away from me. I think I have an
idea of how weird it is, Dean." Sam brought his hands up to his hair which was
currently much shorter than he was used to. Remembering it wasn't his own only
irritated him further. He dropped his hands quickly, breathing rapidly. "Dean,"
he pleaded, "I am a fraction of a second away from going mental! What if I
can't get back? What if I'm stuck like this forever? I still have the school
year to finish!"
“Yeah, you can probably kiss the junior prom goodbye,” Dean smirked. Sam
seethed. Dean dropped the shovel and turned, holding Sam's shoulders firmly in
place. "Sam, look at me." Sam pulled his eyes away from John and met Dean’s.
"We're going to find a way to switch you back," Dean assured. The man in front
of him was still Sam. Underneath his father's exterior Dean, could still see
his brother looking back at him. In the way he was holding the body that wasn't
his. The way he stood. The intense, pleading look that begged Dean to make
everything better. "Sam, I promise you, we will fix this." Sam exhaled slowly,
nodding. "We have to fix this,” Dean continued, “Because there is no way in
hell I'm gonna fuck around with you while you're wearing that thing."
“Jesus, Dean!” Sam stopped shoveling, “Don’t even joke about that, you ass!
It’s not funny.”
Dean laughed quietly to himself, “It’s really not.” He shook his head and they
both continued to dig. Flexing his muscles, he pushed the shovel blade into the
dirt and unearthed as quickly as his sore muscles allowed. His body still ached
from the blast that threw him, but his hearing had improved considerably. Still
buzzing but manageable.
Since it was unnerving to look towards his father, Dean tried covertly to study
his brother working next to him. Sam was using arms very familiar to Dean to
lift dirt from the grave. It was something he and his father had done a hundred
times before, but this was so fucking weird. He didn’t hold the shovel the same
way Dad did. The hair on Dean’s arm stood from the cool night breeze. Or maybe
it was because of this whole damn situation. Whatever the cause, Dean was
fighting the jittery feeling seeping through his blood. Sam’s familiar furrowed
brow was eerily mirrored on John’s face. The way Sam stretched his back, and
worked along side of him. It was wrong. Everything was wrong about how he was
used to seeing that body move. Just studying that alone he would have known
something wasn’t right. This man next to him wasn’t his father. Dean was taking
a hike through Uncanny Valley and it was living up to all expectations. He
swore under his breath, his own silent prayer they’d be able to return Sam to
his body.
And he wasn't checking out Sam’s body. He wasn’t. It was just- over the years
he and Sam had gotten… closer. The last year in particular. He noticed things
about him he might not have paid attention to before. Sighing, he realized if
they couldn’t switch their bodies back, it really was going to make Dean’s sex
life more difficult. He wrinkled his brow in thought. If he wanted to get off
he’d have to go to the bars more often and actually put effort into it. Which
was just. Inconvenient.
Dean sighed, “Dude. We really need to get your body back. I hate picking up
chicks at the bar. They always expect you to buy ‘em drinks and it’s this whole
big production and after all that work you’re not even guaranteed a blow.”
Sam scoffed, “Yeah,” he muttered bitterly, “I was just thinking the same thing.
‘I really need my body back so Dean can have an easier and more fulfilling sex
life.’ Seriously, dude? That’s what you’re worried about here?”
“More fulfilling? Come on, Sam. You know I have no trouble baggin’ the
wildcats,” he winked and nudged Sam’s arm. Sam stared unamused. Dean dropped
his smile and nodded. “But yeah, you’re right,” he conceded. “Probably is worse
for you. Think of the kind of women you’ll get in that geriatric thing.” He
smirked, “Actually, come to think of it, your sex life will probably improve.
Mature women know what they want, Sammy. I know it’s scary for you but you
don’t have to be afraid,” he teased. “Tell ‘em to take it easy, that you were
celibate the first forty-five years of your life so they’ll need to ease you
into the whips and chains. Ya might even learn a thing or two out of all this.”
“I hate you,” Sam glared.
“Remember. Safewords are your friend, Sam.”
“What are we going to do if we can’t find anything, Dean? You think Dad’s gonna
sit in on my Calc class? Keep up my notes? I’m starting my senior year this
fall and Dad is probably gonna take my body halfway across the country looking
for fuck all. I think the school will have an issue with some old man lurking
around the school taking notes.” Sam jabbed his shovel hard into the ground,
“You know, Dad’s probably glad this happened. Seventeen again? Now he has even
more time to look for whatever the hell killed Mom.”
“Sixteen, dude.”
“For like two more weeks, you ass.”
“Whatever,” Dean scratched his face. “Not sure about this semester but, you’ll
get your body back before fall, Sam.” Dean sighed, “And look, I mean, it’s not
like you even have to go back. You could-”
“So help me god, Dean,” Sam interrupted. “If you say one word about a GED I
will flay you with my shovel right here. This grave is big enough for two.”
Dean held his hands up in surrender. Sam stared him over.
Finally relaxing slightly, Sam groaned as he stretched to either side and threw
his shovel to the ground. “I’m done. My back is killing me,” struggling, he
climbed out of the grave they dug.
“Sure thing, old man,” Dean smiled and followed him. Sam pursed his lips in
irritation. Dean sat next to him, both their legs hanging, knocking feet in the
makeshift grave. It was shallow, not near six foot, but it would do for witch’s
new permanent address.
Dean nudged Sam’s shoulder, “Dude, you’re gonna have to touch Dad’s dick when
you take a piss.”
“Oh my god, Dean!” Sam punched his brother’s shoulder, “Seriously. This isn’t
funny.”
Dean laughed anyway, rubbing his shoulder, “So now if you jack yourself off is
that, like, incest or... what do you think that’s called?”
“Ugh. Gross, Dean.”
“You’re a smart kid. You can probably come up with a whole new word entirely,”
he snickered.
Despite his best effort Sam smiled, “Anything to avoid checking a mark in the
incest box, right?” He nudged Dean’s shoulder playfully.
“Hey!” Dean protested awkwardly. “That’s different, dude.” Sam lifted an
eyebrow incredulously, waiting for an explanation. “We’re not- It’s just-”
frustrated, Dean turned away and scratched his head.
“We’re just- what, Dean? Pulling each other off? Exchanging friendly orgasms?
But, you know it’s okay because they’re the non-incestuous brotherly orgasms,”
Sam laughed softly. He rolled his eyes when he saw the look of contempt on
Dean’s face.“Yeah, yeah,” Sam waved his hand dismissively, “We’realone in the
trenches. That look on your face, Jesus. I don’t want you to be my girlfriend,
dude. Relax. You’d think I asked you to prom.”
“That word just makes it sound so-” Dean shifted uncomfortably. “It’s just-” he
considered, looking at the ground. His heart pounded violently in his chest. He
could feel the heat rush as his face flushed, eternally grateful it was too
dark for anyone to see.
It wasn’t that they didn’t acknowledge this fucked up thing between them. It
was just usually in more inconspicuous, less vocal ways. A raise of an eyebrow
to meet in the truck stop bathroom. A nod of the head to take a walk in the
woods while their Dad was passed out on the couch. Sometimes it was just in the
way Dean would plead his brother’s name. Sam would roll his eyes and threaten,
“If you crash the car while you’re driving, dude, I’m not help you rebuild
her.”
“It’s more like a helping hand,” Dean finally offered, nodding in approval of
his assessment.
“Does telling yourself that help you sleep better at night?” Sam teased.
“No,” Dean stared at him. “The tugjobs are what help me sleep better at night.”
He lifted his eyebrows suggestively, smiling wide.
Sam laughed, took a deep breath and rubbed his face. “Dude, why are we even
talking about this?” He asked.
“I don’t fuckin’ know,” Dean shook his head. “You brought it up,” he shifted
uncomfortably. “And, for the record, it all sounds about a hundred times worse
in Dad’s voice. That’s for damn sure.”
Sam scowled and leaned close next to Dean’s ear. Using his most intimidating
and ferocious dad-voice he grumbled, “Dean Winchester, have you been touching
your brother where his bathing suit goes?”
“Holy shit, dude,” Dean pushed Sam and stood up and away from his brother. He
lifted his hands in defense and looked around, checking to make sure John
wasn’t within hearing range. “That is not fucking funny.” He couldn’t bring
himself to be too mad because at least now Sam was honest to god laughing. His
stomach fluttered when he realized, Dean missed his dimples.
“Yeah. That’s what I’ve been saying. About time you got on board,” Sam rolled
his eyes.
Dean scowled and shook his head. “Come on. Let’s go see if he’s figured
anything out yet,” Dean rubbed his hands together, wiping the dirt from them
the best he could.
John was standing over the body studying different items in his hand. A book
maybe, or some paper. Dean wasn’t sure.
John looked up at the sound of their footsteps, “Is it done?”
“Yes, s-” Dean shook his head taken aback, “Yes, sir.” He looked to Sam who was
smirking at him, holding back a laugh. Dean glared in response.
“Good,” John said. “Alright, I checked her over and got everything we need. I
raided her house and got anything useful so the rest we can burn. You boys,
bring her over to the grave.”
Sam walked to the legs as Dean grabbed her shoulders. Sam groaned as they
hoisted her up, “Maybe you should be doing this, Dad? I’m not feeling as spry
as I used to.”
John lifted his eyebrows. “I’m not that out of shape, Sam,” he said dryly.
“Your back sucks,” Sam replied under his breath. Shuffling the body to the
grave with Dean.
John scoffed, “Yeah, well, my hearing’s better now anyway.”
Dean smirked at Sam. Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head. John picked up
items on the ground and followed behind them.
“Ready?” Dean looked to Sam.
“Yeah,” Sam groaned.
“One- two-” on three they dropped the corpse into the hole.
“Salt?”
“The truck,” John kept his eyes focused on something in his hands. Sam
scratched his eyebrow and started walking to the truck a few yards away.
“Don’t forget the lighter fluid this time, Sammy!” Dean called to him.
“Not ‘Sammy’!” He flipped him the bird behind his back walking away.
Dean snorted and walked over to their father. Watching his face, which was
intently studying what looked to be a spell book, carefully he asked, “Do you
think- Did you find anything useful?”
John grunted, not looking up, “Well. We have something to go on.” His voice not
betraying any evidence of whether that was good or bad.
Dean released a breath anyway. He nodded, “Okay, well, that’s good, right?”
John ignored him as he leafed through a few sheets of paper in his hands.
“Dean, about how far are we from Kadoka?”
“South Dakota? Uh,” Dean scratched his head and looked around, “I’d say, what?
About Five? Five and a half hours? Longer if there’s construction.” John
grunted acknowledging his response. “We going to Kadoka?”
John finally lifted his head from the papers, “I need to call a contact first
but, it looks like.” Dean nodded. “Means we’re going to have to leave town
tonight,” John finally met Dean’s eyes then gave a meaningful glare to Sam.
Dean sighed, understanding his Dad’s gesture. “Look, just-” he scratched his
head, “If there was any time he’d be understanding about cutting town early,
this would be it.” John sneered, a look was familiar on his brother’s face but
somehow it now made Dean’s skin itch and feel anxious.
“Dean!” Sam called walking back. Dean left his uneasy feeling, and John, and
joined Sam at the makeshift grave. Sam threw him the accelerant.
“You got a lighter?” Dean asked.
They made quick work of torching the body. It was fresh which meant it was
accompanied with the unforgettable smell. Dean loved working the hunt but,
christ, the scent of a burning human corpse is something he could stand to
forget.
When it was done, the three of them walked silently back to the cars. The
Impala waiting next to the old truck their father now drove. John sighed,
“Alright boys. We’re stopping in Chadron, Nebraska tonight. That gives us a few
hours start to Kadoka. I need to call my contact anyway. We can’t just show up
on her doorstep.”
Sam smirked, “Last time didn’t go so hot, huh? Imagine that.”
“Sam,” John glared at him. “I’m not in the mood for your attitude right now.”
He sighed, “We have a three hour drive. It’s already past 1:00 AM and I’d like
to make it there sometime tonight. I’m tired. I’m hungry. And I imagine you’d
like to get back in your body about as much as I’d like to get mine. This whole
ordeal will go a lot better if you stop your bitching and keep your smart ass
remarks to yourself.” John held his glare at Sam, “Now, you think you can do
that?”
Sam crossed his arms, pursed his lips, and looked away petulantly. He sighed
then turned back. “Yes,” he conceded brooding.
“Yes? Yes what?”
“Yes, sir,” Sam stood up straight.
Dean shook his head in disbelief. “I’m gonna need to get that on tape before
this is over. Gotta admit it’s pretty hilarious seein’ Dad say, ‘yes sir’ to
you, Sam. Put that down on a list of things I never thought I’d see,” Dean
smiled wide, eyes crinkling at the corners.
John turned towards Dean and pointed, “Same goes for you, Dean, you hear?”
Dean fought to drop his smile, “Yes, sir.”
John looked them both over before settling on Sam. He exhaled, “Sam, now,
leaving tonight means you’re not going to finish the school year here and I
don’t want to hear anything about it.”
John paused as Sam clenched his jaw and looked away, “I think for once you
might even be with me on this one.”
Sam closed his eyes and nodded, “Yes, sir.”
John eyed him, still waiting for a protest. Sam not obliging, he continued,
“Now, I’m gonna take the truck. Boys, take the Impala. Pack everything, then
we’re gonna fuel up but that’s our only stop until we get there. Grab something
to eat. Get good and caffeinated because we won’t reach Chadron until after
dawn.”
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Sam woke to a hard slap on his chest which he too slowly realized was Dean. He
squinted looking out the window of the Impala. It was that kind of uneasy
darkness of night right before dawn that he despised. The impending and ominous
doom of light promising to soon break through. He’d seen the wrong side of a
sunrise too many times. Nights felt so much more restful if he could just get
to sleep before the glow of the dawn. As soon as they hit the road Sam had
fallen asleep from exhaustion but, lucky for him, Dean ensured he wouldn’t miss
his least favorite part of the day. 
He ached everywhere. His muscles were tense and sore like he’d be sent through
a meat grinder. He felt pain in places he wasn’t aware he had. “Ugh, Dean!” The
moment Sam groaned he remembered why. He pulled down the mirror and saw John’s
wide eyed reflection staring back.
“Sorry, kiddo. Wasn’t a dream,” Dean smiled hesitantly.
“Where are we?” His voice was gruff and foreign to his ears.
“‘Bout twenty minutes away from Chadron.”
Sam groan louder, sinking into the seat, and threw an arm over his eyes. “So,
why didn’t you wake me twenty minutes from now?”
“I was getting lonely,” Dean said sarcastically. “Dude, you passed out the
second we took off.”
“Mmm-,” Sam yawned, “Pulling a Freaky Friday  wears a guy out.”
Dean laughed unexpectedly, “Dude. You did. You totally pulled a Freaky Friday!”
Sam turned to look at his brother and witnessed his eyes light up. “Ah, what
the fuck was her name? Anna? Amanda?”

“Gaby Hoffman,” Sam offered quietly.

“Yeah, that’s it! You kind of had a thing for her, right? And Shelley Long was
kind of a milf, huh?”
Sam turned away from his brother and shut his eyes. “Too old,” Sam said dryly.
Dean paused for a moment before teasing, “So that’d make her your peer now,
huh?”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me. ”
“Well, hey, you know, everything turned out alright for them. Maybe you and Dad
will walk away from this with a better understanding of your independent daily
struggles?”
Sam groaned, “Shut up.” He rubbed his callused hands over his face, attention
focused on the feeling of rough hair growing in. “Jesus, Dad has the worst
stubble. How can he tolerate this? It itches!”
“Gonna have to get used to shaving more than once a month,” Dean laughed
quietly.
“Uh, no. No blade created by man is sharp enough to get rid of this.” Sam shook
his head, “Look’s like Dad’s growing a beard. Full out Grizzly Adams.”
Dean quietly laughed to himself. After a few moments he said, “Well, look, I
don’t know how you’re feelin’ after that three hour nap but some of us, who are
me, are gonna drop the second we get a room. Think you’ll keep sleeping or are
you gonna try to research?”
Sam inhaled deeply, “I dunno, man. I should research but I feel like shit. Put
me in a coma. Wake me when you figured it out.”
“Yeah, I don’t think Dad’s gonna go for that. And I’m sure as shit not gonna
cover your half of the research.”
Sam looked out the window. The sky was beginning to lighten up in the pinks and
reds and purples only a sunrise could provide. He despised it. “We stopping at
Bobby’s while we’re in the state?”
“Wrong side of the state. That’s like another three, four hour drive,” Dean
scratched his chin. “I figure we’re only gonna ask Bobby if Dad
gets really desperate. Remember last time we were there?”
Sam nodded, “Yeah, well. I’m really desperate.”
“You show up on his doorstep in that body and he’ll shoot you.”
Sam scoffed, “Dad sure knows how to win ‘em over.”
Dean waved a hand dismissively, “Eh, you know they’ll make up sooner or later.”
“Yeah, when Dad needs something.”
Dean shook his head, “You’re pretty hard on him, dude.”
“I’m hard on him?”
“Alright, alright, I’m not looking to start a fight, christ. We get going,
punches are gonna start flying. I’ll break your hip. Dad’ll get pissed and
blame me.”
Sam huffed out a laugh, “He deserves it.”
Dean sighed and shook his head. Sam watched their father in the truck in front
of them pull into a parking lot of a motel on the edge of town. Dean followed
him, stopping the Impala into an empty spot next to him. Sam, bringing his
nails to his teeth, watched out the window as John walked into the motel
office.
Dean turned the car off and looked over. He studied Sam quietly.
Sam, feeling eyes on him, turned to Dean, “What?”
Dean narrowed his eyes. “You’re biting your nails,” he said observationally.
Sam shrugged confused. “But they’re, like, Dad’s nails, like… you’re
biting his nails.”
Sam pulled his fingers out of his mouth scoffing, “His nails. His hair.
His dick! This whole situation is disgusting.” He tried running fingers through
his hair but shook his hands in the air, forgetting again that it was short and
not his own. Sam turned back out the window and watched the body that was
rightfully his stomp out of the motel office, “Dad- Or… is it me?” Sam sighed,
“My body looks pissed,” Sam nodded and point to John walking their way.
“A face I know well,” Dean agreed smiling. “Bear witness to the almighty Bitch
Face, Sammy. Now you know what you’ve been subjecting us to.”
Sam rolled his eyes, “Not ‘Sammy,’ jerk.” He rolled down the window.
Dean called out over him to their father approaching, “No rooms?”
John reached the car, leaning in, elbows against the frame to support himself.
Sam could see the clench of his jaw. He held something out for Sam to take.
“Your ID?” Sam asked looking over the picture that had his father’s face and
Dan Hawkin’s name. He also handed over a small wad of cash.
Quietly seething, John nodded, “Yeah.”
Sam looked up at John who wouldn’t meet his eyes. Sam lifted his eyebrows in
surprise realization and smiled wide, “They won’t rent you the room?”
John turned toward him, “Just get in there and get the damn room.”
Sam threw his head back, stifling his laughter, “Okay, okay! I’m going.” John
stepped away from the door so Sam could exit. Still smiling to himself as John
stared daggers, Sam walked to the office. He could hear John tell Dean they’d
need to make Sam IDs to age him up.
He was still smiling when he approached the small counter with a young man
behind it. This guy couldn’t be older than twenty himself. “Hi, yeah, I’m gonna
need a room for today. I know check-in isn’t usually until 11:00 but I’m road
tripping with my sons and we drove straight through the night.”
“Hey man, was that your kid out there? Ah, sorry about refusing him a room. We
had prom last weekend and my boss chewed my ass. The kids were a force of
destruction. Normally I wouldn’t care but, job is on the line, you know? Have
to go by the book,” he shrugged.
Sam scratched his head, “I hope he didn’t give you too much trouble. Hormones,
man.”
The guy laughed, “Yeah, what can you do? Alright, all we have is two queens.”
“Sounds great,” Sam nodded. He handed over Dan Hawkin’s ID and the cash his Dad
gave him. Grabbing the room keys and receipt, Sam left the office and the
manager wishing him a good day.
John and Dean were waiting outside, duffel bags in hand. John handed the bag
that was usually his to Sam and they walked to their room.
It was another motel like the hundreds he’d been to in the past. This one as
nondescript as the next. He watched Dean throw his bag to the floor and fall
face first into the bed.
“Shower, dude. Your face is covered in dirt. Your everything is covered in dirt
and you’re getting it all over the bed,” Sam sneered.
Groaning, Dean sat up and coughed a sarcastic, “Yes, Dad.” Sam kicked at his
feet as Dean walked into the bathroom, turning on the shower.
Rubbing his face, Sam once again was reminded of the scratchy whiskers under
his calloused hands. John was sitting at the small table looking over a book.
“Was that the witch’s?” Sam asked.
John grunted in response.
“Right,” Sam said to himself. “Do you need help, or-”
John covered his face and rubbed at his eyes, “Not right now. I have a few
things to see to but we’re not gonna know much of anything until I talk to
Michelle.” He sighed, “You can salt the door.”
Sam laid the usual precautions then sat down on the bed. He sighed before
laying on his back, wanting desperately to take a shower and fall asleep until
he could wake up in his own body.
He sat up quickly. Shower. In his Dad’s body. “Ugh,” Sam groaned and rubbed at
his eyes. He turned to stare intently at the bathroom door wondering if it
would be worth it to just wash his face and call it good.
He heard John laugh quietly. Sam looked to find John watching him over his book
with an amused smirk on his face, “You’re gonna have to do it sooner or later,
Sam.”
Sam groaned, “Dad!” He stood up and heard the water turn off.
“I don’t know what you’re expecting to do when you have to use the bathroom.
I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t piss yourself trying to hold it.” Sam made a
frustrated groan and hid his face back into his hands. “Just-” John thought for
a moment, “Shower with the lights off if it’s that bad.” 
Sam thought about it and decided that was his only option. 

Dean opened the door. Skin dewy, wearing only his boxer shorts, he promptly
fell onto the closest bed. “If someone wants to shut the curtains, that would
be great,” he mumbled crawling under the covers and pulling a pillow over his
head.
Sam sighed digging through his Dad’s duffel to find clean boxers and a shirt in
a size that would fit his current form. Scratching his head he made the march
of shame to the bathroom. He turned the light on to assess the situation. Sam
made quick work setting everything up for easy access before turning off the
lights and disrobing.
He had seen John naked before. He’d seen Dean naked before. He grew up seeing
both of them over the years, close quarters and all. It really wasn’t a big
deal. Until the idea of touching anything or feeling anything that
wasn’t his became a reality. It caused his stomach to lurch. He felt nauseated.
Why couldn’t he have switched bodies with Dean? He’d had his hands on Dean’s
dick enough, that really wouldn’t have been an issue. It might have even made
a few things more interesting. But this?
His heart raced, pounding and thumping erratically under his chest. He closed
his eyes and tried to focus on the feel of water soothing over his body. The
heat. The weak pressure and the way it hit his face. He pulled himself away
from the spout taking deep breaths to slow his breathing. Sam pushed thoughts
of anything other than the task at hand out of his mind. As soon as he felt
composed enough, he cleaned himself as quickly as he could manage and turned
off the water.
When he finally stepped out of the bathroom, steam rolling out from behind him,
he saw his rightful body, John, sitting at the table. Logically he know that
the body he was currently in was not his own. Right now his back hurt with an
unfamiliar ache, his face itched, he was starting to get a massive headache,
probably a migraine, and yet he still was taken aback to see himself sitting at
the table in front of him. It was easier to deal with this when he wasn’t
constantly reminded that he wasn’t himself. But, then again, he didn’t exactly
want his Dad to take off somewhere with his body either.
Sam walked over to the bed his brother was passed out on and sat at the end of
it. He cleared his throat, “So, Kadoka?”
John lifted his eyes from the book that held his attention, “Yeah.” Sam hadn’t
had the easiest of childhoods but right now the years truly shone through in
ways he didn’t think possible. He looked hardened. Angry. Tired. John sighed,
“I’m gonna need you call this number,” he handed Sam a scrap of paper with some
six-oh-five number on it.
“Wha- what do you want me to say?” 

John scratched his head, “Michelle. She’s pedalling the kitschy shit to
tourists near the badlands. She’s got some background in legitimate paranormal,
though. Some witchcraft, shamanism, it ran in her family.” He sighed, “I gave
her the rundown, best I could. She’s doubtful about the whole situation. Took
some convincing to hear me out. She knows my voice. My real voice. So, she
wants to talk to you.”
Sam stood from the bed and joined John at the table. Pulling the phone closer
he yawned as he dialed the numbers.
“Hello?” A small tinny voice answered.

“Um, is this Michelle?”
“Yes?”
“This is-” Sam looked up to John shrugging, not knowing what name to give. John
nodded for him to continue. “This is Sam Winchester.”
“Uh, huh?” The voice on the other line sounded doubtful.   
“Um, I think my Dad spoke to you earlier? About our little… problem.”
“Kid called sayin’ he was John. Got your bodies switched.”
“Yeah,” Sam scratched at the table absently. “Yeah, well, that kid was my body.
I’m in John’s.” He spoke softly, “Do you think there is any  way you can help?
Anything? You have no idea how much we’d appreciated it.”
He heard the woman laugh through the line, “I didn’t really believe your old
man before but thought I’d give him the benefit. Haven’t seen a case like this
myself. Piqued my interest. You either switched bodies or John Winchester got
his self possessed. Either way he’s not in the drivers seat.” She laughed
louder now, “John Winchester must be livid hearin’ his body sound so polite and
full of gratitude. Can’t say he don’t deserve what happened, though.”
Sam released a sigh of relief, “So, does that mean you’ll help?”
The woman on the other line hesitated, “Well, now, I don’t-”
“Please?” Sam begged. “Please. I can’t stay this way. I can’t. I’m a senior
next fall and I know you’re mad at my dad but-”
“Alright, alright,” she interrupted. “Wouldn’t sit good on my conscience to
leave you stuck like that. Even if John does deserve it. Suppose you’re the one
getting the short end of the stick. Tell him he can come.” 
Sam exhaled, “Thank you!” He smiled, nodded and mouthed ‘yes’ to John. “Thank
you,” he repeated.
“I haven’t done anything yet, kid. Not sure’s anything I can do. But you can
come and I’ll look it over. To be honest, I’m still not entirely convinced.
Figure this is one where seein’ is believin ’.”
John gestured for Sam to hand the phone over. Brow furrowed he spoke into it,
“Good enough for you, Michelle?” He tucked his free arm under the other. “Yeah,
yeah,” he sighed. “Right. Well. I don’t know about-” John fidgeted in the chair
before he suddenly sat up right. He looked at Sam and told her, “Okay. Expect
us around 7:00pm. Oh, and Michelle?” He scratched his brow and grumbled,
“Thanks.”
Chapter End Notes
     Freaky Friday (1995)
***** Chapter 3 *****
Dean rubbed his temple applying distracting pressure as he looked out the car
window, trees and on coming traffic blinking past. He woke that morning with
the biggest fucking headache, and that alone would be enough to throw him into
the bad side of the day, but pair that with their current circumstance? It was
enough to give him an aneurysm. For now, he pushed through the nagging instinct
to freak the fuck out. Best to at least wait until Michelle looks over his
brother. Plus he needed to hold it together for Sam who, he was pretty sure was
losing his shit.
The previous night he didn’t know what the hell he was thinking. Momentary
lapse in judgement due to brain trauma most likely. He was cracking jokes about
it. Of course at the time it had seemed funny. Hell, downright hilarious. But
now with the bright light of day illuminating the reality of it, all cards on
the table, there wasn’t a goddamn thing amusing about it. Not until they could
figure out how to switch Sam back.
The drive to Kadoka went as smooth as Dean could have hoped. Minimal road
construction for which Dean thanked whatever deity wasn’t accepting blood
payments. Sam was uncharacteristically silent next to him, which was fine by
Dean. He wasn’t feeling particularly chatty himself and no doubt the kid wanted
his time to brood.
Dean tensed and released his grip on the wheel, smoothing over the worn
leather. As non-conversational as Sam chose to be, he was far from
noncommunicative. The closer they approached Kadoka the more skittish Sam
became. And, hell, Dean couldn’t blame him. Poor kid had his future on the
line. And Sam was right, Dad would take what he got and he’d work with it.
But Dad got a hell of a lot better deal here. All Sam got was a foot in the
grave. This time, unfortunately, metaphorically.  
Dean turned, stealing a glance. Sam was practically shaking next to him. The
knees they both knew as their father’s bounced restlessly. Sam was nearly
scratching at the interior. Dean opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t think
of anything to console his brother. What the hell could he say?
Breathing deeply, he turned back to the road. Back to the familiar truck in
front of him with the too familiar silhouette of his brother that should be
riding his shotgun. Relief flooded over him as he finally saw a sign for
Kadoka. T minus 10 and counting. Their father made a turn exiting the highway
and he followed close behind. It lead them on a gravel road. Dean bit his lip
at the thought of what the rocks were doing to his poor Baby. Probably not the
most pressing matter but it was still irritating as hell.
The house they pulled up to was nothing to be impressed by. Small. One story.
White and plain. It fit in with the rest of the town. Kadoka was proudly living
up to it’s ‘Hole In The Wall’ namesake. Dean parked the Impala on the side of
the road behind John’s truck.
“Alright?” Dean asked. Sam nodded biting his lip, looking nervously out the
window. “Let’s go,” Dean gave him a reassuring pat on the knee and got out of
the car.
The woman was waiting outside her front door, arms crossed, middle aged with
dark hair and a few wild streaks of grey.
“Goddamn! Well if it isn’t John Winchester. Never thought I’d lay eyes on you
again,” she greeting looking at John’s body which Sam was wearing with an
anxious expression. “‘Course, strictly speaking, I’m not quite layin’ eyes on
you now.” She smirked and turned away from him, “So. Which one of you is John?
No wait-” She pointed at Sam’s body, “I’d recognize that pompous exasperated
look anywhere.”
John scoffed reluctantly, “Michelle.”
She eyed them over disdainfully before waving them inside, “Well, come on
then.”
John walked forward followed by Dean then Sam, abashed, trailing behind.
Standing in a small entryway Dean saw a cozy living room to the left with a
sectional couch, a kitchen to the right, and a narrow hallway between. Her
house was fairly empty compared to other hunters he knew. Hardwood floors
creaked loudly under foot as he peeked around, not much hanging on the walls
and only a small TV in the living room.
“Alright,” Michelle pointed to the table in the kitchen, “Have a seat. And tell
me what the hell happened.”
They trailed in after her, each pulling up a chair around her small table.
While John explained to Michelle what occurred in the field, Sam sat nervously
biting his lip, crossing and uncrossing his arms. Michelle eyed him over warily
several times while John told their story.
Relinquishing a book and small stone, John scratched his head, “This was all I
found on her and in the house. Looks to be an incantation and a runestone. I
can’t read it. Don’t recognize it. I was hoping you’d be able to tell me what
it means.”
Michelle eyed over the rock. She pulled her lips together and looked at the
book and few loose pages with foreign markings. “Well,” she started, pausing to
study the rock from the other side.
“Do you recognize it?” Sam interjected distressed.
Michelle hummed, which briefly set Sam’s mind at ease. Until she added, “I
recognize some of these symbols. I’ll have to translate a bit of this but-”
“But? But what?” Sam asked, heart dropping.
“What night did you say this happened?”
“Just last night,” John grumbled. “Before midnight.”
“Honestly,” Michelle laughed, “I can’t tell you for certain what spell she used
but this is definitely tied to something lunar.”  She pulled her mouth to the
side and eyed Sam, “Sorry to say but a normal full moon could bind some pretty
strong magic, if you knew what the hell you were doing.” She put the stone down
and studied John carefully, “But, last night was a lunar eclipse.”
“What? No,” John stared at her. “No, it wasn’t. We were digging all night. We
did not see any goddamn eclipse,” he grunted.
“Not visible here. Asia. Australia.” She sighed, “See, now, during eclipses the
planet aligns a certain way, makes some spells more powerful. My guess? Any
normal night and this spell would have worn off in couple hours. During an
eclipse, I gotta say, with the right spell it could very well be permanent.”
Sam stood up abruptly, upsetting the table and startling their hostess. “No.
No, no no. This can’t- There has to be-” Sam started pulling his hands through
his hair.
“Sam. Sit down.” Sam looked at his father, lost. “That’s an order,” John
barked. And out of shock, Sam obliged. “Let her finish speaking.”
“Hey, look,” Michelle grabbed for Sam’s hands. Her eyes met his fearful ones,
“I was going to say, you weren’t under a direct eclipse. So it’s more than
likely gonna wear out.”
Sam exhaled in relief and dropped his arms to the table, quickly bowing his
head to rest in them,  “Oh, thank god.”
Michelle leaned back in her chair, “Yeah, well, don’t get too relieved. Still
was an eclipse, right? That’s enough to put a monkey in the wrench.” She
scratched her arm sitting back in her chair.
Sam frantically met her eyes, “Like, how. How could it-”
“Now see,” Michelle interrupted, “We need to do some research on that. Could
last a few days, could be longer.”
John spoke up, “How much longer.”
“How good of a witch was she?”
“I don’t know,” John sighed, wiping his mouth. “Pretty damn. Not good enough to
stop us, though.”
“Couple weeks. Couple months. Sorry to say but, hell, a couple years.”
Sam swallowed a pained noise, head back down on the table. Dean, his heart
dropping, quickly gave Sam a reassuring pat to his back, rubbing, trying to
soothe him. Not helping much, he felt useless in the moment.
Michelle looked John steady in the eye, “There might be some ways we can speed
up the process. You’re not entirely up the creek here. We need to break down
the spell first. Means research.”
Sam perked his head up, determined, and stared at Michelle, “Give me every book
you have. I will stay up all night going through every goddamn book in your
house.”
“Sam,” John warned. He turned to Michelle, “Do you have books on this?”
“Yeah, I think I can scrounge a few up. Bobby Singer probably has a better
collection. He’s not too far.”
John grunted, “Let’s start with what we have available."
 
===============================================================================
 
Waking up yet again to rediscover he was in John’s body, Sam had already felt
uneasy all day. But when Michelle told them this might last years? Bile rose,
burning in his throat and his stomach tried to jump from his body in full out
nauseated sickness. Sam couldn’t fathom ever eating another ounce again in his
lifetime, though Dean did try to entice him. The jack hammering in his skull
made any research near impossible and, even though his body was beyond
exhausted, he couldn’t sleep even if willed himself to try.
On top of that, he finally bit the bullet and used the bathroom in John’s body.
Pissing wasn’t as traumatic as he envisioned but he’d still rather it all end
sooner than later.
Sam found it increasingly difficult to be around anyone but especially John.
Not that he could forget, but every time he looked up from a book it was a
vivid reminder in blinding technicolor that someone else was walking around in
his body. As the night wore on the bitter feeling only increased.
An uneasy urge suddenly overcame him and Sam had to retreat to the bathroom,
shutting everyone out, locking the door from inside. He kept the lights off, a
small sort of protection not being able to see himself. There’s no way in hell
Sam was finishing out the end of his junior year. And, Jesus,  what would he do
if this lasted all summer? What if he couldn’t even graduate high school? The
thought triggered something in him that made his heart beat ferociously, wild
and untamed in his chest.
He concentrated on slowing his rabbiting heart. A cold sweat saturated his
hairline and ran trickling down his back. Hands shaking, Sam turned the tap as
cold as it would go and held them under the running water. Trembling, he
just couldn’t live his life in John’s body.
If he stayed like this, in John’s body, this life was it for him. And he
couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t live like this. He’s done. He’d find a way to make
it look like an accident, something on a hunt, but he is not living like this.
Dean and Dad can keep looking for Mom’s murderer. Yeah, it would be hard for
Dean but he’d still have Sam’s body to remember him by.
Sam squeezed his eyes tight, fighting to push wildly racing thoughts from his
mind. Breathing. Slowly. He made tight fists in the water - flex and release -
focusing all his will to just pay attention to his hands. Not his shaking
heart. Not the unbearable heat. Not the nausea in his stomach. This feeling
would pass. It couldn’t last forever. He wouldn’t let it.
Finally, his breathing slowed to a manageable pace and he could feel the hot
flash break and subside. He splashed water on his face before turning off the
tap. Leaning back, his body slid down against the wall, uselessly sprawling the
floor. He sat in the dark for some time, throbbing head resting against the
wall, before he heard a quiet knock.
“Sam?”
It was Dean. Sam didn’t know if he should be relieved or embarrassed.
He wanted his brother here. He felt so young, and afraid, and he wanted
something familiar and safe. But he didn’t want Dean to see him. Not like this.
Like John. Having a conniption on the bathroom floor.
“Sam? You okay?”
He sighed, turning the light on, pupils constricting, he squinted from the
brightness. Putting a hand on the doorknob he cracked it open. Sam’s hoarse
voice scratched, “I’m fine, Dean.”
Dean looked at him, concerned, “You don’t look fine, man.”
Sam let out a long exhale of breath. Opening the door wider he stepped out. “I
think,” he rubbed his eyes, “I think I just need some fresh air.”
Dean moved to the side, allowing his brother to pass down the hall. Sam walked
straight to the entryway ignoring the searing look his father was boring into
his back. Sam felt Dean follow cautiously behind.
The screen door slammed weakly as he stepped outside. It was dark now. He
wasn’t sure how late. For hours they’d been reading through everything Michelle
owned. She made a few calls to have more resources shipped to them.
From the attitude she was giving off, Sam was surprised when Michelle offered
them her couch and floor to crash on but, ‘Only for a few days. This ain’t a
Bed and Breakfast. We can’t figure this out in a week and you’re finding a
place of your own.’
But she seemed optimistic, he thought. Maybe? Michelle was hard to read. Or he
wasn’t feeling up to reading people. Probably too close to the issue to
accurately evaluate. Maybe it was just wishful thinking?
Sam, inhaling deep, sat with knees popping on her porch stairs. He looked into
the night and down the dark street. Kadoka was beyond small. Hundreds lived
here, so they said, but Sam would hesitate to claim there were more than 500.
What population it did have was dominated by the tourism of the badlands and
the gaudiness of the old west. Gambling, motorcycles, and bar fights were the
height of sophistication and culture. Dean was nearly in heaven. Wouldn’t quite
find the Guggenheim out here but if you were willing to drive a bit, even Sam
had to admit you could find some of the most beautiful parts of the country
nearby.
He tensed as he heard Dean approach from behind. Sam felt his brother’s leg
brush against his as he sat down and looked out in companionable silence, for
which, Sam was grateful. The night was too cold for them to be outside without
jackets but Sam reveled in the stinging bite the wind provided. April was
pretty early for spring in South Dakota as it wasn’t entirely unheard of to
have snow last into May. Luckily for them, the snow was gone in Kadoka and
promises of warmer nights whispered through the wind. Still didn’t mean it
wasn’t stupid to be sitting outside at night without a coat, in April, in South
Da-fucking-kota.
“We’ll figure this out,” Dean finally spoke softly. He pushed closer, warm
against Sam’s shoulder, reassuringly trying to communicate that Sam wasn’t
alone.
Sam felt alone.
But the longer they sat on that creaking porch the more the dark cloud over him
began to lift. He felt more composed each minute with Dean’s warmth slowly
bleeding through his jeans where their legs touched. He had a way of putting
Sam at ease. Maybe it was left from all the hero worshiping he did as a kid,
but Sam was starting to believe him when he said they’d find a way.
 
===============================================================================
 
Feeling useless was something Dean never got used to. As far back as he could
remember he always had orders to follow, responsibilities to uphold, keep the
family above water. Trying to help Sam work through this was a new kind of
hardship. There wasn’t anything Dean could do to reassure his younger brother.
Feeling that was bizarre for himself, sure, but Sam was having a full out manic
implosion and Dean couldn’t do a damn thing to help.
But suddenly a thought smacked him upside the head. He turned and studied over
Sam’s face. His brother looked pensive and morose. Dean finally questioned
curiously, “Hey, Sam, how are you feeling?”
“Fine, Dean, I told you,” Sam replied impatiently.
“No,” Dean nudged him with his shoulder. “I mean, physically? How does it feel?
What is it like?”
“I don’t know,” Sam sighed. “Every muscle aches. My face won’t quit itching
from this damn forest growing on it. I constantly feel like I’m gonna hurl. And
my head hasn’t stopped pounding since this whole thing started.”
Dean nodded. He thought a short time before standing resolutely, “I have an
idea. Wait here.”
He left Sam and entered the house. The change in temperature burned his skin as
he walked cautiously towards his father who was leaning over scattered books on
the living room floor.
“You guys done with your break yet? You avoid this and it’s only gonna take
longer,” John looked up at him. “Sam should know that.”
Dean nodded trying to gain the courage to speak. Feeling nervous, not sure how
John would take the idea, he coughed, “Dad, Sam isn’t really feeling too hot.”
John scoffed, “Yeah. I’m getting that impression.”
Dean brought his fingers in front, fumbling them together. “No, I mean,” he
scratched his head. Sighing, he quickly rushed, “Look, I’m just gonna say it.
Sam is in your body-”
John provided him a questioning glare, “Yes. I’m-”
“No,” Dean interrupted. “I mean,” he sighed, “How long has it been since you,
your body, had a drink?”
John’s eyebrows lifted in realization of what Dean had been trying to
communicate. John turned away abashed and rubbed his hands over his tired face.
It was unnerving to Dean to see such sadness and stress behind what are
supposed to be his brothers carefree eyes. Now exchanged with a look of
experienced sorrow lurking underneath.
John finally met his eyes and agreed, “Yeah, alright. There’s some beer in the
fridge. Tell him it is only until this is over with.”
Grinning slightly, Dean replied, “Yes, sir.”

Walking back in the cold to Sam with a six packs in hand, Dean couldn’t help
but smile in victory. He sat down next to his brother and handed one over.
Sam looked up at him questioning, taking the offering his brother supplied,
“New plan is I get to blackout until you and Dad figure out the spell?”
Dean scoffed, “No dude, this is-” He opened one for himself and continued,
“Dad, drinks a lot, you know?”
Sam laughed sarcastically, “Understatement of the year.”
“Right well. It’s been a little while-”
“Ah, damn.” Sam met his brothers eyes with a look of realization hitting, “I
thought I was going crazy, man, you have no idea. My skin is crawling.”
Dean playfully slapped his leg, “Nope. Just suddenly an alcoholic.”
Bringing the bottle to his lips Sam threw it back smiling, “Hell, if this
doesn’t work then at least I can be sufficiently buzzed.”
“Take a bit of the edge off,” Dean agreed smiling, which Sam returned.  “He
says not to get used to it, though.”
Sam sneered, “Wouldn’t want to end up like him, right?”
“Yeah, he wants some IDs for himself too. I think to hit the bars. Didn’t quite
have the heart to tell him that we’ve had that covered for a while.” 

Sam frowned continuing to drink, “If he gets my body addicted to this shit I’m
going to throw down, dude.” He pointed at Dean, “And I’m putting that on you,
man. He doesn’t listen to me.”
“Think that’ll take more than a couple days.” Dean smiled shaking his head,
“‘Sides, you’re such a lightweight. He’ll have two and be three sheets to the
wind.”

Sam laughed to himself and took a sip. Quietly he asked, “You really think
it’ll only take a few days?” 

“Yeah, Sam,” Dean scratched at the label on the bottle. He turned away to look
down the street and softly added, “I do.” Sam nodded to himself but otherwise
had no response. Dean joined him in silence, face warming, soothing the sting
of the cold fading with each sip.
It didn’t take long for Dean’s mind to cloud over. He tried to push away
thoughts of losing Sam to John’s body. It’s not like Sam was gone. The body
next to him screamed ‘Sam Winchester.’ He’d pick that boy out of a line up any
day. Any form.
But it wasn’t the same.
He didn’t smell the same. It was an odd thought to realize but, fuck it, Dean
missed how he smelled. His Dad just reminded him of… his own personal
disappointment and.... unachieved potential. Uneasiness. It was hard to really
relax around Sam how he was now.
They continued drinking, bottles clanking into the small grave piled behind
them. No matter how hard he fought, Dean couldn’t bring his mind to stop racing
around thoughts of losing his brother forever. They were going to fix this. He
damn well knew deep down that he’d get his Sammy back but the eerie nag of the
wrongness at the situation still ate at his stomach. Didn’t help him to enjoy
the buzz.
Dean turned toward Sam, head lolling, “Sammy. We’re gonna get you back, man.”
Sam just nodded in silence, looking back out into the night.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Discovering his freak out was mostly withdrawal and only partly panic attack,
went a long way to help ease Sam’s mind. Over the next several days he tapered
off the alcohol the best he could. He began to feel better. Sam started to feel
like this was manageable.
John, however, grew more and more emotional. Annoyed one minute and furious the
next. He took it to different degrees and over seemingly pointless issues, a
current of rage welling under his skin. Raging more than usual, that is. Sam
was starting to feel like he understood why his Dad previously got so annoyed
with his hormonal outbursts. They were exhausting to be around.
Michelle had said she’d give them a week of couch and floor surfing before
she’d kick them out of her house. Books and reference materials were mailed
overnight, but towards the end of the week they were nearing the end of
material.

Pushing his badgering fears aside, Sam immersed himself in research. Over the
week, there were small victories. Hints that, no, this wasn’t going to be
permanent. Minor clarifications that helped put Sam’s mind at ease. And then
the break they were looking for finally struck.
“Got it!” Michelle exclaimed.
“What?” Sam perked up. “Got what? A cure? A translation?” He asked hopeful.
“Eh,” Michelle teetered her hand back and forth in the air, “A loophole.”
John stood up to assess her findings, “You think we can do this?”
Michelle scoffed and waved her hand in dismissal, “John. Please. It’s a
cakewalk.”
“I’m gonna get my body back?!” Sam stood abruptly and dashed towards them. He
looked over John’s shoulder (his rightful shoulder that, with any luck, he
would be getting back soon) to an old yellowed and worn book. There were weird
scratches on the pages he assumed was writing of some kind. “When?” He looked
to Michelle expectantly.
“Alright, this isn’t an overnight kind of thing, kid.”
Sam’s shoulders dropped in disappointment.
“We need to gather ingredients, some could take a couple weeks with shipping.
And being that this is a lunar spell, you want zero room for failure? We need a
full moon.” She crossed her arms, “Couple weeks tops.”
“The next full moon?” Sam said smiling bright.
Dean, next to him, gave him an encouraging pat on the back, “Not so bad, huh?
John asked, “What ingredients we need?”
Michelle reviewed everything they’d have to acquire for the spell. A few rare
items. Rare but not impossible. Expensive perhaps. A bit of hitting the road to
track some of them down. Maybe a bit of grovelling to Bobby if things got dire.
But it was all do-able. They’d be able to fix this.
Sam hadn’t felt as great in a long time. Relaxing muscles that he was unaware
were tense, he sat down with his head in his hands out of relief. A month. He
could do a month. Hell, a week had already past. Three more weeks. When he
returned to his body, Sam was never going to feel a shred of self consciousness
again.
“How does it work?” Dean asked.
“Right,” Michelle spoke. “Okay so, their souls are fighting the natural state
since they’re being forced into a different vessel,” Michelle explained.
“This spell acts as a kind of reset button. It’s gonna wipe you both back to
factory conditions, forcing you both into your natural bodies. Doesn’t matter
what kind of spell the witch did, we’re cleaning the slate. Good old fashioned
tabula rasa.”
“Tabula rasa?” John furrowed his brow. “What kind of consequences we lookin’ at
here? Can’t be as simple as ‘good as new.’”
Michelle studied the book, “Besides needing an experienced spell caster to
prepare the ingredients, it’s straight forward enough. Easier than doing the
first switch because natural order wants things a certain way.”   
Sam released a deep sigh of relief and fell back into the couch, “This is the
best day of my life.” Dean smiled at him, shaking his head from across the
room. Sam closed his eyes and let the feeling sink in. Three weeks. Weeks until
he could be back in his body. Not months. Not years.
He couldn’t remember his heart ever feeling so light.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
To say that Dean felt relieved was beyond an understatement. With Michelle and
John leaving Kadoka first thing to track down ingredients (triple checking to
make sure to take Sam’s fake IDs), Dean declared to his brother that if there
were ever a time for celebrating, this was it. Sam, not normally excited for
the bar scene, was beaming. Right about now he’d agree to any suggestion of
Dean’s.
There was only one bar in town and it was a short enough walk from Michelle’s
house. Really, any establishment in town was a short walk from her house or any
other house in Kadoka.
Walking shoulder to shoulder with his brother as they approached the bar, Dean
stepped ahead and pushed the dive’s door open inhaling a lung full of the stale
air inside. A few old men scattered to the back, probably regulars, cigarettes
hanging carelessly from their mouths. A couple younger kids about Dean’s age
lounging next to the pool table and playing darts, laughing at some inside
joke. Any other night and Dean would try to hit them up for a game. But Dean
walked straight to the bar and sat down at a tall, worn stool with Sam
following closely behind.
Now that they knew there was a cure, Dean finally felt like he could give Sam a
little hell. He knocked his knuckles on the table addressing the bartender, “A
couple shots for me and my Pops here.” He slapped Sam’s shoulder smiling bright
and showing his teeth. Sam shook his head but couldn’t wipe the smile from his
face. “And a couple beers, whatever’s on tap, and keep ‘em coming. We’re
celebrating!” Dean’s eyes crinkled in the corners, smile never wavering, “Wait-
let’s make it a pitcher.”
The bartender, a large biker looking dude with an assortment of tattoos and
piercings, nodded at Dean as he poured their shots, “Yeah? What’s the
occasion?” He slid the drink to Sam.
“A return to normality,” Sam said picking up his shot.
“Homecoming,” Dean held up his. They clanked and threw them back. Dean laughed
watching his brother shake his head in disgust at the taste. Before the swap
the kid had really only ever had a beer here and there. Up until the switch,
that is. As it was, he’d been putting back quite a few lately.
“Well, congratulations,” the bartender smiled. “You need a refill, let me
know.”
“Damn straight,” Dean smiled and turned towards Sam.
It didn’t take long for Dean to get the familiar hum happily clouding his head.
It was the best he’d felt in the last week, that’s for damn sure. Research was
never his thing but hell if he wasn’t going to help find the solution. It was
the most brainwork he’d done, probably ever now that he thought about it. And
as glad as he was to be getting his brother back, he was nearly equally as
pleased to leave the research behind. He missed picking up the grunt work.
It was the most contented he’d seen Sam look since the switch. Dean was
relieved to see him smiling. But it was damned weird to see such a happy-go-
lucky attitude on his Dad’s face. Dean considered it, how odd it was. Sam’s
demeanor entirely was too modest compared to their father’s. Sam seemed turned
in on himself, nearly shy. Definitely not the marine barking orders he admired
growing up.
Dean snickered quietly, “Dude, you know, I shouldn’t even say it because you’re
an asshole and would totally do it, but now that we know we can get you back,
you could do the worst stuff to blackmail Dad.”
Sam smiled at him catching his drift. He was far more lucid since he was
working with a hell of a lot more tolerance than his brother, “Put on some
makeup? Nice little party dress? Have ourselves a photoshoot?”
Dean closed his eyes and threw his hands over his face, “Oh my god, dude. That
is so wrong.”
“Send in a few submissions to Playgirl? Just call me Mr. October, Dean,” Sam
laughed. “You know how pissed he’d be?” He took a drink and smiled bright, “I
think you might be onto something there.”
“You’d be dead,” Dean opened his eyes, giggling, peeking at his brother.
“Running drills the rest of your short pathetic virginal life.”
“Yeah,” Sam huffed, “Probably not worth it.”
“Nah, ‘sides, we’d just be getting you back in your meat suit and Dad’d go and
skin you alive.” Dean thought warmly about the brother he was missing, “Hell,
it’d put a damper on my day, all that research for nothin’.” Taking a sip he
winked, “And be a shame to fuck up such a pretty body.” Dean’s face burned
warm, he licked his lips feeling good. Finally relaxed. He was going to get his
brother back.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
Sam finally allowed himself to give in to all the hope he had been holding
back. As the night wore on, Dean kept pushing more and more beer his way,
trying to get him drunk. And for once Sam felt like indulging him. Dean’s eyes
lit brightly as they talked and Sam couldn’t bring himself to look away.
Clearly the alcohol was having a greater impact on his brother whose lips were
sieving, things escaping that he normally kept on lockdown. It made Sam’s
stomach burn with warmth. He hadn’t realized how much this was affecting Dean
as well, but now Sam was soaring. Shit, they both were. And whatever drinks
Dean kept sliding his way were finally starting to course through his blood. He
felt the most relaxed in, hell, he couldn’t remember how long.
Sam made a note that he’d have to remember this. He and Dean needed to do this
more often.
He watched through lazy, heavy lidded eyes as his brother’s mouth worked,
smiling in the corners as he talked. Tongue sneaking out, licking his lips
leaving wet traces behind. Sam’s stomach fluttered. He had the sudden
realization that it had been too damn long since they’d hooked up. Two weeks?
Which was a bit of a feat for them. With the stress of the witch’s spell Sam
hadn’t even considered it. Plus, being in a body that was 40-something, there
wasn’t entirely a constant reminder in his pants like he had as a teenager.  
Of course, now that it occurred to him he couldn’t get it out. His brain cycled
through the same thoughts, staring at Dean’s strong arms propped up on the bar.
How he gripped his glass tight, veins popping around flexing muscles that he’d
seen a thousand times while Dean’s hand was wrapped firmly around his dick
jackin’ him off. Sam moaned at the memory. He was getting a Pavlovian complex
about Dean’s arms, only it wasn’t quite his mouth that was salivating. Damn, he
and Dean had somehow worked out a consistent thing between them. He’d be
worried about just when the hell had that happened if it weren’t for the semi
he was sporting in his jeans. And, now that he thought about it, Sam started to
wonder, if maybe Dean had been thinking the same thing? Is that why Dean
gripped his glass so tight, tracing his fingers around the condensation
sweating down? He wondered if Dean missed it like he did. It had been a while
for both of them.
Feeling thoroughly placid, giving in, Sam nudged Dean’s shoulder with his and
gave a meaningful gaze to the back of the bar where the bathrooms were located.
Dean lifted his eyes following Sam’s in confusion. “Huh?” Sam bit his lip, and
widened his eyes meaningfully, nodding again to the bathroom. “What are you-”
Perplexed, Dean shook his head.
Dean inhaled sharply fumbling with his drink as realization struck, “Aww, hell
no!”
“Come on, Dean. It’s been forever, dude,” Sam whined.
“No fucking way, Sam.”
Sam turned away, brow furrowing, frowning. Dean never turned him down, what the
hell?
Dean punched his arm, “Stop pouting, dude. No way in hell. Have you forgot, you
look like Dad, man. Ain’t happenin’.”
Sam scrunched his face, regarding Dean. Smiling, “Oh, yeah!” He laughed loudly,
“I did. I totally forgot. First time in the last week.”
Dean let out a sigh of relief, “Jesus, I thought you were actually serious with
that shit. Give me a fuckin’ heart attack.” Elbows on the bar, he rested his
head in his hands.
Sam sat quietly before nodding in consideration, “Well, I’m kind of serious.”
He smiled a little at Dean, “It is still me in here. If you were offering.”
“Which I am fucking not,” Dean laughed incredulously.
“Aww, come on, Dean,” Sam teased. “You know-” he smirked leaning over, Sam put
a hand high on Dean’s thigh and squeezed, “I like it when you call me Daddy,”
Appalled, Dean slapped his hand away and turned on the barstool to face him
directly. His face was flushed and Sam suspected it was from more than the
alcohol. “This shit isn’t funny, Sam.”
Laughing, Sam replied, “It is from over here.” Sam turned back to his spot and
chuckled into his beer.
When he set it down, Dean answered, “I’m cuttin’ you off if this’s what happens
when you get drunk.”
“Nah, dude. Just messin’ with you,” Sam shook his head. “I’m finally feeling
relaxed and now that it’s on my mind I can’t stop thinking about it, you know?”
“Well, go in the fucking bathroom and jerk off like any self respecting man and
stop hitting on your son.” Dean shook his head, “Better yet,” he turned around
looking at the room. It had filled up considerably since they had arrived.
“Plenty of women around. Take your pick,” he gestured.
Sam turned around. He lifted an eyebrow mulling over the idea but he felt a
little nauseated at the thought. Besides the messing around he did with his
brother, Sam had never done much with anyone else. It sat wrong with him to
lose his virginity in his Dad’s body. Sam turned away, shaking his head. “Yeah,
that’s not gonna happen.”
In confusion Dean asked, “What? What do you mean? Dad’s good looking enough.
And older women are easy, dude. I’ll be your wingman.” He nudged his shoulder,
“Just, you know, probably should double bag it.”
“No,” Sam rolled his eyes, “I mean I don’t want it to happen, Dean.”
“Oh,” Dean nodded, “Right.” He shook his head and asked, “Why is that?”
Sam inhaled deep, stating resolutely, “Because, Dean.” He stood up from the bar
and took his wallet out. Smiling tersely to the bartender, he took out a wad of
cash and dropped it on the top. “I’m gonna head back to Michelle’s.”
“Aw, come on, Sammy. Don’t be mad,” Dean grabbed his arm.
“Don’t call me ‘Sammy’,” he ripped his arm from Dean’s grasp. Sam took a moment
to calm himself, “It’s fine, Dean. I’m just tired.” He smirked, “I’m not as
young as I used to be, right? I just wanna sleep. I’ll meet you back there.” He
rubbed his face, “I’m not waiting up so, have fun. Be quiet when you come in.”
Sam walked away from his brother, leaving Dean shrugging behind.
Opening the door to the fresh cold air, he stepped into the night, feet
crunching on the loose gravel underneath. Sam didn’t let himself think about it
very often but rarely it did cross his mind that what he and his brother were
doing wasn’t, strictly speaking, healthy. But what about his life was? Moving
ten times a year? Researching ancient texts? Hunting goddamn monsters? Dean was
right for stopping anything from going to an even more fucked up place between
them.
Didn’t change the fact that Sam was still horny. And in his Dad’s body. He’d
gotten over the fear of showering and general nudity but he didn’t plan on
jacking off any time soon. Three weeks. Less than three weeks. He could wait
that long. It would be fine. Just needed to employ some deep meditation.
Cheeks burning as he continued walking down the street, he wondered when
exactly did he get so used to this thing with Dean? He really hadn’t been aware
of how much he’d been depending on it. And Sam wasn’t even sure how the whole
damn thing started.
Well, if he were being honest with himself that wasn’t entirely true. As long
as Sam could remember they’d always shared close quarters. Lots of kids did, it
wasn’t a big deal. But for him, it meant while growing up they shared one less
boundary. They would storm in to use the bathroom while someone was in the
shower. Wrapped in towels, they'd shove each other to the side in front of the
mirror, fighting for it’s use. Hell, the sparring they did frequently had them
sweaty and shirtless, grunting and running their hands across each others
bodies. There wasn’t much room or thought to privacy. It just wasn’t a luxury
they had. So when Sam was younger and he started to hear grunting straining
noises from the bathroom and later at night across their shared room, Sam
didn’t see anything wrong.
Thinking about it now, that had potential to be a traumatic experience for a
little kid, the kind people get therapy for, but at the time Sam never thought
anything of it. It was just something that Dean did. Something older kids did.
Sometimes in the bathroom. Sometimes in their shared room at night. But never
in the light of day, not as kids anyway.
Sam figures mostly Dean was probably unaware of how loud and obvious he was.
And it wasn’t that he was loud, per se. If Sam was honest, which apparently
getting drunk made him, maybe Sam was listening extra hard. It wasn’t until Sam
was a little older that he realized most kids weren’t as close as he and Dean.
Sam scratched his head and continued walking. He was definitely too boozed up
to be thinking about it. But, damn it, it was really bothering him. Just when
had he started to rely so much on Dean to get off?
Eventually, when Sam hit that magical age himself, he understood why Dean had
been jerking off all the time. When Sam started, he was more self conscious and
he saved it as something to do only while alone. ‘Course after a while he
became more comfortable with himself and Dean was still going at it at night in
their shared room. Dean couldn’t be completely unaware that Sam could hear him.
And you hear someone getting off right across the room, doesn’t matter who it
is, it gets a kid going.
One night, it was too much to ignore. He heard Dean across their room, puffing
short breaths and biting back moans. Sam’s heart raced so hard the first time
because he knew Dean would find out. But Sam was so hard, and it hurt, and he
just didn’t care. He needed to get off. Fuck Dean for jacking off in their
room. What the hell did he think was going to happen?
The breaking point occurred after wrapping a small hand around himself, Sam
couldn’t help the quiet moan escaping his tightly held lips. Some might call it
a whimper. Dean stopped jerking off so abruptly but it was too late for Sam to
care. He kept going, never slowing a bit. He knew Dean was listening to him in
the dark, across the room. He could hear him breathing unevenly in his own
little twin bed. For reasons which he pushed out of his mind, knowing Dean was
listening to him made Sam harder, dick twitching in his hand. His heart
palpitated, thumping hard under his little chest. It felt like he was on a
hunt, adrenaline pumping right along with his hand. He heard the hitch in
Dean’s breath when he started up again. Biting his lip, Sam couldn’t help but
let out a moan that he was so desperately trying to hold back.
And that was the first time it happened between them.
After that Dean spent more nights out of the house. Or the motel. Or the
trailer. Wherever they were. He came home late when Sam was already asleep.
Dean met up with more girls and used the bathroom more frequently.
Sam was disappointed but only because he was left home alone more often. He was
bored. It hadn’t really occurred to him that Dean was avoiding him because of
what was happening between them. It was normal to Sam. The only thing he’d
really known. He’d heard Dean do it for such a long time and if Dean was doing
it then it must be okay.
Eventually, Dean started staying home again. Occasionally, because he didn’t
have much choice. He either couldn’t find a date or they were stranded
somewhere secluded and Dad took the car.
When Dean and Sam shared a room and Sam wanted to jerk off, he didn’t have the
balls to be the one to start it. All he knew was to wait for Dean’s cue now
becoming increasingly rare.
Sam just used the bathroom to beat off, until that is, he got a little older.
He started to surrender to his more lascivious desires. If it was late, and he
was horny, fuck it, he wasn’t going to get out of bed. He was going to take
care of it right there. Dean subjected Sam to that for years so he can go fuck
himself if he didn’t want to put up with it from Sam.
As Sam jerked off more often, not giving a damn if Dean was in the room, Dean
began to relinquish his demure sensibilities. Sam tried to be quiet and wait
until Dean was asleep but he started to notice more and more when Dean would
wake up and start touching himself, huffing and biting back groans, turned into
the wall across the room. Sam would smirk to himself, considering it a bit of a
victory because it was always better when Dean was awake and participating.
Like 3D porn. Better than anything on scrambled cable or in some nudie mag at
any rate. So they both grew accustomed to the sound of each other getting off.
It wasn’t anything to be embarrassed about. It was purely natural. They didn’t
have much time to themselves anyway, so might as well make the best of it.
But it changed again one night while they were stuck in Iowa sharing a bed.
Until that point they had an unspoken agreement there was a strict No Fucking
Around policy when they shared the same bed. But Dean came home from a party
one night and then that changed too.
John had left them in some little studio apartment while he was god knows
where. Sam had already been asleep, but loud stumbling aside, Sam would have
woken up from the smell of the booze on his brother alone.
Dean he ambled to their bed. Clumsily, he shucked off his jeans and shirt and
crawled in under the blankets. Stretching on his back he mumbled, “Mmm, night
Sammy.”
Sam shook his head, “You should drink some water.”
Dean moved his legs under the covers, “I’m fine.”
Sam shook his head, “Good party?”
“Mmm,” Dean smiled. Sam felt the bed move as Dean flexed, stretching to find
comfort on his back.
Sam turned, mirroring his brother laying on his own back. He blinked, focusing
eyes on Dean in the dark, “Was Melanie there?”
Sam could see Dean’s lips curl in a smile , “Mmm.” He could see the small mound
of Dean’s hands under the blanket, rubbing slow circles on his stomach. “Yeah,
didn’t get to fuck her, though,” he groaned.
Laughing quietly, Sam assured, “Next time, Dean.”
Dean muttered, “She’s wearing this mini skirt, and short shirt. Showin’ her
stomach.” Sam could tell Dean was picturing her behind his closed eyes. He
smiled, “Got her to come with me to the corner of the room, bit more secluded,
right?” Dean kneaded his hands low on his stomach, “She starts grinding all
over me. Fuck, Sam.”
Sam’s eyes widened as he watched with baited breath. Dean’s hands slipped lower
on his body under the covers. And Dean’s knees crept up slowly, bending only
slightly, tensing open to meet Dean’s hands rubbing his thighs.
Heart beating, wide awake from the adrenalin flowing, Sam brought his own hand
to scratch clumsily on his stomach, dick twitching, swelling under the blanket
he shared with his brother. He stammered, “Wha- what happened?”
“Aw, fuck man,” Dean smiled, “I thought I had her for sure. Her tits, Sam.” Sam
couldn’t take his eyes from Dean’s muscles flexing and straining under the
blanket. Dean rolled his hips slightly, enough so that Sam could feel the bed
shake next to him. Sam could make out the silhouette slowly tenting between
Dean’s legs. Sam held his breath watching Dean meeting it, hand bobbing under
the blanket, over his dick . Sam’s face heated and his heart began to race. He
felt the bed tremble next to him as Dean started to pick up his pace. “Pure
heaven, ’m tellin’ you,” Dean released a lewd moan.
Sam bit his lip, struggling not to release one of his own. He closed his eyes
and listened to his brother’s hitched breathing. Felt as the bed dipped, and
moved, and shook, as his brother worked his arm quietly next to him.
He was sure there were reasons not to, but hell if he could come up with one.
Sam’s own hand lowered on himself, fingers pressed and traced his abs before
holding tight to the base of his hard dick. He brought his own knees up,
mirroring his brother next to him. Sam moved his hand up his shaft, holding
tight, applying pressure more than relieving his growing frustration.
“Then what?” Sam whispered, no more than a trace of a stolen breath.
“When I got my hand up her skirt,” Dean whimpered, “I thought for sure I was
in.” He was pumping steadily now, and Sam finally succumbed, palm wrapped tight
on himself. Dean moaned, “She was so fuckin’ warm, Sammy.” Sam listened
intently to Dean’s husky scratchy voice. “Dripping.”
Dean breathed heavy, gasping, bed shaking as he continued to pull underneath
the blanket. His legs fallen open obscenely, unaware of his knees rubbing
against Sam’s leg. Sam was used to the noises his brother made while he was
getting off but never so close. Dean was practically mewling in his ear. And
his scent. The booze Sam could smell was strong but no longer overpowering and
he could make out the scent of Dean’s sweat. Dean arched back and let a final
whimpering moan escape. Sam felt him shudder as it rippled through the
mattress.
And slowly, the movement next to Sam stopped.
Breathlessly, Dean whispered, “Her ex boyfriend came and hauled her off ‘fore I
got a chance.”
Sam hadn’t quite followed whatever the hell Dean was talking about. He panted,
frustrated little groans letting them escape quietly. Sam was still so fucking
hard. He was pulling himself off dry, trying to build the pace. He swore in his
mind, he’d kill for a little lotion right about now.
But then entirely unanticipated, he felt Dean shift next to him and slowly Dean
wrapped his warm, sticky, wet hand around Sam’s cock.
Sam gasped and bit his lip as his dick twitched in his brother’s hand. Fuck.
Dean must be wasted. But, goddamn, he knew what he was doing. Dean moved his
hand in a steady rhythm, twisting, changing pressure.
“Fuck, Dean,” Sam whimpered, thighs collapsing to the bed.
“Shh, it’s okay Sammy.” He felt the bed move as Dean turned to his side and
then, gently, another hand was on him, rubbing at his thighs and moving
underneath his dick. Dean palmed his balls carefully as he continued to stroke.
Sam found himself rolling his hips wantonly, writhing under his brother’s
grasp, trying to make himself more accessible for Dean to do whatever the hell
he wanted. Dean wiped his thumb over Sam’s leaking slit, and brought it down,
further coating his shaft as he moved his hand. Fuck.
Dean had Sam’s precome on his hands. Sam’s dick was covered with Dean’s come
and now it was all mixing. And Dean’s hand was so warm. Hot and holding him
firm. Sam could just about taste blood as he bit his lip trying to hold back
his cries. Eyes squeezed tight, he listened to his own uneasy breath. Hair
soaked from sweat. Throbbing hard under Dean’s hand on him so firm, Sam’s
thighs started to quiver.
“Ah fuck, Dean, I’m gonna-” he panted, muscles fluttering. Sam twisted, arching
his back, falling heavily into the mattress. Eyes held shut tight as he fell
into the dark tide thrumming over his entire body.
Slowing his breath, Sam leaned up slightly, abs flexing tight and unclenching,
as he felt his come drip down Dean’s hand and onto his stomach. Sam whimpered
as Dean slowed and eventually loosened the grip on his softening cock.
Sam finally dared to open his eyes, breathing heavy, “Shit.” He saw Dean’s
hands slowly move from the sanctuary of the blanket, now obscenely coated with
both of their jizz.
Sam hesitated to meet his brother’s eyes. When he was brave enough to look, Sam
felt the bed move before he saw his brother laughing softly. He watched as Dean
wiped his hand on the top of the covers.
“Night, dude,” his brother said as he stretched out languidly, turning away,
returning to his side of the bed.
“Shit,” Sam exhaled again quietly. He lifted his hands, nails raking through
his hair, and breathed deep. Sam listened carefully to Dean’s breathing even
out.
“Night, Dean,” Sam finally said laying back in disbelief, staring into the
darkness of the ceiling.
Since then, Sam had quickly learned to reciprocated. At first  it was something
they didn’t talk about and only did while Dean was drunk. Until one time
Dean wasn’t drunk. And it just became something they did. And for whatever
reason it wasn’t that weird anymore. Not to them.
They shared a silent agreement to avoid as much actual conversation on the
topic as possible, but that’s not to say they didn’t talk about it. Neither one
ignored that it was something they did. It didn’t get in the way of their
lives. Dean still went out. Hooked up with chicks. Sometimes he’d come home
late but it never occurred to Sam to be bothered by it.
Whatever the hell they had between them, Sam never felt a reason to cock block
him. Dean was right. It really was just a ‘helping hand’ between them and the
self proclaimed ‘awesome older brother’ that Dean was, he was always good about
helping Sam out.
However, now that Sam was thought about it, Dean was more and more frequently
staying in. And Sam couldn’t remember the last time he himself tried to ask a
girl out.
He reasoned that, with how frequently they moved, it was hard to have any kind
of meaningful relationship with someone. Not that Sam was looking to fall in
love. But he wasn’t like Dean. He couldn’t have sex with a stranger and leave.
It just wasn’t the kind of connection he wanted.
But Sam wasn’t even sure when he stopped trying.
He signed as he reached Michelle’s front door. Inside he made it as far as
removing his shoes, pants, and coat before falling on one end of the sectional
and promptly passing the hell out.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
With Sam’s retreat from the bar, the novelty of getting trashed lost it’s
allure for Dean. He turned and attempted to case the room. More accurately, he
blinked trying to focus his eyes in the dim light until they could make out
exactly what he was looking at. The old regulars long since gone, well past
their bedtimes, Dean was sure. The younger crowd looked to be in the same
condition as Dean. Cheeks flushed, wobbling around each other, the girls
talking and laughing loudly, guys nodding into their drinks in conversation. 
A petite brunette smiled at him from across the room. He leaned back on his
barstool and nodded to her. It had been a while since he’d hit the bar scene
but this song and dance was one he knew well. He continued to scope out the
other patrons and noticed a few young women looking sufficiently relaxed on
their social lubricant. Dean himself was on this side of nearly too drunk to
function. Nearly. But for now it was nice feeling being wrapped in a warm haze.
His eyes kept drifting back to the brunette. He saw she had left her friends to
hit up the jukebox, no doubt going to play whatever shit passed for music these
days. Dean smirked, pulling himself from his chair. He stalked across the room,
gravitating towards her.
Reaching her shoulder, he leaned in. Clearing his throat to announce himself,
“You know, if you pick something by a Backstreet Boy I’m going to be completely
broken hearted over here.”
She turned around, brown eyes twinkling as she met his, “More of an Nsync fan,
huh?” She teased, smiling and turned back to the machine, “With a pretty face
like yours you don’t have to hide your admiration of boybands. You look like
you’d fit right into one.” Turning back to him, she winked over her shoulder.
“Ouch,” Dean brought his hand to his chest in mock pain, “Words can hurt, you
know.”    
Laughing, she hit a couple buttons on the machine and turned back to Dean. “I’m
Crystal,” she offered, smiling wide.
“Dean,” he returned, listening carefully as a vaguely familiar tune expelled
itself from the weak speakers.
In the cool of the evening when everything is gettin’ kind of groovy
Dean narrowed his eyes and conceded a smile, “You get points for picking a song
made before you were born.”
First you say no, you’ve got some plans for the night, and then you stop and
say, ‘All right.’
She returned his smile, “Wouldn’t want to break your heart now.”
Love is kinda crazy with a spooky little girl like you.
It didn’t take long for Dean to convince Crystal to move their conversation
somewhere more private. Flashing a lazy smile, he walked with her out of the
bar, arm draped casually around her shoulders.
“You live nearby?” He asked.
She smiled and nodded down the road, “Not too far but there’s a park over there
that’s closer.”
Crystal lead him to deserted playground, teeter totters scattered amongst
swings of varying heights. A tilted and broken merry-go-round sat abandoned to
the side. Wooden planked platforms and metal twisted slides comprised the
majority of the park.

She led Dean to the main structure and climbed up unsteady steps. Dean ghosted
his hand over her ass, admiring the view as he followed. Close behind, with his
hand in hers, she navigated them through uneven platforms as they made their
way to the top. Grabbing his arm, she pulled Dean roughly in front of her
forcing him to sit at the small sheltered platform at the top of a slide. 
Dean looked around. Behind him was a metal slide with a metal canopy over top.
Wooden walls on either side littered with explicit descriptions in permanent
marker and several ‘for a good time call’sengraved in the wood with numbers
accompanying them.
Dean laughed, “Your number on there?”
She scoffed sarcastically, “Excuse me?” One platform down from him she stood
eye level between Dean’s legs and pulled at his clothes, bringing him close.
“I, sir, am a lady.”

He sat, meeting her lips with his own. His tongue teasingly licked between.
Dean pulled back, running his hand over her hair, “Just sayin’, I’m havin’ a
good time is all.” Smiling, Crystal licked her lips before quickly bridging the
space between them again.
The chilled air was making his nose cold and Dean was having a difficult time
focusing all his attention on her. As he soothed his tongue into Crystal’s
mouth, tasting the remaining traces of her last drink, his mind clouded over.
The warmth that earlier burned into his cheeks was beginning to fade. He
thought back to earlier in the night when his only concern was making sure
Sammy was having a good time.
Sam had really been serious when he asked Dean to get him off in the bathroom.
Looking like Dad. The fuck was he thinking? Dean shivered.
Crystal moaned into his mouth and brought her hand up to palm between his legs.
Dean smiled into her kiss. It was a stupid fucking time to be thinking about
his dad. Or his brother. Or whoever.
But slowly failing, his mind kept slipping back to Sam. He missed his brother.
His stupid shaggy hair, and the dumb way he slouched his shoulders trying to
hide the gigantor height he was growing into. And his dimples. God, he missed
those damn dimples.
Dad had been commanding Sam’s body around like some cocky high school
quarterback prick. Sammy had the height for it and John had the attitude, but
Dean hadn’t seen him smile in several days. He didn’t realize how much that was
killing him.
A sudden burst of biting air hit his lap as he realized that Crystal had
unzipped his jeans. Dean fought to bring his mind back to her numbing hand
gripping him firmly in his boxers, “Fuck, that’s cold.”
She laughed and nudged Dean to lay back, “I know what will warm you up.”
He obliged, barely even feeling the uncomfortable planks digging into him hard
on his back. Her lips wrapped around his dick and, she was right. Much warmer.
“Fuck,” he moaned, spreading his legs wider to give her more room.
Dean furrowed his brow and tried not to let his mind slip back to Sam. Tried
focusing on the heat bobbing up and down and the cold air hitting giving him
goosebumps. But, goddamn it. Sam, had been right. It had been a while since
they hooked up.
As Crystal licked and sucked and exposed him to the cold, his thoughts betrayed
him drifting to the last time he fucked around with Sam. They’d been outside
too. Well, nearly.
With Dad home and not yet passed out, Dean had signaled Sam to go for a walk.
Parading through the dark, they found themselves seeking shelter in someone’s
backyard shed. Sam had to pick the lock to break in and Dean had been throbbing
in his jeans waiting for the padlock to click open.
He grabbed Sam’s shoulder and shoved him in roughly, looking over his own to
make sure they hadn’t been spotted. Dean sidestepped a lawnmower following his
brother to the back wall. They fumbled desperately with their belts and
unzipped their jeans. Both pushed their pants down to their thighs, exposing as
little of themselves as they dared. Their cocks jutted out, hard, leaking, and
pleading for attention.
Dean pushed Sam back, shoulders bouncing off the shed wall. Cock bobbing
obscenely, waiting impatiently for Dean’s hand. Dean, averting his eyes, stood
next to Sam, warm pressure bled through their shoulders touching side-by-side,
backs both leaning scratching against the thin plywood wall. They each
skillfully reached an arm across to the other. Sam was getting pretty good with
his left hand, Dean had to admit.
Dean let out a hiss as Sam’s hand, fucking freezing, wrapped around his dick.
“Shit, dude,” Dean groaned twisting back, reflexively tightening his grip on
his brother’s cock.
“Wh-whimp,” Sam laughed breathlessly.
But to Dean’s disapproval, Sam took his hand away from his brother’s dick. Dean
whimpered at the loss and opened his eyes in time to see Sam spitting into his
hand. He returned it to his cock, warmth and wetness slicking over him, and
Dean hummed appreciatively.
Sam closed his eyes, “That better, you big baby?”
Dean arched his back as Sam picked up his pace. “Sammy,” he moaned, “You know I
don’t do, ah- fuck, you know I don’t do pet names.”
“Don’t lie,” Sam rasped breathing unevenly.  Murmuring he added, “You love it
when I call you ‘Fart-Knocker’.”
Sneering, Dean removed his hand from Sam’s cock. He heard his brother whine
mournfully at the absence of his grip. Dean spat on his hand and returned it
quickly, “Just- shut the fuck up, dude.”
Both increased the speed of their pistoning arms and panted heavily in the
shed, which was warming considerably. Dean appreciated the fact that anyone
walking by would, without a doubt, know why the hell it was a-rockin’.
Shaking his head, Dean blinked open his eyes to Crystal now kneeling in front
of him, dark hair bobbing around his cock. The wrong kind of dark hair. Too
long. Fuck. He couldn’t stop thinking about Sam, but christ, who the fuck cares
right now. It was fine. Weird shit crosses your mind all the time when you’re
trying to get off. And with how worried he’d been lately, makes sense he’d be
thinking about his brother.
The warm and happy numbness he felt at the bar was starting to fade. He just
wanted to finish and get home. Make sure Sam was okay. Find himself a nice bed.
Or floor. Anywhere warmer where he could pass out.
Dean urged his dick to just hurry the fuck up already. His mind rolled through
the spank bank archive, trying to imagine anything his brain could focus on for
more than two seconds. Pamela Anderson’s tits bouncing, her tiny waist, her
lips wrapping around Tommy Lee. Dean moaned thinking she looked so goddamn hot
wrapped around that huge dick.
But his mind continued to betray him. The tilt of his brother’s eyes flashed
from behind Tommy Lee’s hair and soon that familiar dimpled face smiled in
front of him. The whispering, hoarse sounds of Sam breathing, hitching, moaning
into the night. Jesus, the way he gasped and how he’d try so hard not to cry
out, not to let Dean know just how much he fucking loved it.
Dean missed it. Fuck. He missed it.
Jesus christ, it wasn’t right. With Crystal sucking and mewling around his
dick. And, fuck it, now Dean’s mind could easily substitute her with Sam
instead. His brother. His shaggy hair a curtain for dark fox eyes to peek out.
Moaning around his dick.
Dean started to rock his hips, imagining how rough Sam’s voice would sound
after Dean fucked his throat raw. A hoarse and rasping reminder of how easy
he’d let Dean hammer his cock into him. And Sam would swallow around him and
take it and take it all and then want more.
Recognizing the warm low build, Dean placed a hand on Crystal’s hair, “Mmm
gonna-”
She hummed around his cock, continuing to pump with her hand as she sucked and
licked pressure under his tip. Dean shut his eyes tighter and opened his legs
wider as he wrenched underneath her, pumping thick ropes of come into her
mouth. She slowed her hands and swept her tongue gently cleaning his dick.
“Fuck,” Dean’s pained lament broke the silence. Hands shaking, eyes shut tight,
he trembled out through the haze of his orgasm. Disgusted, his shaking was not
from getting off. He brought his hands up to grasp his hair. Shit.  
Crystal giggled, tucking him back into his pants, “Mmm, that was fun.”
Racing heart pounding under his chest, Dean felt repulsed with himself. He felt
sick. It was his brother.
“You okay?” Crystal asked. “You look kind of-”
Dean sat quickly, “Yeah. I’m not- I’m gonna-” He pushed her out of the way and
jumped instantly to the ground below. He ignored the jarring pain that shot up
his ankle from landing wrong. Dean leaned over, supporting himself hands on his
knees, and lurched as he emptied his stomach of the evening’s libations. A
cynical offing to whichever deity thought it was funny to watch him get off to
thoughts of his baby brother.
Shit. He was nauseous. If he could just blackout, right the fuck now, and
forget this night ever happened he’d- he’d start believing in god. Church every
Sunday, hit the confessional, the whole nine. Just please, don’t remember this
night.
Fuck all if he remembered the weak excuse he gave to Crystal. Thanks for
sucking me off while I thought about skull fucking my brother. Let’s do it
again sometime. Dean scoffed, feeling a deep revulsion to his core. Whatever he
said, she seemed to understand he had to go home. And hell, right now he
couldn’t give a shit that he didn’t get her off.
He stumbled through the desolate streets trying not to think of a goddamn thing
as he made his way back. He focused on the stinging of the cold. Shivering
straight to his bones, thinking he deserved all the frigid air the night had to
offer.
When he reached Michelle’s he opened the door, a bit rougher than he’d
intended. He looked to the left to see his Dad- no, shit, it was hard to
remember right now. It was his brother, asleep on the couch. Which just made
the whole damn thing worse somehow, though part of him was relieved he wouldn’t
set eyes on Sam’s body for a few days.
Dean’s stomach flipped again and he quickly made his way to the bathroom. He
stood over the running tap and splashed cool water on his face. Rinsing his
mouth, spitting, he bit back hard at the warm wetness welling behind his eyes,
threatening to make an escape.
Dean took a deep breath and tried to calm his trembling arms.
This was fine. This only happened because of how fucked up things were right
now. Sam would get his body back and everything would go back to normal.
Theywould go back to normal. Normal for them anyway. Dean was torturing himself
over some stupid fleeting fantasy that didn’t mean a thing.
Everything would be okay.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
Over the weekend Sam started to feel better if not a bit bored. He was
surprised when his brother chose to stay in the next night. At first Sam
thought Dean had just been hungover and tired but his quiet demeanor lasted
through the weekend. Sam ignored him mostly, it was probably still weird for
Dean to be around him while he was in John’s body. If anyone understood he’d
need time to acclimate to their new situation, it was Sam. 
Dad and Michelle were still in the wind which made Sam feel relieved. Besides
the beard steadily growing on his face, and the expanded belt holding up his
jeans, when John wasn’t around he could almost pretend everything was normal.
That is, until he spoke. Sam found himself to be increasingly quiet as the
hours passed. And Dean joined him.
Sunday his brother decided to spend his time outside of the house, keeping up
Michelle’s yard and driving around town. Sam took to organizing Michelle’s
books and artifact collection the best he could.  When she departed to track
down ingredients John and Michelle had left her house in complete disarray.
Every book she owned strewn across her floor, propped on her couch, draped over
tables and counters. Sam figured organizing a bit was the least he could do to
thank her for her help.
Sunday night Sam found himself lounging a bit uselessly on the couch. This body
wore out so much faster than he was used to. The desire struck at odd times to
take a nap. He mostly flipped lazily through channels on the TV trying to find
something mind numbing.
Give it up for Timmy and the Lords of the Underworld!
Sam stopped. South Park, nice. He’d heard kids at school talking about the new
season but it had been a while since he’d been able to watch. Never having
consistent access to cable made it more difficult to fit in at school
sometimes.
Timmah! And the Lords of the Underworld
Sam stretched out languidly blanking his mind with the music, watching the
show. Dean was still out. It was getting late but he wasn’t worried. Not many
places for Dean to go on a Sunday night. Unless he was out for a hook up. Even
then he hadn’t been staying out all night.
As if on cue, Sam heard the door clank open. Dean walked in, shrugging off his
coat. He walked straight down the hall into the bathroom, not saying a word.
Now that Sam was thinking about it, Dean hadn’t really said much to him today.
Dean hadn’t had a problem talking to him for nearly the last two weeks but just
recently it was like he was avoiding him.
Sam heard the water in the bathroom stop running. He tried to watch covertly as
his brother came out and walked straight to the fridge, taking out a couple
beers.
You’re inside of me. Deep inside of me
“What the hell?”
Sam chuckled as he heard his brother call from the kitchen.

So deep inside, I can feel you pushing against my heart
Dean walked hard, stomping into the living room, “What the hell are you
watching, dude?”
Sam smirked, “South Park. New season started few weeks ago.”
“Oh,” he held out a beer for Sam and kicked at his legs forcing him to move
over. “Nice.” Sam watched Dean’s face closely as he slid over making room for
his brother. Dean lifted his eyebrows, “What the hell is that?”
Sam tabbed open his beer and turned back to the TV. “Christina Aguilera
monster,” he smiled dully.
Dean nodded his head, “Accurate depiction.” He took a long drink.
Sam tried to pay attention to the show but he kept thinking about how Dean had
been acting lately. It was nagging at him how distant he was. Especially since
they knew there was a cure.
Darkness fills my heart with pain
Timmah!
And when girls start to sleep with girls the auspices will rise again
Chuckling, Sam pointed lazy to the screen, “Think they have that on tape so you
could pop it into the Impala every once and a while?”
Dean shook his head, “Sounds better than most of crap you try to listen to.”
Sam smirked, “You gotta admit, it kinda sounds like your taste, though. Nice
and hair metally.”
“I like heavy metal, dude, get your shit straight,” Dean smiled at him.
“Nah, I know what you listen to when I’m asleep. Full out glam metal. I’m
talking hair out to here, full face of makeup, glitter, the works. Pants so
tight you can tell what religion they are. Dean, if you have something to tell
us, you know Dad and I love you no matter what, right?” Sam teased smiling at
Dean, “Short step away from Elton John, is all I’m sayin’.”
Dean brought his beer to his mouth awkwardly. He scratched at dried glue on the
can before deflecting, “Guns and Roses is legit.”
“Uh huh.”
Dean smiled tight, “Wait ‘til you hear Chinese Democracy. They’re makin’ a
comeback, man, I’m tellin’ you.”
Sam relaxed back into the couch with Dean quietly drinking next to him. As they
finished the episode they half listened to commercials blabbering in the
background.
“Damn. What’s today?”
“Uh,” Dean thought, “Sunday?”
“No, I mean the date.”
“Oh, 30th?” Dean scratched his head. “Oh, shit.”
“Yeah,” Sam sat up awkwardly.
“Oh, man, I’m sorry. I forgot all about it, Sam, what with everything going
on.”
“Don’t worry about it. Completely slipped my mind too.” Sam rubbed his legs
thinking, “I mean, I know we don’t do much anyway but, do I even celebrate? Not
like it’s Dad’s body is turning 17.” He shook his head huffing a laugh, “Huh.
It’s a weird concept. Like, is it who I am as a person that is turning 17? Or
is it how long my body has been on the planet?”
“That’s some deep shit, Sam.” Dean slapped his leg reassuringly, “Dude, we’ll
celebrate after you switch back. Sucks you’re not gonna be in your body for
your 17th birthday, though.”
Sam shook his head, “Best birthday present I could ever get will be getting out
of this damn body.”
Dean nodded in silent agreement.
Chapter End Notes
     The song Crystal plays is Spooky by Classics IV (1967/1979)
     While with Crystal, Dean is referring to the Pamela Anderson and
     Tommy Lee sex tape (1995)
     "Fart-Knocker" is a reference from MTV's Beavis and Butthead (1993-
     1997)
     South Park season 04, episode 04 - Timmy 2000 - First aired 19 April
     2000
     Guns and Roses - Chinese Democracy - If you don't know about Chinese
     Democracy you should check it out because it was hilarious if you're
     old like me. It was first announced as a "come back" album in 1999
     but due to many many many set backs it wasn't released until November
     2008. Throughout that time it was referenced frequently as a joke
     kind of as a "when pigs fly" or similar to how Sherlock fans talked
     about season 3 before it came out.
***** Chapter 6 *****
As the week rolled past, Dean found a small pile of packages addressed to him
littered in front of the front door. Confused at first, he brought them in and
placed them on the table.
He opened the first to discover a small square box that seemed to have a jar of
sandalwood mixed with some fluid.
Sam walked over, “What’s this?”
“Happy belated, Sammy,” Dean handed him the jar.
“These ingredients for the spell?”
“Looks like.”
“Have you heard from Dad?”
“Not since they left. They still have time though. I found a note in one that
said to open all the ones addressed to me.”
“Two weeks,” Sam said nervously.
Dean opened the rest of the boxes and arranged everything safely on the table.
Some of it he recognized and others he didn’t. Not hearing a word from John,
Dean was beginning to feel like this was the longest month of his life.
On more than one occasion Dean’s mind traitorously found it’s way back to the
night in the park with Crystal. He hadn’t been lucky enough to forget, but not
having Sam’s body as a constant reminder made it easier. Dean’s stomach flipped
thinking about Sam’s lips, wrapped so tight around him. He still thought about
it. He couldn’t stop. It was like when someone tells you not to look. You have
to look. You have to. But it was fine. This was just his brain’s way of working
through some weird shit. He just missed Sam. His properly meatsuited Sam.
With obscene visions of his brother making cameo appearances in him mind, Dean
felt increasingly awkward around Sam. A feeling he hoped would fade as the week
progressed but it only seemed to get worse as his daydreaming persisted. Not
that it was so much a daydream as it was nightmare. He could tell when Sam
started to notice he was acting weird, shooting him questioning glances. Dean
ignored him. If he didn’t think about it, it wasn’t a problem. And, it wasn’t a
problem.
It wasn’t like he was going to act on it or anything. Jesus, they were freaks
enough as it was. But of course he couldn’t help but think about getting his
hands on Sam’s dick again the first chance he got. Sam in his own body. It had
been so damn long.
The thought made his heart race but he knew this was the line. The one he
wasn’t going to cross. As much as he was thinking about it, which was a hell of
a lot, Dean was resolved the put an end to whatever was going on between them.
At least until they went back to normal. Until Dean could laugh in disgust at
the idea of wanting to fuck his brother.
He came to the conclusion after a particularly vivid fantasy of slamming Sam
against the wall and shoving his tongue down his throat. It wasn’t right.
He knew it wasn’t. He didn’t know what the hell he’d been thinking letting
anything happen between them at all.
It had just progressed so naturally. Jacking off in the same room, hell, he’d
done that with some of his friends over the years. Normal, hormonal shit. He
didn’t think much of it when Sam started doing it in the same room, but yeah
okay at first it was kind of upsetting, then later it might have actually made
it hotter. Definitely better than going completely solo. But Dean still went
out and tried to get laid. Which had been a more challenging feat as a teenager
but nothing he couldn’t handle.
But fuck. Now that he thought about it, Dean couldn’t remember the last time he
saw Sam try to score. Dean used to tease him about some of his little crushes
but it had been a long time since Sam had tried to bring anyone around. He knew
the kid was shy but what if this thing between them was fucking Sam up?
It was fucking Dean up.
The only conclusion Dean reached was that it was time they put an end to it. It
wasn’t normal. Not at their age. Hell, not ever. Dean should have known better
from day one. So that was it. The last time in the shed was going to be the
last time period.
Dean felt relieved with the intention of his new plan. The thought of his Dad
coming back, walking through the doors, hearing that voice, Dean was extremely
apprehensive about how he’d respond seeing him. But he was gaining courage
about confronting Sam’s body again.
And just how much more fucked up could this situation be? It couldn’t just be
graphic sexual desires about his brother, christ. No, on top of it was his dad
thrown in. Was it seeing Sam’s body, arrogant and cocksure piloted by his
father, was that what triggered it these fucked up thoughts? Did Dean have some
warped fucked up patriarchal Oedipus complex going on? Jesus. He ran a cold
sweat even thinking about wanting to fuck his Dad.
No.
Dean decided that was absolutely not what was going on.
Both Sam and Dean had been waiting patiently for word from their father but
predictably they heard nothing as the week wore on. It wasn’t until the middle
of the following week they heard the pounding on the steps outside, John
lugging a cloth duffel bag and Michelle trailing behind with her own.
Sam heard them first. He called to Dean, who was in the bathroom, announcing
their arrival and ran to hold the door, “Did you guys get all the ingredients?”
“Nice to see you too. We’re fine, thanks,” Michelle smirked at him.
“Sorry,” Sam apologized.
Dean froze. He couldn’t bring his hand to open the bathroom door and see Sam’s
body. He heard his brother talk with Michelle.
“I hope everything went okay.”
“Yeah, yeah, kid,” Michelle laughed. “We got it all. Assuming the packages
arrived, that is.”
“Yeah, they’ve been coming in the past week.”
Dean recognized heavier steps before hearing, “Sam, unpack this bag. Make sure
nothing’s broke.” Exhaling slowly at his brother’s actual voice, Dean tried to
will himself to move.
“Yes, sir,” Sam replied.
“Where’s your brother?” John asked.
“Um, I don’t- DEAN!” Sam yelled across the house, “Dad’s back!”
John shook his head, “I could have done that myself.”
Dean inhaled and gripped the handle tight, opening it to see his father at the
table in the kitchen. He was surprised to see that, as much as John complained
to Sam about it, John hadn’t cut his hair short. He had the same messy fringe
falling into his eyes, obscuring his view as he opened boxes and sorted
ingredients. Sam’s hair was something Dean had been unaware he’d been worrying
about until he saw it swishing around in front of him.
Approaching slowly, Dean smiled, “Hi, Dad.”
John looked up and nodded, “Dean.”
“Good trip?”
John grunted, “Well, we have everything so it went about as well as we could
hope for.”
“You should have seen him at Singer’s,” Michelle chuckled.
“You went to Bobby’s?” Sam asked, eyebrows raised.
John huffed, “He was happy to see Sam.”
Michelle smiled, “Didn’t take long to figure out somethin’s wrong, though.
Sharp one, that old man.” Michelle laughed pulling a beer, recently replenished
by Dean, out of the fridge. “He wanted to raise his shotgun at him when he
figured it out but thought better of it since he’d only be hurtin’ Sam in the
long run.”
John pursed his lips annoyed, “He helped us in the end, didn’t he?”
Michelle opened her beer. Smiling, she took a drink. “After a bit of
groveling,” she winked at Dean.
Dean stole a glance at Sam who was attempting to hold back a smirk but failing
miserably.
John scratched his brow. “Right. Anyway, we’re not done yet. We have all the
ingredients but some of it needs to be set up ahead of time.”
“Works better if it marinates a bit,” Michelle added.
They worked efficiently sorting all the ingredients and setting up what could
be done. Dean carefully avoided getting too close to John. Not quite trusting
himself.
Dean had to stop a few times to take a deep breath, but overall he was feeling
okay. As okay as a guy in his situation could feel.
He was getting Sam back.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
When Sam heard his father’s footsteps outside of Michelle’s house it was as if
the heavens parted and choirs of angels rejoiced singing down upon him. He only
had a week to go which, he was surprised to find, passed by quickly.
Since they only had a week left to wait, Michelle allowed them to stay at her
house for the remainder of the time. That was in exchange for some manual labor
repairing equipment, bit of painting, and some gardening. But Sam didn’t give a
damn. It was the least he could do.
Dean was working hard along with him but he was still acting weird. Sam tried
to joke with him but he wouldn’t play along. He was like an abused puppy
waiting quietly off to the side stealing sad looks. But whatever. Sam couldn’t
bring himself to give much of a damn about that either.
Sam found himself itching, skin crawling with excitement, the day of the full
moon. Hours now, and he’d have his body back.
They had outlined the plan and he ran it over in his mind what felt like a
thousand times. Being that he and John wanted zero chance to screw up the
spell, they decided to drive out to the most remote, deserted part of the
badlands they could find. Alone. Dean, Michelle, and in theory, any other
humans far behind.
He expected an objection from his brother but Dean just silently nodded,
agreeing. With the spell they were using it shouldn’t matter if they were doing
it in the middle of Mardi Gras. If you had the right instructions and the
ingredients were made properly, it was virtually foolproof. Of course, being
the Winchesters they never got off easy, so for this they would leave nothing
to chance.
Getting his body back alone was plenty to be looking forward to but, goddamn
it, he hadn’t been able to jerk off in a month and it was making him crazy.
John’s body was able to cope with it better than he suspected his own would but
mentally Sam was forced to practice extreme amounts of meditation. It was a
harsh realization to be confronted with just how much he thought about sex when
he knew wasn’t going to do anything about it.
A few times he almost gave in. Just thought, fuck it, and maybe take another
shower in the dark. But anytime his current dick started to get remotely
interested in the idea, his brain woke up and it disturbed the hell out of him.
He couldn’t get past the idea that he’d be jacking off his Dad. Even though
Dean had been teasing him, any kind of fucking around adding Dad to the
equation made him dry heave. And the idea that all that was left of their
little family, Dean, Dad and Sam, and Sam would know all their O-Faces? No.
Hell, no.
What he had with Dean was fucked up enough. Didn’t need to add the cherry on
top.  
But, when he got his body back? Christ. He was going to need a full day of
tantric ‘Sam’ time. And maybe a bit of convincing Dean to help out too.
He cracked a dark grin thinking about getting off with Dean. This little
sabbatical, from their already unpredictable life, forced him to really think
about their situation. At first he was a little freaked out at how much he
missed Dean. And how many times he caught himself trying to give Dean a coded
nod, ‘What do you think, you wanna?’ But the more he thought it over the better
he felt about it. Yes. At face value it was screwed up. But anyone that took a
serious look at their lives would realize that their whole damn lives were
screwed up. This was the least of it. And really it was just a means to an end.
It’s not like it had progressed any further. Well, not much further. Sure, they
started out going solo and now seemed to have graduated to third base, but
it wasn’t going any farther than that. Sam should be wanting to do these things
with girls his age. Not his brother.
But Dean was just… easier.
Sam was a keen tracker, excellent marksman, and he could cross reference
ancient Sumerian texts with the best of them. Sam was a freak. His life was
screwed up in nearly every conceivable way, so what’s the problem with adding
one more to the list?
When it was time for Sam and John to drive out alone into the dark and
desolation of the badlands, Sam saluted his brother, “See ya, jerk.”
Dean smiled sadly and replied, “Only you would prefer lookin’ like a bitch.”
Sam shook his head as he climbed into John’s truck with a huge fucking smile on
his face. He was getting his body back.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
 
Dean started pacing the moment his brother and John left Michelle’s. The
flipping in his stomach had nothing to do with fear of the spell not working
correctly and everything to do with what was going to happen if it did. Sam was
going to be back. His Sam. Dean had been preparing for this night so he was
well stocked in an assortment of alcohol he kept stashed in the Impala. He
dumped out one of the holy water flasks and filled it with vodka. That
was his holy water this evening, blessing his cursed existence.
He set off walking throughout the town, no destination in mind. Most of the
roads in Kadoka had a sprinkling of gravel over them and with no curb they ran
unevenly into the yards of it’s inhabitants. At least the roads he seemed to
find himself on. It’s possible he was in the ‘bad’ part of town. Probably only
four houses down from the ‘good’ part of town. At this hour, all the houses
were dark. The street lamps littered randomly down the streets gave the night a
soft orange glow.
What he wouldn’t give for a little salt-and-burn right about now. Something’s
ass to kick. A way to burn off some energy. A way to keep his mind occupied.
He continued to wander down the road before stumbling onto a familiar street.
Squinting his eyes, Dean saw the recognizable silhouette of a slide. He laughed
darkly to himself and continued to walk towards it.
Finding himself in the park where he first had the epiphany that he wanted to
fuck his brother was feeling like the perfect end to this whole godforsaken
ordeal. When he’d leave the park that night he was going to leave all of this
shit behind with it. 

No more elaborate fantasies of backing his baby brother into a corner biting
into his lips and down his throat, scratching red marks onto his chest with
blunt fingernails. No hurried thoughts of wrapping both hands around Sam’s dick
and jerking him off until he made those soft gasping sounds Dean was so
familiar with. And this was the end of daydreaming about how Sam looked with
Dean reducing him to whimpering writhing mess.
Dean dropped his head into his hands and focused on steadying his breath. His
throat burned, why the fuck was he this screwed up? When did this happen to
him? His stomach clenched and he ignored the sting behind his eyes, not really
giving a damn when he felt it finally break through. The wetness cooled quickly
down his cheek. Just another thing he swore to leave behind in this shithole of
a town.
Finally manning the fuck up, Dean gave one last scowl to the park and drifted
his way back towards Michelle’s. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been gone but the
moon looked bright enough and his face was burning cold enough, alcohol not
doing it’s job at keeping him warm.
His heart jumped at the sight of John’s truck parked out front.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
Sam felt like he was flying. He and John cruised past the quiet, darkened
houses of Kadoka and Sam couldn’t stop pulling down the mirror to assure
himself, yes, he was back.
His blood sang underneath his skin and he felt aware of everything coursing
through him. The adrenaline that was making his heart pound violently under his
chest made it difficult for him to wipe the smile off his face. Little things
kept reminding him that he was back. His knees and back no longer ached which
he had a new appreciation for. And, Jesus, no more fucking beard.
Even John couldn’t help but let out a small smile.
The spell exceeded Sam’s expectations. Another blinding flash in barren
wilderness and his next awareness was looking out to his father. At his
father’s body.
Relief lifted from Sam in droves. His future wasn’t shot to hell. He’d be a
senior next fall. Maybe he’d even eventually get away from all the bullshit of
hunting and he’d never have to worry about the insanity of the paranormal ever
again. Right now he didn’t have a care in the world, which was a very welcomed
change.
Nearly before John had even parked the truck, Sam hopped out and made his way
inside Michelle’s. “Dean!” he called, slamming the door open.
Michelle sat at the table in the kitchen. “Sam?”
Sam flashed a smile, “Yeah. We’re back. It worked!” He walked toward her and
gave her a quick hug, “Thank you. For everything.”
She gave him a pat him on the shoulder, “Sure thing, kid. Glad I could help.
Help you anyway. Your dad owes me a big one.”
Sam smiled, “Dean around?”
“He took off a bit after you left. Probably hasn’t gone too far.”
Nodding Sam said, “Right. Okay. Well, I’m gonna try to find him.”
Side-stepping his Dad, Sam bounded out the door. He jumped his way down the
front stairs and looked out into the dark night. Peering around, squinting, he
spotted his brother slowly stumbling his way towards him.
Energy flowing through him, Sam ran over to Dean, “Hey man! We just got back.”
Dean rubbed his mouth and eyed Sam over uncertainly, “Sam?”
Face nearly hurting, Sam smiled wide, “Yeah, man. It worked!”
“That’s great, Sam,” Dean nodded awkwardly and looked down the street.
Sam felt wired. He ran his fingers through his familiar long hair, “Dude, you
don’t know how amazing this feels.”
Smiling back Dean said quietly, “Yeah, it’s good to have you back.”
Sam laughed quietly. He took a moment and eyed over his brother, “You okay,
man? You seem a little-”
Pulling out his flask and shaking it, Dean interrupted, “Started celebrating a
bit early.”
“Ah, yes!” Grabbing it from him, Sam unscrewed the cap, “What is it?” Shaking
the now very empty flask, Sam smiled, “What was it?”
“Vodka,” Dean smiled sheepishly.
Sam smirked, “Got any more?”
Dean shook his head in disapproval but conceded, “Yeah, come on.”
After they were fully restocked from Dean’s hidden stash from in the Impala,
they leaned back against the car and exchanged a few drinks. Sam smiled
flashing his dimples, “I’m so freakin’ pumped. I’m not going to be able to
sleep tonight.” He looked back at Michelle’s house, soft orange light glowing
through the curtained window.
“You should try. I’m sure Dad’ll want to leave early tomorrow,” Dean scratched
at the bottle in his hands.
“Get this,” Sam smirked, “We’re going to Bobby’s tomorrow.”
Dean cracked a smile, “That what Dad told you?”
Laughing Sam replied, “Yeah. Part of the groveling he did, made a deal with
Bobby to help him on a hunt with Pastor Jim in Minnesota after we were back to
normal.”
Dean took a drink and nodded. Sam joined him stealing the bottle, splitting
swigs between them.
It didn’t take long for Sam’s attention to get drawn more properly to his
brother. It hadn’t slipped his mind that it had been a while since he and Dean
last stole away to that shed. He was determined to change that. Snatching the
vodka and throwing back a drink, Sam nudged Dean’s shoulder pointedly.
Dean inhaled sharply and moved away, subtly trying to give Sam more room.
Sam, not noticing his brother’s retreat, turned his head and studied his
profile. He inhaled softly, “So, I was thinking-”
“Hey man, I think I’m gonna crash,” Dean pushed himself off the car. “Started
celebrating a bit too early. So I think I’m gonna head in.” Dean kept his eyes
focused on the bottle he was picking at in front of him.
“Dean,” Sam whined. “Come on, man. I just got back.”
Scoffing he replied, “You didn’t go anywhere, dude.”
“You know what I mean.”
Scratching his nose, Dean turned avoiding his brother’s eyes, “Yeah, well. I’m
beat, man.”
But he didn’t make his retreat. Sam forced him to meet his eyes, searching
Dean’s glazed over and anxious ones. He watched Dean bite his lip.
“Dean,” Sam breathed softly, moving closer.
Dean turned his eyes away, back down to the bottle. “Sam,” he pleaded, “I’ve
just, had a lot to drink, you know?”
Sam scoffed, “Since when has that ever stopped you?”
Dean shook his head taking a deep breath, “You want me to hurl on you, that
what you’re saying?” He playfully punched Sam in the arm.
“Gross, jerk,” Sam laughed. “Yeah, man. Whatever,” he groaned. “Fine. Get
inside then, you lightweight.”
Dean smiled walking backwards, “Thems fightin’ words, Sammy.” Sam watched him
move slowly before turning in towards the house. Dean stopped right before
opening the door and called out to him, “You comin’?”

Sam took a moment to look up at the moon, the damn lunar cycle that threw them
into the whole mess. He turned back to Dean, “Yeah. I’ll be right in.”
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
By the time they said their goodbyes, Sam professing his unconditional lifetime
of gratitude, they left Michelle’s with the sun peeking over the horizon. Dean
felt confident that he had only gotten an hour of sleep, hour and a half tops.
Yawning and wiping a hand over his face, he sat behind the wheel of the Impala
with Sam snoring quietly by his side. He followed John, cruising east on I-90
heading into the sun.  
Doing his damnedest to keep his mind occupied on anything other than the kid
sleeping next to him, Dean started running through imaginary fight tactics in
his head. But the theoretical punches he threw did little to ease his mind. Any
time his mind drifted to seeing his brother’s dimples smiling at him, or
whenever he gave into the overwhelming urge to look over at Sam sleeping
comfortably, Dean quickly redirected, shielding defenses in his mind. Driving
to Bobby’s would have been peaceful if it weren’t for the piercing guilt
nagging at his conscience every other mile marker.
The instant Dean saw Sam the night before he had known the spell had worked.
Only Sam’s eyes could light up the way they did when they met Dean’s. It made
his heart race and he had to turn away in cowardice. He hadn’t realized how
much he’d missed those dimples beaming just for him. Any hope Dean had to
resolve his newly discovered feelings was quickly extinguished, replaced with a
nervous fluttering feeling in his stomach.
And it didn’t help that nearly the first thing Sam suggested when he saw Dean
was to jerk off. And fuck, did Dean want to give in. He also wanted his lips to
collide against the column of Sam’s neck and to drag his teeth over his skin,
biting and marking him. Dean’s stomach flipped at fleeting images of throwing
Sam into the back seat of the car, stripping him as Dean crawled in behind. It
was repulsive, the things he wanted to do to his brother. He was disgusting.
Hell if he knows how but he’d somehow been able to leave Sam and his own
betraying thoughts behind in the night.

Dean’s eyes burned hot. He swallowed, unevenly tightening his grip on the wheel
trying to retain his composure as he stared down the asphalt in front of him.
His skin crawled the entire way to Bobby’s. Give him a hunt. He needed this
hunt. Anything to take his mind off of his brother.
Sam woke twenty miles outside of Sioux Falls. Dean could feel the happiness
radiating off of him only making Dean feel more miserable by comparison. His
brother attempted to make small talk, chattering about the migration of
Midwestern accents or something, Dean wasn’t really sure. He was not in the
mood to indulge him. Instead he skimmed disinterestedly out the window. Signs
warning, Stop! Turn around! Wall, SD is the other way! Flat brown land. The
occasional dead tree. Broken down barns. Sam eventually stopped trying to
engage him when he realized Dean didn’t give a shit.
The last  miles crept by as they finally reached their destination, passing
under the familiar rusted sign displaying Singer Auto Salvage. Dean pulled up
behind John’s truck and practically threw his body from the car. He’d been
close to Sam for too long.
Bobby drifted outside meeting them. He eyed Sam suspiciously then turned to
John, “I can already tell it worked. Sam, you just don’t have the same scowl
you used to.”
“Wait until Dad tells us about the hunt. It’ll be back,” Dean sniped.  
“Bobby,” Sam greeted with a big smile, “Thank you so much for everything you
did to help.”
John grunted and interrupted, “You get a hold of Jim?”
Bobby scratched under his cap, “Right down to business? Come on then,” he
turned and motioned for them to follow inside.
They filtered into his living room. Dean found a spot on his couch and Sam
followed next to him.
“Must be big for a group hunt. What’d you think it is?” Dean asked.
Bobby, leaning against his desk, said, “Well, Jim caught wind of of a while
back. Started slow but the usual suspicious deaths over southeast Minnesota. A
lot of kids hospitalized but no apparent causes.”
“So, you get a hold of him then?” John asked crossing his arms.

Bobby sighed, “Yeah, he’s waiting for us. Getting some supplies. I told him to
expect us tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Figured you’d been on the road all morning, needed a break.”
“I’m fine,” John huffed. “Call him. Tell him we’re leaving today. This has been
going on long enough. It ends.”
“Probably for the best,” Bobby nodded. “And, now, he’s not sure but Jim thinks
it might be escalating to newborns. Some weird stuff happening there.”
“Christ,” John sighed rubbing his hands over his face. “Alright well, just let
me grab a bite and we’ll head out.”
“So, what is it you think we’re going after?” Dean stood up.
John shot Bobby a pointed look. He hesitated, “You and Sam are gonna sit this
one out.”
“What?” Dean shook his head. “What are you talking about?”
“We got this one covered, Dean,” Bobby added.
“What? No. If it’s so important that Jim asked you and Bobby for backup, you
need all the help you can get!”
“Dean,” John warned.
“Dad, come on!” He pleaded.
“Dean, I said no.”
“But it’s going after newborns!” Dean sighed, “Okay, fine what if Sam stays
then? He’s stayed on his own plenty of times. He wants to stay anyway. But you
guys can use another hand.”
Bobby frowned, “Dean, Jim is just being over cautious. We got this under
control. What are you, twenty-one now? Try to enjoy a bit of spring for once in
your life.”
“What is such a big deal that we can’t come?” Dean huffed. “You think this has
something to do with the thing that killed mom?”

“No, Dean. It’s not that,” John said.
Bobby scratched his forehead. “We’re thinking it’s a shtriga,” he admitted.
Dean froze. “Oh,” he said quietly clenching his jaw. A fucking shtriga. His
mind raced to the last time he’d met a shtriga. It had been the closest fucking
call Sam had had as a kid. And it was Dean’s fault. And if this was the same
shtriga that got away then, all these deaths were his fault too. Dean sat hard
on the arm of the couch. There’s no way his dad would let him go and fuck it up
again.
Dean looked away. Sam shot him a questioning glance but Dean ignored him.
Finally he asked, “How long you think you’ll be gone?”
John inhaled, “Week. Maybe two. Depends on how quick we track it.” Dean nodded
solemnly, keeping his eyes on his shoes. “I’ll leave a new credit card for
food. You don’t need to go eatin’ Bobby out of his home. Shop for your own
groceries and keep up his yard while he’s gone. He’s got a business to run.
Anyone calls or comes by take down their names.”
Bobby scoffed, “Don’t worry about all that, boys. Just answer the phones is
all. Do what you can. Got a couple hunters in the middle of some stuff they
might needs some help researching.”
“Dean, I expect you to keep sharp. Plenty of room here for weapons practice.”
Dean nodded quietly, “Yes, sir.”
“You too, Sam.”
Reluctantly, Sam replied, “Yes, sir.”
Dean was going to be stuck alone with Sam for the next several days. He
swallowed back his frustration and tried to focus his attention on John’s
instructions. It was the usual routine anyway, easy to tune out. Maybe he could
find his own hunt nearby. Something, anything to keep busy.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
The spell worked. Sam had his body back, he got to spend the next few days at
the closest place he had to home, and he didn’t have to go on the hunt. He was
feeling pretty damn good.
It didn’t take long for John and Bobby to finish getting everything they needed
and head out of town. Bobby assured them he’d call and check in. John left a
credit card for groceries and gas.
They took off with Bobby calling back, “Stay out of the hootch, will ya?”
He hadn’t had much time to think of it, what with more pressing matters at
hand, but now that he had a free moment he couldn’t help but think back to the
friends he left in Casper. Sam had been there nearly a full semester. That
didn’t happen often. He wasn’t complaining this time, though. Sam was ready to
cut and run when the body swap happened. Not that he would have had a choice
anyway. Even though he was used to leaving, it still bothered him when he left
his friends behind.
He pushed it out of his mind, though. Sam spent a couple hours looking through
Bobby’s books. He always had the coolest shit. Really rare stuff that was
fascinating to look at. Flipping through the worn and weathered pages, when he
finally lifted his head he saw the sun was just past set. There was still a
faint glow of dusk but it would be night very soon. Sam stood from the chair he
was lounging in and went to find his brother.
Dean was crashed, passed out still wearing shoes and clothes over the cover of
one of the small twin beds in the room they shared. Tilting his head, Sam spent
a moment considering his brother. Dean had been a pain in the ass the last few
days and now with Dad telling him he couldn’t go on the hunt, Sam expected Dean
to be pissy as hell. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to care much. Sam was
feeling good. He wanted to do something.
Sam kicked at the shoes Dean was wearing causing him the lurch on the bed,
grasping wildly for the knife under his pillow. Sam laughed at his brothers
struggle.
“What the hell, dude?” Dean moaned. Realizing there was no immediate threat, he
dropped his head back to the pillow.
“Dean, wake up, man.” Dean groaned in response, further pushing the pillow into
his face. “Dude, Dean. It’s Friday night and I’m wired. Let’s do something.”
“No,” Dean huffed into the pillow.
“I’m bored out of my mind here,” Sam whined.
Dean mumbled something unintelligible into the pillow.
“What?” Sam asked.
“I said,” Dean turned, glaring angry at Sam, “You’re a big boy now. You can
entertain yourself. Leave me the hell alone.”
Sam laughed at him, “Dude, come on. You’re awake now anyway.” Sam smiled, eyes
wide, “Dean, come on,” he pleaded. “Let’s go out or something. It’s Friday
night. We never celebrated my birthday.”
Dean groaned and turned his face back into the pillow.
“Please, Dean?” He begged.
Dean kicked his legs, “Fine, fine! I’m up. I’m up.” He rubbed at his eyes and
grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “asshole,” but Sam let it
slide. Smiling in victory, Sam left Dean in the room and went down to get ready
himself.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
It didn’t take long for Dean to join Sam in the kitchen. Sam had a sandwich
waiting for him. A small, weak apology, if you ask Dean.
After eating, Dean sighed, “Alright. So, what is it the big baby wants to do
for his birthday? Do I need to pick up a pretty pink princess cake?”
Flipping him off, Sam scoffed then crosses his arms, “I dunno, man. Just
figured you could pick up a few beers or something.”
He caught the subtle meaningful look that Sam flashed him. It made his stomach
flip. Dean look away, swallowing awkwardly. He sat up straight in the chair.
This is exactly what he’d been hoping to avoid when he had gone to bed earlier.
He figured if he could just sleep the whole damn day Sam would leave him alone.
He didn’t know how to deal with this.
Thinking fast, Dean nodded and said, “Yeah, alright.” He scratched his eyebrow,
“You know, this is a college town?” Sam shrugged so he continued, “Nightlife is
pretty decent.”
“You wanna go out?”
Dean shrugged, “Just saying, college town, college chicks. Could be a fun
night.”
Sam looked him in the eyes considering. Dean watched as he bit his lip, getting
it a bit wet when he released to say, “I don’t know, Dean.”
“I swiped your IDs back from Dad,” Dean used his thumb to scratch at the table.
He looked up to Sam, “Come on, dude. You only turn seventeen once.”
Sam scoffed, “Yeah, and that was two weeks ago.”
“Ah, my bad,” Dean made a face. “You know what I mean, though.”
Sam thought carefully before saying, “Yeah, okay. Just-” He paused, looking
Dean over nervously. “Just, for tonight, can you not ditch me? Or if you do, at
least give me the keys or the credit card before you go?” Sam smirked, “I don’t
care if you leave but I really don’t want to be stranded at some dive with no
way to escape all the idiots.”
Dean laughed, “You’re a smart kid, you’d be able to find your way back. Maybe
we could leave some bread crumbs?”
Sam smiled, “You’re an ass.”
Dean took a deep breath standing, “Yeah, yeah, okay. No ditching the birthday
boy.” He lifted his eyebrows suggestively, “I dunno, man. Maybe we could bring
a couple girls back here, though?”
“To a junk yard? Dean, they’d think we’re serial killers,” Sam laughed. “And
they wouldn’t be wrong. You know for a fact where a few bodies are buried out
there.”
Dean walked over to Sam and patted his hand against his cheek, “That’s why you
give them a tour of the bedroom, not the junkyard, Sam.” He gave a firm, sharp
slap and walked away calling behind, “Let’s roll!”
It wasn’t the best plan but Dean was hoping that he’d be able to set them up
with a couple girls. If he kept his brother distracted and set him up with a
sure thing there’d be no reason for Sam to approach him with their old
arrangement. It wasn’t good but it was all he had.
When they found a place to park, far enough away from the main streets that
Baby’d be safe, they wandered down the main drag. Dean let Sam pick the first
bar. And of course the first one he pointed to had to be one of the loud clubs.
Complete with smoke machines and flashing lights. Dean groaned when he entered
but after quickly scoping the place he realized it couldn’t be more perfect.
The dance floor was covered with young scantily clad women, dancing all over
each other. A few men were thrown in the mix, or more accurately trying to
throw themselves into the mix. Dean smirked to himself. If there were a place
to set up his brother, this would be it.
Dean slapped Sam’s shoulder and led them through the crowd, weaving through co-
eds. He found a small table off to the side of the dance floor. Perfect view to
pick a target for Sammy.
He waved down a waitress ordering some drinks and stocked them up with several
shots. When Dean finally met Sam’s eye he saw a look of discomfort on his face.
Dean smiled and shoved a shot in his direction. “Relax dude,” he shouted over
the music.
Sam threw back the drink and leaned in close to Dean, “This isn’t quite what I
had in mind.”
Dean laughed and threw another back, “Just take it all in, Sammy. You’re
growing up. This’ll be a new experience for you.”
Sam shook his head but took another shot. As long as Sam kept drinking and
started to loosen up, well, Dean could work with that.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
  
Sam, could feel sweat saturate through his hairline. He kept meaning to tell
Dean he wanted to go somewhere more quiet. Somewhere he could hear himself
think. But Dean kept pushing more alcohol his way and soon he forgot that there
was any other place he’d rather be.
It didn’t take long for Sam to get pretty damn trashed. Psychologically, Sam
had been used to throwing back a few beers while he was in his dad’s body. He
hadn’t quite considered that his body didn’t have the same tolerance.
Sam was vibrating. Whether it was from the alcohol or the bass cranked to
eleven, he wasn’t sure. His blood was singing through his body. He felt
surrounded by a cloud of contentment. Sam wasn’t surprised when a blonde
bombshell approached their table. He gave Dean a look to let him know that Sam
would head out to give him room to work. He was just about ready to ask for the
keys when he felt fingers strum up his arm.
Confused, he turned around to face the young woman smiling at him. He smiled
back awkwardly. She leaned in to speak over the music, “You look a little young
to be here.”
Sam pulled away, mouth slacking. It was difficult to get it to work. She was
probably hinting for him to leave so she could be alone with Dean. Sam turned
to his brother and shrugged in confusion.
Dean leaned over the table, “Celebrating his birthday. It was a couple weeks
ago but he finally made it to twenty-one. That baby face makes it hard to
believe though, right?”
She smiled at Dean then turned back to Sam trailing her fingers over his bicep,
“Twenty-one? Good year.”
She had that bleached blonde, nearly white hair. Her skin was artificially
tanned and her brown eyes searched over Sam’s face. Her lips were full and as
he glanced down before turning back to Dean, Sam saw she had a tight body with
nice breasts. Way the hell out of his league. She was his brother’s league.
Dean laughed and replied, “He’s a little shy.”
“That’s ok,” she said. “The hot ones don’t need to talk.”
Sam could tell Dean was enjoying how uncomfortable this situation was making
him. Underneath the table he felt Dean kick his shin, sharp pain shooting
through. Sam pursed his lips and glared at Dean. He finally turned back to the
girl and said, “Sam. My name is Sam.”
“He speaks,” she smiled. “I’m Stephanie.”
“And I am out,” Dean added. “Have fun you two,” he winked at Sam and stood up.
“Dean!” Sam said quickly, shooting his most pleading look, shaking his head. He
didn’t know what the hell to do and he knew he didn’t want Dean to leave him
right now.
“Your name is Dean? I hope you’re not going anywhere,” she leaned close. “See,
I’ve got one of those shy ones, over there, in the red skirt,” Stephanie
pointed. “I promised her I’d come over and figure out the situation.” It was
becoming increasingly clear that she was more than a little drunk. “See, she
thinks- yes, hello dear,” She waved at her friend and turned back to Sam, “She
thinks, you two are on a date.”
“A date?” Dean asked looking over to Stephanie’s friend. “But we aren’t with
any girls- wait,” Dean snapped his head back to her, “You mean, together? A
date together? Like me and Sam?”
Stephanie smiled at him, “I know, right? That’s what I told her. But I said I’d
find out. So, to confirm, not a date then?”
“No!” Dean shook his head.
“Hey, hey, don’t be mad sweetie,” Stephanie reached over and grabbed Dean’s
hands. “So what do you think? Hmm? That’s Veronica. Veronica thinks your hot.”
Dean, now mollified, looked back to the brunette. From what Sam saw, she looked
attractive enough, but he was confused to see the hesitant look in his
brother’s eyes. Dean turned back and looked to Sam before smiling to Stephanie,
“Veronica, huh?”
Stephanie smiled wide, showing her teeth. “We’re taking that as a yes!” She
slapped the table. “Let me go grab her. Don’t, you guys- don’t go anywhere. One
minute. We’ll be back in one minute.”
Sam watched as she maneuvered her way to her friend. He turned to Dean, “What
the hell, Dean?”
Dean chuckled, “No accounting for taste, huh?”
“Dean,” Sam pleaded. “What the hell do I do?”
Dean shook his head, “She’s hot, man. Go for it. Celebrating your birthday,
right? Live a little. ‘Sides, something tells me you’re not gonna need to take
the lead with that one.” He winked at Sam. “She’s out of your league, dude. We
take them home, not sure what she’s gonna think waking up next to your ugly
mug.” Sam glared at him. Dean smiled, “There’s the famous Sammy Bitchface I’ve
been missing. Knew it was hiding in there somewhere.”
“What the hell?” Sam blinked at him shaking his head, “Dean, I don’t-”
“Dude, stop over thinking it.”
Sam searched Dean’s face. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting his brother to
do but he understood why he was suddenly intimidated. He’d kissed a few girls
in the past but beyond that he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. And now
this gorgeous blonde comes his way and he was going to embarrass the hell out
of himself.
He looked up, feeling fingers tracing over his arm. Stephanie was back with her
friend. Turning towards Dean, she cleared her throat, “Veronica, this is- shit,
what’s your name?”
“Dean,” he smirked. “Hi, Veronica.”
Sam watched as she bit her lip and tucked her hair behind her ear. Then Sam
turned to Stephanie. She had her head cocked to the side eyeing him up
suggestively.
“You’re really hot,” she smiled.
“Uh,” Sam stammered, “Thanks. You too.”
She leaned in close to his ear so only he could hear, “I was gonna ask you to
dance but I’ve been dancing all night.”
“Yeah?” Sam asked. “So, what did you want-” he stopped talking as he felt her
hand travel tracing clumsy patterns from his arm to his knee. She wasn’t subtle
about bringing it back, moving her hand higher and higher on his thigh.
“I can think of some things,” she squeezed his leg.
Sam closed his eyes focusing on the soft scratching pressure of her fingers
palming up his thighs. Her mouth puffed soft warm air against his neck making
him shiver despite the heat. Stephanie nudged his ear with her nose before
finally tugging on it with her teeth. Sam’s heart raced as her tongue made
invisible marks from his lobe, lower, traveling his neck, nipping.
She made her way back around to his ear and whispered, “This okay?”
Sam nodded awkwardly and she smiled, working her way back down his neck. His
heart pounded and he could feel the constricting restraints from his dick that
was quickly becoming interested. She bit hard on his neck making him gasp.
He dared to open his eyes and looked over at Dean. He was surprised to find
Dean watching back with an odd expression. Or maybe it was just the light. Or
the booze. Sam was pretty drunk. In the next minute his brother was giving him
a thumbs up. Sam closed his eyes when he saw Dean return his attention to
Veronica. If his brain had been working Sam is fairly confident he wouldn’t be
too appreciative about this current circumstance but for the life of him he
couldn’t figure out why.
Sam turned his head, lifting his hands to hold Stephanie’s face carefully in
his hands. Eyelids heavy, she smiled at him as he rubbed his thumb over her
cheek. Mind clouded, Sam willed himself to focus on her lips, full and soft and
wet. She bit them right before he realized that he wanted those pair of his
lips on his. He pulled her face towards his meeting them. Maybe coming here
wasn’t such a bad idea.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
Dean tried to hold his attention on Veronica. She was attractive enough but the
second he saw that brunette hair headed his way, flashes of Crystal slideshowed
through his mind. After that night he had told himself he was swearing off
brunettes for the rest of his life. Or at least until all of this passed. But
seeing how much of a sure thing Stephanie was for his brother he figured he’d
take one for the team.
He fought against the strong urge to turn his head to see what Stephanie was
doing to his brother. He could tell Sammy was uncomfortable, it practically
radiated off of him. But he kept his eyes intently focused on Veronica,
throwing out a smile here and there as she talked. She didn’t seem as drunk as
her friend but she was sending off the right signals.  
Baring it no longer, Dean cocked his head, subtly trying to take in what was
happening with his brother. Stephanie was buried in his neck. Sam’s mouth hung
open carelessly and Dean could tell he was fidgeting under the table. When he
saw Stephanie bite roughly at Sam’s neck a sinking feeling hit his stomach. He
should be proud of Sammy. Seventeen years old and getting this hottie who is
way the hell out of his league. Every ounce of his brain rationed with him that
this is what he wanted. He wanted Sam to start showing more interest in girls
and leave Dean the hell alone. But the burning feeling in his gut and the
choked feeling in his throat seemed to have other ideas.
Sam suddenly opened his eyes and locked on Dean’s. He’d seen that look before.
He knew it. Stealing glances at him, suggesting they find someplace private,
Dean knew Sam was turned on under the table, no telling what Stephanie was
doing under there. Dean clenched his jaw. The muscles in his shoulders tensed.
He force himself to shove whatever the fuck he was feeling down deep. Dean
managed to lift his hand giving his brother a thumbs up then, by some act of
god, he willed himself to turn back to Veronica.

At some point she had draped her hands over his arm, good enough indication as
any that she was up for the same thing Stephanie had in mind.
Dean smiled beaming his bright eyes her way, “So, it looks like they’re hitting
it off?” He nodded towards his brother.
Veronica turned and laughed, “Sure does.”
Dean, not feeling enough sting of self flagellation, turned again to find his
brother mauling at Stephanie’s lips. Holding her head firmly, Sam positioned it
where he needed for better access. Jesus, he’d never seen his brother act like
this. Sam had dropped all pretense of the shy and virginal act and was a man
possessed. Hopefully not literally, though it might explain this current
machismo. And fuck, what was it like being on the other end of that? Dean
turned away, cowardly hiding in his drink. If he hadn’t felt it before this
would have been the finale blow.
Dean coughed, “So, what do you say, think we should give them a little
privacy?”
Veronica eyed him over, “You have some place in mind?”
Dean, wearing his cocksure grin, replied, “I could show you my car.”
Veronica scoffed, “What are we, fourteen?”
Dean laughed, “No, no. I mean it. You’d like her, I promise.”
“‘Her?’’”
“My Baby,” Dean said proudly. He finished his last drink and stood. “We can
take her anywhere you wanna go.”
“No-” Sam interject unexpectedly. Dean turned to find Sam had his hands on
Stephanie’s shoulders holding her away. “No, Dean. Said you’d leave the ‘pala
with me.”
Dean scoffed, “You’re not going anywhere near her. You’re trashed, dude.”
“What-,” Stephanie smiled, “What kind of car is it?”
Beaming Dean replied, “1967 Chevy Impala.”
“I have no idea what that means,” Stephanie nodded. “I think you should
introduce us.”
“‘Us?’” Dean asked.
She cleared her throat, “You aren’t running off with Veronica. I just met you.
’m not letter her out of my sight.” Stephanie disentangled from Sam and
stumbled her way to Veronica, grabbing her arm. “Wouldn’t mind seeing your car
though,” lewdly smiling at Sam.
Dean swallowed anxiously and looked back to his brother. Sam’s face was flushed
and he looked warm. He was biting his lip nervously. Shit, Dean was trying to
get away from his brother but maybe this would do it. Maybe this would be the
push Sam needed to realize there were much better ways of get off than begging
his brother for a quick wank.
Taking a deep breath he gave a questioned shrug to Sam, checking in. He nodded
back giving him the okay.
“Alright then ladies,” Dean smiled to Veronica. “Follow me.”
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
Sam was trying to take his brother’s advice. Don’t over think it, his mantra on
a loop running through his head. Stephanie seemed nice enough and he was having
fun, so what the hell?
When the group reached the Impala, Sam rolled his eyes as the girls cooed over
the car. He watched Dean in his element, confident as ever. He was having a
difficult time forming many coherent thoughts. Stephanie had been hanging off
of his arm since they left bar, one hand finding it’s way to his back jeans
pocket squeezing his ass.
After a few minutes of studying over the car Stephanie asked, “So, are you
gonna take us for a ride?”
Dean smirked, “Might need to sober up a bit first.”
Stephanie smiled and opened the back passenger door. She grabbed Sam and
directed him in, “I wasn’t talking about the car.”
Sam scrambled backwards awkwardly as Stephanie crawled in after him. He tried
to make room but his legs were uncooperative, one on the seat and one on the
floor. He scooted back trying to give her space but that seemed to be the
opposite of her objective. Stephanie climbed on top of him.

“Uh,” Sam looked up at her wide eyed. “Hi?”
She narrowed her eyes considering him, “You haven’t been with many girls, huh?”
Sam felt his face heat up, burning red, thank fucking god it was too dark to
see. He stammered, “Well, I-”
“No, honey,” Stephanie smiled. “It’s okay. You’re doing great.” She leaned in
and met his lips searching for his tongue with her own. She nipped carefully at
his bottom lip and pulled back, “You’re just being really sweet is all.”
Relieved, he looked into her eyes. He was nervous as hell. Sam wasn’t sure what
to anticipate but when she met his lips again he started to relax slowly. He
shifted and adjusting, making himself more comfortable underneath her.
“You know, it’s kind of hot, actually.” Stephanie moved her hand, kneading the
muscles in his thigh. “You’re just so... responsive,” she smirked.
Sam watched her smile through wide eyes. He didn’t know what the hell was going
or what she was expecting from him but right now whatever she was doing felt
good. And it would be more than okay with him if she continued. He just needed
to stop over thinking it. His head was spinning. He closed his eyes to feel her
hand rub over his dick.
The door to the front opened exposing a sharp chill. Sam’s eyes shot open to
see Veronica crawling backwards on the front seat followed quickly by Dean. Sam
watched the muscles in Dean’s back flex as he lowered himself on top of her
kissing along her neck.
Letting out a moan, Sam’s cock throbbed behind the restraint of his jeans.
Stephanie, adjusting her weight on him, looked down briefly and managed to
unzip his fly and open his jeans. Sam whimpered at the relief and leaned his
head back hard against the cold window. She took his cock out and wrapped her
small hand firmly around him. He gasped as she found her way back to his lips
for a quick kiss before moving again to his neck. He felt wet pressure as she
bit firmly along his neck, sucking and nipping, hand still pumping slowly. He
moaned softly underneath her.
The way she held him was different from Dean. He was too drunk to recognized
how fucked up it was to be comparing them, but her hands were smaller, not
quite grasping tight enough. Still felt good but, just different.
Sam heard giggling from the front seat. He opened his eyes, looking over to see
Veronica smiling, eyes closed tight. Dean propped over her, one hand cupping
her breast over her top.
Stephanie pulled up Sam’s shirt and his abs fluttered, exposed to the chilled
air. She pulled herself away from his neck and shoved her tongue fast and wet
into his mouth. He hardly had time to realize what was happening before she
pulled away again. Grabbing her hair and throwing it to the side, she smiled at
him and started kissing down his chest.
She traced swirling patterns with her tongue, trailing her way to his nipple,
sucking and biting, pulling carefully with her teeth and blowing cool air
around it. Sam shivered, goosebumps raising the hair on his arms. He gasped and
moved opening his legs wider as she continued to stroke his dick.
The car jilted and Sam opened his eyes to find Dean stripping his shirt and
Veronica scrambling to join him. As she sat up, Dean reached around and
unclasped her bra. Sam watched as his brother pushed it aside and quickly
dipped his tongue, licking around her exposed breast. Fuck, Sam was so hard,
the pressure on his cock only a teasing reminder but doing nothing to give him
relief.
Stephanie lifted her head demanding, “Sit up a bit, yeah?”
Pausing a moment, not understanding the words, Sam scooted himself back more
properly seated against the window. Stephanie went the opposite direction.
“Oh,” Sam breathed faintly.
Stephanie smiled. “Oh,” She parroted before Sam saw the pink of her tongue slip
out and lick around the head of his cock.
“Fuck,” Sam swore, not pulling his eyes from her head slowly bobbing around his
dick. Sam shuddered, thinking that maybe he finally understood why his brother
always tried to get laid.
Veronica moaned in the seat next to him. Sam moved his eyes from Stephanie to
see Veronica’s shoulders push against the door, breasts exposed. Jesus, Dean
had his head tucked between her legs now, skirt pushed up to her waist. Fuck,
anyone walking by would be getting a show. Dean bowed and bobbed his head
several times. And Sam watched. Sam couldn’t pull his eyes away. Dean lifted
his head and maneuvered himself, kneeling between her legs. Mouth wet,
glistening, and with his eyes dark he met Sam’s. Dean turned towards him to
fully take in what was happening, eyes roaming salaciously over the indecency
Stephanie was performing on Sam with her tongue. Dean unconsciously licked his
own plumped lips  and turned slightly, meeting Sam’s eyes again. Sam shivered
but couldn’t bring himself to look away, held in a trance by his brothers
stare. He was shaking.
There was a small nagging part of his mind warning him this wasn’t something
they should do, though for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why. God, he
couldn’t remember feeling this good.
Stephanie tightened her lips and hummed around his cock and his mouth fell
open, gasping as pleasure vibrated through him. But Sam continued to watch as
Dean turned away, roughly handling Veronica, pulling at her hips where he
wanted her. She laughed quietly and slid down the seat.
Sam’s eyes grew wide as he realized what his brother was about to do. He
watched as Dean tugged roughly at his belt and slid off his jeans. Sam’s heart
began to pound. It’s not like this was the first time he’d seen his brother
hard. But he was entirely naked now, sweat glinting on his skin, and this was
just fucking obscene. He knew he was staring but Sam couldn’t take his eyes off
Dean’s dick as he rolled on a condom, jutted out and dark, all while Stephanie
increased her pace, licking base to tip, twisting at the top. Pressure finally
just right.
Giving in, eyes fluttering shut, he could feel the familiar warmth build, his
temperature rising. Veronica made a giddy squeal from the front seat and he
blinked opened to find his brother positioned over her, leaning down meeting
her lips. Jesus, Dean really was going to fuck her. Right here. Shit. Despite
his better judgement Sam couldn’t bring himself to look away. It was fucked up.
This wasn’t supposed to be happening. This wasn’t something they did. But he
didn’t stop. He watched as Dean positioned himself before finally sinking into
her, wincing around the warm heat of her body.
Sam was shaking, he was close and Stephanie wasn’t stopping. Breathing hard,
Sam’s hair now soaked in sweat, shirt pushed up high, he was thoroughly
debauched. And fuck, now Dean was grunting and the car was shaking and moving
with his thrusts. His brother’s head bowed down in a sacrilegious prayer, arms
moving in ways Sam had only seen flex for training. His hips were low, ass was
out, and he was panting along with Veronica, whose breasts moved with every
frantic thrust. She had her own hand snaked, moving between her legs.
And then Dean looked up. Eyes dark. Watching Sam as they were both on the
brink. His heart fluttered, adrenaline pulsing through his blood. They weren’t
supposed to look, not now. There were rules. There had always been rules.
Sam bit his lip as he felt the frenzied pressure build. He reached a hand down
to warn Stephanie but she just hummed, pleasure resonating through him. Sam’s
legs trembled, stiffening near pain, and he bit back the name on his lips.
Moaning indecently, he came hard in her mouth never for a moment taking his
eyes from his brother’s carnal glare.
Dean rocked and thrust unevenly, gasping breathless, “Fuck, Sam.” And with his
shoulders shuddering he finally broke their gaze. He again bowed his head to
Veronica’s shoulder. The measured rocking of the car calming considerably as
Dean slowed, breathing heavy.
Sam clenched his eyes closed and savored the soft puffing breathes of his
brother. His own heart steadied slowly following the distracting pressure of
Stephanie’s weight on his thighs as she pulled herself from his lap. Removed
from his reverie, he opened in time to catch her smile. Question on her lips,
she was silenced as Sam lured her toward him. Hands anchoring the base of her
skull, he licked languidly into her mouth, surprised to find the taste himself
on her tongue. He sighed, licking slowly into her mouth, reveling in the
profanity of the act.
“That’s kind of hot,” Veronica leered.

Sam turned to find her watching them, bra refastened. She lifted an eyebrow at
his pants, open. Sam looked down, heat flooded warming his cheeks, he quickly
tucked himself in. He straightened his shirt then stole a hurried glimpse at
his brother who had slid back into his jeans and was pulling on his own shirt.
   
Sam brought his sheepish gaze back to Stephanie. She pecked at his lips and
said, “Happy belated birthday, Sam.”
Chapter End Notes
     The “cranked to eleven” is a reference to This Is Spinal Tap (1984)
***** Chapter 8 *****
Dean woke to blinding light seeping through heavy open curtains. Shifting,
attempting to turn on his side. He groaned, aching tense muscles protesting as
he tried to get them to work. Blinking, Dean opened his eyes to find himself on
the couch in Bobby’s living room. And just how the fuck he got here he wasn’t
sure. He panicked briefly trying to remember, and where the hell was Sam?
Sam. Shit. Clenching his jaw, Dean took a deep breath. Fuck. He remembered now.
Veronica. Stephanie. Sam.
Head pounding as he moved to sit, his memory providing flashes of the previous
evening. What the fuck was he thinking? What the hell was wrong with him? He
breathed fast and hard. This was his fucking brother. His kid brother. Christ,
he was still a kid. But Dean remembered the way Sam writhed wantonly in the
back seat and it sent a shiver straight to his dick.
Something was wrong here. He laughed mournfully. Obviously something was
fucking wrong here, he wanted to fuck his brother. He hadn’t had that much to
drink last night so that excuse was out the goddamn window. He knew better than
this.
Dean stood from the couch and with the floor creaking he made his way to the
kitchen. He ran cold water to splash on his face and held his arms out, bracing
on the sink. Then it hit him. He was fucking cursed. That’s what this was. He
knew it now. He was certain. You don’t go from innocent brothers, best friends,
to object number one of incestuous obsessions.
Incest. This was fucking incest. People like Dean didn’t have incestuous
thoughts. He was a goddamn hunter. Only fucked in the head, screwed up beyond
all realms of sanity, victims had incestuous thoughts. Dean’s stomach lurched
and he immediately rushed to the bathroom making it just in time to retch into
the toilet.
This was a curse. This was a that fucking spell the witch cast. The bitch knew
this would happen. She knew that Sam and Dad would turn back. They were just a
goddamn misdirection for the real fucking problem, this infection growing,
festering worse every fucking day. This is that bitch’s fault. Chest heaving,
the warm stinging heat behind his eyes broke. He didn’t care anymore.
Last night he couldn’t believe what was happening between his brother and
Stephanie. As soon as she pushed him into the car Dean knew what was going
down. Well, who was going down, at any rate. He expected Sam to leave the car,
awkwardly dismiss himself from the whole damn thing. Sam was always so
intimidated by women. But to Dean’s surprise he didn’t. He stayed. He stayed
and he let Stephanie suck him off and Dean had to watch. He had to. He needed
to see.
Dean’s heart nearly beat through his chest when he crawled into the car after
Veronica. Stephanie got to bite Sam’s neck. She got to taste his lips. Feel him
throb in her hand, which Dean remembered so well and why the hell didn’t he pay
attention last time? He should have savored it. Dean wanted to throw Stephanie
from the car and climb onto his brother himself. And it was fucking wrong and
he couldn’t do it and it hurt.
It was this fucking curse.
He stood, shuffling to the sink and rinsed his mouth out. Dean shook his head
darkly. Bags dark under red eyes. Jesus. He forced his mind a complete blank
and quickly took a shower. The only thought he allowed to pass was that he was
going to look through every book in Bobby’s house to find a way to cure this.
Stepping from the shower he realized all his clean clothes were upstairs where
Sam sleeping. Steeling his nerves he walked up the stairs with a towel wrapped
around his waist.
Sam was asleep on his small bed, feet sticking out the end, puffing soft even
breaths. Dean forced himself to turn his back on his brother. He dug in his
duffel grabbing clean clothes. Without thinking he dropped his towel bending to
put on his boxers.
He heard a moan on the bed and a hoarse voice groaned, “Put some fuckin’
clothes on, dude.”
“That’s not what you said last night,” Dean froze. Heart
stopped. Fuck. That’s not what he meant. It just fucking slipped out! A hot
blush starting on his chest swelled quickly to his face, he began to sweat.
Slowly, he finished stepping into his boxers, pulling them up. What the hell
was wrong with him? Why would he say that? It was an innocent quip. He
didn’t mean anything. He was just used to saying stupid shit to Sam.
Dean held his breath waiting for Sam to respond. His back still to Sam, too
cowardly to turn and face him. Dean exhaled, “Sam… I-” he stammered, “That’s
not-”

Shaking, Dean dared turn, eyeing Sam as he laid on the bed staring paralyzed at
the ceiling.
Dean couldn’t be here. He had to- he couldn’t stay.
Holding his clothes tight to his chest, Dean left the room and bounded down the
stairs. In the kitchen he hastily threw on clothes, shirt probably inside out.
He had to leave. Toeing his shoes on sans socks, Dean rushed out the door.
Where the fuck he was going, he didn’t know. He just couldn’t be here.  
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
 
Sam woke to soft scratching noises in the room. His head fucking hurt. Pounding
blood rushing through. The sun shone warm on him, dimmed only slightly
filtering through dusty curtains. He blinked to see his brother’s back to him,
hand clenching tight at a small white towel around his waist.
Then it dropped.
It dropped and Sam spoke. And Dean froze. And Sam remembered.
And Dean ran.
Sam tried to even his breaths. Last night was fuzzy at best but he remembered.
He remembered the car. He remembered Stephanie. He remembered Dean fucking
Veronica in the front seat.
His heart was racing and his head was throbbing and he just wanted to go the
hell back to sleep. He didn’t want to deal with this right now. Or ever. Did
that really happen last night?
Sam felt like shit. He didn’t even know her, not really. And yeah she was nice
enough and christ his first blow job was a hell of an experience, but that’s
not really how he wanted it to happen. At the very least he was hoping to be a
bit more sober or to maybe know the girl.
He had grown so used to drinking in John’s body that he hadn’t thought much of
how his would react. And yeah, Dean was right, he was a bit of a lightweight.
So, why didn’t he cut him off? Sam closed his eyes and clenched his jaw.
That whole fucking night. Jesus. He rubbed his eyes and moved his hand to apply
pressure on his head. He needed an ice pack and about half a bottle of aspirin.
Sam tried to ignore the nagging image of his brother thrusting into Veronica
right next to him. After the girls left, the impala reeked of sweat and sex and
suddenly Sam wasn’t having fun anymore. He felt sick and he just wanted to get
home and pass the hell out. So that’s what he did.
He vaguely remembered Stephanie tucking her phone number into his pocket before
she left. Sam shut his eyes tight. He didn’t really want to see her again but
he couldn’t just leave it like that. He wasn’t Dean. He wasn’t going to do that
to her. He at least owed her a proper explanation. An apology probably.
Sam heard the roar of the Impala’s engine. He scoffed to himself as he
recognized the familiar sound of Dean leaving.
He had bolted. He was freaking the fuck out.
Sam let his mind briefly focus back on the previous night. They probably
shouldn’t have done that. Sam knows that. He knows. But really what was the big
deal? It’s not like it was much different than the other things they’d been
doing together. It’s not like that was the first time Sam had heard his brother
like that. Or the first time he’d seen him like that. Jesus, they had been
getting each other off for months now and listening to each other for years.
What the hell was Dean’s problem?
It always started like this. Something changed between them and Dean ran.
Angry, Sam shook his head and pursed his lips. Dean was such a fucking baby.
Eventually, Sam pulled himself from the bed, willing himself to make a half ass
attempt at showering. After, he searched desperately through Bobby’s drawers in
hopes of finding a painkiller which, thank god, he succeeded in doing.
Sam spent his day lounging around Bobby’s house, paging through books, raiding
the fridge (making mental notes of what to replace). He was interrupted a few
times by ringing calls of other hunters asking, “Where’s Bobby?”, “Who the hell
are you?”, “What the fuck do you mean I’m hunting a banshee?”
Sam did his best to help them and waited, annoyed, for his brother to return.
Sam figured it was going to be a few days until Dean would look him in the eyes
again. But Sam was bored and he wanted to hit the grocery store to stock up for
the week. So he waited. Dean would be back eventually.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
 
Several days passed and Dean did his best to stay the hell away from Sam. And
Sam seemed relatively accepting of it. They exchanged few words, more and more
as the week wore on. Dean honestly couldn’t give a fuck about it. He had a
mission.
When he was feeling the itch, knowing his mind wanted to think about Sam
in those ways, Dean would take off. He hid several books in the Impala and
drove. He’d head out on a gravel road to the privacy of the country, or the
mall parking lot, or hell even a library, anywhere he felt was far enough away
from his brother. He’d read until his eyes were bloodshot, the answer always
exceeding his grasp.
He knew Sam was suspicious of him. He had tried to join Dean on several
occasions, “Dean I’m so bored here, dude. Where do you keep going? You meeting
up with Veronica?”
“Just getting fresh air, Sam,” he looked down, tired, playing with the keys in
his hands.
“Well, can you, I don’t know. Will you drop me off at the mall at least? I’m
going crazy here, man.”
Dean nodded, “Sure, Sam.” Sam shook his head, angry. Dean knew Sam was pissed
that he wouldn’t let him come but that was just too fucking bad.
Dean needed to find a cure or something that could help. Anything. And after
this was gone, after this stupid, miserable curse was lifted, then he’d make it
up to Sam. He’d atone for all the abhorrent thoughts passing through his mind.
 
But Dean was having little luck. Days passed and nothing. It hadn’t even
occurred to him to be worried about John who hadn’t contacted them since he
left. He expected that from his dad but when he realized that not even Bobby
had called, he started to worry.
One evening, looking through more books in the living room Dean finally asked,
“Sam, you haven’t heard from Dad have you? It’s been a while and-”
Sam scoffed as he worked sharpening a knife.
“What?” Dean shook his head, “What’s that mean?”
“Yep,” Sam replied coldly not lifting his head from his work.
“‘Yep?’” Dean shook his head, “‘Yep,’ what? ‘Yep,’ you heard from them?”
“Yep,” he answered dryly.
Dean scoffed, “Okay, and?”
“They’re fine.”
“‘They’re fine’?” He asked. “‘They’re fine.’ Jesus, Sam, you could have at
least told me they called.”
Sam lifted the knife, holding it into the light to examine his work, “Maybe if
you were here for more than five minutes you’d know.”
Dean narrowed his eyes and shook his head, “You know, fuck you, Sam.”
Sam laughed sarcastically, “Okay. Whatever, Dean.”
Dean stood up from the couch, “What the hell is your problem, Sam?”
Laughing, Sam finally met Dean’s eyes, “My problem? Dean, you’re the one going
completely psycho. Why don’t you tell me what the hell your problem is?”
“I don’t have a problem,” Dean denied.
Sam huffed and looked back to his knife, “Well, we both know that’s not quite
true.”
“You know, Sam, maybe you’re my fucking problem. Maybe I’m twenty fucking one
years old and I want to go out and do something without my little brother
tagging along like a lost puppy all the time.”
Sam stopped working and lifted his head. Coolly he smirked, “Yeah. You’re
right, Dean. We both know I’m the problem all right, but it’s not quite me
‘tagging along’ that’s the problem is it?”
Dean’s heart beat fast, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Sam stood from his chair and walked over to Dean, “You know what the hell that
means.”
His brother was leaning in towards him. Sam was getting so tall these days.
Taller than Dean, though he’d never admit it. And Sam knew how to use his
height. Dean searched his eyes. It was the first time he’d really looked at him
since the night in the car.
Sam’s eyes narrowed, seething and his shoulders were tense. “Dean, you do
this every time,” he said calm but cold.
Dean’s eyes fell to his brother’s lips and he licked his own unconsciously.
He’d just need to lean in, just a little. Sam was right there and Dean’s heart
fluttered, “What do I do, Sam?”
Sam bit his lip and turned away, looking out the window. He shrugged, “Every.
Time. You freak out, every time. Just,” he sighed. “Just, get over it, okay?”
“Get over it?”
He turned back nodding, “The fucking car, Dean.”
Dean clenched his jaw tight. His stomach flipped and he wanted desperately to
flee. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t talk to Sam about this. Not while he was
still looking for a cure to whatever the hell was making him feel this way.
Sam, sensing his intentions to break for it, reached out and grabbed his
shoulders. “Dean, it’s okay. Okay?”
He breathed hard from his nose, fighting against the urge to run. “Sam,” he
pleaded somehow finding the courage to look at him. Sam’s hands were warm on
his shoulders and he wanted so desperately for Sam to pull him close the way he
did Stephanie. “I-” he started.
The phone rang causing him to jump.
Sam eyed him carefully, “Okay?”
Dean closed his eyes and nodded.
Sam patted his shoulder and walked over to answer the phone. He spoke
confidently, “Singer Auto.”
It was Bobby’s personal line. Dean bit his lip and watched his brother grab a
scrap of paper.
“Hey Bobby,” Sam spoke. “Wait wait, but everyone is okay, right? Dad is-”
Dean tensed and walked over. He gave Sam a concerned look and Sam waved him
off.
“Okay, yeah I got it right here,” Sam held a pen and waited for instructions.
“Babies? Newborns and pregnant women?” His hand scratched words across the
paper. “Can shift shapes but not a shapeshifter? Right.” Sam bit his lip in
concentration. He huffed, “Wait- what?”
Dean leaned closer, trying to hear what Bobby was telling him.
“What? That doesn’t even- Okay. Yes. Obviously, if we’d heard of it you
wouldn’t be asking. Sorry,” Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes to Dean. He
bit his lip again focusing on Bobby’s description. Shaking his head he began to
write, “Flying entrails… got it.” Sam scratched his head. “We’ll look through
everything you have. By the desk? Okay.” He sighed, “Yeah, Bobby, take care.”
Sam hung up the phone. He eyed Dean carefully.
“Everything okay?”
Sam walked over to Bobby’s desk and looked around behind it. “I guess. No one
is hurt. Well, I mean, Dad, Jim, and Bobby aren’t hurt.”
“So, you gonna tell me what’s been going on?”
Sam huffed pulling out an oversized book and slamming it on the table. He
grabbed several more from the corner tucked to the side. “It’s not a shtriga,”
he said.
“If it’s not a shtriga then what is it?”
“That’s what we get to find out. Flying entrails, shape-shifting babyeater.”
“That’s disgusting,” Dean frowned. He walked carefully towards his brother and
picked up one of the books.“I could- I could go out there and help them. If
they’re having trouble-”
Sam sighed, sitting at Bobby’s desk he flipped open a book. “This isn’t a
manpower hunt as much as it is pinpointing what the hell they’re after now.
Bobby said they’re gonna give us a couple days while they research there. If we
can’t figure it out they’re coming back to check for themselves.” Sam looked up
from the book, “So if you want to help, then find our babyeater.” He pursed his
lips and looked back down speaking into the book, “‘Course you could always run
away since you’re good at that too.”
Dean furrow his brow but otherwise didn’t comment. Grabbing his book, he fell
back into the couch and started flipping through the pages.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
Sam had put up with just about enough of his brother’s shit as he was going to
take. Dean left Sam alone at Bobby’s most of the time and when Dean was home he
moped around and barely grunted a hello, which is all what Sam had expected.
When he finally confronted his brother, Dean reluctantly seemed to come around.
He stayed home at any rate. Maybe it was the case but either way he was talking
to Sam again.
They read through Bobby’s books starting in the pile that Bobby indicated.
Sam’s eyes burned trying to find anything that could transform shape. Anything
that ate children. It was gruesome, vivid pictures painting the pages above
walls of the text. But nothing fit.
Two days had past and neither Sam or Dean had made any headway. John called to
check in, suddenly concerned since a hunt and lives were at stake. John told
them if they didn’t find anything by morning, he and Bobby’ would be driving
back with Pastor Jim staying behind as a defense.
They had exhausted all of the books Bobby had told them to read. All the books
in english, that is. A small pile remained. Sam hated translating. It took
forever and gave him a headache but that’s what was left now.
He cracked open the first one, gilded etchings decorating the cover. His first
plan of attack was to look through the pictures. See if anything stood out that
he could translate. He stared through the book, turning dusty page one after
another. His neck was killing him. Flipping through the middle he saw it. A
kind of dragony looking head with great big eyes and a human mouth with fangs.
It’s tongue languorously dangling below sharp pointing teeth. What captured
Sam’s attention were the long, dripping red, sinewy streaks extending beneath
the form. Like guts. This looks like a flying head with guts.
“Dean?”
Laying on the couch, Dean tilted his book and looked to Sam, “Find something?”
“I think so. Do you have the translator for-” Sam flipped to the front page and
thought for a moment before saying, “Indonesian?”
Dean sighed and sat up, “‘Course Sammy. Everyone who’s anyone carries their
Indonesian/English translator around. Keep mine in my back pocket.”
Sam glared, “You had it, like, an hour ago for that art history book you were
looking at, you jackass.”
“Oh,” Dean’s eyebrows shot up and he bit his bottom lip, trying to hold back a
smile, “Right. I forgot.” He reached down to a small orange paperback and
brought it to his brother. Studying over the page he grimaced, “Nasty lookin’
thing.”
Ignoring him Sam said, “The transcription here reads, Legenda di Bali. Ini
adalah mitologi yang mencari leyak bentuk terbang di perut dengan kepala yang
masih melekat.”
“And... that means?”
Sam flipped through the pages, “Hold on.” He leaned over the table and felt
Dean brace himself on the back of his chair. He could feel the warmth of his
brother’s chest against his back. Sam leaned back, pressure warm behind him. He
heard Dean breathe next to his ear. “It’s the Legend of the Leyak,” Sam spoke
turning his head attempting to look at his brother. He had to pull his head
back slightly so as not to bump into Dean’s nose. Dean’s mouth relaxed, open
slightly. Sam’s heart began to increase, growing patters thumping in his chest.
“Um,” Sam’s eyes caught Dean’s. Dean who was looking at him through a heavy
lidded haze. It reminded him instantly of how Dean looked at him when they were
in the car with the girls. Sam’s dick twitched at the memory. His eyes fell to
his brother’s dewy lips. “Uh,” Sam shook his head and turned away quickly. He
could feel the back of his neck warm, and he willed his blush away.  
Coughing, he abruptly flipped through the orange translating book. Sam pointed,
“Here. This… this mean’s ‘entrails’ and this word is-” Sam studied the page,
flipping through finding it’s match, “Flying!” He smiled. “Flying entrails!
Okay, I think we’re finally getting somewhere.”
He felt Dean kneel next to him, reach an arm to point at the ancient text.
“What’s this one mean?”
Sam found the word in his book, “Honey.” He furrowed his brow, “No wait it says
it also- Dean! It says ‘baby.’ Baby’s blood! 

“Calm down there, Hannibal Lecter.”

“This has to be it, Dean.” Sam flipped back through his orange book to pull
more words from the text, “Flying head. Baby’s blood. Pregnant! Animals. Dean,
it says it shifts into animals. This is it. Okay. Alright, now we just need to
translate it all in order.”
Dean laughed softly. Sam turned his head meeting Dean’s eyes. His heart jumped
at the way Dean was looking at him. “You did it, Sammy,” Dean let a small smile
loose.
Sam smiled back. Dean was still leaning in so close to him. Without much
conviction he whispered back, “Not Sammy.”
“Yeah,” Dean licked his bottom lip and softly replied, “I know.”
Sam’s eyes grew large. Dean seemed to be leaning into him. His lips were so
close, he could feel hurried puffs of air breathing between them. Just as Sam
was about to close the space, Dean stood up.
He rubbed a hand over his mouth, “Better get to translating, kiddo.” Dean
punched his shoulder and walked away into the kitchen.
What the fuck was that? Sam panicked staring after his brother as he retreated.
Sam almost kissed him. He almost kissed Dean. What the hell was he thinking?
Sam quickly dropped his gaze to the book in front of him. He started
methodically picking out words, one-by-one, writing down their meanings in
english. Only half paying attention to what he was doing, Sam rationalized that
was just left over from Stephanie. The last time someone had been that close to
him they had been making out for what seemed, through hazy memory, to be hours.
It was just muscle memory making him lean in.
He shook his head. Whatever. It wasn’t important. He needed to figure out the
translation.
Sam worked diligently, pushing all thoughts of Dean aside. He didn’t even
notice when his brother returned, sliding him a plate with a grilled cheese on
it.
“Hell yeah,” Sam looked up smiling. “Anything to drink?” Dean gave him an
annoyed look but brought his hand out to reveal a can of Coke. Wrapping his
lips around the sandwich Sam mumbled, “Best Dean.”
“I’m the best?” Dean scoffed, “Yeah, well, don’t you forget it.” He swallowed
awkwardly and pointed towards Sam’s notes. Sam pushed them towards him and Dean
read over the translation, “So, this leyak, shape shifts into animals, appears
normal human in the day and transforms into a rage ball of blood sucking guts
at night? Nice.” Dean scratched his face and kept reading, “They haunt
graveyards and corpses and pregnant women? Weird combination but whatever.
Okay, so how do we gank them?”
Sam swallowed and said, “The lore says leyaks were humans that practiced black
magic and cannibalism.”
“Not witches again. I’m so sick of damn witches.”
Sam smiled, “Well, they’re not human witches. Not anymore at least.”
“Okay, so again I ask, how we gonna kill it?”
“Alright, so from what I’ve found it can only be killed in it’s human form. But
when it’s human it’s entirely undetectable. Doesn’t matter what you do, nothing
will pick up anything wrong with them. Nothing but this spell.” Sam slid the
book over to Dean and pointed at the page, “This is directly related to
witchcraft but more specifically, being an Indonesian spell, after this spell
is performed it will glow with this weird kind of aura around the leyak.”
Dean nodded, “Okay, so what kills it?”
“Killing it is easy but you need a binding spell to keep it from shifting out
of human form. Then it’s your traditional beheading. Easy.”
Dean smiled, “Good work, Sam.”
Sam beamed, “The spell is really interesting too. It’s all these pretty common
ingredients. Most of them are used as spices now. But you mix them the right
way, make it into a drink, and after a few minutes you get this crazy witch
vision. Anything affected by witchcraft glows it’s own color depending on the
influence. Finding the damn thing is the hard part.”
“Wait. What did you say?” Dean crossed his arms and fixed intently on Sam.
Annoyed he asked, “Do you ever hear anything I say? Like, just tune in for five
minutes dude, is that so hard?”
“Sam,” Dean glared. “I heard what you said! Just- I need you to clarify. This
spell,” Dean tapped his finger hard on the book. “This spell will show you
everything, anything, that is under the influence of a spell? A curse?
Anything?”
Confused at Dean’s sudden intense interest, Sam nodded, “Yeah, Dean. Spells,
curses, hexes, jinxes, whatever you want to call it. It just needs to be
something altered magically by a human or something that was once a human.”
Dean grabbed the old book from the desk and the orange translator. “You’ve been
working too hard, Sam. I’ll translate the spell. You deserve a break.”
Sam shook his head, “Okay?” He continued to eat his sandwich. It was more than
a little suspicious that Dean was interested in taking over the research,
especially translating, but Sam was gonna take it. He needed a break. His back
was killing from sitting too long and his head ached from staring at books. Sam
offered to call Dad to let them know what they’re dealing with. Until Dean
figured out the spell it would be good for them to at least know what they were
up against.
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Dean’s throat constricted tight with nerves. When Sam told him they had
knowledge of how to detect magic, Dean’s stomach dropped. This was the break he
was looking for. It was a start at least. Once he knew for sure that he was
cursed he’d be able to find out what the hell he needed to do to fix it. He
couldn’t believe it took him so long to figure out that this weird new change
going on in his life was caused by that bitch and her goddamn last fighting
blow.
Sam had called right away to inform John what they were facing. When Dean
translated the spell, and had Sam double and triple check it, he went hunting
for ingredients. This was another spell that needed to be mixed and left alone
for a few days. The longer it was left alone the longer the vision would stay
in your system. Dean wouldn’t need it for long. Just to check himself out in
the mirror or to look at his arms. He just needed a quick look. But he was
going to let it sit for at least a day.
The ingredients weren’t hard to track down. Sam was right, most of them were
spices, and a few other things he was able to find around Bobby’s house. Dean
had to wait until the ethnic market opened for less common ingredients. There
were a few they were sold out of but they assured Dean they’d be back in stock
shortly, he just needed to check back.
So it was good. This was a good step. He was feeling better. Once he was
certain beyond all doubt that this is what was happening to him he’d feel more
confident about getting help. He’d call Michelle. If he did enough begging he
was sure she’d help him. She helped Sam. But he needed to be absolutely
positive before going to anyone.
In the mean time, his anxiety was high but he was optimistic. He was feeling
the most comfortable that he’d been in while around Sam. And Sam seemed to
respond well to it. Dean could joke and banter with him again without worrying
about Sam finding anything out about his present circumstance.
That didn’t mean his feelings for his brother had diminished, however. It just
meant now he could deal with it. There was a light at the end of this
godforsaken tunnel.
So, to kill time, he and Sam began exploring all the old, scrapped cars in the
yard. Dean found an ancient, hideous wooden paneled El Camino. He brought Sam
to it immediately, laughing at the sight of it.
The doors were nearly rusted shut but Dean managed to pry them open. He crawled
in through the driver’s side, sliding over as Sam followed behind. Everything
had a thick layer of dust and dirt. But the sun was shining in creating an
orange glow and each day grew warmer. Summer was close.
Dean kicked his legs up on the seat, dropping them heavily onto Sam’s sitting
lap. Sam groaned at the unexpected weight and Dean chuckled at him. Curious,
Dean opened the glove box. Several old magazines fell to the floor. He picked
one up and smiled. “Ha, jackpot!” Vintage Playboy. He laughed and threw one at
Sam.
“What is- oh,” Sam held it up, centerfold falling open. He cocked his head to
the side studying, “When did they start doing implants?” He asked Dean.
Dean, leafing through one of the several that had fallen to the floor hummed in
response.
“Boob jobs,” Sam stated. “There’s no way these are real, right?”
Dean lifted his eyes to look at the magazine Sam held. Dean smirked, “I dunno,
Sam. Look pretty real to me.”
“They’re huge.”
“‘They’re huge?’” Dean shook his head smiling. Sarcastically he quipped, “What
are you twelve? I know for a fact you’ve seen boobs before, man.”
“No, dude. I mean, proportionately. It’s weird, right? Like, here look. Look at
the size of her waist. She’s way too skinny and her boobs are huge. Like,
freakishly huge especially for- what is this? Late 60s? The 70s?”
Dean stared seriously at the centerfold then back to Sam. Deadpanning he spoke,
“You look at that, that perfect specimen of a voluptuous woman, you
see that and in that freak brain of yours your biggest concern is her waist to
tit ratio?” Dean shook his head, “You’re doin’ it wrong, Sammy.”
Sam rolled his eyes.
Dean sat up to get a better view studying closer, “I can tell you one thing,
she ain’t a natural blonde, that’s for damn sure.”
Sam looked back considering it again. He shrugged and threw it to the floor of
the car.
Eyeing him carefully, Dean laid back resting his head against the window. He
couldn’t bring his attention back to the magazine. They were a bit too tasteful
for his liking anyway. The old shit was art, not porn, but he continued to hold
his magazine up, pretending to look as he watched over to Sam.
Sam rubbed his thumb against Dean’s shin, tapping in a jaded rhythm.
Dean started to wonder how many girls his brother had hooked up with in his
life. He was fairly certain Sam was still a virgin. The night with Stephanie
was probably the most action he’d seen, but goddamn, the way he took charge
when he kissed her. Sweet innocent little Sammy, so unsure and awkward around
women. Dean had never seen that side of him before. Nothing about it was
virginal and sweet. It was disturbing, and carnal, and fucking hot. And it made
Dean wonder else he didn’t know about his kid brother.
Thinking about Sam in that context probably wasn’t the best idea. His mind
clouded a little and he felt blood rush to down, swelling slowly. Shit. This
wasn’t supposed to happen. Dean closed his eyes and tried breathing deep,
willing the semi he was sporting to go the hell away.
But Sam shifted an arm and it grazed him. Dean gasped quietly and looked at
Sam, scared.
He was looking down at his pants, erection starting to show. Sam looked up to
Dean and Dean blushed. He cursed himself internally. What the hell was wrong
with him? Sam had seen him like this a hundred times. He literally heard Dean
beg him, whine at him, Just help me out here, man. I haven’t gotten laid in,
like, two weeks.
Timidly, he glimpsed at Sam. Sam lifted an eyebrow, “You want me to-” The
question hung in the air.
Yes. Yes he did. He wanted Sam wrap his strong hands on his dick and stroke him
fully hard until he got on his knees and start blowing him. And then Dean
wanted to force his brother up, rough, grabbing tight to his hair and shove his
tongue down his throat.
But he said nothing.
Sam started moving his hand towards his zipper. When Dean felt the pressure as
Sam began to unzip he rushed his hands down to stop him, “No, Sam.”
Sam lifted his hand confused, “No?”
“Sam,” Dean whined. Whined for an entirely different reason than usual, “Just.
No.”
Sam shook his head, “Come on, Dean.” He lowered his hand, placing it on Dean’s
thigh, which he didn’t fail to notice was close to his dick. “It’s been, like,
god, I don’t know? Like two months or something. Before the spell.”
Dean’s heart beat dangerously under his chest. He could hear the blood pumping.
He was certain Sam could tell how much this was affecting him. Could hear his
heart trying to escape, thumping in strong beats through his skull, “No, Sam.”
His brother looked down to his lap, “That doesn’t look like a ‘no’ to me.” Sam
shifted his body and Dean could tell, now Sam was getting hard.
Closing his eyes he tried to collect his thoughts. “Sam, I know it seems-”
“Dude, what is your problem?” Sam interrupted. “You’ve been acting weird ever
since I got my body back. What the hell, Dean?”
“Sam, it’s not-” He closed his eyes, “I’ve just been thinking-”
“You’ve been thinking?”
Christ, it felt like he was breaking up with his fucking brother. It had to
stop. Clearing his throat, Dean spoke softly, “Sam, you know we shouldn’t be
doing it. You know that.”
Confused, he shook his head, “Since when did you start caring about that?”
“Since, since-” he stammered. “Since, I don’t fucking know! Since the body
swap, I guess. If Dad finds out-”
“Dad’s not gonna find out,” Sam insisted.
“Jesus, Sam!” Dean he sneered. “Will you just listen to yourself! Just think
about what the hell you’re saying. Do you know how fucked up you sound?” Dean
struggled weakly, trying to remove his legs from his brother lap.
“No, Dean,” Sam held his legs firmly in place, holding him to the spot. “You’re
not going anywhere. We’re talking about this.”
Dean breathed deep, covering his face with his hands, shaking, “I’m not having
this conversation with you. I’m not jacking you off. I’m just done, okay? Go
call Stephanie.”
“I don’t want to call Stephanie!” Sam narrowed his eyes, “Is this why you’ve
been acting like such a jerk? So, what? After all this fucking around you
suddenly decided you don’t want to take the chance of getting
caught? That’s what this is?”
Dean clenched his jaw and looked away from his brother out the window.
“Oh, now you can’t even talk to me?”
Still not making eye contact, Dean stated calmly, “This has just gone on long
enough, Sam. We’re too old to be doing this shit. Find a girlfriend, man.”
Sam scoffed, “Dude, you are putting way too much thought into this. You were
the one that told me, ‘don’t overthink it’. Dean, you like it. I know you
do. I like it. And it’s not like we’re actually fucking or anything. So who
cares? With how we live, you know it’s a hell of a lot easier than going out
and getting laid.”
It’s not like we’re fucking, echoed through his head. Dean kept his head turned
to the side, not daring to look at his brother. He couldn’t. The welling fear
was bubbling to the surface and all he wanted to do was to get out of the
fucking car. But he knew they had to have this conversation. They had to stop
it. And the sooner they were done talking about it the faster he could move on.
Sam would get over his whiny, bratty tantrum and Dean would find a cure and
they would move on.
With a tone of finality Dean stated, “I’m done, Sam.”
Sam shook his head, fuming, and shoved Dean’s legs off of him. He threw himself
out the door, slamming it hard behind, shaking the car as he left.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
  
When Sam slammed the door to Bobby’s he stomped straight to his duffel bag. He
found the scrap piece of paper with Stephanie’s number on it. Dean wanted him
to call her? Fine. He’d call her. When his brother eventually came back, tail
between his legs, Sam wasn’t going to be there. Dean can go fuck himself.
Grabbing the paper and going to the phone, Sam took a minute to calm himself
before dialing the number. It rang, sharp warbling shrieks on the other end.
“Hello?” A small voice answered.
“Hey, Stephanie?” Sam’s voice light, an act, not properly displaying his
current emotion.
“Yeah?”
“Hi, this is Sam.”
“Sam?” She asked, “Sam? I’m sorry, I don’t-”
“From the bar,” Sam shook his head. “Sam, from the bar.”
“Oh,” she realized. “Right. Sam from the bar.” She laughed nervously, “And Sam
from the car.”
He bit his lip, “Yeah, that’s the one. Uh, I just wanted to apologize. I would
have called sooner but we had a family emergency come up and-”
“Is everyone okay?”
“Yeah,” Sam sighed. “Yeah, it’s fine now. But anyway I just-” Sam swore quietly
to himself. What the hell was he doing? “I was hoping, maybe I could see you
again? Are you free? Tonight? Right now, maybe?”
Anxiously, Stephanie laughed quietly into the phone, “Sam, I don’t-” He could
hear her breathe before she continued, “I was really really drunk that night.”
“Oh, no,” Sam quickly interrupted. “No, I’m not looking for- That’s not why I
called.” Sam shut his eyes tight and ran his fingers through his hair. “I just,
I don’t know, I felt bad for not calling because I meant to. And, I was just
hoping to get out of here for a bit.”
“Well,” she paused. “I’m gonna be honest with you, Sam. You seem like a really
nice guy. But, that night- I just found out my boyfriend cheated on me. I was
really pissed and kind of on a mission, if you know what I mean?”
Sam smiled into the phone, “Uh, yeah. I remember.”
“Shit,” she swore, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to, like, attack you.”
“It’s okay, Stephanie, really.”
“Okay. So, well, anyway, it’s just really complicated with me right now. I’m
not really looking for-”
“Hey, me either,” Sam interrupted sweetly. “I promise. I’ve just been cooped up
for the last week straight and Dean’s driving me crazy. I was just hoping to
get out of here for a while. I don’t really know anyone else in town, so I
thought I’d see what you were doing.”
“Oh,” She replied. She let the conversation hang, pausing before saying adding,
“Well, I don’t know.”
Sam laughed softly, “I don’t want to twist your arm or anything here. It’s okay
if you don’t-”
“No,” she interrupted. “No, Sam. That sounds nice, actually. I could probably
use a little time away from everything.”
Sam worried his lip nervously, “Yeah? Um, well, the other thing, Dean’s not
gonna let me take the car, do you think you could-”
Stephanie laughed into the phone, “Yeah, Sam. I’ll pick you up. Where are you
at?”
“Have you heard of Singer Auto Salvage? Junk yard on the edge of town.”
“What are you doing out there?”
“A family friend owns it. We’re crashing at his place right now.”
“Oh, okay. Well, give me like half hour? Forty five minutes?”
“Sounds great,” Sam smiled.
Grabbing the credit card from Dean’s wallet, Sam walked out to the entrance of
the lot. It was getting much nicer lately and he didn’t want to be trapped
inside. Despite wanting to piss Dean off, he really hadn’t wanted to call
Stephanie again. Not for more of what they did before. He was more than a bit
relieved to hear that she wasn’t looking for that either.
She pulled up in a silver Grand Prix and Sam climbed in.
Stephanie eyed him suspiciously. “You are not twenty-one years old, kid,” she
said flatly.
Sam bit his lip and lifted his eyebrows nervously, “Uh, not quite.”
“Not quite? Shit. How old are you?”
“More like eighteen,” he lied.
Stephanie shook her head, a smile slowly crept on her face. “I’m robbin’ the
cradle here, man.”
Sam mirrored her smile, “Only a couple years off.”
She pulled her car into drive and drove them away from the junkyard. Shaking
her head she teased, “You’re practically a baby.”
“I think I should feel insulted by that.”
Eyeing him from the corner of her eye she quipped, “Still hot though.”
Smirking, she turned away and added, “I gotta say, wasted me has good taste.”
Sam laughed. “I’m kind of worried now, how much younger than you am I?”
Her smile grew. “I’m twenty two,” she winked.
Sam rolled his eyes, “Practically a grandma. You wanna swing by the police
department? This was nearly statutory. Are you a predator? We should probably
alert the media. I’m only thinking of the children here.”
She scoffed, “Yeah, yeah.” Shaking her head she added, “Smartass.” Sam laughed.
She remarked, “That was the most I’ve heard you speak. You were practically
mute in the bar.”
Sam looked out the window, watching buildings pass by, “What can I say? You got
me out of my shell.”
“I got something out of it’s shell.” Sam’s face instantly flushed in
embarrassment. “You’re a good kisser,” she added. Then turned and asked, “Was
that your first blowjob?”
“Uh,” Sam twisted his head away, avoiding her eyes. “Yeah,” he admitted
reluctantly.
She chuckled, but said kindly, “Don’t be embarrassed, dude. I’m more than happy
to provide you my service of defiling the youth of America.”
“We move around a lot,” Sam explained. “I just don’t really have a chance to
get to know many girls.”
She nodded, considering. “I was seventeen before I even had my first kiss.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Don’t sound so surprised. I wasn’t always a big slut bag.”
“You’re not a-”
“Sam, I’m joking, relax,” she shook her head. “I gotta ask though, what’s that
deal with that friend of yours?”
“Dean?”
“Yeah, Veronica is convinced he has a massive crush on you. Completely
obsessed.”
Sam choked a laugh, “Dean’s my brother.”
Stephanie snapped her neck to him, “What? Brother? Seriously?”
He nodded, “Yeah, brother.”
“Oh,” she said quietly.
“‘Oh’? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothin’.”
Sam looked out the window in thought. She was driving them around a residential
area but he wasn’t paying much attention. Annoyed, he turned back, “No, what
did you mean?”
She bit back a smirk, “Nothing. You seem like you two are really close. That’s
all.”
Sam’s heart raced. He understood what she was implying. Legs bouncing he
denied, “I don’t know what you think-”
“I don’t think anything, dude. Chill out.”
Sam shut his eyes. This car ride started fun but took a dive head first into a
new kind of hell. How did they know? How did these two wasted girls pick up
what he had with Dean. What the hell? If they had seen it and they’d only been
around them a few hours what did people who saw them all the time think? Did
Bobby know? Did Dad? They hadn’t even done anything recently. And apparently
nothing would be happening anytime soon. And even when they did, they were
careful with that shit. But how had it been obvious that they had something
hide?
He inhaled, calming himself before asking slowly, “What was it exactly that
made Veronica think Dean had a crush on me?”
Stephanie chanced a look, innocent expression on her face, “Uh, I don’t know,
man.”
Sam flashed her his best bitchface.
She lift her eyebrows and admitted quickly, “It’s how he looked at you.”
Furrowing his brow, he shook his head, “What do you mean ‘how he looks at me’?”
“The way he looked at you, I don’t know how to describe it. He didn’t take his
eyes off you all night,” she shook her head, turning to look out the window.
“And I mean all night. Even in the car. No, especially, in the car. I mean, I
was a little busy at the time, but Veronica said it was like we were barely
there, the way you two were together.”
Sam closed his eyes, “That was just-”
“He said your name when he came.”
Sam froze. He hadn’t remembered that but instantly when the words escaped her
lips he knew it was true. The memory hit him in the face.
“I’m not judging here, man! You don’t owe me any explanations.”
Sam shook his head and defended, “No, you don’t understand. That was- Dean
just- Okay, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but I recently had a- a-,”
he sighed, “A life altering experience.”
She lifted a hand in defense, “What you two do is your own-”
“No, listen. Like, a near death experience. Dean was freaking out that he was
going to lose me. We both had been freaking out for a long time. So, whatever
you guys thought you saw, however you thought he was looking at me, it was
because of that. He thought he was going to lose me. We both thought that.” Sam
quietly added, “We just recently found out that everything was okay.”
He looked at her with her hands firmly supported on the wheel she stared ahead.
“I’m really sorry, man,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean-”
Sam interrupted, “No, it’s fine. It’s just, that’s why we were- if we were
looking at each other weird, that’s why.” He laughed darkly, “It’s been a
really screwed up couple of months.”
Sam looked out the window. The sun was beginning to set and Stephanie had taken
them to some abandoned country road. She parked the car. It almost would have
been romantic if they hadn’t just been talking about his brother having a crush
on him. His heart was still racing.
“Was it cancer?” She asked quietly.
“Huh?”
“Did you have cancer?”
Sam shook his head, “Something like that.” He leaned his head back against the
headrest, “I think this has been one of the weirdest car rides of my life. And
I live on the road, so trust me, I’ve had some weird ones.”
Stephanie laughed and turned to look at him, “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to
bring all that up for you again.”
Sam waved his hand, dismissing her concern. But he couldn’t get the thought out
of his mind. Dean had been looking at him in a way so obvious and suspicious
that these two girls, and who the hell else, knew something fucked up was going
on between them. And Dean had said Sam’s name. Sam couldn’t help the shiver
that ran down his arms.
He hated to admit it but, maybe Dean was right. Maybe it was time to end it.
Chapter End Notes
     Playboy Liv Lindeland 1971 - her boobies are like... whoa dude
***** Chapter 10 *****
Dean was surprised to find that when he returned to Bobby’s house, long since
dark, the lights were off. He had expected Sam to at least leave a light on
but, whatever. Dean had raided a stash of beer and stayed in the depths of the
junkyard all day. He found a few cars to tinker with and when it got too dark
to see he laid down in the backseat of the Impala and listened to the radio.
But when he entered the house it only took a few minutes to realize something
wasn’t right. It was too quiet. He quickly searched the house and found that
Sam was gone.
Fighting to keep his mind from going to the Worst Case Scenario folder, Dean
opened a beer and sat heavy on the couch. Sam was just out which Dean knew
meant he probably called Stephanie and was blowing off steam.
Dean laughed to himself. He was sure something was getting blown off. And it
made him mad. But, that’s what he told Sam to do. So, for now he’ll have to
deal with it and this feeling would go away once the they figured out the
spell.
He had the ingredients stashed, hidden away in one of the several nooks in
Bobby’s house. Dean was planning on picking up the last of them on Monday and
with any luck he’d be able to prepare the spell and figure this shit out all on
the same day.
High beams flashed into the living room and Dean heard the rumble of a car
outside. It didn’t take long for Sam to stumble in, smile on his face dropping
as soon as he met Dean. He wore an odd expression and walked into the living
room avoided Dean’s eyes.
“You with Stephanie?” Dean asked.
“Yeah,” he said softly, looking at the floor.
“She help that little problem of yours?” Dean asked bitterly.
Sam shrugged.
Dean nodded wiping his mouth, “I’m going to bed.” He stood and walked towards
the stairs.
“Dean,” Sam breathed.
He stopped and glared as his brother, “I am not talking about this again, Sam,
so if you-”
“No, Dean,” he interrupted. “I’ve been thinking about it and-” he shrugged, “I
think you’re right.”
Dean turned away nodding. “Okay,” he said solemnly, “I’m going to bed.” Sam let
him pass and slowly he climbed up the stairs to the little twin bed in their
tiny shared room. It didn’t take long for Sam to follow, not speaking as he
crawled into his own bed.
He wasn’t sure how long he was laying there, staring at the ceiling in the
dark, not sleeping. And he knew Sam wasn’t either. Dean’s stomach was churning.
This is what he wanted. He was the one that said they needed to stop. So why
did it hit like a punch when Sam agreed?
Dean held his eyes closed tight and focused on evening his breaths. Slow and
slower. Only concentrating on breathing. And eventually sleep was able to find
him.
When he woke to birds squawking and light blinding, he looked over to see Sam
gone. However, Dean found him soon, eating cereal at the table in the kitchen.
Sam looked at him anxiously as Dean walked by and started a pot of coffee.  
Sam cleared his throat, “So, uh, Bobby called earlier.” Dean lifted an eyebrow
and Sam continued, “They’re gonna do the spell soon. Bobby said if everything
goes to plan they’ll probably be back by the end of the week.”
Dean nodded and threw a few pieces of bread into the toaster. He finished
getting his breakfast ready and sat quietly at the table with Sam.
The next couple of days passed in similar awkward silence. Dean called the
market daily to see if the ingredients were restocked. He finally got the
answer he wanted and by Wednesday he had everything he needed.
With the spell prepared, all Dean needed was a quiet, private location and for
Sam to fuck off. He finally got his opportunity when Sam told him he was going
to the mall with Stephanie.
“Veronica’s gonna be there, if, you know, you wanted to meet up with her
again.” Dean heard the implied tone. ‘Meet up’ meaning ‘hook up’. Sam was
trying to get him laid. Dean hadn’t had sex since the night in the car. The
mere thought of it immediately brought images of Sam to his mind. He quickly
turned down the offer.
Sam left in Stephanie’s car soon after.
Dean had been on edge all day. This was it. He’d know for sure and he’d call
Michelle and they’d figure it out. He had gone over, reread, prepared
meticulously, covertly double checked with Sam, and felt confident that he
wasn’t going to screw it up.
He had prepared the spell the day before, allowing it time to ensure it would
work properly. Dean knew that meant that he was going to be seeing auras all
day but it would be worth it.
Taking a deep breath, calming his trembling hands, Dean stood in front of the
bathroom mirror holding the glass in front of his lips. He focused intently on
his own tired eyes and threw back the potion.
Shaking his head in disgust he stuck his tongue out. Not entirely the worst
thing he’d had in his mouth before but no way in hell he wanted to have this
cocktail again anytime soon.
Dean squeezed his eyes shut. He paid close attention to the warming sensation
inching throughout his body, blood vibrating. He could feel the hair on his arm
stand on end. This was it. This was the moment. Building courage he opened his
eyes slowly and stared into the mirror.
He saw himself looking back. Worried, bloodshot eyes staring back at himself.
His normal self. He didn’t look any different.
Dean panicked, shutting his eyes and shaking again. He just needed a little
more time for it to kick in. He tried too soon. That was all.
Trembling, he braced his arms on the sink and tried again, opening his eyes
slowly to find his normal green eyes looking devastated back at him. No. This
wasn’t happening.
He held his hands in front of him but still saw nothing. No glowing. No aura.
No sensation of anything magic. Dean turned off the light. If he was supposed
to be glowing, well he had the goddamn light on, of course he wasn’t going to
see himself glowing.
Eyes adjusting slowly to the dark, he choked back a sob and he realized the
entire bathroom was immersed in pitch black. An abyss of darkness with no aura
to be found.
Something wasn’t right here. This wasn’t right. He was cursed. As painstakingly
careful as he had been, Dean must have fucked something up with the spell.
He ripped open the door, blinded instantly by the daylight. Blinking open, he
slowly focused around Bobby’s house. Everything looked the same but yet there
were minor fluttering differences, like a mirage on hot asphalt. He walked into
the livingroom and studied the books scattered across the room. Most of them
looked normal but there were a small handful that shined like a lens flare,
bright and distracting.
A few of them glowed pink. There were greens and blues and one blinding bright
white. Despite the daylight, their auras were strong. All visible.
Dean’s body shook violently and he stormed back to the bathroom. Standing in
front of the mirror there was no change. He wasn’t glowing. He wasn’t blinding.
He wasn’t cursed.
He slid down the bathroom wall and sat on the hard floor. Bringing his knees
up, he propped his elbows and supported his head as he wiped his hand over his
face. Numb. Dean was numb. He sat on the floor of the bathroom, staring into
nothingness, with air cooling over the wet streaks down his face. That bitch
had cursed him. He knew it. He just needed to wait longer. He’d wait longer and
it would show up.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
  
Sam enjoyed spending time with Stephanie. She was blunt and crude and had a way
of putting him at ease. She still had that thing going on with her boyfriend,
that fight, or breakup, or makeup, Sam wasn’t sure. However, he was relieved
that she wasn’t interested in pursuing anything with him. They were just
friends and couldn’t figure out for the life of him why someone like Stephanie
would want to hang out with him, but he wasn’t going to complain. It was a nice
break from his brother. Things were too complicated there.
Neither Stephanie or Veronica mentioned anything more about his relationship
with Dean, but now that both he and Dean were in agreement, the only damn thing
he could think of was the last time Dean had his hands on him. Anytime the
thought passed he forced himself to stop. To think of Stephanie instead, her
soft small hands. But he always ending up comparing and always came down in
favor of Dean. Sam wouldn’t let his mind go back to Dean’s eyes locked on his,
panting under heavy lidded eyes in the car. Sam’s heart sank. When had this
become so complicated?
It was a little after 10:00 pm when Sam opened the door to a dark house.
“Dean?” He called to his brother, turning on a light in the livingroom. The
Impala was parked in front of the house so he knew he was home.
He climbed the stairs and called again, “Dean, you in here?” He opened the door
to an empty bedroom room. Sam shook his head. Dean was probably out in the
garage somewhere. Walking back down to the kitchen he flipped on the light. But
now with light shining down the hall, Sam saw legs extended on the floor of the
bathroom.
“Dean?” He yelled and ran to him, throwing the door open wide. Dean looked up
at him from the floor, confused. “What the hell, Dean?”
Shrugging his brother turned his head away.
“Dean, what’s wrong? What happened? Are you okay?”
Dean laughed despondently, his shoulders shaking against the wall, “No, Sam.
No. I am not okay.”
Panic seizing him, Sam knelt next to his brother, “Is it Dad? What happened,
Dean? Are they okay?”
Dean closed his eyes, shaking his head, “They’re fine, Sam.”
Furrowing his brow, Sam asked, “Then what is it?”
Dean continued to shake his head, “It’s nothing. Nevermind.” He rubbed his face
hard with his hands and struggled standing up.
Sam saw a glass with something orange and murky lining the bottom inch. He
picked it up, “What the hell is this, Dean?”
Shrugging his shoulders, Dean walked out of the bathroom.
“Are you high? What’s in this?”
Dean continued to walk into the kitchen where Sam heard him open the fridge.
Sam stormed after him gripping the glass tight. “Dean!” He demanded, “Answer
me.”
Pulling a beer out of the fridge and using the countertop to pop the cap, he
turned towards Sam. His eyes were bloodshot and there were red marks streaked
down his face. “Power shake,” he said dryly.
Sam looked in the glass skeptically. “Dean, don’t lie to me. Power
shake? This is a power shake?”
Dean nodded at him weakly.
“Right. And you really expect me to believe that?” He sighed, “You wanna try
that again?”
Dean shrugged and took a long draw of his beer otherwise ignoring Sam.
“Power shake?” Sam smelled the contents in the glass and balked, “So you won’t
mind if I finish it then, right?”
Dean’s eye flashed quickly, Sam nearly missed it. Dean inhaled sharply. “It
tastes like ass,” he stated indifferently, turning away, face reddening.
Sam smelled again. It was disgusting. “So?”
Dean turned back to see Sam lift the glass to his lips. “No, Sam!” Dean
interrupted.
Sam stopped and lifted his eyebrow questioning, “You gonna talk?”
He sighed, “I did that fucking spell, okay?”
“The spell? What spell?”
Dean turned away, hiding his face from Sam. “The witchcraft one. The one that
detects spells.”
“What? Why? Why did you take it?” He set the glass on the table hard.
Shoulders shrugging he replied, “I was just curious.”
Sam scoffed, “Curious?” He walked over to his brother. He grabbed his shoulders
forcing Dean to turn and face him. He demanded, “Tell me what the hell is going
on, Dean.”
Dean inhaled and shook his head, “Look, you and Dad got hit with that spell and
I was just starting to think, maybe I-”
Sam held his shoulders firmly, “What’s wrong? Dean you have to tell me!”
He shuddered, “No, Sam, it’s nothing.” Sam stared at him fuming. “No, Sam, I
mean it. Look I- I did the spell and nothing. There’s nothing.”
Sam shook his head, “I don’t believe you.” He marched over to the table and
without a second thought slammed back the remaining contents of the glass.
“Sam!”
He shivered in disgust, “That’s fuckin’ nasty.”
“Sam! You can’t just-”
“No,” he interrupted. “Look, you did the spell because you think something’s
wrong? Then I’m gonna make sure you’re not cursed.”
“Damn it, Sam. I’m not lying to you! I’m not cursed,” he said dismally.
Sam shook his head, “Maybe it doesn’t work on yourself? Maybe you need someone
else to see it? If there is something wrong with you I want to know.”
Dean perked his head up, “You think- you think that I can’t see it on myself?”
“I don’t know, Dean! I don’t know what the hell is going on because you won’t
tell me.” Sam closed his eyes and braced himself on the table. Tendrils of warm
vibrations slithered through his body. He shook his head and felt Dean’s hand
on the side of his face.
Dean forced him to meet his eyes, “You okay, Sam?”
Sam shivered and closed his eyes. They hurt. Everything was bright. “I’m fine,
just, will you bring me to the couch?”
Dean helped maneuver him to the  living room and sat down with him on the
couch.
Wincing, Sam blinked open his eyes and looked around the room. Even though it
was dark he saw many soft little luminous balls of light flicker, slowly
growing stronger. As he opened his eyes more fully, he focused on all the books
across the room. Soft greens and vibrant and muted hues of many colors.
“Sam,” Dean’s voice was quiet, timid, “Do you- do you see them?”
Breathless Sam responded, “Yeah, Dean.”
In a pained gentle voice Dean asked, “And me? Am I-” His voice broke off.
Sam turned his head and shared in Dean’s frightened gaze. Dean looked the same.
No glowing light. He was fine.
Lifting his hand, Sam brought it to where Dean’s neck and shoulder met, fingers
rubbing a small comfort on his neck, “No, Dean. You’re not cursed. I don’t see
anything.” Dean inhaled sharply, standing abruptly from the couch he pushed
Sam’s arm aside. Sam followed, stepping carefully, blinking past the auras in
the room.
“Dean, please,” he begged.
He shook his head, “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. I thought this
was it. I thought- it all made perfect sense. It didn’t start until the stupid
fucking spell. It has to be that? Doesn’t it?”
“What, Dean? What happened to you?”
Taking a deep breath, Dean turned and looked Sam in the eye, “Nothing, Sammy.
I’m fine. I thought- I just wasn’t feeling great, you know? And I thought maybe
this was it.” He forced a strained smile, convincing no one.
“Dean, I can help,” Sam stepped closer. Dean took a step back.
“No,” he shook his head. “I’m just… I’m overreacting. I’m fine Sam, really.”
“Dean,” he pleaded.

His brother turned away, “Look, I just need- I need to get out of here for a
while, okay?”
Sam shook his head, “No, you’re obviously-”
“Sam,” Dean stated tersely. “Just, I need fresh air. I’m fine.” He walked into
the kitchen grabbing his keys.
“Wait!” Sam called to him.
Dean stopped, back to Sam, hand caressing the frame of the door, “I’ll be back,
Sam.” And he walked out into the dark.
***** Chapter 11 *****
Dean returned to Bobby’s late that night. He shuffled quietly into the room he
shared with his brother. He was exhausted. So fucking exhausted he couldn’t
give a second thought to Sam asleep in the twin bed across the room.
He was almost surprised to find himself awake in the morning, light shining
through. Dean hadn’t expected to sleep but the stress of the day before was
enough to shut his body down.
Stepping lightly down the stairs, he swallowed nervously hearing Sam on the
phone. He took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen.
“Where did you say this was happening again?” Sam was scratching a pen on paper
talking into the phone. “Fort Tuthill, Kachina Village, Sedona, Camp Verde,”
Sam shook his head. “You know it’s probably not-” he put the pen down hard. “In
Arizona? That’s gotta be the worst place for-” Sam rolled his eyes and sighed.
“It could be a thousand things why do you think-”
Dean walked over to the fridge to start making breakfast for himself. He eyed
Sam carefully as he talked on the phone then returned back to pouring a glass
of orange juice.
“Fine. Yeah,” Sam scoffed. “They’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll tell them but
they’re gonna say you’re crazy, man. In the meantime, you might want to
consider the possibility that you got something else on your hands, just some
advice.”
He hung up the phone and looked at Dean, exasperated, “Dude says he’s tracking
a nest of vampires.” Sam stared at him dully and added, “In Arizona.”
Dean forced a laugh as he threw bread in the toaster, “A nest?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. A single sighting is so rare these days but a whole
nest? That’s crazy. But whatever. I told him I’d tell Bobby. He’s looking for
backup on it, I guess.”
“Sounds like he’s been watching too much Buffy.”
Sam laughed agreeing and walked over the the table. He sat down, crossing his
arms and looked up at Dean. “So,” he hesitated.
Dean sighed and interrupted, “Okay, look dude, this is all I’m gonna say about
yesterday. With you and Dad changing bodies I started to get a little paranoid
and I thought maybe I was hit too. I started to look for things wrong, and
since I was paying attention I started to see problems that weren’t there. I
went overboard. So, I know you’re scared or worried for me or whatever the
hell, but I’m fine.” He watched Sam look at him unconvinced. Dean continued,
“Seriously, man. I freaked out is all. I thought I’d use the spell since it was
handy.” Grabbing the popped up toast, he joined Sam at the table.
Sam eyed him skeptically and questioned, “Is that why you’ve been acting so
weird? Ditching me at here all the time?”
Dean shoved a piece of toast in his mouth and shrugged.
“Okay, well, what did you think was wrong?”
Dean stopped chewing and looked at Sam carefully, “I don’t know.” He shifted
his eyes away. “Just stuff. Itchy skin. Warm all the time. Trouble sleeping. A
lot of headaches,” he lied.
“You got some headaches and thought you were cursed by a witch?”
Dean gave him a small smile, “I told you, man. I was paranoid.”
“If you were having trouble sleeping that could have given you headaches. Not
to mention all the alcohol.”
“Yeah, okay Sam. I get it. Don’t need a lecture here. Can we just move on now?”
Sam smiled and lifted his eyebrows, “Alright, dude. Just don’t go making any
more secret spells. That stuff is dangerous.”
“Bossy bitch,” Dean shoved another bite into his mouth. Sam smiled at him.
Dean had decided the less Sam knew about what was going on with him the better.
Okay. So, checking out Sam wasn’t part of the spell. Fine. It wasn’t the end of
the world. And of course he was checking him out. Dean was probably still
reacting to having Sam back in his own body. So, yeah, he’d checked him over.
Watched the way he moved, stared a little longer at his eyes, but just to
really confirm that Sam was back. That’s all it was. And doing that made his
brain freak out. So the stuff in the car? With all the sexual shit between them
over the months everything just crossed wires. But now he knew what the problem
was. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t fix. Dean would go back to seeing Sam as
his bratty little brother. Everything would be fine.
After breakfast, the day wore on slowly. Sam informed him that John was
returning the next day so this was their last bit of time at Bobby’s. Dean
would be glad to leave. Right now he wanted to leave everything with this spell
and his problem with his brother behind.
When his dad finally returned Bobby told them about the leyak and how
disgusting it was in it’s bulging eye, bloody entrail body, floating and flying
their way. They were able to bind it in it’s human form and from there it was
easy. No more dead pregnant women. No more dead babies.
Sam informed them of the hunters that called while they were gone. He saved the
hunter and his vampire problem for last.
“A nest?” John asked crossing his arms. “In Arizona?”
Sam nodded.
“Vampires are practically extinct. You should have told him that.”
“I did,” Sam replied perturbed. Then quickly added, “Sir.”
“And he still thought it was a nest?”
“Yes, sir.”
John scratched his jaw, facial hair growing in strong. “Alright, looks like
we’re headed to Arizona. We’ll leave first thing in the morning, boys, so pack
up and be ready to leave.”
Dean groaned at the the thought. That’s twenty hours on the road. Two straight
days. Two straight days just him and Sam. He wasn’t looking forward to it.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
 
Sam was unconvinced that Dean had told him the truth about the spell. It was
clear that something was going on with him. And what he did admit to about the
spell at least helped Sam fill in some of the blanks. It explained why he had
been acting so damn weird since the body swap. It bothered Sam that Dean
wouldn’t just tell him what was going on but he was more than willing to give
him some space.
The drive to Arizona was boring and confusing and enlightening and frustrating.
Sam tried to steal glances at Dean when he could. Study him. See if he was
behaving different. And he was. Dean had been white knuckling it for hours.
Probably the whole trip. Sam feigned sleeping more than once and when he did he
noticed Dean would relax considerably.
During the second day there was a moment when Sam noticed Dean adjusting his
jeans. Sam looked at him briefly and knew that Dean was hard behind the wheel.
Dean exchanged a guilty glance with Sam, both knowing, and when Sam sat up to
get a drink of water Dean flinched next to him.
“I wasn’t going to-” Sam tried to explain.
“Drop it, Sam.”
So he did.
He turned his head and watched as green grass turned brown turned to desert.
But all he could think was Dean sitting next to him, adjusting his clothes,
hard as hell. A few months ago Dean would have slapped him in the chest and
told him to do something about it.
“Dude, you awake?”
Groaning Sam replied, “Ugh, I am now.” Blinking away sleep he asked, “What do
you want?”
And Dean gave him that look, raised his eyebrows, biting his lip suggestively.
Sam looked to his lap. Dean was tenting.
“Hmm?” He questioned suggestively.
“You’re driving, Dean.” Sam shook his head.
Dean rolled his eyes, “You never got road head, dude?” Sam gave him a disgusted
look and Dean continued, “No. What am I thinking. Of course not.”
“That’s disgusting, Dean. I’m not blowing you, jerk.”
“No!” Dean exclaimed. “No, not that. No.” He shook his head, “Just… you know”
Dean made a quick gesture with his hand.
Sam scoffed, “Dean, if you’re not old enough to say it then you’re not old
enough to do it.”
“Says the virgin in the front seat.”
“Says your little brother that you just asked to jack you off.”
Dean grimaced, “Don’t say it out loud, dude. Seriously?”
Sam shook his head. He paused before asking, “So, what’s in it for me if I do?”
Dean smiled in victory, “I’ll get you next time you drive.”
“You never let me drive!”
“Sam! Come on! What do you want?”
He tilted his head, considering, “When we get to the motel, you return the
favor. And I don’t have to do it back.”
Dean nodded reluctantly, “Yeah, okay.”
“And I get the remote the next two nights.”
Groaning, Dean agreed, “Fine. Okay, fine.” One handed, he brought his hand down
to open his jeans.
Sam shifted on the seat next to him. He could feel himself getting hard. Sam
moved closer to his brother but just as he was about to reach in Dean’s boxers
he stopped. Hand hovering over his lap, he asked, “You’re not going to crash
us, are you?”
Affronted, Dean gaped, “Fuck up my Baby? Hell, no.”
Sam rolled his eyes and moved closer, his shoulder touching Dean’s. He reached
into his pants with his left hand and grabbed his dick, pulling it through the
hole in his boxers. Dean inhaled sharply.
“Don’t close your eyes!” Sam demanded.
“I’m not going to close my eyes!” Dean protested, “Now, just… do it.”
“Don’t be a jerk,” Sam mumbled. Leaning back against the seat, with his right
hand Sam grabbed his own cock and held it firmly.
“Wait!” Dean interrupted.
Sam froze, “No?”
“No, not ‘no’. Yes, I still-" he sighed. "Just, grab those napkins on the floor
first.”
Sam rolled his eyes and grabbed the napkins. He put them next to Dean’s lap and
returned his hand. Dean’s skin was soft and smooth and hard under his hands.
Sam ignored the nagging feeling of depravity at how familiar he was with his
brother’s dick. With his thumb, he mapped out the veins in the way that he knew
his brother liked. Dean moved his legs wider, encouraging him to continue.
Resting back on the seat himself, Sam began to rub his own dick, hard and
pleading for attention. As he pumped them in time he listened to Dean’s paced
breathing. Sam looked up and saw his brother’s eyes blinking, falling shut.
With a hard pressure around Dean’s dick he squeezed tight, gritting through his
teeth, “Don’t close your eyes!”
“Fuck, ah!” Dean winced. “Yeah, yeah okay. Just. Stop talking and do it.”
Sam moved his hand in slow strokes. Down and up and turning just right. Sam’s
heart beating rapidly with Dean’s. The throb of Dean in his hand made his blood
rush down, warm, causing his stomach to flutter. Sam closed his eyes and
listened to the panting hurried sounds from both of them.
Rubbing his thumb under the head of Dean’s cock, he moved up slightly, pulling
down a bead dripping wet.
Dean gasped next to him.
Sam opened his eyes to check, Dean still had his eyes open. Heavy lidded but
open along with his mouth. His eyes were focused intently on the road, long
stretch of straight interstate before them. Dean leaned back into the seat as
Sam continue to stroke him in firm grasps. Sam watched as his brother got
close, his eyes blinking longer and slower.
Concerned, Sam breathed, “Eyes open, Dean.”
“Fuck,” brow furrowing he swore. “Open, Sam. Goddamn it.”
He sped up his grasps, wrist twisting just right, dick wet with precome. And
Dean rocked his legs underneath. His breathing increased, short, and hot, and
Dean’s arms locked on the wheel.
Reluctantly, Sam pulled his hand from his own dick, bringing precome with it,
and with two hands he stroked his brother. Dean’s arms wavered on the wheel.
Knowing Dean was close, Sam grabbed the napkins, ready.
With a pained look, Dean let out a hitched moan and Sam felt warm wetness coat
his hand. Quickly he used the napkin while still pumping slowly, pulling from
Dean what was left.
Dean leaned back relaxing into the seat as Sam moved his hand to himself,
wetness of Dean’s come helping ease each stroke. It didn’t take long before
Sam’s eyes rolled back and he bit his lip feeling the wave of his own orgasm.
Slowing his breathing, Sam blinked languidly. He looked down at the mess on his
lap and scowled. Dean laughed quietly next to him. Sam turned his head to see
his brother looking at his lap.
“Nasty, dude.”
Sam groaned, “My hands and pants are covered in jizz. Do we have any water?
This is disgusting.” Dean laughed harder as Sam added, “I didn’t think this
through.” He attempted to clean himself with extra napkins he found on the
floor, “This has gotta be worth three nights of the remote. At least.”
Dean shook his head at him and smiled.
Sam continued to blink out the window. They weren’t going to be doing that
again. He swallowed down the pain in the back of his throat. Closing his eyes
he slouched low in the seat, laying back, he pretended to be asleep.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
When Dean followed John to a quiet cabin in the woods he was ready to run from
the car. Run from his brother. He needed a hunt. He was ready to kill
something. His skin was crawling and he just wanted it to stop. To stop
thinking about Sam. So when he opened the door of the cabin and saw the room
with one large queen bed in the middle, he was livid.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered to himself. Shaking his
head he ran back outside to John pulling out equipment from the truck. “Dad!
Why’s there only one bed?”
John shifted against the car, “It’s just for a couple days, Dean.”
“I get to recon the nest with you, right? So, I’m going with you for a couple
days? Sam stays here,” he hoped.
John sighed, “Dean. You two share a bed all the time.”
“Dad! Sam and I are too old to share! Come on!”
“Dean,” he warned. “Two days. Three tops. I’m just going to check it out and
see what we’re dealing with here. Then if I need you boys I’ll call.”
Arms resting on his hips, Dean shook his head exasperated, “But Dad-”
“No. That’s final. You understand?”
Dean closed his eyes and swallowed back his anger. Through gritted teeth he
replied, “Yes, sir.”
“Besides,” John added, “Dave wasn’t sure where they might hit next. Whatever
they are, they’re smart and on the move. They could easily turn up here so I
need you two here to keep on alert.”
“Yes, sir,” Dean said reluctantly.
John handed him a bag of supplies and Dean trudged into the cabin. Sam was
staring at the bed. When Dean entered he turned to him, eyes questioning. 

Dean shook his head. “I’ll sleep in the car,” he muttered.
“What?” Sam asked, “Dean, no. It’s fine.”
Dean’s stomach dropped as he met Sam’s eyes. There was no way he’d be able to
sleep next to his brother. Warmth radiating, soft puffs of breath as he slept.
And all Dean would want would be to reach out, take his lips and collide into
them with his own.
Furrowed brow, angry, Sam snapped quietly, “I’m not going to attack you in your
sleep, Jesus Dean!” He turned and left the cabin, door slamming behind.
Dean needed to get drunk. He just need to be drunk right the hell now. He
needed his brain to stop and his body to relax.
When John left he instructed them to call if there was any suspicious activity
in the area, mutilated animal carcasses, or humans with odd neck wounds. And
absolutely do not attempt to hunt this on their own. John’s plan was to meet
with Dave, the other hunter, and canvas the area. Death was sporadically
popping up around camp grounds and national forests, so whatever the hell was
doing this could just as easy hit Sam and Dean as it could John. He gave them a
cell phone to contact him and it actually received reception if you stood in
the corner and lifted the phone just right.
After he left, Sam and Dean drove to the nearest town to pack up supplies for
the next couple of days, the energy still charged and awkward between them.
Dean made sure to pack a heavy supply of various assortments of alcohol, while
Sam gave him worried looks. On their way into the campground Dean bought a few
bundles of wood and they continued on to the cabin.
Sam worked diligently, arranging the logs in the fire pit just right. Dean
watched him, bending and shifting them just right. Sweat saturating his shirt
and collecting on his brow, he used his arm to wipe it off. Sam ignited the
fire while Dean sat back and readied burgers to grill. Licking his lips, Sam
studied his work carefully as the fire started to burn the wood. He prodded it
with a stick to get everything in just the right place.
Sam looked up and smiled at Dean, “Who needs the Boy Scouts, huh?”
Dean, caught staring at his brother, deflected quickly, “I’m pretty sure we
could teach them a thing or two.”
Sam chuckled as he sat on a log around the fire, “101 Practical Uses for
Silver. Everything you wanted to know about killing shapeshifters, skinwalkers,
werewolves and wraiths.”
Dean smiled bringing the hamburgers to set over the grill on the fire. “We
could make some money with that.” He watched out of the corner of his eye as
Sam poked the fire with his stick. Keeping himself distracted with grilling,
Dean worked at preparing their meal with the sun setting low behind him.
They ate in silence and listened to the crackle of the fire as it grew dark.
Dean retrieved a couple beers, extending one to Sam.
“Nah, that’s okay man,” he declined.
“No?” Dean asked bringing the bottle to his lips.
“I’m still reeling from last time.”
Dean froze. Choking back his swig, he stared at his brother wide eyed.
“No, that’s not-” Sam stammered. “I didn’t mean- I wasn’t talking about the-
with the girls! I just mean since the swap I’ve been drinking a lot and last
time I had a really bad hangover. I didn’t mean, about the-”
“Just stop talking!” Dean snapped.
They sat in painful silence that pulled at Dean’s throat. He wanted to say
something to make it better. He wanted to stop acting like a fucking perverted
freak and just get back to being Sam’s brother.
It didn’t take him long to throw back a few beers and soon the numbing buzz was
the only sensation he focused on. Not Sam. Not his stupid long hair and that
pointed nose. And his eyes that were shadowed, dark, and deep set with the
light from the flames giving him small glimpses. And the stupid way he prodded
the fire, biceps flexing under his tight frame. And, god, he was getting so
tall these days, no longer his little brother.
Sam looked up from the fire catching Dean in his deep fixation. Dean swallow
the last of his beer and stood up. It was late. He was numb. He just wanted to
sleep. Just sleep until this fucking thing went away.

“You goin’ to bed?” Sam asked.
Dean ran his fingers over his hair, “Jus’ gonna grab something out of the
‘pala.”
He turned away from his brother and staggered to the car. Dean pulled open the
rear door and fell onto the seat. He could sleep in the car a few days. Dad
would be back and they’d be gone. No more fucking sharing a bed bullshit. Dean
scrambled around and shut the door by his feet. He fell on his back, knees bent
up allowing him more room.
His breath hitched when he realized he watched Sam get blown right here. Here.
Right where he was laying. Sam was writhing and moaning and some chick was
sucking him off and it was one of the hottest most perverse things Dean had
ever seen. And, Jesus, he wanted to be the one doing that to his brother. Get
his lips wrapped around his dick and learn the parts of him he didn’t know.
Things he should never know. Dean’s throat constricted as he tried to swallow
back whatever the hell he was feeling. Despair. Lust. Delirium?
Fuck. And if he wanted a dick in his mouth what the hell did that mean? It had
never occurred to him with anyone else. Just Sam. Why the hell did he feel like
this? His stupid fucking brother making his heart beat fast and stomach flip
and blush. Dean did not blush. But damn it, Sam made him miserable. He hated
himself for this. What kind of person, brother, who is supposed to protect him,
wants to do this shit? And it was all Dean’s fault too. He knew that. He
started this whole fucking thing.
Sam was too young to know better and Dean, he tried to care at first. He did.
When he was aware that Sam was hearing him all those nights, he stopped. Dean
knew it wasn’t right. But then Sam started it up and what the hell? They
weren’t hurting anyone.
But Dean’s the one that fucking pushed it. He and Sam shared a bed that night
too. Bad things happened when they shared a bed. He knew that. Sam knew that.
Dean had just heard Sam whining and panting, close in his ear, and he sounded
so pained. And Dean knew he could help and it wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t. He
was just helping.
In the morning when he realized what had happened, he hated himself. But he
didn’t stop. He never fucking stopped and he just kept doing it and doing it
and then Sam was doing it back. And now they were here. And it was all Dean’s
fucking fault.
A warm tear escaped the corner of his eye. It ran, long and slow, trailing down
his face. He was fucked up. And he wasn’t going to bring Sam with him this
time.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
 
Sam rolled his eyes as he watched his brother fall into the car. Dean was going
to sleep in the car because he thought Sam wouldn’t be able to keep his hands
off of him. Dean was being such an ass and Sam was getting sick of it.
With his stick, Sam pushed around the remaining few logs, breaking them into
hot embers. It was enough to let the fire burn out. He stood up and shivered as
he walked away from the warmth and towards the car.
Grasping tight and angry, he threw the Impala door open, calling firmly, “Come
on, Dean.”
“Sam! What the hell?” Dean groaned.
“Come on,” Sam grabbed him by his ankles and pulled hard, forcing him to lay
with legs dangling out of the car.
“What the fuck?”
Sam crossed his arms, “You’re not sleeping in the car.”
“Sam,” Dean rubbed his face then looked up. “It’s fine. I’ve done it-”
“No, Dean,” Sam interrupted. “Get out. Get out of the car.”
“No.”
Sam leaned low and poked Dean in the chest, “I’m getting really sick of your
shit. I’m not going to touch you, okay? Just. Get over it and come inside.”
“I’m fine out here.”
“You’re ‘fine’ out here?” Sam nodded incredulously, “You’re fine out here?
Okay, how about this? If you don’t get over whatever the hell problem you have
with me in the next five minutes, I’m gonna come out here and I’m gonna sleep
right next to you on the back seat. And I will breathe on your face all night
long if that’s what it takes.” Sam punched his arm, “I’m serious. Get over it.”
Dean glared at him, eyes narrowing.
Sam added, “And if you decide to stay out here and lock me out of the car
I will break in and I wont be nice about it.” He smile sarcastically, kicked
Dean’s feet, turned, and walked into the cabin leaving his brother swearing
behind.
Clenching his fists he stormed in. It was one room with one queen bed. Off to
the left there was a small kitchenette space and in the back left corner there
was a small bathroom. Tiny. Miniscule. Big enough for a single stalled shower,
a toilet, a small standing sink and a mirror. Sam shook his head at the size of
it and stepped in leaving his clothes behind.
If he turned to the side he felt like both his shoulders would hit the walls.
He reached an arm in turning on the water, waiting for it to heat but the best
he got was luke warm. Taking a shower in record time, he turned the water off
and stepped out. Grabbing a small towel, barely big enough to wrap around his
hips, he stepped out into the main room.
Dean was laying on the far side of the bed, on top of the covers, back facing
Sam.
Sam changed into boxers and a t-shirt quickly and slid into the bed turning the
light off as he went.
“Dean?” He asked, voice scratching in the dark. He could tell his brother
wasn’t asleep by his short puffing breaths. “Dean, come on. I know you’re
awake.”
Dean sighed into the dark and mumbled, “Whutdda want, Sam?”
“You’re not gonna take a shower?”
“No,” he sulked.
“You smell like the campfire.”
“This whole place smells like campfire,” Dean protested.
“Dean?” Sam scooted in, still giving him space but moving closer. Dean’s body
was a heavy weight over the covers making Sam feel tucked in tight.
“What, Sam?” Dean sounded drained.
“Will you look at me?”
“It’s pitch black, Sam. You can’t see anything.”
“Dean,” he whined.
Reluctantly, Dean rolled on his side, facing him. Close enough that Sam could
smell the alcohol on his breath. “What?” Dean asked impatiently.
Sam took a deep breath and said, “I don’t know what’s going on with you,” his
voice weak and trembling, “And, I’m really sorry if it’s me, or if I did
something but-” 

“Sam-”

“Dean, can you please just stop this? Please?” Sam begged.
Dean took a deep breath. Sam felt the bed move as Dean lifted his hand and
placed it on the side of Sam’s head, soothing his hand through Sam’s messy wet
hair. Sam closed his eyes and focused on the shivery tingle from his skull to
his spine.
“It’s not you, okay?” Dean said softly. “Just, shut up and go to bed.”
Sam blinked at him, eyes working hard to focus in the dark. “Dean,” he pleaded.
Dean took his hand off Sam and rolled to the far side, bed sinking as he
struggled. Sam panicked and sat up, “Dean, wait don’t go-”
“Relax,” Dean pulled the covers down and slid in between the sheets. Moving his
way in, he intentionally knocked Sam’s foot with his own.
Sam sighed in relief. Silence encompassed them for a short moment before Sam
said in a hushed voice, “This is harder than I thought.” He felt Dean tense
next to him.
“Yeah,” Dean admitted.
Sam inched over towards him. He felt Dean go rigid but he kept moving closer
until his forehead touched lightly to his brother’s shoulder, “Goodnight,
Dean.”
“Night, Sam.”
***** Chapter 12 *****
When Dean woke the next morning he found Sam’s legs snaked around his own. His
head resting next to Dean’s sharing his pillow. Instantly it brought Dean back
to countless nights sharing a bed as kids. Even when they’d had their own, Sam
was known for sneaking in occasionally at night and in the morning Dean would
find him wrapped into him.
It was familiar. And Dean found that he had missed the closeness of his brother
over the last two months. They shared a bed and made it through the night.
Nothing bad happened. Nothing escalated. Dean needed to get his shit together,
Sam was right. He was still Sam’s brother and Sam still needed him so he was
going to force it aside and deal.
Dean crept out of bed, careful not to wake him. As quietly as he could manage,
he removed a frying pan and put it on the small burner. He grabbed eggs from
the mini fridge and began to make breakfast.
It didn’t take long for Sam to wake from the noise and the smell. Dean heard
him groaning and stretching in the bed behind him. He watched as Sam crawled to
the end of the bed, smiling at him. Dean turned away, hiding his warming face.
Breakfast was his apology.
Each day that passed in that little cabin got slightly easier. Dean learned to
curb his thoughts and the more relaxed Dean became the happier Sam seemed to
become.
They spent their days exploring the campground. There was an archery range
nearby and both boys were excited to practice with less familiar weapons. It
quickly became a competition and of course Dean was the victor, making sure to
remind Sam frequently throughout the day.
A week had gone by and still no word from John. Dean couldn’t say he was
surprised but now that he was forcing himself to be a better brother to Sam he
found he was actually enjoying their time. They swam in the creek and went
hiking, all while looking for signs of a vampire nest or other creatures,
hiding in the wilderness.
At the end of the night they made a habit of relaxing around the fire,
exhausted. Sam always built it and Dean watched, drinking beer as his brother
worked. He offered some to Sam and on most nights he declined but occasionally
he’d join.
“You in tonight?” Dean extended a bottle to his brother, sweat dripping cold
down the side.
Sam looked up from the fire and shrugged. He reached out to accept the
offering. “Dean, did you ever think about doing anything else?”
Dean scratched arm, “What do you mean?” He took a drink slowly, eyeing his
brother.
“Like, you know, not hunting. Going to a vo-tech? Finding a place to settle
in?”
“Why would I do that?” he asked, confused.
“You don’t want to hunt your whole life, do you?”
Dean shrugged, “Never really thought about it.”
They sat in silence for a while, both hypnotized by the flames, licking and
cracking into the night sky. A slow change in wind rolled through, altering the
direction of the smoke. Sam coughed, waving it to the side unsuccessfully.
Dean laughed at him and motioned, “Come over here, dude.”
Shaking his head, coughing, Sam stood and joined his brother on the log across
the fire. Dean nudged him with his shoulder as he sat next to him. Sam pushed
back softly, keeping their arms in contact. Dean’s heart flipped and he took
another long drink.
Several beers later, the boys found themselves laughing warmly remembering past
days. With his head spinning he felt good. Sam smiling at him, rubbing into his
shoulder, he gave in, letting his mind wander. Dean kept coming up with reasons
to put his hands on him. Brush the ash out of his hair, wrap his arm around him
patting him on the back, nudging into him gently as they talked about what
their lives would have been like had they stayed in any of the hundreds of
towns they’d lived.
And Sam was just as playful. He’d been drinking more than usual. They both had.
Sam knocked Dean’s knees with his, cheerfully smiling at his brother.
And when Sam flashed him those dimples, Dean couldn’t help the jumping feeling
in his stomach. In a hazy cloud, Dean finally was feeling relaxed. This is how
it was supposed to be, lighthearted and comfortable. Home. Sam was Dean’s home
and he felt like he was returning from a long sabbatical.
Dean lifted his head to the sky as he heard a crack of thunder, “Think we’re
gonna get rained out?”
Sam looked up, considering the storm clouds blocking any sign of the moon.
“Kind of feels like it, huh?”
Affectionately, Dean lifted his eyebrows, “Wanna take it in?”
Sam nodded and they packed the gear that they didn’t want to get wet and poked
the logs until all that was left were glowing embers.
“What are we going to do now?” Sam asked as he entered the cabin.
Following behind, Dean trudged to the kitchen’s small fridge and pulled out a
six pack. “Yeah?” He smiled.
Sam shook his head and walked to his side of the bed. He toed off his shoes and
sitting, he leaned back against the headboard. Thunder rolling in the distance,
storm growing closer, Dean shuffled to his side and fell on his stomach.
Looking up towards Sam he smiled and extended his hand with a beer.
“Dude, I think I’m good,” Sam smiled.
Dean lifted an eyebrow, “Aw, come on. What else are you gonna do being stuck in
here all night?”
“Cards? Read? I don’t know,” he scoffed.
Dean shook his head and crawled towards the headboard. He turned and situated
himself sitting next to Sam. “Too bad we don’t have any weed,” taking one of
the extra beers, he placed it directly in Sam’s lap. “We, ah-” he stammered,
“We don’t have any weed? Right?”
Sam mocked, “Yeah, Dean. If there’s one thing you know about me it’s that I
keep a stash of pot around just in case you get bored.”
Dean smirked, “You’re seventeen, dude. Of course you have a stash of pot
around.”
Sam shook his head, “Sorry to disappoint.”
Leaning close into his shoulder Dean nudged, “Wouldn’t be the first time, you
nerd. Here-” Dean tapped on the top of the can in Sam’s lap. “Come on. Don’t
fall behind.”
“I didn’t know this was a competition,” but he popped the tab and reluctantly
took a drink.
“I’m surprised you don’t have some weed, look how easy you give into peer
pressure.”
“You’re not my peer, you’re my pain in the ass.”
Dean snickered, and slid down the headboard, “That doesn’t even make sense,
dude.”
Sam joined him, laying properly on the bed, laughing, arm brushing against
Dean’s. “Maybe you’re just too drunk to understand?”
Dean closed his eyes, “I’m definitely too drunk.” Dean licked his lips and
looked up at his brother, “Come on, you need to catch up.”
Looking down at him, Sam smiled, shook his head, and gave in. He took another
drink. “Satisfied?”
Dean closed his eyes and hummed, “Never.”
Sam lolled his head next to Dean’s and replied, “Yeah, I’d believe that.”
As they lay on the bed, Dean listened to the approaching storm. Intermittent
pitter pattering of big drops fell on the roof of their little cabin and soon
it grew into a steady downfall.
Smiling, Dean said, “You used to be scared shitless of thunder.” Sam looked to
his brother as he continued, “You used to sneak in my bed at night. You
remember that?”
Sam smiled looking down to the can still in his hand, “Yeah.” He reached over
to the side and set it on the small table next to the bed. When he returned he
shifted closer to Dean.
The rain pounded heavy and Dean could feel the rumble through the bed, loud
cracking punctuating their silence. The air was heavy with humidity and the
smell of campfire on their clothes mixed with the fresh earthy rain.
Dean dropped his empty can to the floor. Sighing, he shifted closer to Sam
tapping his side, “You want another beer?”
A loud crash of thunder interrupted them and suddenly the cabin was plunged
into complete darkness.
Sam sighed, “Powers out.”
Dean laughed, “No, shit.”
Sam flung his hand out to whop Dean in chest. Dean groaned and Sam smiled in
satisfaction. He left his hand on Dean’s chest. They listened to each other’s
breathing, calm and slow. Lightning blinked, bright flashes outside the dark
cabin. Sam started rubbing the back of his hand over Dean’s chest as they both
willed their eyes to focus in the dark.
Dean paid attention intently on Sam’s touch, bony knuckles lightly caressing
over his sternum.
The alcohol was making him feel relaxed. He felt so at peace like this with
Sam. Sam who was being so careful and tender. But Dean thought back to the
night in the bar with him and how assertive he had been with Stephanie. Dean
knew better than to ask but with the darkness surrounding them, protecting him,
he couldn’t stop himself as the words slipped out, “You’re still a virgin,
right? I mean, you’d tell me after it happens?”
Sam tensed and moved his hand from Dean chest. “Why do you care, Dean?” He was
embarrassed, Dean could hear it in his voice.
“I’m not gonna make fun of you, Sam. Just curious is all.”
Sam waited a few moments before saying, “Yeah.”
Dean was quiet. He could feel Sam still tense next to him. Dean turned on his
side, trying to make out the outline of his brother in the dark, “So
what have you done?”
“Dude, why do you care?”
“I don’t.”
Sam sighed and hesitated before admitting, “Basically that night in the car.”
He shifted next to Dean on the bed.
“She wasn’t your first kiss, man? Was she? No way, you were a beast,” Dean
snickered and swatted playfully at Sam’s arm.
Sam chuckled, “No. No, but everything else-”
Studying what he could of his brother once more, Dean rolled to his back,
positioning himself close, arms touching. Dean couldn’t help but think about
the car. And Stephanie, and how his brother moaned, and his quiet whimpering.
Before it even occurred to him what he was doing, Dean’s hand was moving south,
cupping the top of his swelling cock. Dean shifted, thinking he needed to knock
it off, right the hell now. But he didn’t want to. He wanted to roll on top of
Sam and give him a couple more new experiences. 

“So, how was it?”
Sam huffed, voice rasping, “The blow job? You’ve gotten blown before, dude, it
was probably like that.”
Dean felt Sam shift awkwardly. They had done this enough times in the dark for
Dean to know what was going on. He wanted to leave, at least part of him did.
More importantly, he wanted to want to leave, but Jesus, more than anything he
wanted to reach over and suck his brother off. Taste the skin leading down on
his abdomen. He wanted to bite and mark him and now he could feel the bed move
as his brother’s hand reached down to himself. Dean heard Sam inhale quietly
next to him.
“Dean,” Sam whispered. He rolled to his side, so close Dean could feel his
breath puff lightly against his cheek.
“We can’t, Sam,” breathlessly, Dean pleaded.
Sam ignored him and Dean felt his fingers brush lightly against his hip. “Just,
Dean,” tentatively Sam trailed them over Dean’s arm, reaching his hand over the
top of Dean’s, “Just this one last time.” He rolled in closer to Dean and he
could feel the heat of him along the side of his body, “Please?”
“Sam,” Dean’s heart raced as he protested weakly.
“Shh, just let me, Dean.” He unzipped his jeans.
Finally, surrendering, Dean moved his arm to the side and felt Sam snake around
to grab his cock firmly over his boxers. The fuzzy cloud from the alcohol
buzzed under his skin and he let his legs fall open brushing into Sam’s.
His brother stroked him and Dean couldn’t help but turn his head into him,
sharing quickening breaths with Sam. Arm heavy, he reached out sneaking his
fingers underneath the bottom of Sam’s shirt. He felt Sam’s abs flutter
underneath his touch. Dean was shaking. This would be the last time. They both
just needed one last time. So Dean could remember. So Sam could move on.
He felt his brother lean in, noses brushing softly. Dean’s heart was racing,
pounding blood pouring through him, rushing. He panted whimpers that couldn’t
be held back, puffs of air shared between them. Sam moved forward slowly and
before Dean knew what was happening Sam’s lips were on his. Soft. So soft Dean
thought it was an accident, and he was frozen, suspended in the moment unable
to lean away. After a short time, Sam pulled away from him deliberately,
sharing a breath between them. Dean could feel him trembling.
“Dean, I- I didn’t-”
But Dean didn’t let him finish. He pushed forward colliding into Sam. He
brought his hand up and braced Sam’s face pulling him closer as he licked into
his lips. Sam opened and Dean’s stomach flipped as Sam’s tongue met his own,
hot and wet. Sam lifted his hands from Dean’s cock and brought them up under
Dean’s shirt, pushing frantically for him to remove it, scratching the skin
underneath.
Quickly, they both scrambled to sit up on their knees and tore at each other’s
shirts. Dean could hear threads break as his stretched over his head. The
thunder was cracking and the rain was pounding in time with Dean’s heart and
his hands were gripped tight on Sam’s hips, demanding he come closer. Sam
brought his hands to Dean’s head and pulled him in, meeting their lips hard and
bruising.
Dean’s mind was unfocused as he reached his hands lower to push off Sam’s
jeans. Sam grabbed at Dean’s to do the same. While they struggled, Dean
attempted to kick his off but held on to his underwear. Sam pushed him onto his
back, bouncing into the mattress and then he was on top of him. Covering Dean’s
body, kissing him deep and hard and fast.
Dean was dizzy, spinning, and so awake to Sam pinning him down and the taste in
his mouth and the shivering on his skin. Dean gasped as his brother pushed his
hips firmly down into him. Shit. He could feel Sam’s cock grinding into his
hips. Christ, Sam’s dick was hard and the only thing between them was a few
flimsy layers of cotton. It brought Dean’s attention back to what he wanted.
Moving one hand to Sam’s shoulder Dean exerted his strength and flipped him,
throwing Sam on his back on the bed next to him. Sam’s laugh turned into a moan
as Dean’s mouth quickly was on him. Then in one swift move Dean was straddling
Sam and biting down his neck. Biting and sucking and licking and soothing into
Sam’s neck. And Sam was thrusting his hips, writhing beneath him. Dean could
feel his brother’s cock under his ass with each little thrust. He was so
fucking close. He couldn’t help but push down on it, moaning against his
brother’s skin.
Heart pounding, he used his fingernails to scratch angry trails into Sam’s
skin. Dean trailed down his body, his amulet thunking hard on Sam’s chest as he
went. Dean’s tongue lapped at his skin to soothe the red marks he made. And Sam
was arching his back underneath him, leaning into more contact. Dean just
needed to touch more of him. It wasn’t enough.
Dean paused, gripping the elastic around Sam’s waist. He looked up and could
faintly see Sam looking at him in awe, nodding slightly. Pulling down his
boxers, Sam quickly kicked them to the side and Dean held his hand firm on
Sam’s hips. With his thumbs he rubbed small circles and closed his eyes,
shaking. Dean could feel the heat from Sam as his brother squirmed, adjusting
his hips underneath him, small thrust reminding them of what they both wanted.
Breathing hot short puffs of air over his cock, Dean slowly lowered his head
and licked a hesitant trail up Sam’s shaft. He swirled his tongue, wet and warm
around the tip. He licked carefully, tasting the bead of precome dripping out.
Sam gasped and shook under the steady grip Dean had on his hips.
Bringing a hand to Sam’s cock, he held onto the base with one hand, tight
pressure against his body. Something so familiar to him, Dean holding his
brother’s dick, but not like this. Never like this. Never with Dean’s nose
buried into his brother’s stomach, breathing in the scent uniquely Sam. With
Sam writhing wantonly, gasping softly underneath him. And suddenly small
licking tastes weren’t enough and Dean guided his dick into his mouth,
engulfing his brother in warm wetness.
“Shit,” Sam’s breath hitched as his legs trembled.
Dean hummed around his cock, feeling the impossible heat heavy in his mouth.
Soft, and firm and thick. He used his tongue to map out the veins, tracing from
root to tip with Sam moaning his name, quietly panting from the other end of
the bed.
Dean’s heart pounded, thumping under his chest, and more cracks of thunder and
flashes of lightning filled the room. In the brief illumination, Dean met his
brother’s dark eyes, shamelessly salacious, perilous, causing Dean’s heart to
race faster. They shouldn’t be doing this. Dean shouldn’t be doing this. But
this was the last time and he just had to know. He had to know what Sam tasted
like.
With a free hand he reached down to stroke himself in time with the pulls of
Sam’s cock. He was trembling and breathless, feeling the warm build low in his
stomach, flipping and dangerous. He didn’t want it to end. This could never
end.
Sam extended his legs, stretching and whimpering as Dean picked up his pace,
bobbing, licking and sucking around his dick. Cupping his balls, massaging
gently as he worked Sam’s cock.
Sam gasped, “Fuck, Dean. I’m-”
Dean held his eyes closed tight and focused on the feeling of Sam, throbbing
around his lips. He used a hand to continue to pump as his tongue licked under
the head. He felt Sam’s hand reach down, running his fingers through his hair
making Dean shiver. He couldn’t help moaning around him, humming buzz vibrating
straight through Sam’s cock.
Crying obscenely, back arching into bed, Sam thrust into Dean, throbbing, thick
ropes of come flooding his mouth. And Dean sucked harder, stroking, pulling
everything he could from his brother.
Sam trembled underneath him as Dean slowly pulled away. Shaking, Dean started
to kneel and felt Sam grab at his shoulders, pulling him close. Dean climbed
up, scrambling into Sam’s lap and suddenly Sam was sitting, reaching him with
his tongue exploring into his mouth, searching and panting hitched breaths.
Dean winced as he felt Sam wrap his hand firmly around his dick. With his other
hand he held Dean’s head close, breathing through his gasps, licking into his
mouth, biting his bottom lip. As Sam pistoned his arm, pumping, Dean broke
their kiss and dropped his head to the side of his brother’s neck biting
weakly. Christ, Dean was sitting, writhing, on top of Sam’s spend cock, taste
of his come in his mouth, as Sam was pulling him off. He wanted to grind down,
wake up his brother’s dick so he could feel it hard underneath him again. Thick
and firm against his ass.
Dean reached his hands to Sam’s head and pulled him close again, tongue
thrusting, messy and wet into his mouth, bearing weight on his lap, little
thrusts into his brother’s hand pumping him hard. And he was close. He was so
fucking close. With Sam’s hands on him and tongue in his mouth, Dean never
wanted it to end. Sam was everywhere breathing hard and pumping firm.
Sinking hard on Sam’s lap, Dean moaned into his mouth, “Aw, fuck, Sam.” Sam’s
thumb brushed over him and Dean felt the warm build at the base of his spine,
eyes rolling back. Dean pulled off of Sam’s mouth and swore as his back arched
rigid, releasing into Sam’s hands.
Chest heaving, shaking intensely, Dean tried to calm his breathing. Slowly in,
and exhaling, and shit, was he still sitting on Sam? Fuck he probably
shouldn’t-
Sam interrupted his thoughts, guiding Dean’s lips to his. Sam kissed him soft
and slowly. Deeply. And Dean calmed, relaxing into his touch.
Dean pulled back, trembling, climbing off his brother. He adjusted himself,
laying on his side, Sam turned to him. Tilting his head in, Sam met his lips
again, one final gentle kiss.
He whispered hoarsely, “Good night, Dean.”
Dean, exhausted, relaxed, calm and warm with Sam by his side, returned, “Night,
Sam.”
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
Sam woke to the sun shining bright on his face. Too warm. Too bright. And his
head was throbbing. He blinked open his eyes, pupils constricting, focusing on
his brother inches away from his face. Sam stared briefly, willing his eyes to
focus. He could see every freckle as Dean puffed little huffs of air so close.
Shaking his head slightly, he pulled himself away clambering out of the bed,
fighting his way to the bathroom.
Turning the light on, he waited for his eyes to adjust in the mirror. Sam’s
stomach dropped as he saw the bruised patches lining his neck and angry red
scratch marks down his chest. He froze in the mirror.
“Shit,” he breathed, throat tensing as he lifted a hand to his neck to trace
the bruises. Leaning closer he studied the dark trailing marks, “Shit!”
He remembered now. He remembered everything. Dean trying to stop him. Sam
ignoring him. Touching him. Then, fucking shit. He kissed him. He kissed his
brother. Dean was just there, so close, and warm, and he just missed Dean so
damn much. He had finally started acting like his brother again. So Sam had
leaned in and before he knew what was happening they were scrambling out of
their clothes and Sam was on top of Dean, biting his lip. And everything just
felt so good. Then, Jesus, Dean was on him and was fucking blowing him.
His brother. Sam’s heart was racing and he knew that they shouldn’t but Sam
didn’t want him to stop and fuck. Sam needed to get out of there. He needed to
get out of the cabin right the hell now.
Dean was sleeping in the bed they shared. Sam couldn’t bring himself to look at
his brother. He need to leave. He needed to clear his mind. He couldn’t be
there. He couldn’t think with Dean so near. What the hell had Sam been
thinking? What the hell had they done?
Panicking, Sam grabbed his duffel bag and pulled out a shirt and jeans. He
threw them on hastily and stepped towards the door, duffel bag thrown over his
shoulder. Sam felt his back pocket for his wallet. He carefully opened the door
and stepped out.
Looking down the gravel road he began walking. Sam tried to blanket his mind in
nothing. Just walking. He needed to be away from that cabin. He was too close.
He just needed to walk a bit farther. The sound of the crunching gravel
underfoot. The sun warming his back. Mantra of What the hell? What the hell?
What. The. Hell? running through his mind.
Sam’s heart was racing. If he could just not be here everything would be fine.
That fucking cabin. With Dean in it. And Sam couldn’t swallow back the lump in
his throat.
He had his tongue in his brother’s mouth. He had liked it. He had yearned for
it, wanted more of him and Dean had obliged. Dean had kissed down his neck and
marked him, leaving evidence of this whole godforsaken incident.
What the hell was his problem? Why would Sam push for something like that? Dean
hadn’t wanted to. Dean had tried to stop them. But Sam kept pushing. And why
the hell would he do that? 

Sam continued walking, feet pounding on the ground, he just needed to get as
far away from that fucking cabin as fast he could. It didn’t matter where he
was going.
He wasn’t sure how long he was traveling on the gravel road but eventually a
small red car pulled up alongside him, window rolled down. Sam looked over to
an older man with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
The man called to him, “Hey, kid! Where you goin’? Need a lift? Town’s a few
miles.”
Sam stopped. His legs were aching and his back dripping with sweat. Walking
over to the car, Sam nodded and scratched, “Thanks.” He walked around to the
passenger side and crawled in, slamming the door behind him.
“So, where you heading, kid?”
“Uh,” Sam stammered. “Where are you going?”
“Flagstaff. Be there in about fifteen.”
“Yeah, Flagstaff. That’s good. Thanks for the ride,” he turned to watch the
road pass by, campground far behind him in the dust.
The drive in to Flagstaff passed much faster than Sam had anticipated. The man
he hitched a ride with, Vince, dropped him off at a diner. The first thing Sam
did was stop at an ATM and remove the largest amount of a cash advance
available. Sam didn’t know what the hell he was doing. He just knew he needed
to be away from the cabin. Be away from Dean.
He slid into one of the empty booths and ordered lunch. Sam spent all day
waiting in the diner, hoping an idea would come to him but none did. And there
was no way in hell he was calling Dean for a ride back.
As it started to get dark he decided to finally leave. Sam explored the area,
wandering through parks and residential neighborhoods. He passed by a small
rundown grocery store and kept going. He didn’t know what the hell he was
doing. He just needed to keep walking.
But his legs were killing him. As he walked through a trailer park he saw a few
mobile homes with large rectangular stickers on the front doors. The trailers
with stickers were dark, blackness inside compared to the surrounding ones
glowing orange and yellow from their windows. Carefully checking for any
witnesses, Sam approached one of the more remote mobile homes and read.
This property has been determined to be vacant. The mortgage servicer intends
to protect the property from deterioration. The property may have its locks
replaced and/or winterized in the next few days. If this place is NOT VACANT
please contact Safeguard Properties.
It seemed as if it had been there for a while, worn and faded corners. He
studied around the neighborhood to make sure he was undetected. Dropping to his
knees, Sam pulled a metal tool out of his duffel and began working at the lock.
Clicking, the door opened. He snuck inside and closed it quickly behind him.
Waiting for his eyes to adjust in the dark, he saw he had walked into a small
living room. Everything was still furnished. Cleaning supplies and expired
boxes of food and empty beer cans littered around the room. A kitchen slightly
to the left and to the far right there was a bedroom. A large, lumpy, queen
bed. He walked over to it and collapsed, passing out, exhausted from the day.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
Dean’s throat burned and he couldn’t swallow. His eyes were prickling hot. He
had fucking- Dean had done those things. To his brother. Sam was drunk and Dean
kept pushing more booze at him and then took advantage of him. And even if Sam
said he wanted it one last time, even if that was true, Dean was the one that
fucked him up in the first place. He’d wired his little brother to get off on
him. First with jacking each other off and now this? 

Dean was shaking. He couldn’t stop his hand from trembling as he stumbled from
his bed into the bathroom. Retching into the toilet, stomach burning with his
throat, Dean cried silently for what he’d done to Sam. And not just for last
night. But for all the nights. Every goddamn one where he thought this was
okay. He was fucking sick.
Sam. His Sammy. Dean wanted to lick, and bite, and taste him all over. That
wasn’t his intention last night, he really hadn’t meant to. But apparently that
was what some sick, perverted subconscious part of his mind wanted. And Dean
had tried to say no when Sam put his hand on him. He tried. But Dean had
already ruined his brother long ago. He was supposed to protect him and save
him and be everything he needed but not that. The worst of it
was, somehow Sammy thought it was okay.

He didn’t stop Dean.
Dean didn’t blame him. He didn’t blame Sam at all for running. Christ, when he
woke up and remembered what he did, Dean felt like dying. He saw the bed was
empty and Sam’s duffel gone. And fine. Sam had taken off.
He knew that he should be worried but right now he was just relieved Sam wasn’t
there. Dean would need to stay put for when Sam returned. And when that
happened, what the hell was he going to say to him? He needed to figure
something out. Obviously, Dean would tell him that he would be the one to
leave. Sam still needed Dad. He needed to finish school. But Dean was twenty
one. He could live away from his family and hunt on his own for a while. Sam
would never have to see him again. Dean was resolved to make it up to him.
And as for Dad? Well, too damn bad. He’d accept it. He’d have to because Dean
wasn’t going to be a constant reminder for his brother of all the perverse,
disgusting, and abhorrent things Dean wished they could be doing.
Sam didn’t want that. And christ, what if he did? That was almost worse. Dean
had fucked up his little brother in ways that go beyond healing. And he
couldn’t tell John the reason why he wanted to leave, though he should. He
deserved all the wrath and punishment that anyone could throw at him.
Dean was a freak and it was good Sam was away from him.
But for now, he was just going to stay in the cabin and get drunk. Just keep
drinking until he couldn’t think another thing.
***** Chapter 13 *****
He was used to waking up in unfamiliar places but when Sam finally blinked open
his eyes he found himself even more disoriented than usual. The air was
stagnant and heavy. Sitting up from the bed he looked around to find a blue
nightstand next to the bed. The room he was in had a sectioned off doorway,
wide open, that indicated it was different from the living room. The living
room was nothing more than a few lumpy, hideous floral printed oversized chairs
with puke colored wallpaper and TV trays scattered around. 
Stretching up from the bed, he walked into the living room to find an old TV to
his left. It might even still work if he could rig up some rabbit ears and the
power hadn’t been entirely shut down.
Sam ran his fingers through his hair. He grimaced feeling in desperate need of
a shower. Badly. He hadn’t had one since the morning before things with him and
Dean- Which meant he was probably still covered with Dean’s- Sam clenched his
jaw before walking towards the kitchen to find a small bathroom tucked away to
the left. Everything was dingy and grimy but it would do until he could figure
out the next goddamn step. He didn’t have a clue what the hell he was doing.  
Mentally crossing his fingers for luck, Sam turned the faucet. Short blurbing
and sloshing noises ran through the pipes before brown water trickled out.
“Yes,” Sam breathed in victory.
He turned on the shower and allowed it to run until the water ran clear, cold
but usable. He stepped in and looked down at the red marks still trailing his
chest.
From Dean.
Sam braced himself against the wall in the shower and took deep breaths. He
swallowed back the lump in his throat and the queasy feeling in his stomach
while he finished washing up. The best he could in his current circumstance at
any rate. Stepping out, shaking off drops, he changed into clean clothes. With
his shirt sticking uncomfortably to his back he began raiding the kitchen for
food. In the hideous green fridge were moldy jars scatter on the shelves and
that was all that remained inside. There were similar jars around the counter
top and Sam spied a few unopened cans. If he lucked out and found something
without mold there was also excessive evidence of vermin near by, nearly making
him lose his appetite.
He found a few cans of soup that seemed to be intact and figured that would do,
but he’d definitely need to make a run later. Sam still wasn’t sure what his
plan was. He just needed some time to think and breathe. Time away from Dean.
He knew he couldn’t stay away for long but for now this was it. He was on his
own. It’s the only way his mind could deal with the situation he found himself
in.
Sam looked over the trailer more attentively. On the wall were a several maps
and locations, some postcards, all pinned to the wall. Oklahoma, Illinois,
Route 66, Santa Fe, and several others scattered carefully decorating the wall.
Sam was fairly confident he’d been to all of them. On the back of the dirty
white front door was a road sign that read Work Crew Ahead.
As the day wore on he played around with the television and found that if he
positioned it just right, and put tinfoil in just the right place, he could
pick up a few fuzzy network channels. The trailer, clearly abandoned, seemed to
still have power and water turned on. Sam guessed it was due to the bank that
repo’d it trying to keep it in somewhat decent selling condition. He’d have to
be careful since it was still being maintained, though it was obvious it had
been a long time since anyone had been inside.
When the sun began to set, and the sky grew darker, Sam dared to leave the
trailer. He walked over to the small grocery store and loaded up on junk food.
On the way back, he made a pit stop to pick up some beer using his fake ID.
Silently, he broke his way back into the trailer and cracked into the beer.
He laughed darkly to himself, beer was the damn problem in the first
place. Booze. The time in the car with Stephanie and again in the cabin with
Dean. At least this time he was alone. He wasn’t going to screw anything else
up. He kept telling himself he just needed to stop thinking a while.
For a few days Sam fell into a routine of waking up, eating pizza, getting
drunk, and crashing around the trailer. He stayed in and willed himself to come
up with a plan but it only continued to eluded him. He knew he should call
Dean. He knew Dean would be pissed at him. But any time he thought about
finding a payphone he froze. Sam could not begin to imagine what he would say
to his brother. What they had done was beyond reprehensible. What they had done
was illegal in several states. Legality being the least of the problem,
however, it did not escape Sam that it was actually abhorrent enough to need a
law.
And what the fuck would their dad say? Not that Sam ever planned on telling
anyone. Jesus, he couldn’t imagine anything more revolting than the idea of
John finding out what they had done. What they had been doing. Because it
didn’t just start with the fucking blow job. This thing between him and Dean
had been building so slowly over the years. Sam could finally, truly, see it
now. 
They were beyond fucked up and it was John’s fault for making them live those
lives.
When Sam found himself perseverating about the incident he knew he needed to
keep slamming back alcohol. Eventually his brain would just stop thinking.
Eventually Sam became tired of tending to his hangover. He cut back on the beer
and decided to walk the neighborhood. He spent time milling around the nearby
playgrounds just to get some fresh air. He even made a friend when a golden
retriever that started following him back to the trailer. He felt better when
Bones showed up. Taking care of a dog gave him something to focus on.
After a few days he started to feel much more relaxed, at least relaxed enough
to actually start to deal with everything between him and Dean. Once he pushed
past his unease and nausea he started to figure out just what the hell happened
that night.
With the alcohol flowing and Dean finally acting normal again, Sam had just
felt so comfortable and happy with his brother. When Sam leaned in and kissed
him he honestly wasn’t thinking about anything other than, Dean. Warm. Nice. He
had just felt so relieved to have him back as his brother again. And his mind
was so clouded by the alcohol. And Sam just liked Dean so close.
But when Dean kissed him, deepening it, something changed. Sam wanted it. He
wanted Dean so fucking bad. It was an epiphany sucker punching him right in the
damn face. A revelation that, Yes. Why haven’t we done this? We
should always be doing this.
Sam’s heart pounded as he thought about it. God, the way Dean kissed him. He
was so tender and soft but demanding and just so unlike the macho brother he
knew. Brother. Dean had blown him and Sam’s world had stopped.
He wasn’t going to be that freak. He didn’t care how fucking much he loved
Dean’s tongue on him, he wasn’t going to give into this. Ever. All this was
just bullshit from how they lived. They never saw anyone for him to make any
meaningful relationships with. Who the fuck else was he going to feel
comfortable enough to do those things with? This was John’s fault. Their Dad
set them up for this. He fucked them up. And how was there any way to move past
it?
Sam tried to swallow back tears but he was unsuccessful. He already knew
without this fucking thing that he was a big enough freak as it was. He just
wanted a normal life. And he was going to get it. He just needed to get away
from his revenge hungry father.  
And then it finally occurred to him. He had one more year of high
school. One. And then he was out. As far as signs were concerned, this thing
with him and Dean was a harbinger of get the fuck out of hunting. Sam wasn’t
sure what took him so long to commit to the idea but now he was sold.
He would go to college.
Once the idea occurred to him, Sam instantly felt relieved. He started making
plans, spending all his time at the library researched everything he’d need to
start his applications. He checked out what tests he’d need to take and planned
out how much money he’d need for applications.
After he had been one his own for about ten days he decided to call Bobby and
ask for a favor. Sam found a pay phone outside of the library and waited with
baited breath, listening nervously to the ringing through the line.
“Singer Auto,” Bobby’s voice scratched.
Sam cleared his throat, “Hi, Bobby.”
“Sam? Is that you? Are you okay? Where are you?”
“Yeah, Bobby. I’m fine. I’m in Arizona.”
“Damn it, Sam, your brother’s worried sick about you! What the hell happened?
He won't say a word.”
He inhaled nervously, “We- uh- we kind of got into an argument. I’m fine
though, I promise. I know I have no right in asking but I was hoping you’d do
me a favor?”
“Now, listen here, Sam,” Bobby chided firmly, “I am not getting involved in
this. You call your brother right now, you hear me? He thinks you’re dead.”
“Bobby, no, it’s not that. And, yeah, I promise I will call him. I promise. But
this is something else and I really need your help.”
Sam could practically hear Bobby shake his head through the phone, “Well? Spit
it out, then.”
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately-"
“Yeah, I’ll bet.”
“Don’t tell Dad. Or Dean but I think I want to go to college next year.”
Bobby was silent on the other end. Sam bit his lip nervously and wait for him
to respond. He heard Bobby inhale, “Is that what this has been about? You go
off soul searching and decide you want out of the family business?”
Sam closed his eyes and swallowed. He scratched, “Yeah, Bobby. I just, I can’t
do this. I’m not Dad and I’m not Dean.”
“So what do you need me for?”
“I want to start applying but I need a permanent address for the applications.
I was hoping I could use your’s.”
He heard Bobby scoff through the line, “Is that it, kid? That’s the big favor?”
“Yeah,” Sam sighed. “And don’t tell Dad or Dean.”
Bobby was quiet for a moment. “I’ll tell you what, you call your brother, have
him come pick you up. Once you’re back with him and stop him from havin’ a
heart attack, yeah, Sam. You can use my address. You boys shouldn’t be living
like this. You both deserve a chance away from this life.”
Sam laughed in relief, “Bobby, thank you so much! You have no idea what this
means to me. Thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t thank me yet. You call and have your brother pick you up,
Sam. I mean it. And don’t think I’m not gonna call him the instant you hang up.
He’s worried sick.”
“Yeah, I will Bobby! I promise. I just have a few more things to take care of
here and then I’ll have him pick me up. Tell him a day, two tops.”
“Sam,” Bobby warned.
“Please, Bobby? I just need time to get applications. And they can’t know about
this or they’ll try to stop me.”
Bobby inhaled through the phone, “Alright, Sam. Alright. You call me back when
you’re with your brother again, you hear me?”
“Yes, sir.” Sam smiled wide, “And thanks again, Bobby.” He hung up the phone
and felt the best he had in two weeks. Or at least the best he had since the
night with Dean, which he did his best to ignore the thought.
Sam returned to the trailer with a handful of applications and got to work
filling out all the necessary paperwork. This had to be done. He wasn’t going
to be the freak anymore. The crazy guy hunting werewolves and ghosts who had
incestous thoughts about his brother. That kind of fucked up was beyond him.
He was going to get out, and have a normal life, and find a nice girl and get
married, and have kids, and never think about hunting the supernatural another
goddamn day in his life.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
The first few days Sam was gone, Dean hadn’t been too concerned. What happened
between them was a huge fucking deal. The kid was entitled to a melt down. But
as more days continued to pass Dean became more and more concerned.
Still afraid to call his dad and tell him he’d let Sam run, Dean turned to
Bobby. He figured if anyone would have heard from Sam it would be him. About
four days after Sam left Dean started to get very nervous about his absence. He
figured he should start looking for him. Once he found him he wouldn’t contact
him. Not until Sam was ready. But Dean just needed to know he was okay.
It took him a while to come up with a plan for tracking him. Then he remembered
that Sam still had the credit card from when they were at Bobby’s. He had
purchased their groceries when they had gotten to the cabin. When he called the
company he learned that there had only been one transaction since Sam had left.
It was for a cash advance at an ATM in Flagstaff.
The kid had been in Flagstaff. Okay. Fine. That wasn’t too far. He wasn’t sure
where to go from there but Dean took off with his only lead, heading for
Flagstaff. He canvassed the area where he knew Sam had been last. For a few
days he spent his time driving around Flagstaff aimlessly just hoping to run
into him.
For all he knew Sam wasn’t even there anymore. Maybe he caught a bus and headed
to Vegas? Or Los Angeles? Or New fucking York. Dean didn’t have a damn clue,
but driving the streets of Flagstaff was the only thing he could do to keep
busy.
When a few more days passed with nothing Dean became physically ill. Sam should
have contacted him by now. And Bobby had still heard nothing. Dean suddenly
began thinking about the supposed vampire nest that his Dad was tracking and
what if that’s what happened to him?
Jesus. Dean was so stupid. Sam could be in serious danger and here he was
thinking it was some bullshit drama between them. People were fucking dying and
Sam was missing. When it finally occurred to him, Dean instantly found good
reception and called his father.
It wasn’t a surprise when he reached John’s voicemail.
He left a message telling him he did the best he could, admitting he fucked up.
Sam was gone and on his watch. Dean returned to the cabin, defeated, exhausted,
trying hard not to panic. He returned every night in case Sam came back. And he
left notes every day when he left.
Each day Sam remained gone, Dean grew more desperate. His mind went to all the
dark places of all the possibilities keeping Sam from returning to him. And
Dean knew he deserved this kind of torture, but only if Sam was okay. Sam
just needed to be okay.
About a week and a half after Sam had left, Dean heard pounding steps waking
him from the cabin early one morning. The door flung open and his father stood
terrorizing the entryway of the small cabin.
“Is he here?” John demanded.
Dean shot out of the bed, “Dad!”
“Is Sam here?”
Rubbing his eyes, Dean tried to blink away the tears that threatened to fall.
“Dad, he- Have you heard anything?”
“Jesus christ, Dean,” John pounded over to him and grabbed the shirt he was
sleeping in by the collar and pushed him against the wall. “What the hell is
wrong with you!” He bellowed.
“Dad!” Dean tried to swallow back the fear and self loathing rising in his
throat.
“Tell me what the hell happened,” John demanded. He held tight onto Dean’s
shoulder and turned him, throwing him to the bed.
Dean bounced, sitting and stammered, “Dad, it was just- We got into a fight and
he took off!”
John shook his head, “When I get my hands on him-”
“No, Dad, it was me. It was my fault, okay? Don’t blame him. I started it. I
pushed him and he ran.”
“And you didn’t think to stop him when he left?”
“He left before I woke up! His duffel was gone.”
“And when was that, exactly?”
Dean closed his eyes, shaking, and quietly admitted, “About a week ago.”
“Goddamn it, Dean!” John yelled. He leaned in close to Dean’s face, fuming,
hand weighing heavy and threatening his shoulder.
Dean looked up at him with wide terrified eyes, “Dad, I am so sorry. I just
thought-”
“You didn’t think to call me sooner? Jesus, Dean, you know what I’m hunting
right now and you don’t think maybe I’d like to know if my son is missing? What
the hell is wrong with you?”
Dean shook his head, “I-I just thought he was blowing off steam, Dad! It was a
fight and he just needed to cool off but then he didn’t come back.” His eyes
were watering, “It’s all my fault. I did this. I made him leave. I fucked
everything up and he left and if anything happens- if he’s not-”
John gave Dean a small slap across his face to pull him out of his breakdown,
“You need to hold it together right now, Dean. What do you know? What are
the facts here.”
Dean shook his head, inhaling deep trying to regain composure, “He just, he had
one of the credit cards and last it was used was at an ATM in Flagstaff. I’ve
been driving around there everyday since, hoping to see him. That’s all I know.
Nothing was ripped apart here. When I woke up, the salt lines weren’t broken
and his bag was gone. That’s it.”
John leaned away from Dean and stood, pulling himself to his full height.
“You are going to stay here,” he commanded. Dean looked at him with wide and
fearful eyes but nodded. “You are going to stay here, and you’re going to wait
for him. And you are going to call every hunter we know to see if they’ve heard
from him. You understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Dean exhaled.
“You are not to leave this cabin until I tell you,” John ordered, walking
towards the door. Standing under the frame he looked to Dean and gritted
intensely through his teeth, “You have had some major fuck ups in your day,
Dean. But this?” He shook his head and walked out the door.
Dean brought his hands to his eyes and rubbed away at the tears falling freely
down his face. Sam was okay. He needed to be okay. Dean couldn’t fucking live
with himself if he wasn’t okay.
It wasn’t the first time he tried but Dean was on the phone the rest of the
day, finding the one position in the cabin that picked up reception. Calling
all the contacts he knew, waiting for any calls coming in, but he learned
nothing. No one had heard a single fucking thing from his brother.
Dean couldn’t remember ever feeling that miserable in his entire life and he
included the morning after when he realized what he’d done. His heart was
clenched tight and his muscles were constantly tense. He couldn’t even bring
himself to shower in case he received a call while in the bathroom.
John didn’t come back that night. Dean figured he was staying in Flagstaff
tracking Sam. If anyone could find him it was John.
Dean woke the next morning with a pounding, drilling feeling, aching deep in
his head and through his body. But he didn’t care. He deserved it and he
deserved so much worse.
Halfway through the day he jumped quickly, answering the unfamiliar sound of a
ringing phone, “Sam?! Sam, are you okay?”
“Dean?” A scruff deep voice asked.
“Bobby?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Have you heard from him?”
“Yes, Dean, and he’s fine.”
Dean froze. Blood pounded through his head. “You heard from him?” He asked
again quietly, disbelieving.
“Dean, he’s fine. Listen to me okay? He’s okay. He was just-”
“When? When did you talk to him?” Trembling Dean interrupted. 
“Just now. Not one minute ago.”

“Where is he, Bobby? Where is he?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
“Christ,” Dean exhaled shaking.
“Dean, calm down, okay? He’s going to call you. He promised me he would call,
okay?”
Dean nodded into the phone, “Today? I need to hear his voice, Bobby.”
Bobby sighed, “I know, kid. But he’s okay, Dean. He really is. He said he needs
a couple more days and then he’ll be back.”
Dean’s throat constricted tight and tears welled behind his eyes, “Thanks,
Bobby.”
“I didn’t do anything, just passing along the message. Now, take care, alright
Dean? He’s fine and you’ll see him soon.”
Thanking him again, Dean hung up the phone and collapse into the bed. He was
shaking with relief, and guilt, and so much fucking pain in his chest. But
Sammy was okay. That’s all he needed to know. Sam was okay.
Scrounging up all his courage, Dean called John and informed him of the
conversation with Bobby. John, swearing at Dean and his irresponsible behavior,
informed him he was going continue on his hunt with Dave being as Bobby was
convinced Sam was just pulling teenage bullshit. Dean could tell John was still
enraged at him but at least Sam was okay. That’s all that mattered.
A few days later Dean got the call. “Sam? Sammy?” His voice trembled answering.
The line was quiet for a moment before he heard him. “Yeah, Dean.”
Relief flooded through him, “Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I’m fine, Dean,” he sighed. “I need a ride.”
Sam sounded distant and cold and Dean couldn’t blame him a damn bit. Sam told
him where he could pick him up and Dean was flying out of the door, racing to
get to his brother as soon as possible.
He didn’t know what the hell he’d do when he saw him but Sam was safe and that
was what mattered.
***** Chapter 14 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
 
Sam felt like he drank a gallon of coffee. His heart was beating rapidly, his
stomach flipping nervously, and he couldn’t quit bouncing his leg underneath
the diner table. To say he was uneasy in the moments waiting for Dean was a
vast understatement. Nauseated, he continued to wait for the Impala.
No longer could he avoid thinking about this moment. In the days leading to it,
he had spent them filling out as much of the college applications as he could.
It gave him a migraine but wasn’t nearly as unsettling as the thought of seeing
Dean again.
And now that moment was close and he was doing all he could to not bolt from
his seat.
He looked down at the menu in front of him and stared at the words. Logically,
he knew they were words but he couldn’t focus his eyes enough to give the
symbols a damn meaning. And then he finally heard the familiar rumble of the
Impala pull up.
His heart stopped when he saw his brother open the door and step out. Sam’s
stomach churned as he watched Dean walk confidently towards the entrance. He
looked good. Well, no, he looked like shit. But even on his worst days it
bothered Sam to know that Dean still looked good. Sam began worrying his lip as
he saw Dean pull the door open and enter. Quickly, he shifted his gaze away
from his brother and waited for him to approach the booth.
He heard Dean clear his throat and slide across from him. “You okay?” Dean
asked.
Sam shook his head but answered hoarsely, “Yeah, Dean. I’m fine.”
Neither of them said anything until the waitress came to their table to take
their orders. Sam said the first thing that came to mind but he knew he
wouldn’t be touching any of it.
Dean was finally here with him. In the two weeks that he’d been away he never
allowed himself to think of what would happen. They each played distractedly
with their silverware. Sam began to pick apart pieces of his napkin.
Dean inhaled nervously and said quietly, “Look, Sam-”
Interrupting, Sam’s voice trembled, “Can we not? Dean, can we just not
have that conversation?”
Dean blushed and looked down at the table. Voice wavering he said, “I just need
you to know, I can leave, okay? If you want me gone, I’m gone, Sam. I’m old
enough, I should be on my own anyway. I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I
can bring you back to the cabin. We can wait until Dad gets back and then I’m
gone. You don’t ever have to see me again.” His voice was so quiet and meek. It
was disconcerting how small he sounded which did nothing to put Sam at ease.
Furrowing his brow Sam replied in a hushed voice, “What the hell are you
talking about, Dean? You’re not abandoning me with Dad.”
“But Sam-”
“No, Dean! No. Just.. no. Stay. I need you to stay,” he added quietly,
desperately, then turned away.
Dean looked up concerned, “Sam, about what happened-”
“Dean! Stop!” Sam interrupted. He finally looked his brother in the eye where
he could see truly the horrible state he was in. “Jesus, just stop talking.
Just- Don’t. You’re not going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to
get on with our lives like it never happened!”
“Sam, you gotta to know, I am so sorry. I-”
“Shut the hell up, Dean!” Sam slapped his hand to the table shaking their
glasses of water.
Dean cowered, looking away. They sat in silence until their waitress brought
their orders. Both boys picked them apart quietly, avoiding each others eyes.
His skin was crawling and Sam didn’t know how to make the lump in his throat go
away. How did he fuck things up with Dean this much? So fucking bad that Dean
wanted to leave him. And he couldn’t do that. Sam needed him. Just for one more
year. Sam knew it was selfish but he couldn’t let Dean go yet. It was the last
thing he wanted
Without saying another word they left the diner. Like walking to the gallows,
they trudged along silently until Sam opened the Impala door and sat heavy in
the passenger’s seat. He tried everything to calm his shaking hands.
Dean put them on the road and they drove for quite a few miles before Sam
finally spoke. “Dean,” he barely managed to scratch out. “Do you want to go?”
He swallowed nervously, “I mean, if you can’t be around me-”
“No!” Dean interrupted. “No, Sam, that’s not- it’s not you, okay.” He shook his
head, “Don’t even think that for a second.”
Sam nodded and quietly begged, “I need you here, Dean.” Tearfully, he blinked
as he watched the landscape pass out the window. “Can we just- Will you just
stay? Please?”
Dean shifted uncomfortably next to him, knuckles white on the wheel. He
whispered, “Yeah, Sam.”
They drove in silence back to the cabin, each moment just as excruciating as
the last. Sam fought the nauseous feeling rising in his stomach. He ignored the
tense feeling of Dean on the seat so close. And he bit back at the warm tears
stinging behind his eyes.
Their lives were beyond fucked up.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
Returning to the cabin Dean was in a consistent state of hyper awareness,
always knowing exactly how close Sam was to him at all times. He was tense
constantly. All he wanted to do was get shitfaced but now more than ever he was
terrified to drink around Sam.
They walked around each other, a nervous dance, avoiding contact as much as
possible. No lingering looks. No playful punches.
Dean slept in the car.
Sam didn’t stop him.
They both silently agreed that this was how it had to be.
John returned with stern words for Sam about running away but otherwise
continued on as usual. He took them on a hunt. And another. And another. For
which Dean was grateful as it provided ample opportunity to take his aggression
out on salt-and-burns and poltergeists. It almost made it easy enough to forget
how he actually felt about Sam and what he had done with his brother. What
he still wanted to do.
But Dean would never be able to forget.
And now Sam kept to himself.
They were broken. They had gone too far to recover. Now all they could do was
carry on playing out a weak imitation of what they once were to each other. But
persevering was what Winchesters did best. Fighting and surviving. Living life
day to day even though each day felt like a whole lifetime of dying slowly.
One more day. They could get through one more day.
Chapter End Notes
     References:
     "Every day we spend here is like a whole lifetime of dying slowly." -
     FLCL FLCLimax 1.6
     I used my favorite quote from FLCL. It is not mine but I love it
     dearly and think it nearly every day.
     I know this ends pretty unresolved but that's what the second and
     third parts are for! I'm not much of a fan of cliff hangers but I
     needed a place to end the first part and this is where that happened
     to be.
     Thank you so much for taking the time to read this. Hopefully you've
     enjoyed it so far. I especially thank you if you've taken the time to
     comment or add kudos.
     Fun Fact! This actually started out as a joke. A friend and I were
     discussing how hilariously awkward it would be if Sam and Dean were
     Wincesting it up and one of them did a body swap with John. So, I
     started writing it as a complete crack fic and then this just all
     kind of happened. This is also only the second fic I've ever
     completed/posted in my entire life.
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