All We Do Is Drive

by Person_A

Summary:

Sam Winchester realized that he was in love with Dean Winchester at twelve years old. Since then, he has watched his brother take woman after woman into his bed. As the boys are dragged across the United States hunting monsters, Sam falls deeper and deeper in love with Dean. Thinking Dean would never feel the same, Sam keeps his feelings a secret. Until, one day, a forbidden kiss happens, a kiss that starts decades of codependency, secrets, love, forbidden passion, and monster hunting.

*This story starts pre-series and will hopefully follow each season 'mostly' until the end so prepare for a long slow ride, my kittens.*

(PAUSED)

Chapter 1

*Sam: Age 12*

 

The light filtering through the shitty motel blinds hits Sam Winchester right in the eyes and groggily he wakes up. It's still early, only eight in the morning. His father, John, is still gone on a hunt (supposedly this time it's the ghost of an old greedy woman who's haunting her grandchildren) and won't be back for a few more days. John had left Dean (Sam's older brother who is sixteen) in charge.

Sam sits up in his bed and throws back the thin comforter that didn't do shit at keeping him warm, and looks at the bed next to his. Dean is in it, still sound asleep. On days when John wasn't hunting, Sam and Dean would have to bunk up in bed (a situation that Dean complained about relentlessly, though Sam didn't mind it, he liked the warmth of a body next to him) but when John was busy hunting Dean would take his father's bed, happy to be able to starfish, which is exactly what he's doing now.

 

How should Sam describe Dean? Handsome? Most definitely with dirty blond hair, lovely green eyes, and the toned body of a man, not a boy of sixteen. Sam's older brother was funny, sarcastic, and a budding alcoholic (as most hunters are). He enjoyed cheesy old movies, ramen and beer, and porn with blondes that like it rough. Dean also liked to sleep in his cotton boxers, and Sam notices this. His brother is sprawled out in bed, the covers kicked nearly off the bed, wearing hardly anything, and Sam hates that he looks. Dean looks so...so...breathtaking and happy, his scowl is gone when he sleeps.

 

Sam smiles and quietly gets out of bed. He walks into the bathroom and splashes cold water in his face, and then he takes a piss. For a while, he stands Infront of the stained mirror and stares at himself. Sam isn't muscular like Dean ( what twelve year old has muscles anyway) in fact he's quite frail, with a hunch to his shoulders, he's short too and his hair is long and messy, his eyes are blue. Sam thinks he looks dorky, or nerdy or whatever. Not ruggedly handsome like Dean.

 

Firstly, Sam brushes his teeth. Then he gets a change of clothes (quietly, as not to disturb Dean, who is snoring) and he takes a hot bath.

 

Twelve years ago Sam's mother died in a fire, but it wasn't any normal fire. It had been caused by a demon who was there to do god knows what. The house had went up in flames, Sam's mother with it. Ever since, John had been on a witch hunt to find the demon that did it and he'd taken his children along for the ride. Sam had known the truth about the world for a while, all the supposedly made up monsters were real from ghosts to vampires to witches. A secret society of hunters took them out. Saving people and hunting things was their motto. Sam himself had never seen any of the monsters his father hunted, but someday he would, that was what he was training for. Dean had been on a few hunts, more than a few, and he'd killed his fair share of monsters, though Dean's biggest priority was his baby brother.

 

Sam had spent most of his life in the back of the Impala (or baby, as Dean liked to call it) or in shitty motel rooms (like this one). He'd bounced from state to state, school to school, never staying anywhere longer than a couple weeks to a couple months. He didn't have any friends (Dean doesn't count as he is family) so Dean was his whole world.

 

Dean provided comfort (though he was no good at it since he held the emotional capacity of a teaspoon), he provided breakfast (usually cereal) lunch (mostly ramen) and dinner (always macaroni and cheese) to Sam. Dean was the one Sam always went to for anything that worried him, anything that hurt, anything anything. Dean was Sam's ride to school (though Dean had dropped out months ago). Anything Sam needed, Dean would provide and there wasn't a time Sam could remember when this didn't happen. So, of course Sam saw Dean as his moon and stars, he had nothing else. Only Dean. Sure, that was a lot of responsibility for a sixteen year old boy, but Dean never complained. Sure, he poked fun at Sam, and sometimes he'd be a little snappy if he was in a bad mood, but he never complained, he never made Sam feel like a burden.

 

Sam gets out of his shower and dries off. He puts on his clothes (a grey tee-shirt with a hole in the bottom of it, and faded jeans one size too big). Sam brushes his hair and is just about to give his face a proper washing when a pounding on the bathroom door makes him jump.

 

"Hurry up, Sammy, gotta take a leak." Dean's sleepy voice says on the other side of the closed door.

 

Quickly, Sam spins around and wrenches open the door. "Sorry…"

And there's Dean, still wearing only boxers, leaning against the door frame, his short hair is wild, there's dried spit on his cheek, but he's handsome. Dean looks like he belongs on a runway in Paris for some expensive clothing company as a model.

Sam feels like a teenage girl with a huge crush on a much older boy. He hates himself for it.

"Don't say sorry, Sammy, just get outta my way." Dean says, and he pushes past Sam without another word.

Sam catches Dean's smell as he passes: Cigarette smoke, silver, and gunpowder.

Sam spins back around and watches as Dean takes a wiz right in front of him, which isn't weird for two brothers who share a bathroom, as long as one of them isn't screwed up in the head. Sam tries not to look at Dean's bits but his eyes wander there anyway.

 

Dean is well endowed and Sam's eyes won't budge.

"Hey…" Dean says sharply and Sam jumps thinking he's been caught. But Dean isn't looking at Sam, he's focused on draining his bladder.

"Yeah?" Sam asks, his throat is dry.

"Get me a beer? Would you? Huh Sammy?" Dean asks as he finishes up.

Sam, happy with an excuse to leave, darts to the room's kitchenette and opens the mini fridge. He grabs the last beer and hurries back to Dean who is now studying himself in the mirror.

Dean reaches for the beer without taking his eyes of himself.

"It's the last one." Sam says.

"Damn." Dean says. He pops the top off and tips the beer up. Once he finishes, he drops it into the bathroom trash.

"Hey Sammy, how do you feel about breakfast?" Dean asks as he brushes past Sam.

Sam watches as Dean picks last night's clothes up off the floor (jeans and a wife beater) and puts them back on.

"I could eat." Sam says, like he does every morning.

Sam takes a seat at the small table and rickety chairs that the motel room has to offer, while Dean finds two bowls, grabs a half gallon of milk, the box of lucky charms, and two spoons. Dean sits across from Sam and pours them each a bowl.

For a while they eat in silence.

Anymore, Sam doesn't know how to act around Dean as Dean makes him more nervous than any monster could. He's sure that Dean has noticed, though he hasn't said anything. Lately, Sam can hardly joke with Dean without becoming flustered, he has trouble meeting Dean's eyes. Hell, even being in the same room or holding a conversation is strenuous.

"Dad called last night." Dean says.

Sam perks up. "What'd he say?"

"That old ghost hag managed to kill two grandchildren out of four. Dad's got the other two hidden til he can banish the old lady. He says it should only be a few more days…" Dean trails off as if there is something else he doesn't want to say.

"And?" Sam prods.

"And I might have to go help him if things get worse." Dean says.

Sam feels drained at those words. One thing worse than being with Dean is being without him.

"Come on, Sammy, don't look so put out." Dean says. "You'll be fine here on your own. Besides, I dunno if I gotta go or not anyway."

"Alright." Sam says as he finishes his cereal.

"That being said…" Dean says and he stands. "The last beer is gone. There's a bar across the road...if you need me Sammy, just come and get me."

"Okay." Sam says.

Dean smiles, comes around the table, and ruffles Sam's hair. The feeling of Dean's skin on his own is almost too much and Sam forces himself not to lean into the touch.

"You'll be okay?" Dean asks as he gets his cigarettes off the nightstand.

"Oh...yeah." Sam says.

"I'll be back later." Dean says and he puts a cigarette between his lips as he slips out the motel door.

 

Sam lays in bed and stares at the ceiling. He's trying to figure out what's wrong with him. Why does he react to Dean this way? It wasn't like that when he was a kid. Before now, Dean was his caretaker, his big bad older brother. Now, Sam didn't know, it was like some switch had been flipped. Slowly, over the last few months, he'd begun to notice things about his brother, things he shouldn't notice. Like how Dean held his beers, how he laughed at horror movies when they got it wrong, how he worked at passing girls or wolf whistled at them. He'd started noticing the defining lines of Dean's perfect abs, how Dean's green eyes reflected the light.

 

It had to be a phase, a result of such close confinement. It couldn't actually be attraction, it couldn't be a crush. And if it was, he'd have to get over it. Dean only saw Sam as his little annoying brother, he didn't look at him in any perverted way. Dean wasn't gay, not even bisexual. Hell, Dean had lost his virginity at fourteen and since then had had countless one night stands.

 

Sam himself wasn't even gay. He liked seeing a pretty girl with her breasts partially out, but he didn't want to touch them. He could appreciate a girl's beauty but he didn't know what he'd do with one.

Dean was the only person who'd ever made Sam feel so...so small and flustered and insecure.

 

Sam falls asleep.

 

He wakes up hours later from a dream that fades the more coherent he becomes. He notices right off that Dean isn't back yet.

Sam gets out of bed and peeks through the blinds on the window, and what he sees makes him want to curl up in a ball.

Dean is walking back...no stumbling back...to the motel and he isn't alone. A woman walks with him, her hand in his. Her hair is black, her dress is tight and shows off her shapely body. She's drunk too.

Sam watches as Dean and the woman disappear into another room a few doors down.

He knows what they're doing. Sex.

Something in Sam breaks.

He hates it and he doesn't know why.

Slowly, he makes his way back to his bed and crawls into it. He curls into a ball and sobs until he has no more tears left to cry.

Chapter 2

*Sam: Age 12*

*Two Months Later*

 

Dean lights his cigarette and blows smoke out the cracked motel room door. It was raining heavily and John had just gotten down with his last hunt (werewolves). Right now their father was sleeping and they both needed to be quiet, which wasn't a hard task for Sam as he was happy to read the book he'd bought at the gas station all day (it was about a war happening in space in the future). Dean, who hated to read, was having a harder time.

"So, get this Sammy," Dean whispers, smoke billowing out of his mouth. "I met this girl…" he trails off with a smirk.

Sam, who is sitting on the floor by Dean's feet, totally engrossed in his book, doesn't bother to look up. Yeah, Dean, you met a girl, what else is new? Sam thinks this with a mountain of jealousy on his shoulders.

"Sammy!" Dean says sharply.

Sam drops his book and raises his eyebrows. His eyes can't quite meet Dean's as Sam doesn't want to blush a deep red. Unfortunately, as time passes, Sam has grown more flustered by his older brother, and with that, his jealousy has grown to such a degree that he's started being...a little cold toward Dean...just a little. Sam feels guilty for it.

"Yeah?" Sam asks.

"So I met this chick and- " Dean starts.

"When did this happen?" Sam interrupts.

"Couple weeks ago while dad was on that witch hunt in Indiana." Dean says.

"Huh. Go on." Sam says.

"Anyway, Sammy, you shoulda seen her tits! They were massive." Dean says and he draws a big circle in the air with his cigarette for emphasis. "And she was riding me and those things fucking hit her in the face."

"Wow." Sam says nonchalantly, and then he goes back to his book.

Dean doesn't like being ignored, not when he wants attention, so he crouches down and takes Sam's book.

"Hey!" Sam yells and then he claps his hands over his mouth.

They both look over at John, who only continues snoring.

"Gotta be quiet Sammy, Dad's sleepin'" Dean says with a toothy grin. He puffs away on his cigarette while taking a look at Sam's book.

"You did it." Sammy whispers.

"Did not. This book is boring." Dean says.

"Because you can't read." Sam mutters.

Dean chuckles." So, claws out today huh?"

"You took my book." Sam says.

"Stop bein' such a brain boy. Lighten up, Sammy." Dean says with a soft chuckle, then he winks at Sam and gives him his book back.

Sam starts reading again, anything to take his mind off his brother. For a while they are silent, Sam reads another chapter and Dean smokes another cigarette.

"You know…" Dean begins.

"Yeah?" Sam asks.

"We should go out and do somethin'. Get a burger and a movie." Dean says.

"What about Dad. Won't he be worried if he wakes up and we're gone?" Sam asks.

"Not if we leave a note. Besides, what could happen? Dad already took out the werewolves. So, what do ya say Sammy?" Dean asks.

Sam is conflicted. On one hand He's afraid that John will wake up and find them gone- their father's number one rule is never leave without permission. Then, on the other hand, Sam didn't get to spend much time with Dean where they actually did things (besides studying John's journal, hanging out in the motel room, and training to fight) so he really didn't want to pass up this chance. Sam didn't want himself or- even more importantly- he didn't want to get Dean in trouble.

An image flashed through his mind, of a faceless couple (boy and girl) going to a movie, arms around each other, and the going down the street to have a greasy burger, laughing with each other. A date, that's what he saw.

Obviously, this wouldn't be a date, in fact it was far from it. Besides, Dean didn't date, he'd never taken a girl out, not once, he only used them for their bodies. But, for some reason, this mental imagine made Sam make up his mind.

"Yeah. Let's go." Sam says brightly.

Dean grins, puts out his cigarette in the ashtray and sneaks over to wear John's jacket is slung across a chair. He reaches into one of the pockets and takes the keys to the Impala.

 

 

Dean peels out of the motel parking lot with Sam in the passenger's seat. The ACDC music is blaring and Dean is mouthing along, a cigarette in his hand, completely at ease. Sam's stomach is full of nerves and he feels like throwing up. He's afraid of what will be waiting for them at home.

"What if Dad gets angry?" He asks quietly, so quietly that Dean doesn't hear, so Sam leans forward and turns off the music.

Dean gives him a mean look." Driver picks the music and the passenger shuts his pie hole."

"What if Dad gets angry?" Sam whispers again.

Dean rolls his eyes. "Like he'll even wake up before we get back. Stop being such a bitch."

"Okay."

 

 

Dean chooses the movie, of course it's a horror Story (Blood and Guts: Zombie 3). The theater is small, with only two showrooms, and crowded as well. Dean orders a large extra butter popcorn for them to share, and a large coke each. They find prime front row seats to the movie and eat their popcorn as the opening scene of the show starts (a girl walking alone in a cemetery on the blood moon).

"Zombies aren't real." Dean says with a smile, eyes glued to the big screen.

Sam has trouble watching the movie, as it is dark in the theater and Dean is sitting very close to him, their shoulders are touching- Sam's very aware of it. He wants to lean into Dean, to lay his head on Dean's shoulder, but he knows he can't, it's wrong and Dean is his brother. Flesh and blood. It's wrong.

Right now, Sam hates himself, he can't even enjoy a movie with Dean. Hell, he can't stand being in the same room with him and he- ironically- can't stand to be without him either. How will he be expected to survive if he feels this way? It will tear him apart. He knows it.

There's a loud scream and Sam's eyes snap to the screen. A zombie is chasing the girl from the cemetery down an alley and he is gaining. Sam winces as the zombie pounces on the girl and rips into her throat with his teeth.

"Damn. You see that, Sammy." Dean says, nudging Sam with his elbow.

"I saw." Sam whispers, picking up his drink and taking a long pull of it.

The horror show ends with the world entering into complete oblivion, zombies everywhere. Then the lights come on. Dean stands up immediately and stretches, his shirt raises up as he does, and a few inches of his toned stomach is visible.

Sam's eyes are glued to it. His cheeks heat up, mouth goes dry, and he can't breath.

Then it's over and Dean's brushing past him down the aisle. Sam clears his throat, gets up, and follows.

 

They walk down the street to a little diner to eat. Along the way, Dean talks about the movie and how they'll have to see Zombie 1-3. Sam just agrees. He doesn't know what to do anymore. How will he control his feelings? More importantly, how will he force them to disappear?

 

The diner is very retro with red seating and hyper white walls with black and white photographs. Dean and Sam seat themselves and (to Sam's utter dismay) a pretty blond waitress in a knee length skirt and a button down with two buttons open, showing the tops of her breasts comes over to give them their menus.

She's beautiful and just Dean's type, and when Sam forces himself to look at Dean, his suspicions are true. Dean's eyes are plastered to that waitress, and he's got this smile on his face that nears a smirk.

Sam wants to sink into the floor.

"Well aren't you boys handsome." She says, laying a menu Infront of each of them. Sam notices her stubble wink at Dean.

"Ah nah. My little brother's the handsome one, aren't ya Sammy?" Dean says charmingly. Sam knows he's just flirting with the waitress, but his cheeks still warm.

"He's a cutie." Says the waitress.

"Look, honey, we don't need these menus. We'll each take a chocolate shake, a burger, and fries." Dean says.

"Coming right up." The waitress says as she snatches their menus. Dean nearly snaps his neck watching her walk away.

"Damn. Look at that, Sammy." Dean says.

"She's pretty." Sammy says.

"Hell yeah." Dean grunts. Then he smiles at Sammy. " You like her, don't you?"

"Yeah." Sam lies.

"Don't you worry, Sammy, few years from now and you'll be screwing ladies twice as pretty as that." Dean says.

"Like you." Sam says.

"Just like me." Dean agrees.

 

The waitress brings their food and they dig in. Sam has to admit, everything tastes excellent, though when has sugar, fat, grease, and meat ever been a let down?
Though, the food unsettles his stomach. He's still afraid that John has woken up to find them gone.

"What if Dad gets mad?" Sam asks.

"Sometimes Dad has a stick up his ass." Dean replies before taking a huge bite of his burger.

"But if he does?" Sam asks.

"Don't worry about that Sammy." Dean says reassuringly.

"Alright." Sam says, but he doesn't feel reassured.

 

They finish eating, Dean pays and leaves the waitress a twenty dollar tip. Back in the Impala, Sam's stomach is turning flips. He knows that something bad will happen when they get home. Dean doesn't seem worried though. They pull into the motel and park in their usual spot.

"Let's rock n' roll, Sammy." Dean says as he turns off the Impala.

Sammy manages a fake smile.

They go up to the motel room door, and Dean goes to unlock it, but it is already unlocked. That tells them more than they need to know.

"Fuck." Dean mutters.

"Dean." Sam says, suddenly fearful.

"Nothing to do about it, Sammy." Dean says with a shrug.

Almost a reflex, Sam grabs into the tail of Dean's shirt. John's awake in there, he knows they left without permission, and both of them will have hell to pay.

Dean swings open the door and strolls inside like nothing is wrong, Sam follows, pulled after Dean by his shirt tail.

John sits at the tiny table inside the room, he's rugged looking, with a hostile look on his face. A half empty bottle of vodka sits Infront of him. His eyes are thin slits, and they watch Dean close and lock the door.

So not only is John angry, but he's drunk as a skunk. Sam's heart beats faster.

"Hey, Dad. Me and Sammy went to a movie and-" Dean starts, but John interrupts by slamming his hand down on the table.

"YOU DARE TAKE SAMMY- YOUR BROTHER- YOUR RESPONSIBILITY- OUT OF THIS HOUSE- WITHOUT MY GODDAMN PERMISSION. HOW DARE YOU ENDANGER HIS LIFE FOR A FUCKING MOVIE. DO YOU KNOW WHAT'S OUT THERE? DO YOU EVEN CARE ABOUT PROTECTING-" John begins in a screaming voice that almost shakes the foundations of the motel.

"I care about Sammy more than anything. More than my own life. I'd do goddamn anything for him. He's my responsibility and I kept him safe. He shouldn't be locked up like a prisoner." Dean calmly interrupts.

John nearly has a stroke. He stands up so quickly that his chair flies back and flips over.

"Fucking smart mouthed ass." John hisses and then he charges them.

Quick as a flash, Dean pushes Sam away from him, then turns around to meet John head on. It isn't a fair fight, as Dean has enough respect not to raise his hand to his parents, and John takes advantage of that by punching Dean square in the mouth with all his might.

Dean's head snaps to the side and he stumbles back. John rears his fist back to hit Dean again, but Sam feels something in him boil.

"FUCKING STOP IT. DON'T HURT DEAN, PLEASE DON'T HURT HIM DAD! IF YOU HURT HIM AGAIN YOU SHOULD TRADE PLACES WITH MOM." Sam shouts, and with that, John's fist freezes.

Silence.

John regards Dean, who is nursing a bloody and busted lip and then Sam, who cowers in fear a few feet away.

"Hmm." John huffs, and then he storms from the motel room, fumbling with the lock, and then he's gone.

"Dean." Sam whispers and he runs to his brother to inspect the bloodied lip.

Dean brushes Sam off. "No big deal."

"Let me help. Dean, please." Sam pleads.

Dean sighs. "Fine. But no cry baby stuff, Sammy. No chick flick moments."

Dean bends down and let's Sam get a good look at his lip. It's bad, pouring blood and split open. Softly, Sam touches the area around it.

"Here, I'll get the first aid. You go sit on the tub." Sam says, pulling his fingers away like Dean burns him.

"Alright. Whatever, Sammy." Dean says and he walks into the bathroom to do as Sam had said.

Sam gets the first aid kit and joins Dean in the bathroom. He stands close to get a good look at Dean's lips. Sam must put their closeness out of his mind. He opens the kit and takes out gauze, which he uses to dab at the blood. Dean doesn't flinch, instead he closes his eyes.

"You know…" Dean says, as if he's saying something hard to say. "If you hadn't said that, he woulda best my ass. Thank you, Sammy. You're always there for me."

Sam doesn't answer. Maybe it was then that he realized that he loved Dean.

Notes:

I want y'all to know that this is more than one chapter. It's gonna be long.

Thanks for reading.

Chapter 3

*Sam: Age 12*

*Six Weeks After That*

*TW: Depictions of violence*

 

Sam's having his first day at a new school, and that's fine, he's had more first days than anything. It's not something he's new to- pun intended. He just gets tired of it, he hates it with a passion. But that's not what's got him worked up. John's been gone almost three weeks, and both Dean and Sam are starting to worry. This time, he was hunting another witch...but this witch wasn't normal, at least that's what Dean had told Sam over breakfast early that morning.

"Nobody likes a witch bitch, Sammy. But the witch Dad was after...well she ain't like the rest." Dean had said with a mouthful of cereal.

"Why?" Sam asked.

"She's been alive a while. Knows more shit, I guess. She's killing people for money using her little spells." Dean said.

So, what had happened? Was John just taking his time killing the witch bitch? Or had he gotten held up, captured in some way? Or, the worst, was he dead? Sam and Dean had no way of knowing. John never let Sam get too close to the hunts, he was twelve and still in training. Dean knew much more than he did, but he was still lacking somewhat.

"Do you know where exactly he was hunting?" Sam asked.

"No, but if he needed me, he'd call." Dean said.

"What if he's in a position where he can't call?" Sam replied.

"Then Dad's fucked." Dean had sighed.

 

Now, an hour later, they are in the drop off line at school. Sam's in seventh grade, and this is his fifth week at this particular school. Both Sam and Dean are tense, and they refuse to speak to each other. Their conversation at breakfast had brought out the possibility that John was dead and now it was just them. Orphans.

Sam didn't want John to die, no matter how much the man drank, no matter if he hit them or not. They'd already lost their Mother, losing John was the unthinkable.

When it's Sam's turn to get dropped off, he suddenly doesn't want to go to school anymore, but he also doesn't want to go back to the motel room. He's also afraid to leave Dean alone for the day.

"Will you be alright?" Sam asks, pausing with his hand on the car door handle.

"Course I will, Sammy." Dean says with a fake smile. "Go to school, have a good day. I'll be here to pick you up."

"Dean…" Sam starts, but he stops. He wants to tell Dean that he loves him, but even under normal circumstances it would be hard to say, now it's twice as hard as Sam doesn't know exactly what kind of love he feels for dean. So instead he presses his lips together and finally says: "see you after school."

"See you, Sammy." Dean replies.

 

Sam gets out without another word, shoulders his backpack, and trudges toward the school. Sometimes he wonders why he even goes, as he has no choice but to be a hunter when he gets older. Sam would like to do something else, maybe go to college, and find a nice job, but that would mean leaving Dean, Sam couldn't do that- not unless Dean wanted him to. Dean would never want that.

 

Sam finds his locker, opens it, takes his backpack off and rummages around for his books, so he can leave some of them in the locker.

What if John is dead? What would Sam and Dean do next? How would they live? Maybe they would go to Bobby Singer's house? Sam likes Bobby a whole lot, maybe even more than he likes his own father. Bobby would take them in. Or, another option, Sam and Dean don't go to anyone and stay together doing their own thing. That could work, Dean knows how to pull off credit card scams. They could go from motel to motel in the Impala, stopping at old diners, enjoying themselves.

Sam hates that he likes this idea. He hates himself for having one happy thought about the possibility of his Dad's death. He should feel the least bit happy about that, let alone excited at the thought of traveling the country alone with Dean.

 

Something is wrong with Sam, he knows it.

 

His first class is English and the period is boring as they are reading The Hobbit, a book Sam has already read twice. His next class is science and the teacher starts off class with telling everyone that they are doing an activity (studying onions under a microscope and writing down what they see) and they will need partners.

Sam really doesn't like this, he despises making forced small talk with strangers. The idea of picking one person out of the class around him is taxing, how will he know the right one?

Turns out, he doesn't have to.

A girl around his age plops into the seat beside him. She's twig thin with long red hair, and big eyes. Very pretty, but not his type as Sam only has one.

"Hi." She says timidly. "I'm Serenity."

"Sam." Sam says.

"Want to be partners?" She asks.

Sam shrugs. "Sure."

"You're new. Did you just move to town? Where do you live?" She asks.

"Yeah. I just moved into town." Sam says. Then he thinks: So our Dad can hunt monsters and fall even deeper into his pit of despair while dragging us with him.

"My family moved here three years ago." Serenity says. "But I feel like I've lived here forever, you know what I mean?"

"Sure." Sam lies, as he has never stayed in one place more than four months.

The teacher sends one person from each table over to get a microscope, Sam volunteers himself, and returns with a microscope. As the teacher passes out the onion samples, Sam tries very hard not to look at the girl next to him, because her eyes are already studying Sam.

"Do you have any siblings?" Serenity asks.

"No." Dean lies, though he doesn't know why he keeps the truth to himself.

"I have four." Serenity says." Would you like to go on a date after school? We could walk down to the ice cream shop and get something after school. I don't want to seem crazy, I just think you're cute."

Part of him wants to say yes, but his heart won't let him. Even if he knows that this week alone Dean's screwed four different girls. It doesn't matter to Sam, he can't betray Dean, even though Dean would be happy that he'd went on a date.

"I can't. I'm sorry." Sam says.

Serenity huffs and they don't speak to each other again.

 

School let's out and Sam gathers his things. He has an hour of homework to do that he's not excited about. Sam goes outside and is shocked to find that Dean isn't in parked in the place that he usually picks Sam up.

 

Sam twists around, searching for the Impala but it's not in the lot. Fear fills him and his heart quickens and he sways on his feet. Dean has never failed to pick him up.

Sam decides that Maybe Dean is late so he sits on the curb and waits.

 

 

Two hours pass and he knows that something has happened. Did it have anything to do with John? Had the witch killed him and then shown up at the hotel to kill Dean?

Sam's teeth start to chatter and he stands up. With a deep breath in, he breaks out in a run.

 

Gasping for breath, he arrives back at the motel in under thirty minutes. The Impala is gone. The motel door is unlocked. Dean isn't inside, nor John. He drops his backpack to the ground and frantically begins to search the motel room, until he sees a note laying on his pillow. Sam snatches it up and read:

 

Sammy- I know your worried and I'm sorry you had to walk home. Dad called. He's in bad trouble with that witch bitch. I've left to help him. There's food in the mini fridge. Be good till we get back.

-Dean.

Notes:

I wonder what will happen.

Chapter 4

*Sam: Age 12*

*TW*

 

Four hours later and Sam is getting really worried. All he'd done since getting back to the motel was read Dean's note over and over again. Questions swarmed his mind like bees. Are they okay? John? Dean? What had the witch done? Was John Dead? And Dean? Was he alive?

What would Sam do if Dean died? How would he go on? How would he live with himself if dean was no longer in his life? Would the crippling loss crush him? Already, he feels drained, he feels like crying. What has happened to his family? To John, oh Sam doesn't want John Dead. Dean, the brother that Sam loves with his whole heart, is he gone too? Is his body growing cold right this minute or has he been reduced to dust? Will the witch come for Sam next?

If Dean is dead, Sam hopes the witch comes for him, he wants to die too. Going without Dean would be like going without his own soul. Sam would be ripped apart. How could this happen? How could their father have endangered them so?

These thoughts rush through his head endlessly, as he sits on the edge of the bed holding Dean's pillow. Periodically, he hurries his face into the pillow to breathe in his brother's scent. Cigarettes. Silver. Gun powder. Dean.

Everything that matters to Sam is Dean. He must have Dean.

Sam gets up and paces back and forth. He feels like puking. Something is wrong. Something terrible. Sam can feel it.

He digs around in his brother's duffle bag and finds a pack of cigarettes. He's never smoked one before, but he will now.

He lights it with a match and coughs hard after the first inhale.

Was the witch on her way now? Would he have the same afterlife as Dean? As John? As his mother? Did dying hurt?

He stubs out the cigarette, unsure of how Dean smokes so much and goes back to pacing.

Another hour passes.

Then another.

 

Soon it is midnight and Sam has started to sob. He sits in the bathroom now, rocking back and forth. Is Dean dead? Is he gone? Will Sam die next?

Sam wants to be someone else. He wants to be normal. He doesn't want to be a hunter, he doesn't want a vengeful father, he doesn't want to love Dean.

It hits Sam then that he's in love with Dean. He loves him like John had loved Mary. Dean is it for Sam, and if Dean is dead, Sam will never be able to watch Dean grow older, he'll never see Dean start a family. He'll never be able to feel the pain of seeing Dean in love.

Sam feels cheated.

The door of the motel bangs open.

"SAM, COME QUICK. SOMETHING'S HAPPENED TO DEAN." John screams.

Sam, in a fog, jumps to his feet and darts from the bathroom into the motel room. John stands there, looking battered and dirty with a split lip and a black eye. He's got his arm around an almost unconscious Dean.

Dean looks terrible. His lip is split. Claw marks over his face, he's deathly pale, and his eyes are unfocused.

"That fucking witch hit him with a curse before I took her down." John says.

Sam brushes to Dean and helps to support him. Dean makes a groaning sound.

"Thankfully, it's nothing deadly. Just painful. I've brought him home for you to deal with, Sammy. That witch bitch is part of a fucking coven." John says. "Here, help me get him into bed."

Carefully, they pull Dean over to the nearest bed to lay him down.

John rips open Dean's button down to show a huge bruise in the middle of his chest that looks as if Dean was struck by something heavy. The veins in his chest are black.

Sam is mortified. "How could you let this happen?"

"I didn't, Sam, the witch was trying to hex me but Dean jumped in front of it." John says as he inspects Dean's chest.

"He won't die?" Sam whispers. He wants to crawl in bed with Dean.

"I already said he wouldn't. But soon the pain will kick in and he'll start screaming. I need you to stay with him, Sam, while I go take out the rest of the coven." John says, and with that he turns away and walks toward the door.

"The curse should've gotten you." Sam hisses.

John pauses, shrugs, and then leaves.

Sam feels lost, he doesn't know what to do. How can he help Dean?

 

That's when the screaming starts.

Dean inhales deeply and let's out a loud and shrill cry, so forceful that he arches his back off the bed. His eyes have rolled back in his head.

It's not just one scream though.

Over and over again, he screams just as loudly as the first.

Sam covers his ears and let's out one horrified sob.

He can't help, so he'll just have to help Dean ride out the spell. Sam crawls into bed with Dean, and lays beside him, watching him scream.

Slowly, as if to comfort Dean (though he's more so doing it for his own comfort), Sam slides his arm across Dean's bare stomach, and lays his head on Dean's chest, right on the dark spot.

Dean's screams hurt his ears and his body bucks underneath Sam, but Sam doesn't care. He needs Dean now, and Dean needs him.

An hour passes and Sam has started to hum to himself to deaden the screams. He holds Dean tighter and feels the taunt muscles in Dean's abdomen clinch.

Two more hours, Sam is beginning to drift and the screams don't matter to him as much anymore. Dean's warm ebs into him, and he is at peace.

His screams have gotten ragged and his fingers have fisted into the back of Sam's shirt.

The black spot has started to fade and Dean's screams are not as shrill.

Another hour and Dean has stopped screaming, now he just shakes. Sam keeps holding him.

It takes three hours for the shakes to stop, and Sam has felt every minute of it. Then, Dean sleeps.

Sam pulls away and the black spot is gone. Dean gives a little snore. Sam is so happy, he doesn't think as he leans forward to kiss Dean right on the cheek. His brother's skin is warm and stubbled, the feel of it makes Sam shiver.

"Sammy." Dean whispers, still in a deep sleep. Somehow, he smiles in his dream and says again. " Sammy."

"I'm in love with you." Sam whispers so softly that no sound comes out.

 

John comes back early that morning.
They leave again, to a new town, for a new hunt.

The only difference: Sam is irrevocably in love with Dean. No one can ever know.

Notes:

Come back next week for four more chapters.

Chapter 5

Notes:

Sorry for the long wait everybody. My grandma passed and I haven't felt like writing at all. Regardless here is a new chapter. Hope you like it.

One Year later

 

*Sam: 13 years old*

 

Dean's fist connects with Sam's cheek. The force of it makes Sam stumble and the pain is dulled from his anger. Dean immediately freezes in shock, guilty. John was gone, had been for a week, hunting a particularly vicious wendigo. To fill in all their free time, since it was summer and Sam was not in school, they started to focus harder on Sam's training. See, Dean wasn't actually supposed to hit Sam, at least not as hard as he had. This would leave a bruise.

"Sammy! I'm sorry let me see." Dean says tightly, racing forward.

Sam is angry, not about the punch, but at Dean in general. It's a funny thing how unrequited love festers over time, even more when you are in love with your brother who will never love you back, a brother who changes women like he does underwear. Sam wants to hate Dean, he wants Dean to hurt.

 

"Sammy." Dean says, prying Sam's finger's from his face.

 

Sam then does something very unlike himself. While Dean is distracted by the welt forming on Sam's cheek, Sam makes a hard fist with his left hand.

 

"It hurt?" Dean asks roughly, prodding the welt. It stings but Sam enjoys the feeling of Dean's skin.

 

Quick, Sam strikes out and punches Dean in the face much harder than Dean had punched him. Dean stumbles back with a grunt.

 

"It hurt about as much as that did." Sam says with a smirk.

 

Dean is speechless. Sam, afraid he's going to hit Dean again, walks toward the chipped front door of the motel room.

 

As he reaches for the door handle, Dean says. "Where are you going?"

 

"Out. We'll train more later. I'm sure you can go to a bar if you get bored." Sam says and then he leaves.

 

He walks along the road toward the gas station a few miles away.

 

 

A lot has happened in the last year. Sam has changed schools eight times. Dean has slept with approximately one hundred and twelve women. John has killed an endless amount of monsters, almost dying each time. Dean has started helping with more and more hunts, which gives Sam a lot of anxiety. Love is love, and Sam dreads the day Dean goes on a hunt and never returns.

 

What else?

 

Sam's jealousy has grown, it's tainted his love for Dean. It's made him bitter. Sometimes he wants John to go on a hunt and never come back, that Dean would hurry up and fall in love with some big boob blond so that Sam would finally be alone.

 

He shouldn't think like that.

 

Sam goes into the gas station. The door jingles, the old man behind the counter looks up and frowns. He and Sam know each other, not by name.

 

"One time deal kid." He says as Sam comes up and leans against the counter.

"My ass." Sam says digging a twenty out of his pocket.

"I mean it you little shit, could get me in trouble." He says.

"Not in this shitty little town." Sam says slamming the twenty down on the counter.

"Fine. But if you go getting lung cancer it's not my fault." The man says as he gets Sam a back of Camels.

"Vodka. One of the tiny ones." Sam says. "And a lighter."

"That's too far." He says.

"I'll say you molested me." Sam bluffed.

"Oh really." The man says with a chuckle. "If I were it wouldn't be a string bean like you, plus, news flash, I like ladies."

"Vodka. Lighter." Sam says.

"Whatever." He says and he gets what Sam wants. "You have a family? Anyone care that you're here poisoning yourself?"

"They'd be proud." Sam says. Well, John would be proud. Dean would throw a fit.

The man shrugs and takes Sam twenty, then he gives Sam his stuff in a bag.

Sam goes to leave.

"See you next week." The man hisses.

Sam doesn't answer.

 

He walks into the woods by the road and lights himself a cigarette. The smoking started about nine months ago after he'd glimpsed Dean leaning a hooker behind a building, Sam had started smoking to die. But wasn't he already dying, more and more the longer he hides his feelings? The drinking started a few weeks ago, after Dean jokingly, and in a brotherly manor, called Sam a little tiny baby. That had struck a cord in Sam, because of the age difference between he and Dean. Of course he'd always be a baby to Dean.

Sam finds a nice dry log to sit on. He chugs the small bottle of vodka straight and it burns on the way down.

 

Then he just sits there.
For hours.

 

Sam has thought about doing bad things, of sneakily watching Dean in the shower, of kissing Dean while he sleeps. He hasn't done them. Better to be safe than sorry. He misses ignorance, the time before he knew how he felt. Loving Dean with all his heart doesn't change that Dean is straight, that Dean loves women, that he isn't insane like Sam. Dean would never love his much younger baby brother.

 

Then there's John, the ever absent father. Sam blames him for how he feels about Dean, if he had been there maybe Sam wouldn't have gotten so close to Dean.

 

Finally, after the buzz of the alcohol has worn off, Sam goes back to the motel. It's getting dark, he has no idea what time it is. He hides his cigarettes in the rotted part of a tree and then he circles around to their room.

He goes inside.

 

Dean is still there. He's sitting on one of the beds, having a beer. His cheek is bruised and looks pissed. Sam pretends not to notice Dean. He starts making himself a bowl of cereal.

"What's going on with you, Sammy?" Dean asks.

Sam ignores him, but answers in his head. Maybe if you didn't screw around so much and if you took the time to see that I'm right here.

"Is it cause you're gettin older? Horny? Cause I can find you a girl..." Dean says.

Sam stays wordless.

"I'm sorry I hit you so hard earlier." Dean said. "I didn't mean to."

No answer.

"You used to...you know...like me. Best friends and all that chick flick crap." Dean says. "Did I do somethin?"

Silence.

"Come on, Sammy." Dean says. He gets up and strolls to Sam, he gets so close that Sam can smell him, feel his warmth.

It makes Sam dizzy.

"Did you go to the bar?" Sam asks.

"Well...yeah...just to pick up-" Dean starts.

"A chick." Sam finishes. "I know the drill. Do you have an STD yet?"

"An ST what?" Dean says.

"Never mind." Sam says. "Maybe we're just...growing apart, or maybe you're overreacting."

"Don't be a bitch." Dean says.

Sam sighs, he does feel guilty. He can't get so bitter that he drives Dean away, that would hurt more than anything. No matter what he chooses, he will hurt for it.

"Sorry. I'm just tired of...of moving all the time. Never settling, never having a home." Sam says. Part lie, part truth.

"You have me." Dean says. It's sincere and Sam is shocked.

"You always have me, Sammy. I'm your home and you're mine...I thought you knew that." Dean says. It's platonic, Sam knows that, but he still blushes.

"You are my home." Sam whispers.

"See!" Dean pats Sam on the back. "So no matter where we go, as long as we're together, we are home."

"Wanna watch a horror movie?" Sam asks, taking a bite of his cereal.

"Heck yeah." Dean says.

And so they do.

 

Until the phone in Dean's pocket rings, making them both jump.
Dean pulls his phone out.

"It's Dad."

Chapter 6

*Sam: Age 13*

Dean answers the phone. “Dad?”

Immediately, Sam’s stomach clinches.

“What do you mean?” Dean says, a twinge to his voice. “How...how did that happen…” Dean’s eyes shoot over to stare at Sam. The older Winchester brother is terrified. “Alright...Alright...Alright...Fuck...Alright…”

Dean hangs up the phone, then he rounds on Sam, grabbing Sam by the front of his shirt and hauling Sam up and onto his feet, then he shakes Sam so hard his brain rattles.

“That old man at the gas station...how do you fucking know him, Sammy?” Dean hisses.

“What-” Sam starts, confused.

“How do you know him, Sammy. “ Dean repeats.

“He...he sells me cigarettes.” Sam replies. “That’s all!”

“He’s the fucking Wendigo, Sammy. Dad found the bastard’s hiding place...he has fucking picrures of you, you dumb little boy. Dad said he can’t find the monster, so it must be coming here.” Dean says, his voice breaks at the end. “It’s coming here for you.”

“Oh.” Sam whispers. He feels...numb.

“We've gotta leave now." Dean says, letting go of Sam. Then Dean curses, "FUCK. Dad has baby. We'll have hoof it, I guess. Get your goddamn coat, Sammy. Later we'll have to talk about how...how...stupid you were for…" Dean trails off, drags his hands down his face, and sighs.

Sam quickly rips on his coat, his breath comes in short gasps. The old man hadn't seemed to be anything more than just that, an old man. True, Sam hadn't seen a wendigo before, but how odd was it that he'd happened across the creature days before his father had. More importantly, how had the old man gotten Sam's picture? He supposed that creepy cabalistic old men had their ways.

 

Dean got his shotgun from under the bed, and then grabbed Sam by his upper arm hard enough to bruise. He drags Sam out of the hotel room and to the road, heading the direction opposite the gas station.

They don't speak for ten tense minutes.

"Why the fuck did you start smoking anyway?" Dean asks.

"I-I…" Sam trails off. How does he answer. He decides not to. "You smoke."

"This ain't about me. You're thirteen...way too fucking young." Dean says.

It's almost completely dark now, and the road ahead is ominous, full of monsters ready for flesh and blood.

"I had to." Sam says. He doesn't elaborate.

"Is that all you did? Is it?" Dean asks.

"Sometimes I got something to drink, not often." Sam says.

"Booze too? Come on, Sammy. You're better than that." Dean says.

He hasn't let go of Sam's arm, his fingers are starting to hurt.

"What? You aren't?" Sam asks all hostile.

"Just shut up. I can't believe you." Dean says.

"Well I can't believe you either, Dean." Sam hisses back.

"You never listen. I don't care if you wanna go out and have some fun, find a girl your age, have a little summer lovin'. I don't care to see you smokin' a joint in the school parking lot with some buddies. Kids usually aren't monsters. Goin' to that gas station alone, buying cigarettes and vodka from an old creep...stupid." Dean says. Finally, he lets go of Sam's arm.

"I don't have friends. How can I?" Sam says. " All I wanted was time away from...from our life. Alright? Smoking a cigarette alone in the woods is therapeutic."

Dean sputters but is too angry to reply.

"I'm sorry." Sam says.

"What's so bad about our life?" Dean asks, teeth clenched.

Sam doesn't know where to begin. He's in love with Dean, his brother. He has no home. His father hunts monsters. His mother is dead. On and on and on.

"I wish we could have grown up normal." Sam says.

"We wouldn't be as close then." Dean replies. "Sammy, I love you. You're my little brother. You're enough for me, aren't I enough for you? We're all the family we've got."

"You'll always be enough." Sam whispers.

Dean throws his arm around Sammy. "Look, little bro, once this crisis is averted, we'll go out. Sounds good? Movie? Burger?"

Sam likes the weight of Dean's arm across his shoulders. He likes how Dean smells. His older brother is warm, inviting, enticing.

"Yeah…" Sam trails off. He wants to admit his feelings for Dean, he wants to say the words but his mouth refuses to move.

"I know it's hard, Sammy, but that's the life. Hunting things, saving people. That's our life." Dean says.

Slowly, Sam slides his arm through Dean's, and takes hold of his brother's bicep. Around the bend, shining through the trees, is the light from a car.

"Shit." Dean whispers and quick as a flash he and Sam disappear into the woods, hidden by the trees.

The car is old and rusty, and as it passes them, it slows. This makes Sam's heart speed up, any human would not be able to see them in such darkness. The realization makes Sam clutch Dean even harder.

The car slows to nearly a stop, and then it speeds up again, out of sight.

"I don't like this." Dean whispers to Sam, his lips so close to Sam's ear that Sam can feel the soft brush of Dean's full lips. "We need to stay off the road."

"Alright." Sam whispers. He is trembling, not from fear, but from teenage desire.

 

They walk deeper into the woods.

Dean lights a cigarette, takes a deep drag, then hands it to Sam.

Shocked, Sam takes it.

"I care about you, Sammy." Dean says as Sam takes a puff.

"I care about you." Sam replies.

"I know hunting isn't the life you wanted...but...you can't leave me. You might want to, when you get older. Hell, I've thought about it. But...Sammy...sometimes you're my only reason for livin'. I know that's a manipulative thing to say but...it's true. You're my little brother, my responsibility." Dean says. The darkness makes it easier to talk about his feelings.

"I couldn't live without you." Sam says, his mouth is dry.

In his wildest dreams, this would be the time for Dean to stop, to place a hand on Sam's shoulder. They would face each other, nearly blind in the dark night. Dean would cup Sam's cheeks and slowly lower his lips to-

But this isn't Sam's wildest dreams, so that doesn't happen.

A branch snaps behind them.

Immediately, Dean wheels around, pushing Sam behind him, shotgun at the ready.

The old man from the gas station, now more wrinkled and sunken, thin and wheezing, jumps down from a nearby tree. His finger nails have grown into long claws. His teeth are sharp like grass.

"Gonna eat your little brother slow…" the old man says, then he pounces.

Dean blasts him away with the shotgun. The old man hits the ground, and then gets back up with a hiss. Dean shoots him again, the old man gets back up.

Sam is frozen with fear, he's never been this close to a monster before. He cowers behind Dean, his protector, his brother, the love of his life.

The thing pounces before Dean can shoot it again. Without thinking of himself, only of Dean, not worrying about death, Sam slips around Dean protecting his elder brother.

The wendigo slams into Sam's chest. Dean screams something ugly and shoots the wendigo in the head before it can rip into Sam.

Blood explodes into Sam's face.

The thing is dead. Dean rolls the body off Sam and drags his little brother to his feet.

"WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING!" Dean yells, so close to Sam that his hot breath and spit hits Sam on his cheeks.

"I had to save you." Sam whimpers.

Dean shakes Sam. "You coulda died."

Dean hugs Sam to his chest, breathing heavy. Sam responds by slipping his arms around Dean's waist. The elder Winchester's heart is beating fast, Sam can hear it. His knees feel weak, and shivers go down his spine. Dean is close, so close, so warm, so...everything Sam wants. Love and desire fill Sam, and an ancient need opens inside him.

They hold each other for a long time.

Sam never wants to let go.

Notes:

Thank for reading!!!!

Chapter 7

*Sam: age 13*

*Four Months Later*

 

Sam is being shaken awake. He’d fallen asleep in the back of the impala, using Dean’s jacket as a pillow. Only a couple hours had passed since falling asleep and waking up, so Sam already felt worn.

“Wake up, Sammy!” Dean says brightly as Sam groggily sits up. The elder Winchester brother was halfway through a cigarette. They were parked in front of a dusty gas pump at some out of the way gas station. John was nowhere to be seen and must have gone in to pay.

“Where are we?” Sam mumbles.

“Utah!” Dean says. “Home of the mormons.”

“Dean.” Sam sighs irritatedly.

“Brighten the fuck up little brother. Being cute won’t get you far.” Dean says.

“I have a headache.” Sam sighs as he rubs his eyes. It isn’t lost on him that Dean had just called him cute, but he refuses to look into it too much. He still blushes, unfortunately.

“Need you one of these.” Dean says handing Sam a cigarette. Sam puts the cigarette between his lips and Dean lights it. Sam takes a puff.

“What if John sees?” Sam asks. His headache is ebbing away as the nicotine scratches his itch. That’s how one knows if they are addicted, Sam thinks, if you have to have it once you wake up. Like coffee. Like a beer.

“Oh well.” Dean says. “You would have sooner or later.”

“Why are we in Utah anyway?” Sam asks.

“Werewolves, apparently.” Dean says.

“Alright.” Sam groans. He rolls down the window to ash his cigarette.

“What were you dreaming about?” Dean asks, nonchalantly.

Sam frowns and sighs out smoke. He can’t remember his dream, he’d been woken from it so suddenly that it had vanished from his mind. This makes him horrified. Was it a sex dream? He’d started having those, and in them Dean would hold him down and fuck him hard. Had it been a death dream? One where Dean had died and Sam was all alone.

“I can’t remember. Why?” Sam replies just as nonchalantly.

“No reason. You just kept saying my name is all.” Dean says.

They are silent, and usually that is okay, because silences between Sam and Dean are always comfortable, but this one is tense. Out of the ordinary.

It is broken by John who has come back to pump the gas. Their father whistles as he does, something jaunty.

John gets back into the car and looks from Dean, with his butt of a cigarette in smoldering ashes, to Sam, who stares out the window, puffing away at his own cigarette, red faced.

“Didn’t know he started smoking.” John grumbles. “You boys ready?”

“Yes.” Dean says.

And so they drive.

 

The hotel John picks is right off the highway, as they don’t expect to stay here long. It’s old, and the roof sags. The room they rent for three days. It is very run down with stained carpets, peeling paint, two standard beds, and a mormon bible on each of the night stands.

Sam immediately sits down on one of the beds and opens his duffle bag. He pulls out the horror novel he’s been reading, something called Apt Pupil by Stephen King. So far the book has been terrifying, more so than any monster he’s heard of. He cracks the novel open and reads.

Dean takes a seat on the other bed and stretches an arm out for the mormon bible. He opens it and thumbs through it. John stays standing and opens a beer with his teeth.

“So far I’ve never met an angle.” Dean says, he closes the bible and lays it on the bed.

“Boys.” John says in the voice he uses to deliver bad news.

“Yeah?” Dean says as Sam shuts his book with a frown.
“I’ve done some thinking and I think it’s time.” John says. He looks square at Dean now, almost nervously.

“Time for what?” Sam asks.

“For Sam to come on his first hunt.” John says.

Sam opens his mouth to agree, why not, the sooner he killed his first monster the better, he had no choice in this life of his. Dean, however, shoots to his feet, agitated, and starts to argue.

“No fucking way!” Dean hisses. “He’s thirteen years old. He’s my little brother, my responsibility, and I say no. No way.”

“It’s not your choice.” John says coldly.

“Yes it fucking is. He’s mine, more mine than he is yours. I raised him and I say he isn’t ready.” Dean replies just as coldly, his face murderous.

Sam realizes that they are talking about him like he isn’t there. How does he feel about that? Does Dean’s anger make Sam happy? Does his possessive nature make Sam warm?

“Let's ask Sam what he thinks.” John says.

Dean wheels around to pin his glare on Sam as if daring him to side with their father.

Sam can’t help it, just this once he will make Dean hurt. He hates doing it.

“I want to help.” Sam says. “Let me try.”

“You could fucking die!” Dean roars. “I will not-”

“You’ll be there, you’ll protect me like you always do.” Sam says, his voice soft, reassuring.

“No.” Dean says.

“Please.” Sam whispers.

They hold each other’s gaze. Their father watches, one brow raised.

“Fine.” Dean says, breaking. “But he stays with me.”

 

“The werewolves are camped out in an abandoned house.” John says once they are back in the impala. “I got this from Bobby, so it’s reliable. There’s only four of them. Shouldn’t be too dangerous for Sam’s first hunt.”

Dean is brooding so he doesn’t reply. Sam is nervous so he can’t speak.

Again, the silence is tense.

“Sam, I want you to stay behind Dean.” John says when they pull onto an old gravel road. “Don’t try to be a hero. I don’t want you to fight or anything, you understand.”

“I do.” Sam croaks.

 

The house is indeed old, there are holes in the roof, the grass outside is overgrown, the windows are smashed in. There are no other cars besides the impala. As John neared the house he parked a good ways away.

“They can probably already hear us. Don’t mind that.” John says. “We’re gonna go in the front door, full friendly and gentlemanly, and introduce ourselves.”

They get out of the impala and go to the trunk that holds a numerous amount of weapons. John and Dean both grab shotguns, and wicked sharp knives with blades the length of a forearm. John picks Sam’s weapon, a dagger with a sturdy hilt. Sam grips it hard to keep his hands from shaking.

John stalks toward the door, Dean follows with Sam close behind. They pause at the door and then John kicks it open. They file in and immediately there is action.

Bobby Singer had been mistaken when he had said that there were only four werewolves. Infact, there were eight. All of them had glowing eyes and sharp claws, and howled as they threw themselves at the trespassing hunters.

John shot two of them in the head, and Dean got one in the heart and two of them in the legs, but the werewolves were too fast. One grabbed John and Sam shrieked as the monster threw their father across the room. He slammed into the moldy wall and did not get back up.

Dean shot two more of the creatures, a manic look in his eyes. He swings at the werewolves with his knife, and kicks one of them in the chest. Sam knows that Dean is a good fighter, that he is a soldier at heart, but it is too much for him. One of the uninjured werewolves lashes out, grabs Dean by his wrist, and throws him. Sam’s heart slows as his brother flies threw the air and hits his head against the floors as he lands.
The werewolves take no notice of Sam, he is no threat to them. Instead they creep toward John and Dean, licking their lips, hungry.

Without a thought, Sam cuts his wrist deep with the dagger. The smell of his blood makes the werewolves pause, they sniff the air, and jerkily they turn towards him.

Sam does the only thing he can do, he runs.

 

Around the house he goes, clutching his bleeding arm to his chest. He hoofs it toward the small wooded area before him. One look over his shoulder tells him that the werewolves who could have chased after him. He doesn’t have a plan, but as he gets a look at the wooded area, one starts to form.

It’s risky, but if he wants to live past this moment, it’ll have to do.

 

He rushes into the trees, and takes the path least taken, sliding his thin body through holes in the bushes. The werewolves aren’t as quiet, and he can heard exactly where they are.

His heart is pounding. He is worried about Dean. Will his brother be okay? His father? Are they being torn apart right now? How had his first hunt gone so wrong so quickly? Was Sam bad luck?

 

Once the werewolves have slowed themselves down trying to fight the forest, Sam breaks out of the trees and makes a run for it back to the house.

For now, nothing follows him.

 

Dean is still out cold, as is John, but neither of them are dead. The two werewolves who were too wounded to chase Sam are edging their way toward John, intent on having a bite. Sam, calmly and almost coldly, picks up his brother’s shotgun and walks up behind the werewolves. He aims and puts the both of them out of their misery. Then he crocuses beside John and slaps him in the face. John snaps awake with a cry.

“Shut up. We’ve gotta go.” Sam says.

The look on his father’s face goes beyond confusion, but he scrambles to his feet.
“Get your brother. I’ll start the impala. Let’s go. Abort.” John says. He runs out the door.

Sam goes to Dean and slaps him as well. Dean wakes up in a daze and when he focuses on Sam, he smiles.

“Heaven?” Dean whispers.

Sam is too busy to understand the meaning of such nonsense and figures that Dean is concussed.

“Let’s go.” Sam says.

He helps his brother up and they stagger out to the impala. They throw themselves into the back seat and John peels out just as the werewolves reach the house.

“Goddamn, Sam.” John hoots.

 

Back at the hotel, while Dean is resting, Sam overhears his father on the phone with Bobby, arranging for a few hunters to go and kill off the stragglers. It is only then that he realizes that Dean had looked at him, and had seen heaven within him. Because Dean’s afterlife would not be complete without Sam.

And so things progress.

Notes:

Next chapter is going to be exciting!! Be looking for it.

Chapter 8

*One Year Later*

*Sam: Age 14*

 

Everything changed the day Dean broke his leg. No, It didn’t happen on a hunt, no magical creature flung him into a tree, nothing like that, it wasn’t so noble...One night Dean was stumbling back to the hotel room from the bar, drunk as drunk could be, and stepped in a hole that caused his ankle to fracture in three places.

John had been pissed. He’d yelled at Dean for a solid hour and then had to go on a drive to ‘cool his engines’ so he wouldn’t ‘fucking break Dean’s skull’ because ‘what kinda hunter breaks his leg by stepping into a six inch hole’.

Sam had been worried initially, but then he’d laughed. It was a funny thought, Dean breaking his leg in such a mundane way.

That had happened a week ago, and every day since, Sam had been Dean’s very unhappy maid. Everyday it was ‘Sammy get me a beer would you?’ or ‘Sammy, fluff up the pillow under my leg?’ or ‘Sammy, what we got to eat?’ and ‘Sammy, will you get my bath water ready?’ and Sam’s favorite, ‘Sammy, read to me, come on, there’s nothing to watch and I’m bored.’

It wasn’t that Sam didn’t like being kind to Dean, it's just that Dean was really restless, he hated being laid up, hated it.

So he didn’t complain, his love for Dean wouldn’t let him. Love that hadn’t changed since the day he’d realized it at twelve years old. It still hurt him except now the pain of it was like being crushed. The lust had grown, he dreamed of Dean every night. He’d taken to sleeping on the floor so they wouldn’t touch.

Tonight they were staying in a better than average hotel in Indianapolis, Indiana. It had two king size beds, a kitchenette, and a little sitting area with a couch and two rocking chairs. Dean was on the couch, his leg propped up on pillows. It was only four pm but he'd almost put down a whole gallon of vodka. Dad hadn’t taken Dean to the doctor, he’d refused. So here they were. Sam sat on one of the rocking chairs reading a book. He was half way through it and engrossed.

John was getting ready for a hunt, nothing dangerous, it would only take three days.
“Listen to your brother, Sam.” John said.

“He’s drunker than a skunk.” Sam mumbled.

“Shut yerr hole.” Dean huffed, glaring.

“Whatever.” John said, still angry over the broken leg. He left without another word.

Now it was just Sam and grouchy intoxicated Dean.

Sam focused on his book as Dean took a big swig of vodka.

“Yeh complain too much.” Dean said.

“You’re the one complaining.” Sam replied.

“Such a nerd, always reading books.” Dean said, crabby.

“You’re really drunk.” Sam said.

“Cause my leg.” Dean said.

“It hurts?”

“Well fuck yeh it do.”

“Try to sleep.”

“You just want me to shut up.” Dean says all slurred.

“Not exactly.”

“Whatever.” Dean says, hurt.

“What is it with you Dean?” Sam asks.

“Yerr mouth, that’s what.” Dean said.

Sam put his book down. “We can just be quiet, if that's what you want.”

“Order a pizza. I’m hungry.” Dean demands.

Sam sighs and does as he is told.

 

An hour later Sam has given Dean his pizza while getting a slice for himself. He’s turned on the tv to fill the silence between them, but isn’t actually watching with any interest.

“This show is stupid.” Dean says, downing the last of the vodka to wash down the pizza.

“Is there anything you want to watch?”

“No.”

“Alright.” Sam says.

“Damn. I ain’t had sex in ah week, Sammy. First thing I’m gonna do when this leg is better...I’m gonna find myself a blonde with big titties.” Dean says, and then he burps.

“Good for you Dean.”

“Why ain’t you found a woman yet?” Dean asks.

“I’m fourteen.”

“That’s when I lost mine.” Dean says, offended.

“Well I’m not like you.”

“Ah what the fuck does that mean?” Dean slurs.

“Whatever you want it to.” Sam replies.

“You must want to. Sammy, pussy is the best thing, warm and wet. You’ve gotta try it.” Dean says with a cackle.

Sam is starting to get irritated. “Okay.”

“Are yeh gay Sammy? You know… there’s men at the bars too.” Dean says, almost mockingly.

“No. I don’t want men.” Sam says. “I’m not gay.”

“Then what the fuck are you?” Dean asks.

“Not ready for sex.” Sam says.

“You’re the weirdest boy ever, little brother. Fucking weird.” Dean says.

A few minutes later Dean lays his head back and starts to snore. Sam takes this as a blessing and finishes his book.

 

 

Sam hasn’t even had his first kiss, he’d had plenty of chances, plenty of girls who tried. But he couldn’t do it, Sam was loyal to Dean, not that Dean knew that, Not that Dean would even want that. Sam didn’t even know what to do, should he just pick a girl and force himself? That didn’t sound right. In fact it sounded icky and weird.

He could pretend to love someone, and if he pretended long enough maybe the love would come. He doubted that.

Suddenly, a craving so strong that it made Sam dizzy. He wanted someone to touch him, to hug him as John never did that, and Dean only hugged Sam when absolutely necessary. Sam wanted to feel someone’s skin, it was an innocent need. He wanted to be kissed, softly, nothing burning or rough, not even any tongue.

His eyes locked on Dean, sprawled on the couch, his injured leg on a stack of pillows, head propped up on the corner of the head rest, snoring. He was so handsome, like a green eyed adonis. Sam loved to watch him, but now Sam gazed at his mouth.

Could he?

NO, Sam scolds himself, NO WHAT ARE YOU THINKING. THAT’S NOT OKAY. YOU CAN’T KISS ANYONE WHILE THEY SLEEP, MOST OF ALL YOUR BROTHER.

Sam hadn’t ever touched Dean in any way that could be considered sexual, he’d never had the guts and had always known better, that being safe, being one good terms with Dean was most important. He’d never even thought of touching Dean like that, or kissing him. Sam respected his brother more than that, loved him more than that.

But, Sam was touch deprived.

Just once, Sam tells himself, only once. A brush of the lips while he sleeps, nothing more, nothing again. He won’t wake up.

Slowly, Sam stands and goes to Dean, who gives a light snore, dead to the world. He bends down, and as he gets closer he catches a gasp of Dean’s scent. Silver and vodka. He’s afraid, very afraid, and he’s closer now, only a foot away from Dean’s face, Dean is warm and even more handsome up close. Then, his lips touch Dean’s softly, barely touching, and Sam feels electricity shoot down his spine. He presses a little closer.
Dean’s eyes snap open and he tenses up.

Sam’s heart stops and he freezes, pulling away an inch, his eyes like that of a deer caught in headlights.

I’m fucked, Sam thinks, I’m fucked. I’m fucked. I’m so fucked.

Their eyes meet, and Sam notices that Dean’s pupils are dilated, blown up and foggy.

That’s when something unexpected happens, something that Sam never expected, something that Sam still can’t process.

Dean grabs Sam, roughly, meanly, aggressively, by the back of his neck, and Dean’s other hand weaves into Sam’s hair and Sam is jerked back to Dean.

Dean kisses Sam and it isn’t soft or innocent.

It dawns on Sam slowly, as if he is lost in his own mind, first he realizes that Dean tastes like vodka and that his mouth is warm and hard and unforgiving.

Dean has never touched Sam this way. He is an experienced kisser, he’s good at it, and the fact that Sam’s not seems to make Dean happy. Dean’s hand on the back of Sam’s neck moved to around Sam’s waist and Sam is jerked down to straddle Dean.

That’s when the kiss changes. It’s different, slower. Sam starts to kiss back, he doesn’t know what to think, what to feel, everything is on overload. But he wants to kiss back, wants anything Dean wants.

Sam slides his arms around Dean’s neck and the kiss turns fierce. Their teeth clink, Dean’s hands are bruising Sam’s sides. Dean is strong and muscular and Sam feels safe but also somehow in danger. Sam feels breathless, and he kisses down Dean’s jaw to his neck where he sucks lightly.

“So soft...always my good boy...aren’t you, Sammy.” Dean says, and then he tenses up like a statue. “SAMMY.” He repeats, as if waking up, as if disgusted. Then Dean pushes Sam off him hard than necessary and Sam goes flying, hitting his head off the floor as he lands painfully.

“WHAT THE FUCK.” Dean explodes.

Sam covers his swollen lips, his fingers tremble, his eyes fill with tears.

“WHAT ARE YOU...SOME KINDA PERV.” Dean hisses. Then he rolls off the couch and limps away towards the bathroom, making gagging noises. Sam’s tears spill as he hears Dean vomit, loudly.
I’ve ruined everything, Sam thinks, everything I had with him is gone.

Sam screams silently into his hands.

Then he stands, tears pouring down his cheeks, he grabs the last of the money off the counter, puts on his shoes, and leaves.

He never plans to come back.

Notes:

Ohhhh nooo how could I end the chapter that way- I'm such a bitch.

I wanted to say I'm sorry for the terrible grammar and everything. You guys probably think I can't spell... LOL oh well.

Join me soon to find out what happens.

Chapter 9

*Sam:14 years old.*

 

He has enough money for a bus ticket out of Indiana, so that’s what he does. Winchester’s are good at running, naturally, and Sam needs to run away. The bus is nearly empty, and nearly silent, Sam is happy for this because he has nothing to say.

How far must he run to escape the feeling in his chest? It’s empty too.

Sam is beyond tears.

The bus lets off at a small town on the outskirts of Illinois. Sam doesn't care, he walks three miles to the nearest truck stop where eight semi trucks are parked, and there is a small building with bathrooms and showers and vending machines.

He doesn’t know where to go next, but he knows he needs to keep moving away from Dean, away from what had just happened.

Sam goes into the bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror. His lips are swollen, and the bottom one is bleeding from where Dean bit it. His cheeks are streaked with dried tears. Slowly, he takes his shirt off and winces when he sees the bruises on his hips, they are shaped like Dean’s fingers, almost black from how hard Dean had held him.

Sam touches his lips, and then the bruises.

A small part wishes that Dean had went all the way, so Sam could have left truly belonging to Dean, but this right here is enough for a lifetime.

Someone clears their throat and Sam jumps, thinking that Dean has already found him, but it is only one of the truckers who needed to use the bathroom and had found Sam.

They both look at each other.

When the trucker sees the bruising on Sam’s side, his eyes widen, and he goes into one of the stalls.

Sam beats himself up as he puts on his shirt.

Dean wouldn’t have found him, how could he being so drunk? And like he’d want to find Sam even if he could, now that he knew.

Sam leaves the bathroom and goes outside, he walks to the parked semi trucks and stops.

He has a dangerous idea, but he doesn’t care.

Sam goes to the side of one of the trucks and climbs the small ladder up to the top where he carefully crawls to the middle of the truck, and lays down.

What if he falls off? The thought doesn’t bother Sam, he welcomes death.

Before long, Sam is asleep.

 

He wakes up and the sun is high in the sky and the semi truck is moving. Sam stays still and doesn’t move. He wonders where he is, where he’s going.

An hour later he sits up enough to glimpse a sign. So he’s in Missouri now, how good.

He still has far to go.

 

When the trucker stops driving at midnight, and parks again at a truck stop in Kansas, though this one is considerably nicer than the last. Sam waits for the driver to leave his truck to go into the small grocery store before he climbs down and goes to the bathroom.

As he leaves the bathroom he pauses. There is a pay phone across the room.

Sam’s mouth is dry, he’s hungry. He can’t eat, he has no water.

He refuses to go home.

But he longs for Dean.

He must see if Dean is okay without him.

Sam takes out his last seventy-five cents and uses to dial Dean’s personal phone number.

It rings three times.

“Hello?” Dean says hastily into the receiver.

Sam says nothing.

“Hello? Who is this?” Dean hisses.

Sam says nothing.

“Sammy.” Dean says, his voice grows harsh. “Sammy, you have to come home. Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you.”

Sam bites his lip.

“Sammy, goddamn, tell me where the fuck you are, you little shit. I’m sorry I yelled at you, you know I am but you…” Dean paused and sighed. “We shouldn’t have done that, little brother.”

“I’m never coming home.” Sam whispers.

“The fuck you aren’t. I don’t give a fuck about my broken leg, I’ll steal a car and come get you.” Dean demands.

“Don’t look for me. You won’t find me.” Sam whispers even softer.

“You can’t leave me.” Dean grinds out. “Don’t you fucking do this you little bastard. You don’t get to leave me.” His voice cracked.

“I’m sorry.” Sam said.

“Don’t you dare hang up-” Dean starts.

Sam hangs up.

 

Four days later and he’s walking along a seven lane highway in California. He hasn’t eaten since that pizza with Dean, but he’s had plenty of water from the truck stops. He’s planning his next step, thinking about sneaking onto a plane to Jamaica. He walks the way a zombie might, at an even face, blank faced, in no hurry, eyes foggy.

That’s when it happens. A car pulls over to the side of the road beside him, causing other cars to make a swift move around them, honking as they went.

Inside is an older man, thin and balding, and a middle aged woman with blonde hair. They both look at him with distress, as if he is something they want to save.

“Get in honey. No reason a child should have to walk.” The woman says in a surprisingly southern accent after she rolls down her window.

“No.” He says.

“Get in before a semi plows us in our ass.” Says the woman.

They could be monsters or serial killers or something worse but Sam was hungry and alone and why not.

He gets in.

 

They drive to a little white house with two stories and blue trim that sits beside the beach. Sam has never seen the ocean before, and normally he would have thought it was breathtaking. Now it was dull, irritating.

The couple are a husband and wife, married twenty years, named Jackson and Millie Smith. They’ve lived in California two years, moved there after leaving Georgia. They have two kids, Myra who is eleven, and Jade who is thirteen. Millie and Jackson told him all this on the drive to their house.

They parked. Sam got out of the car and popped his back.

“You poor thing, who put you on the streets.” Millie asked.

“I did.” He said.

“Let’s go in, I’ll make some tea. Gotta pick up Myra and Jade from school in a couple hours.” Jackson said.

The inside of the house was homey, with wooden furniture, open windows with silky curtains, a big dinner table, a rustic kitchen, bay windows open to show the ocean, a set of stairs going up to the next level.

Millie sits with him at the table as Jackson goes about making the tea.

“So tell me, why were you walking on the side of the road?” Millie asked. “Where are you trying to go?”

“I don’t know where I’m going.” Sam said.

“Where’s your family?” Millie asked.

“I don’t know.” Sam said, he really didn’t.

“Can I have their names?” She says, pulling a note pad from her dress pocket and a pen.

“No. I’ll never go back. I can’t.” Sam said.

“Why?” Millie asked. “What are they doing to you?”

“Nothing.” Sam says as Jackson sets a mug of chamomile tea in front of Sam.

“Do you like Honey or Agave in your tea? This is a no refined sugar household.” Jackson said.

“Honey.” Sam said.

“Tell me when.” Jackson said as he tipped the bottle over Sam’s mug.

Sam watched the honey drizzle into his tea, mesmerized.

“When.” He says. He knows his tea will be too sweet but he drinks it all anyway and once he’s done he wipes his mouth off.

“Is there anyone we can call for you?” Millie asks

“No.” Sam says.

“Well, we’re going to have to call child protective services-” Millie says.

Sam shoots to his feet. “Don’t...don’t do that. If you do, I’ll leave. I can’t be found.” Sam’s eyes fill with tears. “I can’t.”

Millie and Jackson look at each other. Finally, Jackson sighs. “We won’t call, but you have to promise not to leave. You can stay here with us for a while, okay?”

Sam gives a soft nod, then asks, “do you have food?”

 

That night, after Sam has been fed and showered, and has met Jade and Myra, the daughters, he lays on the couch in the family room staring at the ceiling.

He made it to California. Dean doesn’t know where he is.

Sam feels empty, he feels like a ghost, and what he does feel is pain, as if part of him is gone.

He knows that Dean will heal if given time, that after weeks, months, years, Dean will hardly think of Sam.

But for Sam, the ache inside him will never leave.

He does feel comfort now that he’s resting in a nice house with a full belly, that he’s found people to care for him.

Maybe someday they will feel like family.

Sam falls into a deep dreamless sleep.

Notes:

Could Sam actually have found a real family? Who knows? I don't (okay I do).

Join me soon for the next chapter.

Chapter 10

*Sam: 14 years old*

*Six Weeks Later*

 

It didn’t take long for Sam to start feeling somewhat happy with Millie and Jackson. He’d made friends with Myra and Jade, who were both normal girls who’d lived mundane lives. As far as he could tell, his new surrogate family knew nothing about the supernatural world, they didn’t believe in ghosts, vampires, werewolves, let alone wendigos. Sam hadn’t brought anything up about monsters and he wouldn’t, if he did they’d think he was crazy.

After the first two weeks, Millie casually mentioned that he could take the spare room and make it his own, a week after that Jackson took him clothes shopping. He ate dinner with the whole family every evening, went to bed in a bed that was his own, and woke up to breakfast and coffee. He spent his days reading books from Millie’s library or exploring the neighborhood.

All of it was just fine, except for the dreams. At night, while he rested, his mind would conjure up horror stories of Dean. Sam dreamed of his own brother’s death, everything from finding Dean hanging by his neck in a closet to seeing him be torn apart by werewolves. He would wake up covered in sweat and breathing heavily, clutching his chest.

Sam resisted all urges to call Dean again, it was a constant battle that wore on his soul.

In his free time, a memory would overtake him of Dean’s mouth on his, of Dean’s fingers bruising his hips. That’s when being without his older brother haunted him the most.

 

The sixth week of Sam’s stay with Jackson and family started just like the one before. Sam woke up covered in sweat, hyperventilating. He took a shower and went down to breakfast. Jackson was seated at the head of the table, Myra and Jade to his right. Millie was at the stove cooking bacon.

“Good morning Sam.” Jackson said, taking a sip of coffee.

Sam sits down at his spot. “Morning.”

“Did you sleep well?” Millie asked as she sat a plate of bacon before Sam.
“I slept alright.” Sam said.
“We’re going to the beach today, Daddy was talking about it before you woke up.” Myra blurted.

“Sounds fun.” Sam says tentatively, taking a small bite of bacon.

“You’re coming too right?” Millie asked as she served the rest of her family breakfast.

“Yeah.” Sam said, as if he had a choice, the beach was in their backyard.

 

Sam sat and let the waves crash against him. He felt half beaten to death already, but the pain was good. Being out in the sun was making him tan, near burning. He got into splash fights with Myra and Jade, helped Millie make some sandwiches, and tried to outswim Jackson. He made sandcastles, sand angles, played water tag and Jaws.

Soon he, Myra, and Jade all lay on the beach close enough to the water that each wave lapped over their feet.

“I’m in love!” Myra bursts out.

“How do you know?” Jade replied.

“Just do.” Myra says.

“Bull.” Jade says.

“True! It’s with a boy in my class.” Myra argues.

“You’re stupid you don’t know.” Jade says.

“Have you ever been in love, Sam?” Jade asks.

“Yeah.” Sam said, a lump in his throat.

“With who?” Myra asks.

“A boy.” Sam says.

“What was he like?” Jade butts in.

“Handsome and arrogant, so arrogant, and mean.” Sam says, smiling. “But somehow soft too, vulnerable.”

“Where is he?” Myra asks.
“Away. I don’t know.” Sam says.
“Why aren’t you with him?” Jade asks.

The girls act as if this is an episode of Oprah, like they can make Sam’s ‘long lost lover’ return. If they only knew.

“Cause I can’t be.” Sam said. “I made a mistake and he’ll never forgive me. Things will never be the same.”

“Are you sure he can’t forgive you? Or can you not forgive yourself?” Jade asks.

“I don’t know.” Sam says.

Soon all three of them get up and run back into the ocean, where they stay till Millie calls them for dinner.

 

That night Sam has his worst nightmare yet and it goes like this:

He’s walking down a long dark hallway with a cracked door spilling light.

Moaning comes from that room. Sam walks forward and peeks inside.

He sees two queen size beds, one is empty and Dean is in the other.

Dean is naked and a woman with long hair and large breasts rides him.

Sam’s heart clenches as he watches them fuck each other.

Suddenly, Dean gives a cry of rage and pushes the woman off.

She falls to the floor with a shout.

“Get the fuck out, whore.” Dean says.

“The fuck dude. I didn’t even get to-” She starts.

“Neither did I. Leave.” Dean hisses.

The woman stumbles to her feet and rips on her clothes.

She leaves, closing the door behind her.

Dean gets out of bed, puts on underwear, and stands listlessly as he lights a cigarette.
He smokes half of it. With a sneer he puts the cigarette out on his arm.

Dean screams then, something terrible, then he breaks down in sobs.

Sam sees this in slow motion.

Dean goes over to the inn table by his bed and picks up the gun that lays there.

He presses it to his head.

 

Sam wakes from the dream gasping, it is still dark out. He knows that Dean is in trouble and all resolve, all the promises of never returning vanish. He rushes downstairs and unlocks Millie’s phone, she always leaves it in the kitchen to charge.

Sam makes a call.

It rings five times.

“Hello.” It’s Dean, he sounds irritated.

“Dean, it’s me.” Sam whispers. “I’m ready to come home.”

Notes:

Sammy's going home.

Sorry the chapter was so short.

What do you think will happen?

Chapter 11

*Sam: Age 14*

 

*TW*

 

Numbly, Sam hangs up the phone. Dean would pick him up at the nearest bus stop in four or five hours. There is a chill across Sam’s skin as he thinks of how cold Dean’s voice had been, how reserved. Things are already different between them, Sam knows that much.

Sam leaves a message for Millie and Jackson that says:

I had to go. I’m needed by him. Don’t try to find me. Thank you.

Then he leaves out the front door, closing it silently behind him. Someday Millie and Jackson would hardly be able to remember the strange boy that lived with them for a few weeks and that gave Sam comfort.

Sam stops at a gas station along the way and convinces one of the men outside to buy him a pack of cigarettes. He hasn’t smoked in weeks, but he needs one now.

As Sam walks, he smokes. It’s still dark out, but growing lighter by the second.

When Sam finds the right bus stop, he takes a seat on the bench and that is when his decision hits him and he regrets it. How weak he is, not even able to go two months without crawling back to make sure Dean was okay. All because of one nightmare.

What if Dean hates him now? Or worse, what if Dean thinks Sam is some sort of demented pervert and doesn’t want to be around him anymore. Whatever it is, Sam is afraid.

 

Hours later, the impala materializes around a corner and comes down the street. Sam’s throat goes dry. He can see Dean through the windshield and the older Winchester has a dark look about him, handsome as ever though, with a deep rage in his green eyes, he stares at Sam with unguarded anger. The impala pulls up to the curb beside where Sam sits, and Sam stands up.

Before Sam can get in the vehicle, Dean’s already throwing open his door and climbing out, he comes around the impala toward Sam.

Sam opens his mouth to speak, but that’s when Dean does something he’s never done before: he slaps Sam across the face with a blow so hard that Sam's lip splits.

Sam stumbles back, completely shocked.

“How could you fucking do that to me.” Dean hisses, and he grabs Sam by the shoulders, jerks him forward, and shakes him. “You selfish little bastard. My whole life, my whole fucking life, you’ve been my responsibility, and you just leave me? Without even thinking of the pain that would put me through? Do you have any idea how fucking worried I’ve been? Do you fucking know?”

“I’m sorry.” Sam whispers.

“You’re fucking lucky I don’t lock you away.” Dean hisses.

And then there’s a moment where everything slows down, Dean’s hands are still on Sam’s shoulders, but he isn’t shaking him anymore, and the two meet eyes. All air leaves the empty space between them and Dean takes a sharp breath in as Sam slides his hands up Dean’s stomach to his chest. There he can feel Dean’s heart beating a mile a minute.

“I missed you too.” Sam whispers.

Dean pushes Sam away. “Don’t touch me. Get in the goddamn car.”

Once they are both seated and buckled in, Dean stares straight ahead as he tells Sam, “if you leave me again, when I find you, I’ll kill you.”

 

The ride is silent. Dean drives way over the speed limit, chain smoking and brooding. Sam sits in the passenger seat, his head leaning against the window, his arms crossed, tears in his eyes, his lip throbbing. He doesn’t know what to say or do to make things right with Dean again. How will anything ever be okay again if they are like this. Sam regrets leaving, but more so he regrets the kiss, if that ordeal hadn’t happened they wouldn’t be here, stiffly sitting in the impala.

 

After two hours of the silence, Sam can’t stand it anymore.

“Does Dad know I’m gone.”

“Of course he does, dumbass.” Dean hisses. “I didn’t tell him that you ran away, I said you met a girl and split with her for a while, that you told me where you were.”

“And he believed that?” Sam says, shocked.

“He did, well enough. He’s been hunting more often, not taking breaks, refusing my help.” Dean said.

“Oh.” Sam said.

“What exactly have you been doing the last six weeks?” Dean asks, offended.

“I met a family. They were nice to me.” Sam says and the words are hard ones.

“Why didn’t you stay with them?” Dean asks.

“Would you rather I had?” Sam asks, hurt.

“You didn’t miss me much?” Dean asks.

“I missed you enough.” Sam sharply replies.

“Enough.” Dean snorts. “Fuck you.”

“Screw you Dean.” Sam hisses.

“Oh but that’s what you want isn’t it?” Dean shouts and the impala swerves causing a car in the other lane to honk.

Sam gasps and shakes his head. “Fuck you.”

“I can see it now, you know. How you acted when I’d hook up with some whore, how you looked at me when I would walk around shirtless. I was stupid, too stupid to see.” Dean said.

“Stop talking.” Sam says, and he covers his ears.

“Why me Sammy? Why me of all people?” Dean shouts.

“Stop!” Sam cries.

“I’m your fucking brother Sammy. It’s wrong and you shouldn’t feel that way.” Dean says, and now he’s calmer, as Sam has started to sob.

“I don’t want to!” Sam groans. “But I can’t help it.”

“Why would you even want me, are you fucking stupid? I’m cheap, Sammy, I sleep with whoever I can, I don’t know how to have an actual relationship. Tell me why?” Dean says and he’s yelling again.

“Because you’ve always been there, you’re all I have.” Sam whimpers.

“That’s a dumb reason to want someone, Sammy. You’re just confused, you don’t know what you want.” Dean says, he shakes his head. “You only want me because you’ve never known better.”

“Shut up, you bastard. “Sam burst out, shouting louder than Dean. “I hate you.”

Dean laughs without humor. “See, now you’re getting it. You’re sheltered, I’ve kept you too close. It’s understandable for those feelings of brotherly love to be displaced.”

“Please be quiet.” Sam says.

“I’m telling you the truth.” Dean replies. “You don’t like it.”

“I’m in love with you.” Sam says, because he doesn’t care anymore.

Dean has the audacity to snort. “Bullshit.”

“Fuck you.” Sam says again.

“You’re just a kid, you don’t know shit.” Dean says.

“Why’d you kiss me back.” Sam whispers, he can’t look at Dean when he says the words, so he just looks out the window.

Dean doesn’t answer, not at first, but finally he sighs. “I was drunk and I was asleep, I didn’t realize what was going on.”

“And what the fuck does that mean?” Sam asks.

“It means what I said.” Dean replies.

“So you didn’t mean to kiss me back? You left bruises on my sides and my lips were swollen.” Sam says.

“I don’t want you like that, Sammy, and don’t try to talk yourself into thinking I do because I don’t.” Dean says slowly so Sam understands. “I never will want you that way, so let it go.”

Sam feels his heart break into teeny tiny pieces, it’s painful as only one piece breaks off at a time, and it leaves him empty and hollow and dead.

“Ok.” Sam says, and his voice sounds different.

“Now we’re going to forget this ever happened, Sammy, do you understand? We won’t talk about it, we won’t think about it, so it never happened. We’re brothers and hunters and that’s all we’ll ever be, right?” Dean asks. His voice is soft and pleading.

“Of course, you’re right.” Sam says in that same different voice.

“Good, Sammy, that’s good.” Dean says and then he turns on the music and cranks it up.

Sam feels himself falling into a dark hole, and he feels a pressure in his chest like he’s being slowly smothered.

It doesn’t go away, it only gets worse.

Notes:

I know, this chapter is so late. Sorry!

Last chapter was kinda eh, I feel like it wasn't as good as usual. I blame the lack of Dean.

Join me soon for another chapter.

Chapter 12: BONUS: Dean's POV

Notes:

PLEASE READ: This isn't a 'new' chapter, it's Dean's POV of last chapter because we need more angst, that's what we're here for. Will we do Dean's POV often? nope, so enjoy.
I was hoping for an even 40 chapters in all but we're going up to 41 baby.

P.S. I have a cold. I don't know why I'm telling you but bro I miss being able to smell things.

DEAN’S POV.

 

Dean thinks about the kiss as he drives. He thinks about the feel of Sam’s soft innocent lips on his, the smell of Sam: lilacs and rain- what a girly smell, how Sam felt all pressed up against Dean- that had been better than any woman and Dean had had many, so many they all blended together. He liked how innocently Sam had kissed him, so soft like he was afraid that Dean would notice, so afraid of waking Dean from his drunken state.

Dean had been sleeping, that much was true, but he had also been dreaming a dream that comes to him often, one where he’s laying in bed and Sam comes out of the shower naked and dripping wet and…

Dean shakes his head. He hates those dreams, he’s been having them for far too long.

So when he’d opened his eyes to Sam kissing him, he had thought that it was a dream and so he had acted the way he had, roughly pulling Sam to him, taking advantage, he’d thought it was the best dream ever, until he realized it was way too real to be a dream.

Truthfully, Dean has wanted Sam for a very long time, too long to be appropriate- though is wanting to fuck your brother ever appropriate- really, Sam is everything to Dean, his whole world, the love of his life and all that stupid shit.

Obviously, that can never happen, so Dean ignores it, he pushes it down, he hides his emotions, he tells himself no, and then he goes and a finds a suitable woman to fuck and tries to like it.

Dean does a lot of trying.

He’s angry too, and worried. Angry that Sammy would dare leave him, that Sammy could rip Dean apart so easily. Who gives a fuck if they kissed once, that’s not enough of a reason to be a pussy and leave. Dean can’t even put the pain that had caused him into words, it had been weeks of a numb bottomless pain that made him pretend to be okay.

Most people need air to live, Dean needs Sam.

Of the two of them, Dean is more fucked up, but he controls it better.

Besides being fiery pissed that Sam’s little bastard ass would dare disappear on him, Dean had worried endlessly over Sam’s welfare, was he okay? Who was feeding him? Was he sleeping somewhere warm? Was he hurt?

It was Dean’s job to take care of Sammy, and not being able to do it had left him feeling utterly worthless. So worthless he’d almost killed himself. He’d been about to pull the trigger when the phone rang, when Sammy called and asked to be brought home.

It was almost like Sam had known what Dean was about to do.

How could he have known?

So, Dean drove, with no breaks. His not as broken but still somehow messed up foot was aching but Dean didn’t care, he’d saw the whole leg off just to have Sam again.

At the end of the day, Dean wants to own Sam, he wants Sam to be his, and so Dean will never let Sammy go, there is no running, only denial. Dean would rather whore himself out and have Sammy there as his platonic little brother than have nothing.

 

Hours later, the impala turns a corner, and there’s Sammy sitting on a bench. Dean’s anger, his jealousy, can no longer be contained and he can feel it contort his face.

LITTLE FUCKING BASTARD.

Sammy looks soft, frail, as he always does, with his shaggy brown hair and his puppy dog eyes, and Dean hates how it pulls at him, how much he likes it.

Dean pulls the impala over to the curb where Sammy sets. His little brother looks guilty, and smaller than usual.

As Sammy stands up, Dean loses all the control he had over everything. Dean throws open his door, climbs out of the impala and rushes around the car to Sammy.

Sam opens his mouth to speak, but Dean doesn’t want to hear it, so he slaps Sammy right across the face to shut him up, Dean knows he’ll feel guilty for it later.

The slap makes Sammy stumble back, a shocked look on his face, his lip split and bleeding.

“How could you fucking do that to me.” Dean hisses, and he grabs Sam by the shoulders, jerks him forward, and shakes him. “You selfish little bastard. My whole life, my whole fucking life, you’ve been my responsibility, and you just leave me? Without even thinking of the pain that would put me through? Do you have any idea how fucking worried I’ve been? Do you fucking know?”

“I’m sorry.” Sammy whispers in that pathetic way that always melts Dean’s heart.

Dean wants to slap Sammy again, but he can’t, one slap is a lesson, two is abuse or something like that.

“You’re fucking lucky I don’t lock you away.” Dean hisses.
And then there’s a moment where everything slows down, Dean’s hands are still on Sam’s shoulders, but he isn’t shaking him anymore, and the two meet eyes. All air leaves the empty space between them and Dean takes a sharp breath in as Sam slides his hands up Dean’s stomach to his chest. There he can feel Dean’s heart beating a mile a minute. Dean wants to kiss Sam again, in fact, he wants to take advantage of the kid in the back of the impala, but he can’t do that.
“I’ve missed you too.” Sammy whispers in the voice he uses to warp Dean’s insides without any mercy.
“Don’t touch me. Get in the goddamn car.” Dean says as he pushes Sam away.
Once they are both seated and buckled in, Dean stares straight ahead as he tells Sam, “if you leave me again, when I find you, I’ll kill you.”
What he really means is: If you leave me again, I’ll kill myself.

The ride is silent. Dean chain smokes and broods, driving way over the speed limit. Sammy sits in the passenger seat, his head leaning against the window, being as small as he possibly can. Dean wants to talk, he wants to yell at Sam, wants to know why he left just because of one kiss that can easily be forgotten, but he can’t, the words won’t come.
Two hours later, Sam is the one who speaks.
“Does Dad know I’m gone?” He asks timidly.
“Of course he does, dumbass.” Dean hisses. “I didn’t tell him that you ran away, I said you met a girl and split with her for a while, that you told me where you were.”
“And he believed that?” Sam asks, shocked.
“He did, well enough. He’s been hunting more often, not taking breaks, refusing my help.” Dean said. John would believe anything that came out of Dean’s mouth.
“Oh.” Sam replied, his voice small and innocent and teasing and whatever.
“What exactly have you been doing the last six weeks?” Dean asks, offended. The question burns his throat. He wants to know, did Sam even miss him, does Dean need Sam more than Sam needs Dean?
“I met a family. They were nice to me.” Sam says and the words are hard ones for Dean to hear. It makes his rage burn white hot and now he’s jealous. What did Sam mean, wasn’t Dean nice? Hadn’t he tried to do the best for Sam that he could? How could Sam find another family?
“Why didn’t you stay with them?” Dean asks. He says it like a question, but it’s really a snide remark. If you liked them so much, why didn’t you fucking stay you little fuck?
“Would you rather I had?” Sam asks and now he sounds hurt and Dean feels guilty.
“You didn’t miss me much?” Dean asks, again it’s worded like a question but it’s really an assumption.
“I missed you enough.” Sam sharply replies.
“Enough.” Dean snorts. “Fuck you.” How dare he answer like that.
“Screw you Dean.” Sam hisses and he says it with such venom that Dean takes a cheap shot.
“Oh but that’s what you want isn’t it?” Dean shouts and the impala swerves causing a car in the other lane to honk. Really though, Dean suspects that of the two of them, Dean thinks of fucking Sam much more than Sam fantasizes over getting fucked.
Sam gasps and shakes his head. “Fuck you.”
“I can see it now, you know. How you acted when I’d hook up with some whore, how you looked at me when I would walk around shirtless. I was stupid, too stupid to see.” Dean said. Sam is much more stupid though, because he’s never, not once, noticed Dean looking at him, and Dean does look. Sam makes it hard not to with how he walks around the hotel in his underwear with his skinny and soft body showing, but Dean is better at looking without being caught, so he can pretend it doesn’t happen, that Sam is the one at fault.
“Stop talking.” Sam says, and he covers his ears.
“Why me Sammy? Why me of all people?” Dean shouts. That’s the real question. Why would Sam ever lust after Dean, does he have eyes to see that under this handsome exterior is an alcoholic who can’t express his own emotions who loves control and can’t stick to what he says. Sammy is young and dumb.
Stop!” Sam cries. Dean knows he’s going too far, but he can’t stop himself.
“I’m your fucking brother Sammy. It’s wrong and you shouldn’t feel that way.” Dean says, and he’s telling himself as well. He needs to calm down because Sam has started to sob.
“I don’t want to!” Sam groans. “But I can’t help it.”
“Why would you even want me, are you fucking stupid? I’m cheap, Sammy, I sleep with whoever I can, I don’t know how to have an actual relationship. Tell me why?” Dean says and he’s yelling again. He’s being legitimate, why would Sammy want him?
“Because you’ve always been there, you’re all I have.” Sam whimpers.
“That’s a dumb reason to want someone, Sammy. You’re just confused, you don’t know what you want.” Dean says, he shakes his head. “You only want me because you’ve never known better.” And Dean knows that his words are true. Sam is fourteen, he doesn’t know anything about love, or what it means to love someone, because he wouldn’t have left if he did.
“Shut up, you bastard. “Sam burst out, shouting louder than Dean. “I hate you.”
Dean laughs without humor. “See, now you’re getting it. You’re sheltered, I’ve kept you too close. It’s understandable for those feelings of brotherly love to be displaced.” It is better for Sam to hate Dean than to have the childish notion of love.
“Please be quiet.” Sam pleads.
“I’m telling you the truth.” Dean replies. “You don’t like it.”
“I’m in love with you.” Sam says.
Dean snorts, because he can’t help himself. “Bullshit.”
“Fuck you.” Sam says again.
“You’re just a kid, you don’t know shit.” Dean says.
“Why’d you kiss me back.” Sam whispers. And there it is, the topic Dean hoped to stay away from, because he had no way to hide from the way he’d reacted to Sam’s innocent kiss. He couldn’t lie himself out of this one.
Dean takes a moment, and decides his best course of action is to downplay exactly what happened. He must make Sam think that Dean doesn’t feel the same, that he doesn’t feel more. Finally he sighs. “I was drunk and I was asleep, I didn’t realize what was going on.”
“And what the fuck does that mean?” Sam asks.
“It means what I said.” Dean replies.
“So you didn’t mean to kiss me back? You left bruises on my sides and my lips were swollen.” Sam says. Dean can’t help himself, the thought of roughing Sammy up like that makes him feel slightly turned on, and that adds fuel to his rage. He just ruin Sammy’s feelings for him, no matter what. It’s the right thing to do.
“I don’t want you like that, Sammy, and don’t try to talk yourself into thinking I do because I don’t.” Dean says slowly so Sam understands. “I never will want you that way, so let it go.” The lie hurts Dean badly, and he is in more pain than he’d thought could be possible. Can a person die from breaking their own heart?
“Ok.” Sam says, and his voice sounds different in a way Dean doesn’t like.
“Now we’re going to forget this ever happened, Sammy, do you understand? We won’t talk about it, we won’t think about it, so it never happened. We’re brothers and hunters and that’s all we’ll ever be, right?” Dean asks. His voice is soft now and pleading.
“Of course, you’re right.” Sam says in that same different voice.
“Good, Sammy, that’s good.” Dean says and then he turns on the music and cranks it up.
And Dean wonders, if it’s such a good thing that they ignore their feelings, why does he feel like shooting himself in the head still?

Chapter 13

*Sam: Age 15* (One Year Later)

 

Sometimes Sam wonders if Dean is trying to make Sam hate him, and tonight he knows that that is the truth. John is gone on another hunt, skinwalkers or something, and he’s been gone four days so far. As for Sam, he is alone in the dark hotel room, curled underneath the thin comforter on his side of the queen size bed. Dean, well Dean isn’t far away, in fact he is in the hotel room directly next door, and he is fucking some lady by the moaning sounds and the rhythmic thumping.
Sam doesn’t want to hear it any longer, he wants to fade away from the noise of Dean’s moans and the girl’s squeals. A deep jealousy fills Sam, overflows him, and makes him tremble with hate. He grits his teeth against the murderous rage inside of him and forces himself to breath.

He hates Dean. He loves Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean. Douchebag Dean Winchester.
The past year hasn’t been easy for Sam, especially when it comes to Dean. Every waking moment that Sam is around his older brother is a chore, it’s hard to be nice to someone who is hardly nice in return. Dean is different, he doesn’t joke around with Sam anymore, most usually he’s brooding or serious, never playful, never comforting, never funny, not anymore. Sam has changed too though, he doesn’t get moon eyes when Dean walks into the room, in fact he gets frustrated, he’s no longer quiet, he doesn’t whisper anymore, he makes his own food, washes his own clothes, and minds his own business.

John has started expecting more of both Sam and Dean, they go on hunts with their father often.

Sam’s appearance has changed over the last year as well, he’s grown a couple inches, and his body has toned up just a little bit, his brown hair is even more shaggy. His moods are that of a teenager, sullen, angry, dismissive, woe-is-me. Although, the change in mood could be because his brother is an asshole.

Sam rolls his eyes when he hears the whore that Dean is screwing cry out. After that, the room next door goes silent.

“Thank god.” Sam says and he turns on his side, prepared to get some sleep.

Not five minutes later, the hotel room door opens and Dean flicks on the lights.

Sam groans, but doesn’t bother acknowledging Dean in any way. Dean stomps over to the kitchenette and Sam hears cereal being poured into a bowl.

“We got any milk?” Sam hears Dean ask.

Sam doesn’t answer and pretends to be asleep.

Dean sighs and checks the minifridge himself. Sam smiles when he hears Dean cuss. There is no milk, Sam knows that because he poured it down the drain.

Fuck Dean and fuck his coco puffs too.

“There was a whole fucking gallon this morning.” Dean hisses.

“I’m trying to sleep.” Sam says aggressively, he sits up and fixes Dean with a glare. “Walk to the K-mart down the road and buy some dipshit. Or, better yet, starve to death.”

The elder Winchester looks frazzled, his plaid shirt is slightly unbuttoned, his hair is messy, his lips are swollen, and there are hickies on his neck.

“Fuck you.” Dean replies.

“No thanks. Too many people have done that. Who wants to ride a communal bike?” Sam says with a smirk.

“Cut your attitude.” Dean says, his face is red with anger.

“What’re you gonna do? Slap me?” Sam says. “You hit like a girl. Goodnight.” And he starts to lay back down.

“Little bitch.” Dean mutters.

After Dean broke Sam’s heart...well Sam was a little out of it, numb, in shock, dead inside, all that, and he still is, but now there’s anger, lots of anger, and Sam doesn’t bother holding it in. The two brothers need each other like a heroin addict needs heroin, but Sam has decided that he doesn’t have to like it, and he doesn’t have to make their relationship easy.

“Where’d the milk go?” Dean asks and he’s at the foot of the bed now.

“Maybe you drank it.” Sam says.

“Bullshit.” Dean says.

Sam sits up again and gives his brother a smile. “It’s gone, maybe I poured it down the drain, maybe I didn’t. Go buy more, it’s nicer when you’re gone.”

Dean flinches at this, and his eyes go dark. He returns Sam’s smile and sits on the corner of the bed. “Did you hear me fucking her, Sammy? Did you hear how much she liked it?”

Sam doesn’t know why he does what he does next, but before he can reason with himself, he’s throwing the covers back, nevermind that he only wears a wife beater and boxers, and he crawls down the bed toward Dean.

Dean watches Sam, he’s not angry anymore, in fact he looks worried.

“Oh she liked it, but did you?” Sam asks, and he smirks. “Why don’t you go back to her, ask her what your name is, I bet she doesn’t know. You know why? Because you aren’t worth that much to her. Worthless Winchester, that fits, doesn’t it?”

Dean does what Sam wanted him to do, he slaps Sam across the face, and that’s how the fight starts. Sam dives at Dean and they go to the floor. There’s a grunt as Sam punches Dean in the jaw. They roll and Dean pins Sam down on the floor.

“Fuck you, you little shit.” Dean hisses and he spits blood in Sam’s face.

Sam laughs and he can feel the bruises forming on his wrists from Dean’s fingers. Quick and a flash, Sam wraps his legs around Dean’s waist and pulls him down.

They haven’t been this close all year.

Dean lets go of Sam’s wrists and tries to free himself, but Sam doesn’t let go.

“Let me go you...you..” Dean trails off as they meet eyes.

“You’re such a fucking asshole.” Sam says, and he leans up, pressing his lips to Dean’s throat.

“Let me go.” Dean says, but he isn’t struggling.

“Make me, fuck face.” Sam says against Dean’s neck.

Dean shudders and he pulls away. He looks enraged and something else, something Sam can’t name.

“This is your fault.” Dean says, and he puts his hands around Sam’s throat and squeezes, just a little. “I fucking hate you.”

Sam slides his hands down Dean’s back and under his shirt.

“If you don’t like it.” Sam says. Dean’s skin is warm against his, and there is an energy between them, a mix of hatred and need.

Dean sighs and shoves away from Sam, he stands and looks down on his little brother.

“You have a fucking problem.” Dean says, then he shakes his head and goes into the bathroom.

There is a click as he locks the door behind him.

Sam lays on the floor and laughs.

When Dean comes back out of the bathroom Sam has turned out the lights and gotten into bed. He pretends to be asleep, and Dean must believe that he is, because the elder Winchester stands at the foot of Sam’s bed for almost twenty minutes just watching.

It really is the little victories that count.

Notes:

This chapter was a tad bit short, sorry, I'm hoping to have longer chapters in the future. I hope you liked it regardless.

I'm so happy to have given you guys multiple updates this week! Also, over a thousand hits! So cool. Anyway, I'm gonna try to take a few days before the next chapter, I know, I know, UGH. But my cold has turned into a full blown sinus infection, again, UGH. Also, I need to edit my novel some more and that takes time, as you all know I HATE editing so, UGH lol.

Anyway, as always, join me soon for another update.

I hope y'all are doing well. Also, what did you guys think of Dean's POV? I may do it a few more times before the end of this fanfiction. OH and I nearly forgot, I have ideas for a new Dean and Sam fanfic but it's still in the works so no promises.

Chapter 14

*Sam: Age 15* (Three Weeks Later)

 

Dean doesn’t pick Sam up from school, so Sam has to walk home. It’s an hour long walk and Sam spends it torn between anger at Douchebag Dean and wondering if Dean had chosen to make him walk home or if John had taken the impala, though usually Dean would be waiting at the school regardless, ready to walk Sam home.

The two of them have hardly spoken since the ordeal three weeks ago when the big fight happened and Sam kissed Dean’s neck.

Sam also wonders where they went wrong? Did Sam mess everything up by kissing Dean or had Dean messed things up by kissing back? Had things always been messed up, but they’d just ignored it?

Whatever. The answer to those questions doesn’t change the fact that Sam’s walking back to the hotel with a fifty pound backpack on his back.

 

Sam sees that the impala is indeed parked in front of their hotel room. So Dean had chosen to let him walk, what an amazing brother he is. Sam enters the hotel room and slams the door behind him.

“What the hell, Sam?” John asks. He’s sitting at the rickety table by the kitchenette writing in his journal with an open beer in front of him and a cigarette in his hand.

Dean is home too, he’s sitting on his bed, smoking a cigarette and looking at a titty magazine. When the brother’s meet eyes and Dean sees that Sam is red faced and breathing heavily, the elder brother smiles lazily and goes back to his magazine.

“Dean forgot to pick me up from school.” Sam says threw clenched teeth.

“Is that so? Dean, why didn’t you pick up your brother?” John asks.

“Slipped my mind, sorry Sammy.” Dean says.

“Sure it did.” Sammy hissed. “Asshole.”

“Hey!” John says sharply. “I don’t know what’s going on with you boys, but it needs to stop. Dean, you need to pick Sam up from school, understood? And Sam, stop mouthing off.”

“Yes sir.” Dean says sincerely, but Sam can tell he doesn’t mean it.

“Of course.” Sam says, but he doesn’t mean it either.

John sighs and stands. “Reminds me, I need to meet Bobby today, he has a couple hunts for me and I might need both of you to help me.” John stands, closing his journal as he does. “I’ll be gone for a few hours, maybe all night, try not to kill each other while I’m gone.”

“Be careful.” Dean says. “We’ll be just fine here.”

“See you later, Dad.” Sam says, he takes off his backpack and sits it by the door.

“Yeah, you boys are trouble. I know it. If I come home and I see that one of you has another black eye or a split lip, I’ll kill you myself.” John says, putting on his jacket, he grabs the impala’s keys and fixes Sam and Dean with a glare. “I mean it, this isn’t a fight club. I’ll be back.”

And with that, John leaves, as he always does.

They don’t fight, in fact they don’t say a word to each other. Dean continues to look at his titty magazine, as a real book would make him a nerd. Sam gets a water from the mini-fridge and chugs it, then he eats dry cereal, since they can’t keep milk anymore, then Sam sits on the floor beside his backpack and starts on his homework.

For a while, things almost feel normal. Till Dean opens his mouth.

“How’d you like that walk, huh Sammy.” He says nonchalantly.

“It was great. Loved the scenery.” Sam says just as nonchalantly. Then he decides to lie. “Sorry if I’m a little late, I met a girl.”

“I thought you didn’t like girls.” Dean says, he turns to the next page in his titty magazine like he’s some sort of intellectual.

“It’s amazing what can happen if you just try.” Sam says. “I’m kind of happy you didn’t bother to come and get me. I got my first real kiss today.” Again, a lie. Sam has only and will only kiss Dean, not that Dean has to know that.

“And how was that?” Dean asks, he doesn’t seem upset.

“I liked it. Maybe I'll take a little walk with her after school next chance I get. I’ve been a virgin far too long.” Sam says. He doesn’t look at Dean, and instead focuses on his homework, but he can feel Dean watching him.

“Good luck, Sammy.” Dean finally says.

“Do you have any advice, Dean? Should I have her ride me? Or should we do missionary? What’s the best position for losing my virginity?” Sam asks, trying to sound genuine, though he is a liar. There is no girl, he just wants to provoke Dean, any reaction will feed Sam’s need. “Does it really feel good? I’ve never been inside anyone before.”

Dean closes his magazine and fixes Sam with a barely concealed glare. “No one told me what I should do my first time, why should yours be any different.”

“Is it appropriate to have sex in the woods?” Sam wonders. “Or maybe I could bring her here, you wouldn’t mind leaving for a few hours would you? It’s really the right thing to do, I mean, I’m sure I’ve done the same for you.”

“I won’t have you having sex in the hotel room we all sleep in.” Dean says, his jaw is clenched.

“Why?” Sam asks.

“Because.” Dean says.

“Because why?” Sam pushes.

“I said so.” Dean says.

“You aren’t my Daddy, I don’t have to listen to you.” Sam says. “In fact, you have no say over what I do.”

“Shut up, Sammy, you’re getting on my nerves.” Dean says.
“Why?” Sam asks.

“Fucking shut your mouth.” Dean says.

“Why?” Sam repeats, his smile is growing.

“If you wanna fuck some stupid slut you do it somewhere else.” Dean hisses, and he stands, crumbling his magazine in anger.

Sam giggles. “There is no girl, I just wanted to see how jealous I could get you. It doesn’t take much, does it?”

Dean turns red with anger. “I’m not fucking jealous.”

“Whatever lets you sleep at night.” Sam says smirking.

Dean stomps into the bathroom and locks himself inside.

Sam waits a few minutes and then he gets up and goes to the bathroom door. Dean can’t run away from what he’s going to say.

“You love deflecting your feelings don’t you?” Sam says. “You hate the thought of me being with someone else, yet you do that all the time. You’re a hypocrite and a douchebag and sometimes I wonder why I even love you at all. But I can’t help how I feel, just like you can’t help avoiding how you feel. At the end of the day, you want me, I know it and you know it.”

There is no answer.

“Just know that someday I’ll get tired of waiting and someone will come along that I’ll want and then it’ll be too late for you, Dean.” Sam says, he’s lying again. There’s no one else but Dean.

Sam goes back to his homework. Dean stays locked away in the bathroom.

It’s just another Friday.

 

John comes home late that night. Dean is still in the bathroom, and Sam sits on one of the beds reading a thick novel.

Sam watches as John takes off his jacket and throws it over the back of his chair. He fixes Sam with a stern look.

“I have a hunt for you and Dean.” He says gruffly.

Sam and Dean have never gone on a hunt by themselves, and with the state of their relationship Sam isn’t sure it’s a good idea.

“Can’t you come with us?” Sam asks.

John rolls his eyes and goes over to the bathroom door, beating on it he yells, “Dean, come out of there.”

Dean rips open the door, a stern look on his face. Sam’s brother looks worn and his eyes are red, as if he’s been crying. Sam feels himself soften.

“I have a hunt for you and Sam to do together.” John says to Dean.

“No.” Dean says, fixing Sam with a glare.

“Yes. No arguing.” John says harshly.

“We aren’t ready for a hunt without you. Sam’s not ready. I can’t have him hurt, I’ll go alone.” Dean says, his voice is brutal.

“Don’t fucking talk back to me, Dean Winchester. If I say you and Dean will go on a hunt together, then you will.” John hisses. “Do as I fucking say, get over your bullshit and listen to me.”

“No.” Dean says, and he’s nose to nose with John now. “I won’t risk Sam going on a hunt with only me to protect him. Either all three of us go, or I go alone.”

Sam is nervous now, he can sense a fight brewing between John and Dean, the notion that Dean wants to protect him is lost in those nerves and all he can think is that he doesn’t want to see John hit Dean. Sam stands and goes over to his father’s jacket, where he knows he keeps his gun.

“Dean Winchester.” John whispers and then he raises his hand as if to slap Dean.

“If you hurt Dean I’ll shoot you with your own gun.” Sam says softly.

Both men turn as if just realizing that Sam exists. John looks shocked and Dean looks surprised.

“I’m ready to go on a hunt with Dean, I don’t think it’s a good idea, but if you two are going to argue about it I’d rather just get it over with.” Sam says. “You two always say No Chick Flick Stuff and yet here you are arguing like two women.”

“Sammy…” Dean says, trailing off.

“See Dean, your brother knows how to listen.” John says, all the anger going out of him from one second to the next. “I’m not going to send you on anything dangerous, just a run of the mill ghost, you can leave in the morning and be done with it by the afternoon.” John adds as he leaves Dean to flop down on his bed. “Now you two be quiet, I’m tired. Don’t worry, I’ll give you the rundown of it tomorrow. Let me sleep.”

 

Sam gets a cigarette from the pack on the nightstand and goes outside. He stands in the dark a few feet away from the hotel, in front of the impala. Sam lights his cigarette and fully expects to smoke it in peace, until Dean comes out to join him, a cigarette in one hand and two beers in the other. At the sight of his elder brother, with the memory of all the things Sam had said earlier, nausea fills his stomach. He doesn’t want to be alone with Dean, not right now.

Dean hands Sam the extra beer and Sam takes it. They both lean against the impala and smoke in silence.

“Why’d you do that, Sammy?” Dean asks after a while.

“What?” Sam replies.

“Agree with Dad. Take his side. If you woulda left things alone...I coulda fixed it.” Dean said.

“I didn’t take his side.” Sam says.

“You shouldn’t be going on a hunt without Dad present. He’s more experienced.” Dean said.

“Do you not want to hunt with me?” Sam asks.

“I don’t want to hunt with you if Dad isn't there.” Dean says.

Ouch, that hurts.

“Why?” Sam asks.

“Because, if it’s only me and you hunting...how can I save people if I’m spending all my time worrying about you.” Dean says. Sam is shocked at the vulnerability.

“Don’t worry about me, and I won’t worry about you.” Sam says, then he gives a little laugh. “Honestly, I thought you were starting to hate me, or that you wanted me to hate you.”

“It would be better if you hated me, Sammy.” Dean said, then he pauses, takes a drag of his cigarette, and says, “I could never hate you.”

“It really hurt me when you…” Sam trails off and shakes his head. He cracks open his beer and takes a swig.

“When I what?” Dean asks.

“When you screwed that chick. I know you wanted me to hear it. That was really cruel of you, you know.” Sam says.

“I’m sorry, Sammy.” Dean says, there’s a rough edge to his voice. “You know why I did it.”

“That doesn’t make it better. I’d never do that to you, I’d never…” Sam trails off again and swallows his rage. “I wish I could hate you.”

“I know.” Dean says.

“I’m going in.” Sam says. “I’m going in and I’m going to bed.”

Dean nods. “Goodnight Sammy.”

Sam makes himself a pallet on the floor and curls up. He waits for Dean to come back in, but he doesn’t and so Sam goes to sleep.

 

Early the next morning John gives them a run down of their first hunt together. They would be driving two hours to a little town west of where they’re staying to the address of a house, the family that lived there had left a week ago because of the demented ghost that haunts the halls. John reminds them to use salt or iron because ghosts don’t like that, and that they need to find and burn the item that the ghost is connected to, John informs them that the family believes that it’s an armoire closet in the attic, since the ghost causes the most rackett inside of it.

Sam is nervous, he can admit that. The idea of hunting without John isn’t very comforting, their father was a good hunter and didn’t make mistakes too often. And Sam is afraid of going alone with Dean, cause Dean was right, how could either of them focus on the ghost if they’re too busy worrying about each other? Sam decides they’ll have to figure that problem out when they come to it.

After getting dressed and taking stock of every weapon in the trunk, making sure they have plenty of salt and silver bullets to deter the ghost while they get to the armoire, Sam and Dean say goodbye to their father and then hit the road in the impala.

After about twenty minutes of silence, Dean is the one who speaks.

“You’ll do as I say, right?” Dean asks. “You won’t do anything stupid?”

“As long as you don’t.” Sam says with a smirk.

“Very funny.” Dean says.

They’re quiet for a while.

“You know, I’ve done a lot of things I regret.” Dean says. “Messing around with that girl, letting you hear, all that happened with that...it was immature of me...and I have no excuse for it. I thought it would make you…” Dean trails off, like he can’t go on.

“You thought me hearing you screw someone else would turn me off of wanting you?” Sam says.

“Yeah, something like that.” Dean says.

“All it did was prove to me that you’re a hypocrite. If the roles had been reversed and instead I did that to you...well...you would’ve broken down the door.” Sam said.

Dean doesn’t deny this, and they don’t talk anymore.

 

The haunted house doesn’t look haunted. It's located out in the country and is three stories with a wrap-around porch. Sam thinks it looks pretty homey and he would have enjoyed growing up in a place like this, minus the ghost. Dean parks the impala in the driveway and the boys get out and go around to the open trunk. Sam grabs an iron poker and the lighter fluid, as well as a lighter. Dean gets a shotgun with rock salt to use as bullets, more lighter fluid, and another lighter.

“I want you to stay with me, Sammy, and if for some reason this goes wrong, I want you to leave me behind, you got it?” Dean says as they trudge up and onto the porch.

“That’s exactly what I’ll do.” Sam says sarcastically. “Don’t you remember when I saved your ass from that werewolf?”

“Whatever. Just do as I say.” Dean says and then he kicks down the door.

Inside the house is silent. There is a slight smell of sulfur in the air. Dean creeps inside with Sam right behind him. They start up the stairs. The second floor is full of bedrooms.

Both of the boys freeze when they hear a woman’s maniacal laugh.

Sam feels a chill behind him, and when he turns a woman stands behind him. She’s not solid, and Sam can see through her like she is a projection. Her hair hangs limply around her face, blood cakes her mouth, there are maggots in her eyes, and an old rope is around her neck.

“Shit.” Sam says.

Dean wheels around and shoots rock salt at her, she disappears.

“Bitch is ugly.” Dean says.

She materializes behind Dean, Sam pushes his brother out of the way and swings his iron poker, again she disappears.

“Third floor. Third floor. Let’s go.” Dean says. Rushes toward the stairs and Sam follows closely behind him.

Up the stairs they go, and this set is steeper with a little door at the top leading to the attic. When they near the top of the stairs, Sam feels that chill again, like ice running up his back and suddenly the younger Winchester is airborne, flying back down the stairs and landing painfully on his back. The ghost lady stands in front of him.

“SAMMY!” Dean shouts and starts tromping back down to save his little brother.

“The armoire, goddamnit, go to it, Dean.” Sam tries to shout, though all the air has gone out of him. “Burn the armoire.”

Dean cusses and turns back around, doing as Sam had commanded. The ghost lady advances toward Sam and Sam crawls away from her. He dropped his poker in the fall and it’s ten feet away from him. The ghost swoops down on Sam and takes him by the throat, she lifts him up, his legs kicking feebly.

She throws him again, this time into a wall. Sam feels something is his side snap, a rib breaking, and he screams. He starts to crawl toward the poker, but he doesn’t make it far, as the ghost attacks him again, throwing him into another wall. He can already feel the bruises forming.

As the ghost again grabs his throat, Sam catches a whiff of smoke and that’s when the dead lady glitches like an old TV and then disappears altogether.

Sam just lays there, his whole body hurts, especially his broken rib.

“Sammy.” He hears Dean gasp, and then the sound of boots pounding on wood. His elder brother crouches over him and cradles his head.

“Hi.” Sam says with a smile.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks.

All Sam can think (beside how much pain he’s in) is that Dean is warm and real and there.

“My rib is broken.” Sam says.

“Alright. Alright.” Dean says, worried.

“You know what would make it feel better?” Sam asks.

“What?” Dean says, his thumbs brush over Dean’s cheeks.

“If you kissed me.” Sam says.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Can you walk?”
“If I say no will you carry me?” Sam asks.

“Yes.” Dean replies.

“Then no.”

Dean sighs and picks Sam up bridal style in his strong arms, and walks down the stairs as if Sam weighs less than a bag of flour.

 

When they get home, Dean and John wrap Sam’s waist to secure the rib. Then the two of them have a whisper argument over whether or not Sam should go to the hospital. Dean wants Sam to have medical attention, while John refuses saying people would wonder how his rib was broken in the first place. In the end, John wins and then immediately leaves in the impala to go on another hunt.

Sam is propped up in one of the beds, Dean has given him one pain pill to deal with the pain of his broken rib, which makes him woozy and foggy. Dean only leaves once, to go and get them some fast food to enjoy.

Sam eats his burger and watches Dean, who sits at the foot of the bed munching on some fries.

“Can I get that kiss now?” Sam asks.

Dean sighs. “I’m not going to kiss you.”

“Because you don’t want to?” Sam asks.

“Yes, and because it’s wrong.” Dean says.

“What if I say please?” Sam asks.

“Stop it, Sam. I don’t want you.” Dean says, a little too harshly.

Sam feels his eyes well up with tears, and he looks down at his food. The pill really is making him lose-lipped, he shouldn’t have taken it. He tries to keep the tears in but they spill over, so silently he cries and eats his food.

“Are you crying?” Dean asks.

“Nope.” Sam says in a voice that shakes and totally gives away that he is, in fact, crying.

“Come on, Sammy, don’t do this.” Dean sighs.
“Do what?” Sam says.

“Guilt trip me.” Dean says.

“I’m not. Go away and let me cry.” Sam blubbers.

Dean sighs and sits down his food. He stands and comes around the bed to sit next to Sam.

“I hate hurting you, Sammy, you know that.” Dean says.

“Then why do you do it so much?” Sam asks, his lips wobbling.

They meet eyes. Dean looks torn, finally, he leans toward Sam, and Sam’s heart stops. Had he really been serious when he’d told Dean to kiss him? Because now he wanted to turn his head, to deny Dean like Dean denies him, but Dean isn’t denying him, not this time.

Dean lightly presses his lips to Sam’s. It’s electric and soft and loving. Sam leans into the kiss and scoots closer to Dean, his side be damned, so that he can wrap his arms around Dean’s neck.

Dean doesn’t push Sam away, instead he pulls his younger brother closer and tips his mouth open. Sam feels like he’s falling, falling, falling...and then it’s over.

Dean pulls away from Sam and forces Sam to let him go. Now Sam feels even worse than before, he wishes the kiss had never happened. Dean sits there awkwardly for a moment before he stands up, gets the rest of his food, and goes to the other bed to sit.

“It’ll never happen again, Sammy. I can’t let myself be guilted by you, I have to be the bigger person and I’m sorry. You need to let me go.” Dean says. He can’t look at Sam.

“I’m trying.” Sam says.

But some things just can’t be helped.

Notes:

Long chapter!!!! YAY. I know I said it would be a few days but I lied lol. I got a few chapters of my novel edited today, and my sinus infection feels a lot better (Thanks to mucinex) so I decided to celebrate by giving you guys another chapter. Don't worry, I'm still resting and all that crap <3

Thank you for reading and commenting. I love to read your comments, even if I only reply with a heart, so do feel free to say whatever you want.

Join me soon for another chapter.

PS I know Dean and Sam are going through a love/hate thing right now but bare with me. Trust me <3

Chapter 15

*Sam: Age 15* (Two Months Later)

 

Sam ducks away from the sharp claws of the werewolf that is trying to disembowel him. The thing growls and hisses and pounces at Sam. He backs away and slashes at the werewolf with his knife, catching the monster in the side, the silver burns and the werewolf cries out.

Dean is taking on two of the things, one he hits with the butt of his shotgun, the other he shoots in the face.

Sam sidesteps another deadly swipe of claw and drops down to stab the monster right in the stomach. The werewolf goes down. He takes a deep breath and wipes the sweat off his brow. His side still hurts, his rib isn’t completely healed but it’s well enough to hunt, as John had said.

Dean shoots the other werewolf. The boys meet eyes after that, three bodies between them, and they nod at each other. The job is done.

Things are strained between them, they coexist in a neutral way, hardly talking, communicating through looks and nods. It’s comfortable but not at all what Sam wants, though Sam doesn’t really know what he wants anymore.

 

They walk out to the impala together, Dean gets in the driver’s seat, Sam in the passenger’s seat. This is their fourth hunt together since Sam was deemed well enough to leave the hotel room. So far everything has gone smoothly, except for a few cuts.

The boys drive off, it’s a long way back to the hotel room. Dean turns the music on low, and Sam leans his head against the window in exhaustion. It’s starting to get dark out and that makes Sam weary. He’s ready to crawl between covers and pass out.

When the impala turns onto an old country road, there is a loud pop as if something has stabbed one of the tires. Dean swerves to the side of the road cussing.

Sam, who was nearly asleep, jerks up right with a groan.

“What happened?” He asks.

“Don’t know.” Dean says. He parks and gets out all huffy.

Sam sighs and gets out as well. He goes around the impala to where Dean is crouched beside a flat tire.

“Shit.” Sam says.

“I don’t have a replacement.” Dean says defeatedly, he hangs his head in shame. “Baby’s broken down.”

“What’re we gonna do?” Sam says as his dreams of sleep vanish, goodbye covers, goodbye pillows.

“I’m gonna call Dad.” Dean says with a shrug. “He’ll have to figure out how to get us a tire.”

“And until then? We could be here all night, Dean.” Sam whines.

“Nothing to do. Get back in the car.” Dean says as he stands and pulls out his phone.

Sam pulls his jacket closer around himself as it is a little nippy and stays right where he is. Dean rolls his eyes at this and calls John, putting the phone to his ear.

Their father takes a while to answer.

“Bad news.” Dean says instead of hello. “Popped a tire on baby, no spare.” Dean pauses to listen to their father. “Well...I’m sorry. No, I don’t know what I hit...No we’re not close enough to walk. How soon can you get here with a tire? Alright. Alright. Alright.” Dean hangs up and rolls his eyes.

“So?” Sam asks.

“Dad said we’ll have to hang tight here. He’s going to get a rental car and purchase a tire, but it’s a four hour drive from him to us.” Dean says.

Sam groans. “Fuck.”

“He’ll call us when he gets close.” Dean says, he digs a cigarette from his pack and puts it between his lips. “Wanna smoke?”

“No.” Sam says. “I’m gonna take a nap in the back.”
Dean nods and lights his cigarette.

Sam crawls into the back of the impala and stretches out as much as he can. He throws his arm over his eyes and within minutes he is asleep.

 

He wakes up a while later. There is a soft weight on him and when he catches the smell of silver, gun powder, and cigarettes he jerks awake. Dean sits in the front seat of the impala, smoking and looking at one of the gun magazines he keeps in the trunk. Dean’s jacket has been thrown over Sam, a small gesture that speaks volumes.

“How long have I been asleep?” Sam asks.

“Like an hour.” Dean says.

“Aren’t you cold?” Sam asks.

“I’m hot blooded.” Dean says with a smirk that makes Sam roll his eyes.

Since the second kiss, the real kiss, the brothers have felt a different kind of tension between them, something awkward and, on Sam’s part, a little angry. Dean acts distant, closed off, more closed off than before and Sam doesn’t know how to solve it. If they could only go back to before, that is what Sam dreams of. The ease of being together, actually joking with one another, not bad awkward jokes, and talking to each other about anything from movies to guns to Dean’s conquests, that’s what Sam misses, he misses the real Dean.

“I miss you.” Sam says before he can stop himself.

Dean frowns, “I’m right here.”

“I miss the real you.” Sam says, he and Dean lock eyes.

“Look, Sammy, maybe it’s best that we have some distance between us.” Dean says, the words rip at Sam’s heart.

“I don’t want that, I want what we had before...before everything.” Sam said.

“You can’t break a plate to a thousand pieces and expect it to look just fine when you glue it back together, Sammy.” Dean says.

“It’s my fault that we’re like this...that we go up and down and…” Sam trails off.

“It’s my fault too, Sammy. When you kissed me when I was drunk, I coulda pushed you off, I should have, and that second kiss, it shouldn’t have even happened. I shouldn’t have allowed it. But I’m weak when it comes to you.” Dean says, he gives a sharp laugh and leans his head back.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Sam says.

“This is our new normal, we just have to deal with it. I told you to let me go, that’s what you should be doing.” Dean said.

“Have you let me go?” Sam asks.

“I don’t want you like that.” Dean replies.

“Are you sure?” Sam stresses.

“I am. I told you, let it go Sammy.” Dean says.

“You’re right.” Sam says, rage raises in his throat like bile. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t go around fucking girls like it’s nothing to you.”

Dean gives Sam a sharp look. “If I did love you like some pervert, then I’d say I sleep around because I’m running away from you. Nothing says ‘I don’t want to fuck my brother’ like a high body count so how about…” Dean trails off as he realizes what he’d said.

“Hypothetically, since you don’t want me like I want you.” Sam says.

“Precisely, now you’ve got it.” Dean says.

Sam snorts. “So you do want me.”

“Goddamn it, Sam, let it go.” Dean says.

“We could run away, to a place where no one knows that we’re brothers.” Sam says.

“I would know and it’s not something I can overlook.” Dean hisses.

“Then can things at least go back to…” Sam trails off and sighs.

“There is no normal between us. Not anymore. Let it go.” Dean says.

“Fine.” Sam says.

“I miss you too.” Dean finally says. “But that doesn’t mean anything.”

Sam notices that Dean has slung his arm across the back of the front seat, tentatively Sam reaches and laces his fingers through Dean’s. The elder Winchester sighs and tries to pull his hand away.

“Don’t.” Sam pleads, holding tighter.

“Sammy…” Dean says, pained.

“Just for a minute.” Sam says.

Dean gives in and squeezes Sam’s hand with his own.

“You mean the world to me, Sammy.” Dean says, and he brings the back of Sam’s hand up to his lips. “The only meaningful relationship I’ll ever have is the one I have with you, no matter how broken it is, no matter how we feel about each other. Some things just can’t be, but that doesn’t mean we can’t spend the rest of our lives together as brothers. That can be enough, can’t it.”

Sam feels his eyes well up with tears. “Of course, of course Dean.”

“Things will be okay between us again, it might take time, more time than we’d like, but it’ll happen.” Dean says.

A sadness fills Sam as the realization hits him, what he wants with Dean will never happen, the love he craves from his brother isn’t something that will be fulfilled. Dean will not allow it, he doesn’t want it, he thinks it’s wrong.

And it is wrong, that’s what hurts the most. It’s wrong and Sam wants it, he needs it.

The boys don’t talk anymore, but they do hold hands till John arrives.

 

It doesn’t take Dean and John to change out the tire, and then John drives the impala, and makes Sam and Dean take the rental car.

“Go back to the hotel.” John told them before he drove off. “Get some sleep. Bobby called me, got an emergency hunt, nothing I can’t handle by myself. We’ll return the rental tomorrow.”

And so the boys drove the rental car (which smelled faintly of grease and other sleazy things) down highways and old country roads till they found a McDonald’s that was nearby the hotel. Sam ordered a large fry and a sweet tea, while Dean got a coke and two cheeseburgers. Wordlessly, they eat in the car together, and then they go back to the hotel.

“Well.” Dean says once they’re inside. “I’m gonna take a shower.”
“Alright.” Sam says with a shrug.

“I meant what I said in the car, things will be okay.” Dean said, and then he goes into the bathroom.

 

Sam takes a shower next. He washes himself slowly, and thinks about Dean, not in a sexual way, but in a thoughtful way. Could things go back to normal? Time heals all wounds doesn’t it? Could time heal love? More so unrequited love? Even more so, forced unrequited love? Sam doesn’t know, but he hopes that Dean is right.

When Sam comes out of the bathroom, dressed in sweats and a tank top with his hair all wet and messy, he sees that Dean is already in bed asleep. His elder brother wears only sweats, no shirt, and he’s tangled up in the covers. Sam watches him with a soft look on his face.

He tries to imagine what it would be like being with Dean, drinking a cup of hot coco with the taste of Dean on his lips, with the weight of Dean’s arms across his shoulders. He wants that badly, and Dean wants it too, just not as much as he wants his feelings to go away.

Slowly, Sam crosses the room and tentatively, as not to wake his brother, he gets in bed beside him. Sam nestles close to Dean, and the older boy seems to sense the younger one as he immediately throws a protective arm around Sam, pulling him close. Sam fits close to Dean’s body in an easy sort of way, and he can feel Dean’s hot breath on the back of his neck, how strong Dean feels, how familiar, everything Sam wants.

It is easy to fall asleep in the arms of the one he loves, and so Sam does.

Both of them sleep soundly.

Notes:

Thank you for reading! How are you feeling about the fanfiction so far?

JUST a pre-warning, next chapter is going to be a little painful and some of you might be like WTF but just bare with me y'all, don't worry it gets better.

Join me soon (a couple days ish) for the next chapter.

Chapter 16

*Sam: Age 15* (The next day)

 

Slowly, Sam wakes up from a deep dark sleep. There is a weight on him, something solid and heavy and warm. He cracks open one eye and sees that Dean is on top of him. This makes Sam both excited and nervous, excited because Dean is ON TOP of him, and nervous because Dean is ON TOP of him. Sam had planned to get out of bed so Dean would never have known that he’d been there, but now that would be impossible. He was stuck until Dean woke up, and boy, would his older brother be unhappy. Sam decides to enjoy the moment while it lasts. Dean lays on Sam, his head is buried in Sam’s neck, his arms are around Sam and not in an uncomfortable way, one of his legs is bent at the knee and it forces Sam’s leg up to lean against Dean’s hip, and they are pressed together hip to hip. It’s a really intimate pose.

Sam tenses up when Dean gives a sleepy sigh and buries his face deeper in Sam’s neck. The elder Winchester nestles down and gives a soft snore. That makes Sam feel relieved, he hopes Dean sleeps long enough to roll off of him so that he can make his escape.

Dean sighs again and moves his bent leg up more which presses their hips together harder. Sam gasps and then bites his lip. He doesn’t know what to do about this. His heart beats faster.

Dean suddenly starts to stretch, and Sam holds his breath. The elder boy relaxes for a moment, smacks his lips, and then lifts his head. His sleepy eyes meet Sam’s and they widen.

“Sammy.” He says tiredly, “What are you doing here?”

“I-I got tired of sleeping on the floor.” Sam offers weakly.

“There’s a whole other bed, Sammy, why are you in one with me?” Dean asks.

“You didn’t seem mad when you were sleeping.” Sam says, he bites his lips again.

Dean watches him do it and sighs. “You’re fifteen years old, Sam. I’m nineteen, do you know how much trouble I’d get into if someone saw us like this? Not to mention that I’m your goddamn brother.”

“Why don’t you get off me then.” Sam replies.

Dean pushes himself off Sam and to the edge of the bed. He sits there and buries his face in his hands. “I don’t get it, Sammy. You agreed that you’d let it go just yesterday, and now I wake up to you…” Dean trails off and drops his hands from his face, giving Sam a glare. “Why can’t you just do that? I’m getting sick of it, I really am. We can’t keep doing these things, it has to stop.”

“I don’t want it to stop, Dean. I fucking like it, okay.” Sam lashes out.
Dean winches. “Don’t say that. Stop saying that. I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m in love with you, that’s not going to change.” Sam says.

“I can’t with you right now.” Dean says, he stands and rips on a shirt. When he starts to put on his shoes, Sam grows worried.

“Where...where are you going?” Sam asks.

“I’m going to find someone I can fuck so I don’t have to think about you.” Dean hisses and then he’s out the door.

His words break something in Sam, and suddenly he’s on his feet too, tripping to get into his shoes, he can’t stand the thought of Dean having another meaningless hook-up, Sam is too tired to keep pretending, something has to give. Either Dean will get his way, Sam will get his way, or they both won’t get anything. Whatever happens, it has to happen today.

Sam is out the door, and he spots Dean getting into the rental car.

“Fucking stop, Dean.” Sam hissed.

Dean pretends not to hear him, and tries to close the door on Sam, but he was prepared for it, and he catches the door and forces it open. Dean sits in the driver’s seat, facing forward, the keys in his hands.

“Let me go, Sammy, I mean it.” Dean says dangerously, in the tone of voice he reserves for fights with John.

“I’m in love with you, who cares. You love me too.” Sam says loudly, he tries to grab Dean’s hand to pull him from the car.

“I’m warning you, stop it.” Dean says.

“No, I won’t.” Sam says, and he catches Dean’s wrist and gives it a pull. Dean wrenches it back and the force makes Sam unsteady on his feet.

“If you don’t fucking let me go and walk your ass back into that hotel room, I’m gonna knock you out, I’m warning you. Don’t make me do that.” Dean hisses, and there’s fire in his eyes, fire that scares Sam because he’s never seen it before, at least, he’s never had it directed at him.

“Don’t do this, Dean. We could wait till I’m eighteen to do anything crazy, I’m okay with-” Sam starts.

“We are never having sex, never. We’ve already done too much. Do as I say, Sam, or I’ll fucking hurt you, and I really don’t want to do that.” Dean says coldly, and he fixes Sam with a knee shaking glare.

“Why fight something that both of us want, it doesn’t make-” Sam starts but doesn’t get to finish as it’s right then when Dean punches him square in the face.

It’s like getting slapped with a brick, or a ton of bricks. Sam’s head snaps back and he feels his nose immediately start to bleed, his lip splits, and he knows he’s gonna have one hell of a black eye, and that he’ll have one big bruise on his cheek too. He stumbles and nearly falls over and his hands go to his face to clutch it. He seems to be in shock as there isn’t a thought in his mind, and the pain is dull, like it happened to someone else and not Sam, because Dean has never hit him like that before, sure Sam has given Dean a black eye a few times before- nothing like this though- and Dean has slapped Sam or punched him in the arm, but nothing like this, nothing so violent and mean and cruel.

In a fog, Sam turns and slowly walks back to the hotel, he has never felt so empty, so devoid of life, he thinks he’ll go into the hotel room and lay down, not in Dean’s bed, never in Dean’s bed, he knows that now.

He vaguely hears the door of the rental car slam, and he expects to hear the crunch on gravel as Dean drives away, but that doesn’t happen. Instead, he hears the crunch of Dean’s shoes, and he feels Dean coming up behind him.

Sam flinches when he feels Dean’s hand on his shoulder.

“Sammy, Sammy, I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have-” Dean says, his voice raw with emotion.

“It’s okay, Dean.” Sam says, almost dreamy. “You warned me. Go on and have fun. I think I need to lay down.”

“Sammy…” Dean trails off and he forces Sam to turn around and look at him.

Sam has one side of his face covered, so he can only view Dean out one eye, and his elder brother looks torn apart, destroyed by guilt. In fact, Dean looks near tears.

“No, it’s not okay, Sammy. It’s never okay for me to do that. I’m so so sorry. So sorry.” Dean says, his voice raising higher and higher. He reaches up to pry Sam’s hand away from his face, but Sam refuses. “Come on, Sam. Let me see.” Dean says, pleading.

“Let me go.” Sam says, and his lip wobbles. “I need to lay down, Dean. I don’t feel so good. Go on and...and…” Sam trails off. He can’t think through the pain.

“Sammy…” Dean whispers, and once again he pulls at Sam’s hand on his face. Finally, Sam allows him to do it. His elder brother gasps when he sees the damage.

“Oh Sammy...I-I…” Dean shakes his head and bites his lips so hard it bleeds. “I’m so sorry...I was so angry, I just wanted you to let it go, to move on so we could be normal...I didn’t mean to hit you so hard...oh god...oh god Sammy. I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Sam says, and he turns from Dean and starts walking back toward the hotel room’s door. “I need to lay down, some sleep will be good. You go on, Dean.”

Dean follows Sam into the hotel room and watches as Sam crawls into the bed, to curl up on his side.

“I’ll never do that again, Sammy. I promise and I’m so sorry. I’ve failed you today, I’ve fucked up. I lost my control and I hurt you, I took my anger out on you and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t want you to forgive me, I don’t deserve it.” Dean whispers as he sits on the edge of the bed.

Sam looks at Dean, one eye open all the way, the other starting to swell shut and says, “if you don’t watch out, you’ll become our father.” Which is a lie, Dean isn’t anything like John, but Sam had to say something, and his words don’t sound angry, there’s still a fogginess to his voice, a dream-like tinge.

Dean still flinches, but he nods. “I’m sorry, Sammy. I’m so sorry.”

“Will you hold me now?” Sam asks and he starts to cry, the dam breaks and his shoulders shake from the violent sobs.

Dean doesn’t say a word, he just stands up and crawls into bed with Sam, wrapping his strong arms around his younger brother, and pulling his head to his chest. Sam sobs into Dean, and Dean allows him to do it.

“I’m sorry.” Dean whispers over and over again.

Eventually, Sam looks up at his brother through watery eyes. “How sorry?”

Dean looks pained. “Sammy, no.”

Sam lips his head up and presses his lips to Dean’s, their mouths fit together chastely, until Dean deepens the kiss, and sighs out his nose. He slides his hands down Sam’s back and pulls him even closer. The kiss turns into something sensual as Dean tips Sam’s mouth open and brushes his bottom lip lightly with his tongue.

Sam moans.

“Do you like that, Sammy?” Dean whispers, and then they’re kissing again. Sam loops his leg over Dean’s hip and they roll so Dean is on top of him again, and Sam wraps his legs around Dean’s waist.

Dean pulls away and starts lightly kissing the bruises his punch had left, light butterfly kisses. Sam starts breathing heavily and he tangles his fingers into Dean’s hair to pull his lips back so that they can kiss.

“I love you, Sammy, I love you so much.” Dean whispers against Sam’s mouth.

“I love you too, Dean.” Sam whispers back.

Dean kisses his neck, softly, and then he bites Sam’s neck lightly and chuckles. Then they start kissing and it’s rough, so rough that their teeth clink against each other, hair is pulled, and Sam isn’t the only one who gives little moans.

When Sam starts to pull at the hem of Dean’s shirt, the elder Winchester pulls away.

“No.” Dean says firmly.

Sam, who is still emotional, who is still hurt by Dean in more ways than one, finally snaps. He headbutts Dean and pushes him off with a hiss.

“Get off me, get off me.” Sam wails, and Dean scrambles away.

Sam sits up, and with all his might he punches Dean in the face. Dean’s head snaps back, but he takes the hit as if he had expected it. Now both of them have black eyes.

Sam scrambles from the bed and points a finger at Dean. “You’ve fucking won, okay? I’m letting you go.” Sam says. “I’m tired of..of feeling so hurt and...I’m fucking tired of you, Dean. So if you don’t want me the way I want you, if you can’t accept it...well you won’t get me at all. As far as I’m concerned, we aren’t brothers anymore. We aren’t anything. Don’t talk to me, don’t look at me cause I’m not going to talk to you. I’m finished. I’m letting you go, I’m letting everything about you go. Are you happy? Is this what you wanted you fucking bastard. We’re over. We aren’t friends, we aren’t family. The only thing we are is hunters and that’s it. So fuck off.” Sam is breathing hard, there’s a crazy look in his eyes, and he’s trembling all over.

Dean gives one nod as a single tear falls out of the corner of his good eye. “Okay, Sammy.”

“Don’t fucking call me Sammy either.” Sam hisses, and then he goes to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it behind him.

Only then does he start to sob.

Notes:

UGH why did the chapter end like this? I know, I know, but keep reading and trust me. <3

Chapter 17

Notes:

Merry Christmas you filthy animals.

BTW I have another Dean/Sam fanfic called MY ALPHA BROTHER and the first 3 chapters are up (chapter 4 coming soon) so go give that a look if you wanna.

Love and snow flakes to all.

*Sam: Age 16* (A Year Later)

 

Today marks a year that Sam hasn’t spoken to Dean and every day of it has been hell, but Sam isn’t about to do anything about it. Dean has spoken plenty to Sam though, he didn’t for the first month- they were both stone cold to each other then, but Dean broke first, and for the last eleven months, once or twice a week, Dean will look at Sam and say, “You have to talk to me sometime. You can’t hate me forever.” Sam, of course, never answers. They go on hunts together at least twice a week, and Sam misses even more school because of it. It’s easier to not talk to Dean on hunts because that’s like work, and even silent, Sam and Dean are really good hunting partners who know what the other needs without one word.

 

Part of Sam has gotten over it and wants to move on. The other part of him, the one that’s festering and angry, won’t allow him to get over it. So far that part of him has won, day in and day out. His heart aches for Dean, he misses his brother, but what can he do? He knows he can’t keep doing what he has been doing, the two of them can’t keep going back and forth like they have been, hurting each other, kissing each other, hating each other. Sam knew he was obsessed with Dean, he wanted to demand all of his attention, and Dean was a hypocrite, he could fuck who he wanted, but if Sam did that he’d face Dean’s wrath. And so here they were, they couldn’t live with each other, hence Sam’s total silence, and they couldn’t live without each other hence the very reason that Sam hasn’t left again. So they are stuck with Sam giving Dean the silent treatment, and with Dean trying his damndest to get Sam to talk.

***

That morning was no different than every morning for the last year. Sam is asleep on the floor at the end of the bed that Dean sleeps in. Sam is in the fetal position, burritoed in a blanket with a pillow under his head. He’s still asleep, and he dreams of darkness. It’s Dean who wakes him up, with a nudge to the side with his foot. Sam sputters awake with a gasp and then he gives Dean a hateful look for being so rude, as he does everyday.

Dean stands before Sam dressed in a plain white robe, nothing girly or fancy. His hair is dripping wet, his eyes are red, as they usually are, and he smiles at Sam, but the smile is fake. Sam can see the pain in Dean’s eyes, it nearly break Sam down, but his anger keeps him strong.

“Morning, Samantha.” Dean says cheerfully. He’s taken to calling Sam Samantha instead of Sammy. Sam hates it, but in order to make it stop he’d have to talk to Dean and that’s not happening.

Obviously, Sam doesn’t answer Dean, he just stumbles up to his feet and stretches, then he brushes past Dean and gets himself a bowl of cereal. Thankfully, John is gone on a hunt as always, so he isn’t there to pitch a fit over Sam’s ‘rudeness’.

“It’s been a year.” Dean says. He follows Sam and stands close behind Sam as he pours his fruity pebbles into a bowl. Sam ignores him as best he can.

“A whole fucking year.” Dean continues. “When will you speak to me again? Come on, Sam, I miss talking to you. I miss you. Talk to me-”

Sam sighs, and brushes past Dean again to get the milk. He pours it in his bowl, sits down, and starts to eat. Dean sits across from him, and watches.

“You’ve got to talk to me. I can’t fucking stand it!” Dean groans, slapping his hand on the table. “I’ve told you I was sorry for hitting you a million times, I’m sorry okay.”

Sam glares at Dean. They both know that’s not why Sam isn’t talking.

“Fine. Okay. Fine. I know it’s not because I hit you.” Dean says. “But you have to understand, Sammy, we can never be what you want…” Dean trails off as Sam’s glare deepens.

“Fine. Damn. You’ve made your point. I’m a hypocritical whore that holds you to more standards than I hold myself. I’m jealous, I’m an asshole. But you need to understand, I’m trying to save us, you most of all. I can’t allow us to…to be so fucked up that we love each other, that we wanna fuck each other. We need to be brothers, friends, and we can be. All you need to do is talk to me.” Dean pleads.

Sam takes a bite of cereal, looks Dean up and down, rolls his eyes, and stands up. He goes over to his duffle bag to find clothes. Dean follows like a lost dog.

“I can stop having sex. We can both be fucking nuns if that’ll make you happy. I don’t need to orgasm, I just need to hear your voice. Sam, please. Talk to me.” Dean pleads, his voice grows higher and higher.

Sam doesn’t answer. Instead he takes his clothes and goes into the bathroom, slamming the door in Dean’s face as he does.

***

The drive to school is no different. Dean drives slowly, the whole time he pleads.

“So are you goin’ to give me the goddamn silent treatment forever? Is this it? We’ll spend the rest of our lives in silence?” Dean says.

Sam sighs again and leans his head against the window.

“What can I do? Tell me what I can do to make you FUCKING talk to me?” Dean pleads.

Sam looks at Dean and shrugs.

“Nothing? I can’t do anything? Goddamn it, Sam. You’re being unfair. You can’t cut a guy completely off and not give him some sort of path to redemption.” Dean says as they pull into the school parking lot.

Sam doesn’t say a word as he gets out of the car.

This is Sam’s first day at this particular school, and his first class is english. The school is a long brick building with two levels and small prison-like windows. Students mill about outside, exiting cars, talking to friends, smoking secret cigarettes, among other things.

As Sam walks, trying to appear as small and invisible as possible, his shoulders hunched, he marches past a group of boys, all of them jocks, all of them handsome, especially the blond one in the middle of the group with the teasing brown eyes. Sam and the handsome teenage boy meet eyes, and the boy smiles.

“Hey there!” The boy yells at Sam. “I haven’t seen you before! Are ya new?”

When Sam nods, the boy smiles wider and says, “ get over here, come on!”

Sam immediately goes to him, ignoring the revving of the impala’s engine. Dean hasn’t left the curb yet, and so he watches Sam join the group of boys, and notices the blond boy’s interest in Sam. Good, let Dean have a taste of his own medicine. Sam smiles at the boy like he used to at Dean, hopes Dean sees, and says to the boy, “I’m Sam, but you can call me Sammy.”

The boy smiles deeper as his friends hoot and holler.

“Call me Derek.” The boy replies.

***

Sam and Derek go into the school, both of them in the midst of Derek’s loud friends.

“So Sammy, who was driving that bad ass impala…you know the one that dropped you off?” Derek asks.

“My asshole brother.” Sam replies. His throat aches over calling Dean such things, but he can’t help it. He has so much rage against Dean that sometimes it drowns out the love that burns inside him.

“Well, his car is awesome.” Derek says. “So, where are you from?”

Sam doesn’t know how to answer this, so he sputters, “here, there. My family moves around a lot.”

“That’s cool. Bet you’ve seen a lot of stuff.” Derek says.

“Some things, I guess.” Sam says with a shrug.

“Hey, what’s your first class?” Derek asks, nudging Sam with his elbow.

“English, Mrs. Rutherford.” Sam replies.

“Damn. I have fucking Geometry. I’m too stupid for that shit.” Derek says.

“I could help you. I’m pretty good at Geometry.” Sam says.

“Fuck yeah!” Derek says. “Hey, I always leave for lunch. You should totally come with me! We could go to my favorite fucking place. It’s a diner, they have the best fucking milkshakes. We could set up times for you to tutor me. I’ll pay you and shit.”

Sam blushes, feeling as if he was just asked on a date. “Sure.”

***

At lunch time, Sam meets Derek out in the student parking lot. When he sees Derek, he gives him a big smile. Sam wants to like Derek, the guy is handsome, funny, and a little rough around the edges. The only problem is, Sam doesn’t feel anything for him, he already knows this, but he wants to, so he will force himself because it’s easier to do that than to deal with Dean right now.

“Sammy Blammy!” Derek says, punching Sam in the shoulder. “My car’s down this way. Sorry, but it’s not as nice as your asshole brother’s car.”

“The impala isn’t his. It’s our dad’s.” Sam says as they walk together.

“Ohhh. Lucky bastard.” Derek says.

Derek’s car is a faded blue old ford truck with rust on the fenders.

“Your car looks fine!” Sam says as he gets in the passenger side.

“Thank you.” Derek says as he starts the truck.

They speed out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

“My dad owns the timber mill out on the highway.” Derek says.
“Nice. What’s it like to live in one place?” Sam asks.

“Boring as hell.” Derek groans. “I wanna go places. Tell me about all the sights you’ve seen?”

“Well…the ocean is nice. I’ve seen the world’s biggest chair…honestly we spend most of our time in the impala. Basically, all we do is drive.” Sam says.

“Does your brother still go to school?” Derek asks.

“No. He dropped out.” Sam says.

“Not smart then?” Derek asks with a chuckle.

Sam doesn’t answer.

“What do you like to do, Sammy Blammy?” Derek asks.

“Read. I like to read.” Sam says.

“What are you reading right now?” Derek asks.

“Pyre. It’s a science fiction book.” Sam replies.

“Sounds fun. I play football.” Derek says.

“I figured.” Sam says.

They pull into the small driveway of a tiny diner called O’Malley’s Burgers and Pie. Derek parks and the two of them get out.

“It’s not much but it’s tasty.” Derek says.

When they go in a bell jingle. The inside is nice with a bar and stools, and a row of booths along the wall. Waitresses walk around in jeans and button downs, and two short order cooks flip meat patties in the open kitchen.

“Hey Derek!” One of the waitresses says as she passes. “Seat yourself. Be with ya.”

Derek and Sam sit in one of the booths, across from each other.

A waitress drops off some menus, but Sam already knows what he wants. A burger and a large chocolate shake. Derek orders sausage and pancakes.

“I fucking love breakfast.” Derek says.

Sam smiles at him.

“So look, about this tutoring thing…when can you meet up for that? I figure we could do it here, once a week, one hour. Twenty bucks an hour.” Derek says.

“Any day is good.” Sam says.

He hears a car door slam outside.

“Wednesdays?” Derek asks.

“Yeah but I don’t know how long-” Sam immediately stops talking when he sees who walks into the diner.

It’s Dean. He’s dressed in jeans and a red tee shirt, hands in his pockets. When he walks in he doesn’t look around and instead goes to the bar, where he takes a stool. Thankfully, he hasn’t spotted Sam yet.

Sam clears his throat a little, looks away from Dean and back to Derek and continues, “I don’t know how long I’ll be in town.”

“That’s fine, really. I’ll just take as much help as you can give.” Derek says.

“Right. So…is football all you do or…” Sam trails off and he glances over at Dean’s back. The elder Winchester is flirting with the waitress behind the counter, a smirk on his face as he orders two cheeseburgers and a slice of cherry pie.

“Just football. I’m also on the debate team.” Derek says.

“So about Geometry…is it all geometry or just certain sections.” Sam asks.

“All of it.” Derek says, and then he looks over at the waitress talking to Dean. “HEY Linda! What’s takin’ so long. Me and Sammy Blammy are fuckin’ hungry!”

Sam’s heart drops down all the way to hell.

“Oh hush Derek!” Linda the waitress replies.

Dean turns around to see who she had spoken to…and his eyes land on Sam who sits tensely across from a perfectly at ease Derek. Dean raises one eyebrow but otherwise stays unreadable as he studies Sammy.

 

Sam hopes that Dean doesn’t approach, that he stays seated and eats his pie and then leaves because- of course- Dean would come into any diner with the word ‘pie’ in the name.

The waitress brings them their food but Sam isn’t hungry anymore. Derek digs in, but Sam only sips at his milkshake.

Dean hasn’t stopped watching Sam and his gaze is heavy.

“So next Wednesday we’ll meet here after school. I’ll buy ya some food, you’ll tutor me and give me your wisdom and you will be rewarded with a twenty.” Derek says. “How does that sound?”

“It’s a date.” Sam jokes a little stiffly.

“Now don’t get ahead of yourself.” Derek says.

That’s when Dean gets up from his barstool and comes over to stand before them, hands on his hips, an unkind smile on his face.

Derek gives Dean a once over type look, a look that says ‘who the hell is this guy’.

“Do you need something?” Derek asks. “I’m kind of having lunch with my friend here.”

“Sorry.” Sam pipes up before Dean can reply. “This is my brother, Dean.”

“Ohhhhh.” Derek says and then laughs. “The asshole, right?”

“Hey Sammy.” Dean says, his voice is neutral but Sam knows that Dean is hostile. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Sam realizes that he’ll have to respond, he can’t keep up his silent act around someone like Derek, someone who wouldn’t understand.

“Hello Dean.” Sam says his tone is rough, like the voice he uses to speak to Dean is rusty. “This is Derek. I met him at school.”

“Huh.” Dean says and he looks over at Derek. “Can I borrow my brother for a moment? Gotta tell him something. I promise I’ll bring him back.”

Derek looks a little confused. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

Sam wants to die.

“Come outside.” Dean says.

Sam stands and follows his elder brother outside of the dinner. Once they are out of view, Dean takes Sam by the wrist and wrenches him roughly around the side of the building.

“What the fuck? How many guys do you fucking have dinner with-” Dean starts angrily.

“I like him.” Sam shouts.

Dean turns ridgid. “You what?”

“I like him. Let me like him.” Sam pleads.

“You like him? You don’t even know him. You met him this morning-” Dean starts.

“Bullshit. I’m doing what you said, I’m letting you go you asshole. Let me do it. I like Derek and I want to…I want to kiss him and whatever else I can-” Sam starts.

“We’re only going to be in this fucking town a week. Just a week.” Dean says. “That’s not enough time for anything.”

He and Sam are nose to nose like two wild dogs.

“Maybe I can get him to fuck me, how about that? Maybe I can get him to screw me like one of those whores you love so much. Whatever I can get from him will do just so I can get away from you. Leave me alone, Dean. You had your chance and you blew it. I’d let fifty guys fuck me before I even thought about you.” Sam hisses.

“I see you can fucking talk to me now, you little bastard. All year I’ve been waiting and begging and-” Dean starts.

“I’ve been begging you to love me the way I want you to love me for years! Years! So fuck your feelings. I wouldn’t even be talking to you now if you hadn’t barged in on Derek and I. I hate you. I hate you.” Sam spews, poking Dean in the chest. “You ruin everything.”

“I won’t let you fuck some guy you just met.” Dean says.

“Oh but you can fuck all the girls you want. I wish I’d been born into a different family, far away from your stupid fucking-” Sam hisses but he is cut off because suddenly Dean grabs him by the neck. It’s not a hard hold, and Dean’s hands are warm. The two of them are only inches away now, and their noses brush against each other. Dean is showing his teeth like some animal. Both of them are breathing heavily. Sam finds himself holding the front of Dean’s shirt.

“I’m sorry, Sammy, but I’m the man that I am.” Dean whispers. “He can’t have you.”

“Then who will?” Sam whispers.

“You didn’t speak to me for a year.” Dean whispers. “A year and I went crazy. If anything, I love you more now, I crave you more now. I think about you..every second of every day. You do this to me…you make me want to wear your skin…you make me want to kill for you. Every girl I fuck, I imagine that she’s you, I pray for her to be you.” His hands tighten just a little. “So no, I can’t let anyone else have you, what if they make you love me less? That can’t happen. I’ll kill myself without you, Sammy-”

“Then die.” Sam whispers.

Dean kisses Sam hard. Immediately, Sam kisses back with just as much force. Dean’s mouth is warm and wet and amazing. The kiss is dirty, sensual and their mouths open to each other. Dean’s hands leave Sam’s neck and go down to clutch Sam’s ass. Sam weaves his fingers into Dean’s hair and they kiss even harder. Their teeth clink, their tongues fight for dominance and Sam moans.

“The car…the car…” Dean whispers against Sam.

“What if someone sees?” Sam asks softly between kisses.

“Fuck’em.” Dean whispers and he pulls away. He grabs Sam by the wrist again and pulls him toward the impala. He opens the back door and Sam crawls inside. Dean follows and pushes Sam down, he crawls on top of him, pinning him down.

They kiss again and Dean forces his hips between Sam’s legs to thrust against him. Sam can feel that Dean is hard, even through both of their jeans he can feel the hardness and the friction of it makes Sam moan again. Dean kisses down Sam’s jaw and sucks on his neck. When Sam pulls at Dean’s shirt, instead of pulling away, Dean takes the shirt off. They continue kissing and Sam runs his fingers up and down Dean’s back.

Dean moans. “God, you feel good. Better than…anything.”

Sam kisses Dean’s cheek and moves to his neck.

Dean takes off Sam's shirt and they kiss some more. Their breathing hitches and Dean continues thrusting against Sam in the same timed rhythm. Sam feels himself harden and god does it feel amazing, it makes Sam wonder what it would be like to actually have Dean inside him. He wants to find out.

“Don’t you ever cut me out like that again.” Dean whispers as Sam kisses his shoulder.

“You gotta stop being such a fucking asshole.” Sam whispers.

They kiss some more.

“I’m your fucking asshole.” Dean moans and his thrusts get harder.

Sam feels delirious. He slides a hand down Dean’s abs and into the front of Dean’s pants and he feels at the hardness in Dean’s underwear, traces it with a finger.

Dean shudders. “I hate you.”

“I hate you too.” Sam whispers and they kiss some more.

Dean trails his lips down Sam’s neck and to his chest. Sam moans.

“WHAT THE FUCK.” Someone shouts right outside the impala.

Immediately, Sam and Dean jump apart.

Standing outside the impala is Derek, his eyes are wide, his mouth is open, his cheeks are red. He knows that Sam and Dean are brothers and he had just seen them…he’d seen them.

“Oh god.” Sam whimpers.

“FUCK.” Dean shouts and he crawls up between the seats into the driver’s side where he turns on the car and peels out of the driveway, leaving Derek standing there with his mouth open.

Once they get on the road, Sam crawls up and into the passenger side. He’s crying.

“Do you see now, Sammy, why we can never fulfill our-” Dean starts.

“I’m in love with you.” Sam says.

“Well how do you fucking think I feel about you? You’re the fucking love of my life. We can’t do shit about it.” Dean says.

Sam wipes his eyes and slides a hand onto Dean’s leg.

“You could pull over?” Sam says, sliding that hand up to cup Dean’s still hard dick through his pants.

Dean swerves the car.

“Are you crazy? No! No! What if that boy tells someone? What we just did was fucking illegal.” Dean says, and he slams his hands against the steering wheel. “I have no fucking control, none.”

“He won’t say shit.” Sam says. “And fuck your control, alright. We should love each other, we should make love, I want you to have me. Even if you are a stupid fucking asshole.” Sam says, and he undoes the button on Dean’s jeans.

“You hated me for a year and now you want to fuck me. Get your head checked, little brother. You need help.” Dean says, and he slaps Sam’s hand away.

“I hated you because you were in the way of us. You drag me in fucking circles all the time, hot and cold, hot and cold. Fuck you.” Sam says.

“Well I fucking hate you too.” Dean says.

They are quiet for a moment.

“I’m in love with you.” Sam says again.

Dean doesn’t answer.

They pull into the parking lot of the motel and park.

“You don’t have to go back to that school.” Dean says. “Now go inside. I need…I need to be by myself.”

“Why? So you can go fuck some bitch and pretend she’s me? How miserable of you.” Sam says.

Dean beats the steering wheel with his fists and groans. “No. I’m not going to fuck someone…I promise. I just need to be by myself, okay.”

“Fine.” Sam says and he starts to get out.

“You’ll talk to me right? When I get home?” Dean asks. His voice is more than pleading, more than begging, it’s near tears.

Sam looks at Dean and his look is soft.

“Yes.” Sam replies. “Yes I’ll talk to you.”

Dean nods. “Go on in, little brother. I’ll be back.”

And so Sam does.

Chapter 18: Chapter 18

Notes:

Hi guys. It's been a while and I am sorry. My life has gotten a little crazy and I'm just happy to be able to update. I'll be working on a new Chapter of My Alpha Brother next. I've taken notes of the comments pointing out errors in my spelling that I hadn't noticed and I will fix them when I can. Thank you guys for all your comments and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Also, it ends on a big cliffhanger so I will TRY my best to get a new chapter out soon so you all aren't waiting in suspense.

*TW* Read At Own Risk*

 

 

 

*Sam: Age 16*

 

It has been two hours and still Dean hasn’t come back. As Sam waits, he smokes. Cigarette after cigarette, peering out the window, waiting for the impala to pull into the lot. What can be done about the two of them now? Kissing like they had, right out in th open, in the parkinglot of a fucking diner. Sam had practically begged for sex like a patheitic little thing, and now he hated himself for it, he hated giving Dean the time of day, he hated needing Dean with his whole soul. Their love isn’t worth it, Sam knows that Dean isn’t worth it either. The elder Winchester is a walled off, kinda abusive, alcoholic, that has a death wish. Gone were the days when Sam’s love was pure, before he knew Dean felt the same, before they were more than brothers, more than friends. Once upon a time all Sam wanted was for Dean to be happy no matter the pain it caused. Now Sam won’t be happy unless Dean loves him in the way he wants, and Dean will never be happy because he can’t love Sam the way Sam wants. Their love is toxic and they aren’t good for each other, Sam knows that, he understands it. Both of them go around hurting the other, manipulating the other, hitting each other, denying each other, and it’s wrong and toxic and they won’t be able to stop. No matter what happens between them, Sam knows that this…this toxic thing they call love that they have between them…it will never end, not until one of them dies, and even then it will continue. It is eternal and all consuming and angry and passionate. There is no giving up what they have, and there is no giving into it either. Sam feels tired and torn and…heartbroken because he knows. This is it.

The knowledge hurts him. Shatters him.

How can he love someone that hurts him so much? And how can Dean love him like this, with all the anger, the possessiveness, the need, the manipulation, the women, the slapping and the punching, all that, and still call it love. How did it come to this? How could they let it come to this? Why can’t Sam just let him go?

What they have is wrong. It shouldn’t be, but it is. Sam can’t help who he is, and neither can Dean.

As Sam lights another cigarette, the impala pulls into the parking lot.

It parks and Dean gets out. Quickly, Sam rips open the hotel room door.

“Where the fuck did you go?” Sam hisses.

Dean pushes past him and closes the door, blocking them from the outside world.

“Shhh. Goddamn, Sammy. Tone it the fuck down, would you?” Dean asks.

 

“Where the fuck did you go?” Sam repeats.

Dean sighs, dragging his hands down his face. “I didn’t fuck anyone, if that’s what you’re asking. I went for a drive. Cleared my head.”

“When will you give up?” Sam asks.

“Give up what?” Dean says. At Sam’s burning look Dean sighs again. “Sammy. Sammy I’m sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you like that. It’s my fault that it happened and there’s no excuse for it. All I can say is… you… you cut me out and I suffered. I obsessed over you and… I miss you…Sammy… I fucking missed you. All my life I’ve had you everyday and then for a year I didn’t. When I saw you at that diner…with that guy… I got angry… I got jealous and I lost myself. I don’t have any control and I’m sorry-”

“So you’re blaming me? I don’t talk to you, try to put an end to it, and that’s not good enough for you. So it’s my fault you kissed me in that parking lot…” Sam says.

“I’m not… I’m not fucking blaming you Sammy. Stop putting words in my mouth.” Dean pleads, his eyes big and soft, but there’s fire in them. Dean’s still angry.

Sam takes a puff off his cigarette and stares down at Dean’s boots, then he gets an idea. He meets Dean’s eyes. “You’ve been doing a lot of that… losing yourself over me. You really don’t have any control.”

Dean ignores what Sam said and says, “not talking to me isn’t ending it. You know the real reason you weren’t speaking to me. It was because I wouldn’t give into your lust for me. You were trying to manipulate me and you know it.”

“Well I guess we’re even, seeing how much you hurt me on a daily basis.” Sam says.

“Can we just stop? Please? Please?” Dean asks. He goes over and sits on one of the beds, face in his hands.

“Stop what? There was nothing to begin with. Whatever good we could have had in a relationship is gone. We’ve spoiled each other.” Sam says.

“No good comes from two brothers fucking, Sammy. You know it, I know it. It ain’t right.” Dean says.

“But you still want me.” Sam says.

“I shouldn’t.” Dean says.

 

“But you do.” Sam argues. “And I want you too. So what? Why can’t we just be together? Who cares if it’s toxic or fucked up?”

“I care, Sammy. I fucking care.” Dean says. “I try to fight it, I really do.”

“You’re a fucking bastard you know that.” Sam says, on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry.” Dean says.

“How can I let you go… how can I possibly begin to stop loving you if you won’t even let me have lunch with a guy…a guy I didn’t even really want? You tell me to let you go, so I try, and then you fucking stop me. You pull me back in before I can even take a fucking step out? Tell me how Dean?” Sam asks.

“I’m sorry.” Dean repeats.

“And how is it fair for you to go around fucking whoever you want and you make me except it, you give me no choice… but yet I can’t even have lunch without you losing your shit. How is that fucking fair? Fuck your double standards. You are seriously fucked up. You say I need help but look at you, Dean. Look at you. Self-centered. Possessive. Abusive. Fucking asshole. You drive me in circles and you confuse the shit out of me. And you hurt me so much but you say you love me but is this even fucking love? What is it that I feel for you? What the fuck do you feel for me? Cause if this is love it’s fucking dark, Dean, it’s fucking horrible.” Sammy cries, his voice growing higher and higher till he’s yelling.

“I don’t know, Sammy.” Dean says, and his voice is raw.

“I wish you did.” Sammy says and they're quiet for a while.

“I don’t know why I act the way I act.” Dean whispers. “Sometimes I just can’t help it. I wish we could be… be the way we used to be. I miss it. Everything is ruined now, broken into so many pieces and I have no idea how to put us back together. We can’t go our separate ways, I know that much, cause I’d either kill myself or hunt you down and lock you away. The way I feel for you… Sammy… It isn’t good and I try to protect you but you’re like heroin, Sammy. The best kind, the purest fucking heroin and I’m a goddamn junkie… a junkie just itching for a fix. I can’t… I can’t let you go and I can’t be with you either. I can’t let myself… I can’t and I’m sorry.”

“Then what do we do?” Sam asks.

“This has to stop. We can stop… we can stop doing this. We can’t be kissing each other or touching each other… or saying the dumb things we say to each other. We can go on hunts, we can…hang out…you know? Talk about normal brother stuff… but all the… the twisted stuff… Sammy, it's gotta stop. What we feel is fake… it’s the result of a shit childhood… and it might feel… feel like forever… but everything will fade and someday we won’t want each other how we do now.” Dean says.

Sam snorts, ashes his cigarette, and says, “that’s a fucking lie. Don’t lie to me.”

“But I have to.” Dean says.

“No you don’t.” Sam replies.

“Please, Sammy.” Dean says.

“You wanted to fuck me just a few hours ago. You kissed me like I was the thing that gives you life. What you want is me under you, holding onto you like I’ll die if I do, while you make me yours once and for all. That’s what you want, don’t lie to me.” Sam says.

“Stop.” Dean whispers.

“You want to own me. Everyday, you want me on my knees for you, doing what you want, when you want, how you want. You need me to be there for you, no matter what it is, no matter how hard it is, no matter how angry or drunk you are. You want me there right by your side, even if it sends the both of us to hell. I can never leave you, and you can’t ever let me cause you want us to be one, deep down you want to share a body with me. You want to be inside me, you want to hear my thoughts and taste my mouth so don’t tell me that what we have can ever fade away. It can only be suppressed, it can only fester. Pushing what you feel away will only make this worse.” Sam says.

“You’re wrong, Sammy. I don’t want you, not really. We’re fucked up, you know that. If we’d been raised right these feelings never would have happened. Our love isn’t written in the stars. I would rather spend my whole life fucking whores than subject you to my lust. I might lose control but I will always stand firm. What we feel can never truly happen. I refuse to let it, damn how much it hurts me and damn how much it hurts you cause I’ll still do it.” Dean says.

“And what about me? Will you let me go to dinner? Have a burger with a guy? Will you let a man take me to bed, will you let him fuck me, will you be okay with me screaming his name? Can you stand that? Or would you lose it, shoot him, bury his body, say it was because you just can’t control it? Then expect me to let it go… and you know what… I would fucking let it go. Because what we have isn’t natural. We’re addicted to each other.” Sam says. “And I fucking hate you for it.”

“Sammy…” Dean says, then he shakes his head. “Sammy. I don’t know.”

Sam crosses the room and drops to his knees before Dean. Sam takes both of Dean’s hands in his own. Dean refuses to look at Sam.

 

“All you do is hurt me.” Sam whispers. “And I’m asking you to stop.”

“I can’t, Sammy, I can’t.” Dean says.

“I’m in love with you.” Samy whispers. “Please… just say it. Say it for me.”

Dean looks at Sam. “Oh Sammy… I love you… more than anything… I love you. No matter where I find myself… you’re my home.”

“Let yourself love me, Dean. Let yourself and you’ll see. What we have… there could be beauty in it, right along with the bad, there would be beauty. The pain can end if we end it.” Sam begs, pressing Dean’s hands to his cheeks. He didn’t even know it, but he had started crying.

“I’m sorry, Sammy. I should have let you have your lunch with that boy. I’m too selfish to love right, I’m too fucked up to ever be what you deserve.” Dean says, his thumbs brush Sam’s cheeks.

“But I want you Dean. You’re all I want.” Sam says.

“I’m sorry, Sammy. I’m sorry.” Dean says. “No. No. I can’t.”

Sam gives a sob and rips away from Dean.

“I need to go. Gonna walk around.” Sam says, he feels dead. He wants to die. A numbness like he’s never felt before has blossomed in his stomach.

“Alright.” Dean says.

“I love you.” Sam whispers.

Dean refuses to look at Sam as he says, “I’ll be here when you get back.”

Sam leaves with nothing more to say.

***

Sam walks for what feels like hours, right down the side of the road. He prays that a wayward trucker who is either high or drunk plows him down with his semi before he can get home.

What more is there to do now? What more is there to fight for? Sam feels empty, truly empty, for the first time in his life. He sees no reason to keep begging Dean when Dean refuses to give in. All they do is drive around each other’s feelings anyway, never quite stopping long enough for the other to climb aboard. Sam and Dean aren’t much for meeting each other halfway.

Sam doesn’t know what to do. How can this be fixed? How? The world is a desolate wasteland and there’s miles of radioactivity between Sam and Dean. What could possibly make that distance shorter? What could make this less toxic, less consuming? Sam can’t see where he begins, where Dean ends. He can’t read his own heart, he can’t open Dean up to him. He’s a failure. It’s better to be dead, isn’t it, than to live life like this?

And Dean would be so upset to see Sam dead. How twisted is it for Sam to feel… warm from the thought?

Sam walks back toward the hotel. He knows he’s been gone too long and Dean is probably worried.

He reaches the front food to the room, takes out his key, and opens the door. Words are on his lips, words that matter. He had something to say to Dean. But those words die, they die just like the rest of his soul once he sees what’s going on in the room.

Dean is still there, oh yes he is, but he has company. The woman is around Dean’s age, so pretty, so perfect, so sexy, so everything, with long silky black hair, a soft face, red lips that kiss Dean’s so expertly. She’s under him, right where Sam wants to be, and Dean is on top of her, kissing her hard, her hands roam under his shirt. And they’re on the bed, together, tangled, kissing and touching and moaning. Dean’s shirt is gone, and the woman’s pants are off. And they keep kissing even though Sam is right there in the doorway. They haven;t heard him.

Sam feels an ache in his chest, a stabbing pain, and it’s hard to breathe, and the world feels foggy. Sam has to grab the doorframe to stay up right, and he feels like he’s falling, falling, falling away, like everything will go dark and he won’t feel anymore because right now he’s feeling so much that everything is numb and he just wants to die he wants to die he wants to die god just kill him he wants to die die die die die. Because Dean is right there, Dean who claims to love Sam like Sam is heroin and Dean is an addict and Dean is right there kissing her like that when he said… he said that Sam was the love of his life and he had to know that Sam would come back home, that Sam would see… so he wanted Sam to see or he needed Sam to see or he doesn’t care to hurt Sam cause he knows Sam will let it go cause Sam loves Dean he loves Dean god he loves Dean and how can Dean love him and do this?

“Fuck!” Sam hears someone shout. He knows that it’s Dean and that snaps Sam into reality.

Dean has noticed Sam standing there in the doorway and his face is stricken but it is also hardened and soulless and guilty and angry and sad and heartbroken. The whore has noticed too, she looks at Sam like he’s the intruder.

“Sammy…” Dean says again and he scrambles off the whore, approaching Sam like he’s a wild animal, hands up, eyes wide, Dean adds, “Sammy, I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

 

“Who the fuck is this, Dean-o?” The girl asks.

“How could you?” Sam whispers.

“Sammy…” Dean pleads.

 

“Should I leave?” The girl asks.

“How could you!” Sam repeats. “How could you? How could you? HOW COULD YOU, YOU FUCKING BASTARD MOTHERFUCKER YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT. I had lunch… I HAD FUCKING LUNCH WITH A GUY AND YOU LOST YOUR SHIT BUT YET YOU GO AND FUCK SOME SLUT RIGHT HERE AFTER I PORED MY HEART OUT FOR YOU. AFTER YOU SAID I WAS YOUR HEROIN, AFTER YOU SAID YOU LOVED ME AND YOU GO AND GET A WHORE RIGHT AFTER I LEAVE. WHY WHY WHY WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU DO THIS YOU SOULLESS BASTARD. YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING PIECE OF SHIT. YOU ARE JUST LIKE OUR FATHER, JUST LIKE HIM. DAMN YOU TO HELL. YOU USE ME< YOU HURT ME AND YOU THINK NOTHING OF IT.”

“Sammy…Sammy…it has to happen. It has to. Please calm down.” Dean pleads.

“SO YOU WANTED ME TO SEE? IT DIDN”T FUCKING WORK LAST TIME.” Sam screams.

The girl gets out of the bed and scoops up her clothes.

“I’m going. Let me go.” She says.

“YOU GO YOU FUCKING WHORE AND TAKE HIM WITH YOU.” Sam hisses as the girl scurries past. Sam slaps the door shut behind her, and locks it, then he rounds on Dean. “How could you?” Sam asks again, his voice breaking. He has no more yelling left in him. He feels more empty. More dead.

Dean looks torn apart, he looks dead too. Both of them are shaking, trembling, as they stare at each other, miles and miles stand between them.

“I’m the man that I am, Sammy.” Dean whispers. “I thought you’d be gone long enough for me to release my urges. It’s easier to be… to be around you if I don’t feel…”

“If you don’t feel like fucking me.” Sam hisses.

“Yes.” Dean agrees.

“What about my urges? Fuck my urges right? Cause I want to do that, I want to be touched and kissed and fucked and loved like you… why can’t I have that?” Sam asks.

“Go out and do it, Sammy. Don’t tell me about it, don’t beg me for it. Just go and do it, please just go and do it because you’re killing me here.” Dean says.

“And you’re killing me.” Sam says.

“I know. I know and I’m sorry.” Dean says.

Sam can’t stand it anymore. He rushes at Dean. Dean doesn't move, his eyes just widen. Sam wraps his arms around Dean’s neck and kisses him.

Dean kisses back, furiously, angrily. Their mouths mold together, and the force of their kiss nearly makes Sam pass out. Suddenly they are the ones who kiss and touch and the girl that had been there minutes ago doesn’t exist anymore. Dean’s tongue explores Sam’s mouth, his arms wrap tightly around Sam’s waist, and they press together, trying to become one, trying to feel whole. Sam groans in pain when Dean’s teeth puncture the soft skin of Sam’s lips and they taste Sam’s blood. Dean’s hands slide down Sam’s waist to clasp his butt and Dean pulls Sam even closer, grinding their hips.

And then Dean rips himself away, like he always does, like he always will. Sam is left needing, he is left wanting.

Dean backs away from Sam, wipes off his mouth, and shakes his head. “No. No. Stop.”

Sam screams like he’s been stabbed and then he rushes Dean again. But this time they don’t kiss. Sam’s fist connects with Dean’s face and the force of it makes Dean stumble back. Before the elder Winchester can reclaim his stability, Sam is after him again. Sam pushes Dean, and he falls to the floor. Sam scrambles onto Dean and punches him again. Lost in all the pain, all the jealousy, all the hate, Sam hits Dean again and again. Dean could have easily fought Sam off, Sam knows that, but Sam also knows how Dean feels about himself, he knows he deserves a good beating- even if he really doesn’t.

When Sam is done, Dean’s face is bloody. Sam crumbles onto the floor, sobbing, ashamed of what he’s done to the only one he loves.

Dean takes a while to get back onto his feet, and when he does he says, “it’s okay, Sammy, it really is. This is good. It’s good.”

“Just leave.” Sam sobs. “Please leave. I can’t look at you. Don’t make me look at you.”

Dean sighs and then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

Sam sits up, wiping his eyes clean. He can’t do it anymore, he just can’t. It’s all too much, all of it. He’d rather die than feel this pain. Dean was wrong when he said he was the one who needed Sam more than Sam needed him. Just look at how easily Dean can make love to someone else, look at how good Dean can make friends, how easily he does everything. He’d be fine without Sam, better even. If Dean were free of Sam then he could truly be happy, Sam knows that now, he’s just a burden on his elder brother. Dean would be sad at first, but then he would get over it, he would move on. Sam knows that he won’t move on, he can’t let Dean go, he can’t. And he can’t bear feeling this way, he craves the darkness of sleep, the ease of not existing.

It would be easier if Sam were dead. That would be best, it would be perfect. Sam loves Dean enough to know when something is right and this is right.

Sam gets up and goes over to his father’s duffle bag. He digs around in it.

It really will be easier. A clean break is what Dean needs, and a good long rest is what Sam needs. It is the answer and Sam doesn’t know why he didn’t realize it sooner.

He finds a bottle of his dad’s pain pills, full nearly to the brim. He sits the bottle on the table, and then he goes and gets a beer. He opens it and sits it down beside the pill bottle. Sam grabs a pen and paper and writes the last letter he will ever write and it is for Dean. It says:

Dear Dean Winchester,

A clean break, that’s what we need. I didn’t realize it till now. I’m sorry, I know this will be hard, but you’re strong, stronger than me. You’ll find a way to fade the pain away, there’s plenty of alcohol, plenty of monsters to kill, plenty of women to meet. You’ll be fine, Dean. you can’t stop me, as I have already done it. I just want you to know that you shouldn’t blame yourself, I understand why you can’t love me how I need. I’m not mad at you for it. But I have to do what I have to do too, and this is it. I’m sorry, I am. I love you, Dean, and I always will. Try not to miss me as I am somewhere better and someday you will join me there and we will be better together. We’ll be brothers, just brothers, like you always wanted. Let me go, let the pain I’ve caused you go, and let the pain you’ve caused me go too. I know you’ll try to feel guilty but you shouldn’t. I’m tired of fighting, and I’m just tired, period. It’s the best way to end the pain for both of us. Goodbye.

-Love, Sammy.

 

Sam leaves the note right on the table. He takes the beer and the pills into the bathroom with him. He shuts and locks the door behind him.

He stares at himself in the mirror for a while. Sam looks worn. This is the right thing to do.

“You’re doing right by him.” Sam whispers as he takes off the lid to the bottle. “You’re doing what’s good. It’s okay. He’ll be fine without you.”

 

Sam dumps a bunch of pills into his hand. Almost the whole bottle. Without thinking anymore, he shoves the handful of pills in his mouth and then he drinks them down with the beer, nearly choking on them all, but finally he gets the whole bottle down.

Sam takes a seat on the floor and waits.

It doesn’t take long for the darkness to creep in.

Death comes for us all, doesn’t it?

Chapter 19

*Dean’s Pov*

He leaves the hotel room, heart broken, fighting back tears, his face aches, his mouth is full of blood, his lower right molar has been broken right in half, his eyes are swelling shut, and he hates himself more than anything in this world.
Dean Winchester just wants to die.
He leaves Sammy behind, and Dean knows that he’s broken his little brother beyond repair, he had seen it in his eyes, heard it in his voice.
Dean Winchester just wants to die.
He wishes he could let Sammy go so that little asshole didn’t haunt every cell of his brain, but it was impossible. The kid was the love of his life and Dean couldn’t live without him, a life without Sammy would be a very short one. And god forbid if Sammy left again, Dean would lose himself, he’d nearly shot himself last time.
But Dean’s love for Sammy wasn’t good, it was dark and burning, and rough and soft and Dean despised it. He couldn’t imagine seeing Sammy with someone else, some man who didn’t really know him, who didn’t know Sammy to his core, he would kill any man that tried to defile Sammy like that, and he hated knowing the truth. He couldn’t see Sammy with himself either, Dean knew his own flaws, he was an outright douchebag, quick to anger, quick to get violent, a playboy that didn’t know how to love someone how they needed, Sammy deserved better than the likes of his elder brother.
Dean knew that for certain and he hated it.
He couldn’t let Sam be with him, and he can’t allow Sam to be with anyone else. And yet here Dean is, he’s slept with hundreds- hundreds- of women over the years, sometimes more than one at a time, so many that they all blend together, that the first girl means just as much as the last… which is nothing. He’s had so many partners it’s laughable for him to have such high standards for Sam, and it tells him exactly the kind of man he is… one too broken to ever fix right enough to love Sammy right. Dean knows he’s wrong, it’s terrible of him to do this to Sammy, flaunting his… his whores right in front of him, throwing Sam’s love right back in his face, breaking him into little pieces. If Dean was a good man, one that Sammy deserves, he would have kept his affairs under a tighter wrap, and he definitely wouldn’t have led Sammy on like he has, instead he would have cut it off at the start, holding his true feelings in like a real man, a good elder brother. He would have let Sammy move on years ago, and everything would be better now.
But Dean isn’t a good man, and so he walks down the road, his face beaten and bloody, his heart aching, and his hate for himself at an all time high. He knows he deserved the beating, and he knows he should go back to Sammy but he is ashamed. Truthfully, he didn’t want Sammy to see that girl, what he had wanted was to fuck her quickly, and then make her leave before Sammy got back, so that Dean would be satiated enough to keep his strength, so that Sammy wouldn’t draw him in. Because Dean loved everything about Sammy, from the words he spoke, to how his lips moved, to how angry he gets at Dean, to how right Sammy is all the time, to how Sammy chews his food, to how he snores, to how he groans in irritation, to how he always dog ears the pages in his books, to his floppy brown hair and his skinny body.
Dean loves it all, no matter how terrible, no matter how much of an asshole Dean is, no matter how much Dean hurts Sam, Dean loves it all. No one can love Sammy as much as Dean… but Dean just can’t do it right. Even if he could, it’s completely wrong anyway, they’re related, it's disgusting, against nature, illegal, years in prison, and so much shame. Dean knows that he can’t allow it.
Dean walks a ways down the road and comes upon a bar. He goes inside. It’s one of those country bars with dim lighting and disco lights with low country music about running your husband over in your car. It’s basically empty, besides a few older men seated in one corner, and a pretty blonde woman behind the bar. Dean goes over to the bar and sits on the stool.
The pretty bartender looks at Dean. “What happened to you, sugar?”
“Got in a fight.” Dean mumbles.
“How’s the other guy? You kill him?” She jokes.

“No..no.” Dean says. “I’ll take a… a shot of… whatever.”
“Sure thing.” She replies.
He downs what she gives him, not even tasting it, not even knowing what it is. “Another.”
So she gives him another.
“Are you handsome under those bruises?” She aks.
“No.” Dean says. “No. I’m an asshole.”
“Huh. Why do you say that, sweetie?” She asks.
“I love someone and all I do is hurt them.” He says.
“You hurt yourself too, don’t you?” She says. “Hurtin’ someone you love is like hurtin’ yourself.”
“I shouldn’t love them.” Dean says.
“But you do.” She says.
“What should I do?” Dean asks.
“Up to you? Call it a day or another shot?” She asks.
“Call it.” Dean says.
He leaves, deciding to go back to the hotel. He’d left Sam in such a hard place, and even though Sammy definitely doesn’t want to see Dean right now, Dean knows that, he should still check on him. Sammy is still Dean's responsibility.
It doesn’t take long till he’s back, crunching across the gravel driveway of the red roof inn they are staying at, he takes out the key and opens the door. He expects to see Sam where he left him, by the beds, on the floor, but Sammy is nowhere to be seen.

Dean feels confused. “Sammy?”
No answer.
Dean spots a piece of lined paper laying on the table.
Thinking that it is a note from Sammy, saying he’d gone on a walk, Dean chuckles nervously, picks up the paper and reads it.
It says:
Dear Dean Winchester,
A clean break, that’s what we need. I didn’t realize it till now. I’m sorry, I know this will be hard, but you’re strong, stronger than me. You’ll find a way to fade the pain away, there’s plenty of alcohol, plenty of monsters to kill, plenty of women to meet. You’ll be fine, Dean. you can’t stop me, as I have already done it. I just want you to know that you shouldn’t blame yourself, I understand why you can’t love me how I need. I’m not mad at you for it. But I have to do what I have to do too, and this is it. I’m sorry, I am. I love you, Dean, and I always will. Try not to miss me as I am somewhere better and someday you will join me there and we will be better together. We’ll be brothers, just brothers, like you always wanted. Let me go, let the pain I’ve caused you go, and let the pain you’ve caused me go too. I know you’ll try to feel guilty but you shouldn’t. I’m tired of fighting, and I’m just tired, period. It’s the best way to end the pain for both of us. Goodbye.
-Love, Sammy.

Dean reads it once, then twice more, before swaying on the spot. The suicide note drops from his fingers and flickers down to the floor.
Seconds pass, and then Dean yells, “Sammy!”
Heart pounding, a fog enters his head, makes the world go slow and soft at the edges, and dark spots cloud the outer corners of his vision. He nearly passes out from fear as he races across the room and tries the door to the bathroom.
“Sammy?” He says again when he finds the door locked.
No answer.
Dean doesn’t think, he just acts. He kicks the door in, and what he sees on the other side makes him cry out in pain.
Sammy lays on the bathroom floor, limbs all twisted as if he’d crumpled instead of falling over. An empty bottle of pills lay beside him, and glass covers the floor from a broken beer bottle. Sam is turning white and his lips are blue. His eyes are closed and his chest rattles when he breathes.
“Sammy, you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.” Dean whispers.
Sammy, his poor Sammy, is unresponsive.
Dean gives a sob, there is a knife in his chest, he can feel it shredding his heart. His life will be a short one without his Sammy. He goes to Sam, falls to his knees beside him, and leans over him. Sammy is clammy to the touch, Dean cradles his head.
“How many did you take? How many?” Dean begs.
No response.
“I love you, baby, I love you.” Dean cries, and he kisses Sammy, checks his pulse and finds it weak. “I’m not gonna let you do this, not over me. Do you hear me, you selfish little shit. You can’t take yourself from me like this. If you die, I die.”
Dean picks Sammy up and rushes him outside, loading him into the impala. He runs around to the driver’s side, tears fogging his vision, and gets in. He throws it in reverse and speeds out onto the highway, going as fast as he can.

Notes:

Sorry for not updating for so long. Also, some changes are going to be happening with my other fanfiction, My Alpha Brother. I've decided to age both characters up just a little so it will be a while before I update with that but it will get done. I know I’ve left y’all hanging with this story but today you get an update, finally! One more thing: I might be pregnant…which is wild lol so uhhhh anyway hope you enjoy. I'll try to get the next chapter out soon! Like within a couple weeks.

Chapter 20: Dean's POV

Notes:

Happy to be back, missed y'all.

*Dean's POV: Continued*

 

 

 

As Dean drives, he cries. Deep, heaving sobs. He pushes the gas pedal down as hard as he can, swerving, going far faster than he should, his eyes fogged with tears. He chances a glance over at Sam, who turns more blue by the minute. Dean slams his hands down on the steering wheel.

“Goddamn! Don’t fucking die! Please, Sammy, please.” Dean says, turning his gaze back to the road and blindly reaching and taking Sam’s hand. It’s turning cold.

“I love you Sammy. I love you and I’m so sorry I never showed it.” Dean whispers, taking a sharp right, cutting another car off. “I wasn’t man enough…and I’m afraid. So afraid of so many things. But I should have. I did this, I drove you to this.”

It was all Dean's fault. Dean had worn Sam down, worn his spirit down, put out his fire, sucked away his happiness, taken everything that made Sammy himself. Dean had done so selfishly, out of fear, out of disgust, out of anger and jealousy, because of a sense of duty. But Dean knew himself, he was the bad guy here, and Sammy would die for it. All Sammy had ever wanted was Dean's love. Just his love, pure and simple. He wanted to feel needed by the one person he was close to and Dean couldn’t even give him that. Instead he had given him crumbs of love, never allowing him to move on, never even giving him the chance, he had turned him away, hit him and screamed at him, only to draw him in with more crumbs. Dean had tried to end it, praying for his feelings to end. Sammy had even tried to pull away, and Dean had put a stop to that too. It dawns on Dean that they will always be this way if Dean doesn’t give in. They will always pull each other in different directions, they will tear each other apart unless they let what needs to happen…happen.

Unless Sammy dies. Then all Dean has to do is kill himself. All he’d have to do is put a gun to his head like he wanted to do years ago.

 

Sammy convulses sharply in the seat next to him. Dean gasps.

“Sammy? Sammy?” He whispers.

But his baby brother is still.

Dean chokes on a sob, gunning the engine and taking another sharp right, almost going off the road and into a light pole. The next left is the entrance to the emergency room of the hospital. He takes it, pulls to a stop in front of the revolving doors. He gets out of the impala and races around to the other side. He gets Sammy out, holding him in his arms. Sam is unresponsive, completely blue.
Dean rushes into the hospital, skidding into the busy waiting area. He is panting, deep gasps, and the world is foggy at the corners. He wants to pass out. No one notices him and Sammy.

“HELP!” Dean shouts.

Suddenly, nurses are rushing him, pulling at Sammy, taking his pulse. Dean fades by the minute, as if his body is shutting down with Sam’s. Someone brings over a gurney, and they are pulling Sammy from Dean’s arms, ripping him away for what could be the last time.

“I don’t know what he took.” Dean whispers, as they wheel Sam away, a nurse on top of him doing cpr. But Dean does know, he just has nothing to say, and nobody's listening anyway. They’re focused on Sam. “It’s my fault, mine.”

They wheel Sam away toward two doors at the other side of the room. Dean watches them and he takes a step to follow, he wants to hold Sammy, to help him, to save him. But he can’t. Dean can only ruin poor Sammy, and he knows that.

“Hello. Hello. Sir!” A voice says.

Dean flinches and looks to his left. A nurse stands there, clipboard in hand. The whole waiting room watches him, and the nurse notices that. She lays a gentle hand on his arm.

“I need to speak with you. Privately.” The nurse says. She leads Dean away, into a small sterile room with two chairs and a table. “Take a seat.”

Dean does as he is told.

“What’s your relationship to the boy you brought here?” She asks.

Dean’s mouth is dry. “Brother. I’m his brother.”

“And his name?” She asks.

“Sam. Sam…” Dean decides to lie. “Sam Wesson.”

“Is your brother addicted to drugs?” Asks the nurse.

“No.” Dean whispered. “He took those pills cause… he was angry at me.”

“For what?” The nurse asks.

“I wouldn’t give him what he wanted.” Dean whispers.

“And what did Sam want?” The nurse asks.

“He’s gay and I told him he shouldn’t be.” Dean says. “This is my fault. I’m sorry,”

“You may have saved his life. He was nearly dead when he got here.” The nurse says. “He took too many pills, too many. The whole bottle. Do you keep opioids in the house?”

“No. I don’t know where…” Dean trails off. “Will he live?”

“I’m not a doctor. I can’t say. But there is hope. They are working on him right now. We administered Naloxone and are pumping his stomach as we speak.” The nurse promises.

“Good.” Dean whispers. “That’s good.”

“Where is his father, your father?” The nurse asks.

“Out of town.” Dean says.

“You should call him.” The nurse says. “Unless you’re his legal guardian.”

“I am.” Dean lies. “I have been.”

“Okay.” The nurse says, writing on her clipboard. She stands. “Do you want to wait in the waiting room or here?”

“Here.” Dean croaks.

“Try not to worry. There is a chance.” The nurse says and then she’s gone.

Dean decides something right then and there. If Sammy survives this, if he manages to live, Dean will finally give in. He will be with Sammy until the day one of them dies, he won’t stray, god knows he wouldn’t. If Sammy lives, Dean won’t give him merely crumbles of love, but all of it, every bit of him, he will give to Sam.

Slowly, Dean takes out his phone and rings their father.

John answers on the fourth ring. “I’m busy, Dean. What is it?”

“Sammy took a bunch of pills.” Dean whispers. “It’s my fault dad. I wasn’t…I wasn’t taking care of him like you told me. I’m sorry.”

There is silence on the other end, then, “is he dead, Dean. Did you let him die?” John’s voice is dangerous, manic.

“No. He’s in the hospital. They’re…treating him. Trying to save him.” Dean whispers.

“If he dies, it’ll be on you.” John says.

“I know.” Dean chokes, trying not to sob. “But he won’t. He can’t.”

“Where are you? I’ll come there.” John demands.

“St. Francis. A couple minutes from the hotel.” Dean says.

“I’m a few hours out. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” John says. There’s a pause. “He better not die.” Then John hangs up. Dean puts the phone in his pocket and lets out a sob. He curls in on himself, holding his stomach, aching with the greatest pain imaginable. He needed Sammy, wanted him, loved him, Sammy is his air, he is his drug, and he needs him to live so that he can make up for all he has done. So he and Sammy can be together in whatever way Sam wants for however long Sam wants. Dean will give in as long as it means preventing this. Sam shouldn’t die because of Dean. He can’t. They could find a way to be together, there would have to be rules, there would have to be… an understanding. But it could happen.

The door to the room opens a long while later and a doctor comes in.

“Sam Wesson’s brother.” The doctor says.

“Dean.”

“Dean.” The doctor says, taking a seat. “Sam… he took a lot of medicine that he shouldn’t have. It nearly killed him. We had to restart his heart twice and… well… he’s stable now.”

Dean sighs in relief. “Really? Can I see him?”

“He is awake but barely.” The doctor says, standing.

Dean follows him to a long hallway with rooms. Hallway down, the doctor turns into one. Sam is in there, laying in a hospital bed, hooked up to multiple machines, oxygen being pumped into his nose, two different IVs hooked up to his arms, looking frail as ever. His heart beat is slow, but it spikes when Dean walks in. Sammy’s eyes are like two bruises, barely open, not truly seeing anything they look at. Dean’s throat swells shut.

“Can I see him? Privately?” Dean asks.

The doctor nods and leaves. Dean shuts the door after him, then he rushes to Sam’s bed, getting on his knees beside him to stroke his hair. “Oh Sammy, I’m sorry…I’m so sorry.”

“Dean.” Sam whispers, moving his hand to fist the front of Dean’s shirt. “Dean, why am I not dead? It’s…what I wanted.”

“I couldn’t let you.” Dean whispers.

“Just like everything else.” Sam whispers. “You never… let me have anything. Not even death. I was… trying to get away from you.”

The words make Dean flinch. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I did this to you.”

“I’m sorry too, Dean.” Sam whispers. “I’m sorry I… that I tried so hard to make you… do things you didn’t want.”

“This is my fault. All of it. You’re my victim. You must know that.” Dean whispers, pressing his lips to Sammy’s hand, so happy to feel the warmth of life on his lips. Sam tries to pull his hand away.

“Don’t…I don’t want…you.” Sammy whispers. “I know…I know why you’re doing this. Cause I tried to kill myself…I don’t want your pity, Dean. Just death. I’m tired.”

“You don’t have to be.” Dean says. “I can’t… I can’t… lose you. And I almost did because of my stupidity. I want to be with you too, Sammy, and we can…we can. I want to love you, I’m ready. Just give me the chance.”

“No.” Sammy says, shaking his head. “No. No. You…you don’t actually want to, you’re just saying that so I don’t try again…I’m not stupid.”

“Sammy, you know I want you. You know I love you.” Dean whispers.

“I won’t force you to be with me. I’m done.” Sammy says. “You should leave. I’ll wait for John to get here. He can take me home.”

“Sammy. I’m offering you…me. I’m offering whatever you want…seeing you almost die… it made me realize how stupid I am fighting the inevitable. You're right, we should be together.” Dean whispers, pressing his lips to Sammy’s hand again.

“Would we actually be together… I know your problem Dean. You might love me but not enough to… to give up who you are at your… your fucking core…how long before I walk in on you with some… pretty bitch? I said I was done. You’ve hurt me enough.” Sam says.

“I know.” Dean whispers. Fresh tears streaming down his face. “I know, Sammy. I know it’s too late…I messed everything up… but I… I love you. I wouldn’t…wouldn’t be with anyone else. Just you. Trust me, please. Only you.” Dean lets out a sob. “I know… you love me in a good way… because you are good. But I’m not, Sammy. I’m not and my love is fucked up and I can’t help it… but give me this last chance. You won’t… regret it.”

“No.” Sammy whispers, his fingers brushing Dean’s cheeks, smearing the tears. “I… don’t trust you anymore.”

Dean dissolves, his head dropping down to the bed. He knows he deserves this, deserves so much more, but still his heart breaks.

“Sammy…oh Sammy.” Dean whispers. He can feel Sam’s fingers brushing through his hair, soft and light.

“I can’t stop touching you.” Sam whispers, offhandedly. “No matter how much I want to stop.”

“Don’t. Don’t stop.” Dean whispers, raising his head again to catch Sammy’s hand so he could kiss it again. “Never stop. I love you, Sammy, just like you love me. Let me show you. Give me time.”

“I’m afraid of being hurt. Of this being… a trick.” Sammy whispers, brushing his fingers across Dean’s lips.

“It’s not. I’m offering you everything, even my soul. I’ll cut my heart out and give it to you.” Dean promises, kissing each finger.

“I don’t know, Dean.” Sammy says, finally pulling his hand away. “I don’t…I can’t. Just stop… please. My head hurts so much… and… everything hurts. I don’t know… please leave me alone… for now. Don’t leave the room… just go sit… over there.” Sam glances toward a seat in the corner of the room. “So I don’t have to… look at it you… it hurts too much.”

Dean nodded and stood. He reaches for Sammy, brushing his cheek, caressing his lips. Sam’s heartbeat spikes and his lips open a little. That when Dean leans down and kisses Sammy, pressing their lips firmly together in a familiar sort of way. Electricity shoots down Dean’s back, warms his blood, takes him on the greatest high. Sammy sighs, deflating, and gives a little moan. His hand comes up to lace into Dean’s hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss even more. Dean decides he won’t be the one to pull away this time, instead he just moves his lips in harmony with Sammy’s, kissing him like he should be kissed.

Sammy breaks the kiss. “Dean… not fair.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” Dean whispers, looking into Sammy’s eyes.

“I said… I don’t want you… listen to me…once.” Sammy pleads. “Go over there and… leave me alone.”

Dean does as he is told, taking the chair in the corner of the room with a sigh.

 

John comes into the room an hour later, and when he sees Sammy, who has fallen to sleep, he looks distraught. He looks to Dean for answers.

“Well?” John asks.

“The Doctor came and checked him a little bit ago. He’s gonna be fine.” Dean says. “They want him to stay the night just to be sure.”

“Why did he take those pills?” John asks, skeptical.

“Maybe…” Dean’s throat goes dry. He wants to tell the truth. He wants to say: because of me. It’s my fault. But I’m going to fix it.”

“I wanted to get high… dad… and I took too much.” Sammy croaks from the bed. He’s just woken up. “Dean was gone… he saved my life.” Even with all Dean has done, Sammy will still look out for it. Dean knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he feels warmth blossom in his chest anyway.
John grunts. “Stupid thing to do. Your brother shoulda been watchin you.”

“I know. It’s my fault.” Dean says.

“He can leave tomorrow?” John asks, making sure.

“Yes.” Dean says.

John stares at Sammy. “I expect better from my son. Don’t ever do something like this again. Do you understand?”

“I’m sorry, Dad.” Sammy whispers.

“I left a hunt early. People could die.” John says, then he gives Dean a hard look. “Keep watch over your brother. Take him home tomorrow and take care of him. I have to go.”
And as soon as he came, John was gone. Dean crosses the room to Sammy. He reaches out and brushes the boy’s cheeks again.

“Give it up… Dean.” Sammy whispers.

“You lied for me.” Dean says. “You shouldn’t have. I don’t deserve it.”

“You didn’t force me to take all those pills. It was my choice.” Sammy says.

“I drove you to it. You have to admit that.” Dean says, choking back tears again.

“We drive each other to a lot of things.” Sammy says.

Dean nods, knowing that Sammy is right. Then Dean goes back to his chair, to keep watch.

 

The hospital discharges Sammy the next day and Dean drives him back to the hotel. They haven’t spoken since the night before, and Dean doesn’t try to push it as Sammy seems sullen, unhappy, refusing to look at Dean. As Dean drives, he feels for Sammy’s hand, till he finds it and laces their fingers together. Sammy doesn’t pull his hand away, either too tired or too worn. When they are near the hotel, Dean decides to break the silence.

“I’ll get you in bed and order some pizza.” Dean says. “How does that sound? Huh? Baby?”

“Don’t fucking call me that. I want a cigarette.” Sammy says, looking out the window.

“I’ll get you one. I left them at the hotel.” Dean promises, squeezing Sammy’s hand.

“I wish you’d stop touching me.” Sammy whispers. “It hurts… because I know you wouldn’t be if I hadn’t almost died. This is pity, Dean. Fucking pity.”
Dean doesn’t speak, he just holds Sammy’s hand tighter. He has a lot of damage to repair. So much. They pull into the parking lot. Dean helps Sammy inside. They hobble over to the bed and Dean helps Sammy into it, tucking him in all nice and neat. He gives his boy a cigarette and lights it for him.

Sammy takes a deep drag. “Oh that is nice.”
Dean spots a piece of paper on the floor, Sammy’s suicide note. He picks it up and crumples it in his hand, throwing it away, then he perches on the edge of Sammy’s bed. Reaching out, he starts massaging Sammy’s feet through the blanket.

“Fucking stop.” Sammy says, jerking away. “Let me be, asshole.” He takes a puff of his cigarette from the corner of his mouth, somehow managing to look frail and powerful at the same time. “Order some food or something.”

“Pepperoni?” Dean asks.

“Bacon.” Sammy says, looking at anything but Dean.

Dean makes the order and returns to Sammy. “Will you let me sit with you?”

“What I say won’t stop you.” Sammy hisses.

Dean sits beside his little brother, so close their shoulders touch, and lights his own cigarette. “I’ve made a mess of things.”

“Fuck you.” Sammy says.

Dean turns to him, eyes soft. “I know what I’ve done to you. I’m sorry, Sammy. I’ve taken so much. But I’m willing to… to try to make that up. Like I said in the hospital-”

“I don’t want to be with you. Not anymore. I don’t want anyone.” Sammy says.

“You’re lying. I know when you’re lying.” Dean says, leaning over to whisper in Sammy’s ear, his lips brushing delicately against soft skin.

“Whenever you touch me, I see you with someone else.” Sammy whispers back, turning his head to look Dean in the eye. They are so close, their foreheads are only half an inch away from touching. “I can’t.”

“I’ve never been with anyone the way I want to be with you.” Dean whispers. “I want us… I want it to be real. Together… like people are when they’re married. I want that. Not fucking. Not sex. Not…not anyone but you.”

“I don’t know.” Sammy says. “I…can’t.”

“Just let me try. You don’t have to agree… to anything. Just let me show you.” Dean whispers, softly pressing his lips to Sammy’s nose.

“I don’t want to believe you.” Sammy says, but his eyes focus on Dean’s mouth.

“You can kiss me, Sammy, if you want. For as long as you want. However you want.” Dean whispers.

Sammy leans forward, pressing his lips tentatively to Dean’s mouth. Dean lets Sam take the lead. The kiss deepens a fraction, each of them leaning into it. Sammy’s left arm wraps around Dean’s neck, his other one puts out his cigarette on the nightstand. Dean, crushes his own cigarette in his hand, burning himself to put the ember out, and then he throws it down at the foot of the bed. Sammy tips Dean’s mouth open and everything fades away in Dean’s mind. He feels… at peace inside, like the storm that rages in his mind finally turns into a soft sunny day. Sammy moans, his fingers trailing down Dean’s chest, feeling slowly, taking everything in.

Dean pulls away a little and Sammy leans with him, not wanting to part.

“I love you, Sammy. I love you.” Dean whispers.

Sammy bites his lips, pulling away more. He looks away from Dean. “You know how I feel. But Dean, I mean it. Please just stop. There’ll be pain later, I know it. You’ll change your mind.”

“How about you just… give me a chance? You don’t have to agree to anything, Sammy. Just…please.” Dean begs.

Sammy finally looks at him. “I don’t know.”

“I’ll chase you. Even if you say no I’ll chase you.” Dean whispers. “Because you’re worth that. You’re worth everything.”

“Okay.” Sammy whispers. “Chase me if you want to.”

Chapter 21: Chapter 21

Notes:

I’m aware that gay marriage wasn’t legal when Sam and Dean were kids but lets pretend it was for this fanfic, okie?

*Sam: Age 16* (The Next Day)
*Mature*

 

Sam wakes up groggily. He lays curled on his side, his head rests on Dean’s shoulder, one arm is stuck under Dean’s side, the other is fisted and laying on Dean’s chest. Dean’s arm is around him, hand resting on Sam’s hip. This feels odd to Sam, he isn’t used to sleeping in bed with Dean like this, especially since it was Dean’s idea. He hadn’t even asked, in fact. He’d just waited for Sam to start fading away to dream land and then he’d slid under the covers like a ghost. The warmth of Dean gives Sam a shiver and it feels amazing to have him there beside Sam, it makes Sam feel happy to be alive. But there’s also pain, intense pain, from having Dean so close, because Sam knows why. It’s because he tried to kill himself and Dean is scared he’ll try again, so he’ll do anything to make Sam happy, even force himself to go against everything he believes in. It’s pity that drove Dean to this. He wouldn’t have changed his mind about being together, about being as they are now, if Sam hadn’t taken those pills.
Slowly, tentatively, Sam slides his hand down Dean’s chest, toying with the edge of his shirt, he slips his fingers underneath. Dean’s washboard abs are hard, with skin like velvet, and they flex under Sam’s fingers. Trying to keep his breathing even, Sam’s fingers wander further down, to where Dean’s sweats are slung low on his hips. Even slower, he toys with the knot on those pants, and when he gets it undone, he slips a finger into Dean’s pants, feeling the hair down there, hardly an inch away from something extremely forbidden.

“That’s dangerous territory.” Dean whispers, voice sleepy.

Sam gasps, jerking his hand back. “I wasn’t… doing anything.”

“I don’t know, Sammy. That was pretty close to my penis there.” Dean says, with a chuckle that makes his chest vibrate. His hand clutches Sam’s hip, digging in hard.

“I-I…” Sam feels speechless.

Dean moves, pushing Sam back so he can loom over him. It makes Sam nervous to have Dean this close, to have him act this way. Before, their kisses had been forbidden, something Sam craved, he still craves Dean. Of course. But it’s different now. Dean has always been domineering, controlling, intimidating. When Sam was fighting to get the love he wanted from Dean, he’d been able to push those things aside, to ignore the intimidation. Now, there was nothing to fight for, not really. The feeling of being small, of being submissive, so close to Dean, hits Sam like a ton of bricks. It never truly dawned on Sam that he was the submissive one, that Dean would be the one to wear the pants, so to speak.

Sam feels his mouth go dry. “I didn’t mean to. I was… I was asleep.”

Dean leans down toward Sammy. “Of course you were, baby.”

“D-don’t call me that.” Sam whispers. “I don’t want you to.”

“I’m sorry.” Dean whispers back, his gaze smoldering. “But I’m finally able to act how I want with you… and it feels… amazing.”

“It’s an act.” Sam whispers.

Dean gets a little angry. “You know it’s not.” He brushes a finger down Sam’s cheek, slowly, until he hooks a finger under Sam’s chin. “You look handsome, you know that?”

Sam feels sick. This isn’t what he’s used to, not at all, and for some reason it makes him uncomfortable. All he can think about is Dean in bed with a girl, all those girls pulling the same tricks with them, and all those bimbos had bought it. Sam isn’t a bimbo. He won’t fall for it. Dean is just doing this to make himself feel better, that’s all, and the knowledge hurts Sam deeply. As of right now, Sam knows Dean pities him, that Dean feels guilty, and so he’s playing this little act to make Sam happy. But Sam knows better. It tears him apart that he knows… that what he wants in life looms over him… but still not in the way he wants it, not really. Dean isn’t doing this of his own free will, he’s doing it because he’s afraid that if he doesn’t then Sam will take more pills.

“What’s going on in your head?” Dean asks.

“Nothing.” Sam whispers, but his lip wobbles. The fierceness he’d had yesterday was gone and had been replaced with a little whimpering wimp.

“Come on, baby. I’m not stupid. Tell me.” Dean whispers, leaning even closer.

“How many girls have you pulled this act on?” Sam says, tears brimming in his eyes. “How many of your old tricks are you using on me? Huh? Tell me you… you fucking bastard.” Sam’s hands press against Dean’s chest, keeping him away. “Because I know you wouldn’t be… acting… this fucking way if I hadn’t tried to die… if you didn’t feel so guilty. I know it and that hurts me.”

“You are nothing like anyone I’ve had before you.” Dean says. “Do you think I remember one of their names? All of them bleed together, black and white, fading in the back of my mind, fading to nothing once I had them. Even before I had any of them, they didn’t mean anything to me. I have no tricks, not with you, and with them…with anyone before you… it was a fake charm, a devious thing I did to get them into bed. That’s not what I’m doing with you. Sammy, you’re like… a rainbow… something stunning, something in my mind all the time… I remember every touch and every kiss we’ve shared, every argument, all of it because you are real. You are who I love. The wrongness of my love for you doesn’t matter now. I’ve let it go, because you are more fucking important than what society thinks, than what my morals are. And I’m tired of being miserable without you and I hate seeing you miserable without me.”

“You would never have changed your mind… if I hadn’t-” Sam starts but Dean pressed a finger to his lips.

“We have fake IDs. Yours says you're eighteen. Mine says I’m twenty-two. Two years older than we really are. If you don’t fucking believe me when I say that what I feel for you is different, that it’s real fucking love and not some act, then we will go out to the impala, take a fucking drive to Nevada, and elope there. I will fucking marry you, do you understand?” Dean says. “If that’s what it takes. I need you, Sam Winchester. I want to spend my life with you.”

Sam can’t breathe, everything feels so surreal. Dean Winchester, his elder brother, the one Sam has always wanted, has just offered to marry him. Suddenly, Sam wonders if he did die, if those pills did kill him.

“Am I dead, Dean?” Sam asks, softly. The tears spill over, and Sam’s body spasms with sobs. “I died when I took those pills, didn’t I? I went to heaven or something. There’s no way you’d say that, no way you’d offer to do that.” Sam starts shaking his head, his vision foggy. “No way, no way you’d offer… no…”

Dean looks shocked, as if he hadn’t expected this. Quickly, frantically, he cups Sammy’s face with his free hand. “Hey. Hey. Baby. Look at me. You are alive. I am alive. I’m just trying to make you see that… that I want you. I need you. That I’m not acting out of guilt. I’m trying to be with you the way I’ve been keeping myself from being… because you are worth that. Staying apart is needless torture, if we kept it up one of us would end up dying. I see now that it’s healthier to let it happen, because we can’t stop it. If marrying you proves my love, I’ll do it, baby, happily.”

“I don’t…I’m not… no. No! I don’t think… you need to do that.” Sam whispers, unsure how to react to such a serious and extremely illegal offer. True, it makes his stomach tingle with excitement, yes he’s dreamed of marrying Dean his whole life… but all of it is too fast, too much at once.

“You aren’t dead, Sammy.” Dean says. “I’ve done a number on you, I know that. I did it for my own reasons, stupid reasons, but… you have to know it wasn’t by choice. If I could have… being like this with you would have happened a long time ago.” He leans even closer, so close their lips almost touch.

“What if… John comes in and sees?” Sam says.

“Fuck him.” Dean says. “We’re the monsters he created.”

“Dean…” Sam says, trying to find the words. “How could you change so fast… it kinda gives me whiplash.”

“Probably because I imagined this so much… it just feels right.” Dean says, looking into Sammy’s eyes.

What they’re doing doesn’t necessarily feel wrong… but it doesn’t feel exactly right either. All those years hearing Dean preach about their feelings, Sam’s feelings, being wrong have given Sam a sort of complex. But he still finds himself falling into the lovely green of Dean’s eyes, he still feels love under all the heartbreak, under all the anger.

“And you’re really okay with having only me for… the rest of your life.” Sam asks.

“In the afterlife too. Until I cease to exist.” Dean whispers. “I was scared, Sammy. So scared. Of hurting you, of letting you love me, because I knew what the world would think, and I know the kind of man I am. I’m not the best, I’m…” Dean trails off. “I’m me and you know me best and yet you still want me. I can’t pass up that kind of… devotion. Especially when I feel the same.”

“I don’t want to… to get married. Not yet. It seems like a lot of trouble, more so using our fake IDs. We wouldn’t be actually married, we’d be fake married.” Sam says.

“Who says we would treat it like it’s fake? It’d be real if we went by the fake IDs most of the time.” Dean says. “It’s a thought, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Sam says. He’s itching to kiss Dean, but he forces himself not to. What he needs to do is struggle away, to keep his disagreement solid. Dean has hurt him too much, betrayed him too much, and now he’s putting on an act to keep Sam happy. Sam needs to be harsh. He needs to be mean.

“What’s putting a frown on your face?” Dean asks, frowning as he slides his fingers under Sam’s shirt to trace meaningless patterns on his stomach.

“You.” Sam says. “Always you.”

“Tell me.” Dean says.

It’s hard to think with Dean touching him, but Sam tries his best. “It’s too good to be true, Dean. You acting like this… I never fucking expected it and… it’s making me sick.”

Dean doesn’t pull away, but his fingers stop moving. “Because you think it’s an act?”

“I’d almost rather have you hitting me.” Sam says.

“What can I do to change how you feel?” Dean asks, pleading.

“I don’t know.” Sam says. “It’s just how I feel.”

Slowly, Dean presses his mouth to Sams and immediately his mind goes blank. Sam has not a thought in his head, besides the taste and feel of Dean against him, and how he wants to pull Dean even closer, as close as possible. Dean’s hand traces its way up Sam’s stomach, sending sharp electric shivers down Sam’s spine like a thousand tiny darts, making him moan. Dean chuckles against Sam’s mouth and deepens the kiss, slowly moving his lips in tune with Sam’s mouth. Sam finds himself clutching Dean around the shoulders, pulling him down.

“Closer…” Sam whispers as they kiss. “Closer.”

Dean pulls back a bit to wrench his own shirt off, and then he gives Sam a questioning gaze, as if asking, is this okay. Sam, high on Dean’s touch, high on the feeling he gets when Dean’s lips touch his, gives a quick nod and pulls off his own shirt.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Sammy.” Dean whispers, his eyes are foggy, dazed almost, as if entranced. He looks down on Sam with an infinite softness.

“Come back.” Sam whispers. “I want you to touch me.”

Dean does so immediately, putting all of his weight on Sam, nudging his hips between Sam’s thighs, and with light hands Dean guides Sam’s arms back around his neck.

“I love your body, baby.” Dean whispers, kissing down Sam’s neck, softly biting here and there. He runs his hands up and down Sam’s sides, stopping to feel certain things, like scars and the occasional mole. Such exploration of his body makes Sam nervous, like he’s under a microscope.

“Dean.” Sam whispers.

“Yes?” Dean replies, pausing in his exploration.

“Why are you doing that?” Sam asks.

“Doing what?” Dean says.

“My scars. You know I don’t like them.” Sam says.

“But I do.” Dean says.

Sam doesn’t know what to say, so he draws Dean down for another kiss. This one is full of longing because Sam wants more, he needs all of the elder winchester and he needs it now. But his heart is pounding in his chest and he doesn’t know if he’s ready yet. It’s all so new, so unreal. Dean feels so strong though, the muscles in his back flex and ripple under Sam’s fingers, and his skin is soft, mostly, aside from many small scars and a few large ones that stick up from the skin. Sam finds that he loves this, it’s exactly how he wanted it. Dean is perfect.

“Sam?” Dean whispers, breathless.

“W-what?” Sam asks.

“Can I try something?” Dean asks, nervous. Sam has never heard nervousness in his brother’s voice, so it startles him.

“Try what?” Sam asks.

“You’ll see. Just let me try, baby, please. If you don’t like it… push me away.” Dean says with a soft chuckle.

“Fine.” Sam whispers. “Will it…will it hurt?”

“No. I mean, it shouldn’t. Unless I'm bad at it.” Dean says, his smile crooked. Sam’s heart twists, shocked that Dean could be so utterly handsome, that he isn’t on the covers of magazines or walking down catwalks showcasing men’s clothes, shocked that Dean is here, on top of him, every curve of his body pressed firmly against every curve of Sam’s body. Suddenly, though, Dean is on the move. He kisses down Sam’s neck, to his chest, where his lips trace softly, left to right, up and down. Sam gasps, arching against Dean, a moan stuck in his throat, his fingers tangled in Dean’s hair, pulling, causing Dean to moan too. Dean moves down more, to Sam’s stomach, where he kisses and bites, then he begins to suck, and Sam gasps again. Wherever Dean sucks, small bruises appear, hickies, all over Sam’s stomach like a road map. The pleasure from it makes Sam moan, causing him to harden, and he knows Dean can feel it. He wants to feel embarrassed, ashamed, of getting hard for his own brother, but he refuses. Dean makes his way down to Sam’s belly button, making Sam jerk when he sticks his tongue inside. It is now that Sam realizes exactly where Dean is heading, and it makes his stomach twist.

“Dean, oh Dean, you don’t-” Sam starts.

“Hush.” Dean says sharply, as he slips Sam’s pants off, making him bare aside from his boxers.

“You don’t have to do this to prove anything-” Sam says.

“I said hush.” Dean says dangerously as his eyes roam Sam’s body with a hungry gaze. When he gets down to the bulge in Sam’s boxers, he smiles. “I want to, is all, baby. Can’t you let me?”

“Oh…uh.” Why is Sam’s mouth so dry? “Okay…sure.”

Dean pulls off Sam’s underwear, making him completely naked. Desperately, Sam wants to cover himself, to hide from Dean, but he doesn’t, instead he just lays there, eyes closed, bracing himself. Dean’s fingers brush his thighs, then there’s a little chuckle, and… Dean takes the tip of Sam into his warm and wet mouth, sucking on it intensely. Pleasure that Sam has never dreamed of shoots through every vein in his body, causing him to cry out.

Sam moans. “Dean!”

Unable to control himself, Sam tries to scoot up the bed, away from the stimulation, but Dean wraps his arms around Sam’s upper thighs, holding him still in an iron grasp. Then he takes more of Sam in his mouth, going all the way down till he can’t anymore, gagging himself. After that, Dean starts to move his head up and down in a timed rhythm, one he knows well, and somehow he sucks even harder, moving his tongue as he goes. All of this combined makes Sam unravel into uncontrollable moans, near sobs, and he reaches for Dean to tangle into his hair, to shove him down so he chokes again and again.

“Oh god oh god oh god oh god ohh-” Sam cries as the pleasure builds to where he can’t stand it. He thrusts into Dean’s mouth, crying out, emptying himself into Dean’s throat. Sam collapses back, completely exhausted, muscles in his legs jerking from the orgasm.

Dean licks his lips, a lazy look on his face as he crawls back up the bed to lay by Sam. The younger Winchester doesn’t know what to do, he’s never been in a situation like this before, and he doesn’t understand how Dean can be so calm. Sam curls up, facing Dean, watching him get out a cigarette for them to share.

“You, ah, you did that well. Have you ever… done one before?” Sam asks.

“A blow job?” Dean says, smirking. He passes Sam the cigarette, and Sam sits up to take a drag. “No, Sammy. I’ve never given one before, you’re my first. But I’ve received quite a few… and I took some pointers.”

Sam doesn’t show it, but Dean’s words mess with him. How many blow jobs has Dean gotten to be able to do it perfectly the first time? It makes Sam nervous to ever give him one, as Sam has never given one and Sam just got his first one from Dean, so obviously Sam would be terrible and Dean would know that. Oh god, what if Sam used teeth on his first blow job to Dean? Then Dean would realize how innocent Sam really is and that he didn’t compare anything to all the girls who had come before. Sam takes a deep drag of the cigarette, pushing away a panic attack.

“I need to take a walk.” Sam says, scrambling from the bed, placing the cigarette between his lips so he can rip his pants back on.

Dean looks confused, hurt even. “What? Why? Talk to me-”

“I’m done talking to you.” Sam barks. “Just stay here, alright. I need some time to myself… and don’t fucking worry I’m not gonna walk in front of a semi. If you love me, you'll stay right there till I come back.”

“Was it the blow job? Was I too fast? Did I do something wrong?” Dean pleads.

“No! Fuck, Dean! That’s your problem! You don’t listen to me.” Sam hisses. “I need some time alone. Is that hard to fucking get?”

Dean nods, looking crushed. “Right. Right. Sammy, I’ll be right here.”

Sam heads toward the door, but Dean’s voice stops him.

“You’ll be back, right? You won’t run away?” Dean asks, miserably, from the bed.

“No. I won’t run. I’ll be back.” Sam says.

Then he walks out the door.

 

Once Sam is outside, he doesn’t go far. Leaning against the impala, he puffs away on the cigarette, contemplating everything. Sam knows he has a choice to make. Does he turn down what he’s always wanted just because Dean’s a whore… or at least… he was. Does he push away the only thing he’s ever loved over a hundred or two girls he doesn’t know? Will he continue to allow Dean’s choices to mess with him like this? So what if Dean messed around even though he was supposedly so in love with Sam. What had been Dean’s excuse? Oh yeah, he hooked up with all those girls to keep his lust for Sam at bay. As if Sam looked like some woman? It had to be bullshit, right? Does that mean Sam will need to look over his shoulder for the rest of his life, making sure Dean doesn’t stray off like some horny mutt to hook up with some bartender with fake tits? Will Dean cheat just because he can? Because he knows Sam has let it go for years? Does Sam trust Dean? With his life? Yes. With his love? No. But Sam wants to, he desperately wants to say yes to Dean, to be everything Dean had promised. Also, Sam doesn’t want to worry, constantly, over Dean fidelity. It’s not that Sam doesn’t believe Dean when he says that he loves him with his whole being, with his soul, but there’s a part of both of them that’s toxic, so just because Dean loves Sam… that doesn’t mean he won’t get a wild hair in his ass and go off drinking and find himself in bed with a woman. John had done it to Mary a couple times, Dean had told Sam about the fights. Would Dean be any different? Sam knows one thing, he can’t not try. If Dean fucks up, Sam will run away and never come back, that’s all he can do.

Finally at a decision, Sam squares his shoulders, throws the butt of the cigarette down, and heads back into the hotel room. Dean is where Sam left him, laying on the bed, looking a mix shocked and hurt.

Sam comes to the end of the bed, staring Dean down.

“You okay? Sammy? Cause you look like you want to kill me.” Dean says, voice soft.

“I’ll do it. I’ll be with you, cause I fucking love you… but if you… if I ever catch you doing anything with anyone else… you won’t fucking see me again. Do you understand, Dean Winchester? I’m it for you and you’re it for me or else I’m gone.” Sam threatens.

“I want you to be it for me. That's all I want.” Dean agrees. “You’ll never see me with anyone but you, don’t be stupid, Sammy.”

“Can you do that? Is it possible for you?” Sam asks.

“I deserve that.” Dean says, jaw set. “But of course it is. You’re different, you should know that by now. The rest of my life, you’ll be the only one I know, the only one I fuck or love or need will be you and I’ll finally be satiated.”

“Alright. Then it’s done.” Sam says. He feels deflated. He’s been fighting for Dean so long, it feels weird to have him. Now Sam doesn’t know what to do. So he stands there, awkwardly.

Dean reaches for him. “Come back to bed, baby. Let me hold you. Come on…I said come on.”

Sam crawls to Dean. Their lips meet again, and for the first time everything feels just fine between them, better than ever.

Chapter 22

Notes:

PLEASE READ SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT. I have been waiting to make this announcement for 21 chapters!!!!!!!!!! SO PLEASE READ IT. I do NOT want you to miss your chance. Here really soon (several more chapters) we will be getting into Supernatural the series. Currently, we are preseries, and I’ve kinda been doing my own thing. But once we get into the series I’m going to be following each season ROUGHLY. Most things in the series will either be mentioned or written in this fanfiction. I’ll definitely have to refresh myself on Supernatural. But a few things will change from the actual series and this fanfic, Sam and Dean will never sleep with anyone else and Cass and Dean will be besties not romantic- that is what I know for sure. Now, here is the thing, I can’t fit everything into this fanfiction, but don’t worry, I have plans. THIS IS WHERE YOU COME IN: I know there are certain episodes I want to see turned into fanfiction, but is there any you want to see made into fanfiction? If there is a specific episode you want turned into fanfiction you MUST request it in the comments, season first and then episode. If there is a certain theme from supernatural that you want to read in this fanfiction, example: demon dean, demon blood sam, soulless sam, etc… then please put your request in the comments. I plan on doing most things in the series, as I said, but maybe y’all like something from the series I haven’t thought about or have forgotten. ALSO if there are any characters from the series you want to see in this fanfic please request them in the comments, supernatural has a lot of characters and I won’t remember them all. NOW just because you request something… it doesn’t guarantee that I’ll choose it and write it. Like I said, there’s no way I can fit the entirety of supernatural into this fanfic, but I'll try my best to be attentive with what you guys might want while also doing my thing. THIS IS NOT the only time you will see this announcement, I plan to put it on every chapter until we get out of the preseries and into the series, so if you need time to think about it then you do have time. Thank you all for reading and I’m very excited for what’s next.

oh and this chapter is 5,987 words long! Yay!

*Sam: Age 16* (A month later)

 

 

Sam wakes up to the sharp glare of light shining through the blinds of the hotel room windows. He groans and sits up in bed, finding that he is alone. After nearly thirty-four days (yes, Sam was counting) of truly being with Dean, Sam still doesn’t know what to do about it or how to feel or how to act. Surprisingly, being together comes more naturally to Dean than it does with Sam. Most usually, Sam wakes up with Dean wrapped around him as if they are one person, to soft kisses on his face, and whispered words in his ear. But this morning is different because John is home. He sleeps in the other bed, snoring lightly, deeply asleep, with two black eyes from a hunt. Dean has made himself a pallet on the floor, and cradles a pillow in his arms as if it is Sam. They can’t act like lovers, not with John there, he would lose his shit and they both know it. Best to keep what they have a secret from him for now, maybe forever, Sam doesn’t know. The subject of telling John hadn’t come up between them and Sam has a feeling both of them are going to ignore it for as long as they can.

Sam gets out of bed and stretches. He creeps over to Dean, pausing to watch him sleep. Dean looks so peaceful when he sleeps, there are no lines on his face, no sarcastic smile or smirk.

Sam crouches over Dean, an evil grin on his face. He pokes Dean’s cheek hard.

“Hey, asshole, wake up.” Sam whispers.

Dean’s eyes open and then shut against the light. “Sammy.”

“I’m hungry.” Sam whispers. “Let's go get breakfast.”

Dean groans. “You drive, then. Bring me back some pie.”

“Pie? For breakfast?” Sam whispers. He pokes Dean again. “Wake up, sleepy. Come on. I said I’m hungry.”

Dean groans again.

Needing to pee, Sam crosses the room, closing the bathroom door behind him. He stands before the toilet, pulls his stuff out, and waits. No pee comes, instead only the feeling of anticipation, like a sneeze about to happen.

Sam yawns and thinks about waterfalls and lakes and rivers, and the ocean. He sighs when the pee comes. Once he’s done with that, he washes his hands, inspecting himself in the mirror as he does. A pair of sweats, one of Dean’s tee shirts. Hair a mess. Eyes blurry. Sam washes his face with cold water and brushes his teeth.

The bathroom door opens and Dean slides in. He doesn’t say anything to Sam, why would he when they can feel each other, a heat between them that crackles with electricity.

Dean takes a pee, lighting a cigarette with his free hand. Sam reaches for it and Dean gives it over. When he’s done, he comes behind Sam, pressing his front to Sam’s back, so that he can wash his hands. Sam freezes. He can no longer breathe, not with Dean being so close and acting like it’s not a big deal. They meet eyes in the mirror. Sam with his smoldering cigarette, eyes wide, and Dean with his smirk.

Sam watches Dean’s head tilt, and his lips brush Sam’s neck, causing a shiver to race down Sam’s spine.

“Did you sleep well?” Dean asks, voice rough from sleep, husky from arousal.

“Did you?” Sam asks, a whimpering whisper.

“No.” Dean says, pressing his lips to Sam’s bare shoulder.

“Do you really want pie for breakfast?” Sam asks, trying to distract himself from the tingles shooting down his spine.

Dean chuckles, his hands digging into Sam’s hips. “I want you for breakfast.”

Sam doesn’t know what to say. “Dean… how is this so easy for you? Really? Touching like this disgusted you before… and now… it’s a little hard to wrap my head around… this… you know.”

“I’m moving too fast for you?” Dean asks, his lips brushing Sam’s ear.

“No… but… are you trying to compensate?” Sam asks, timid.

“I’m not trying anything. I just… need you. You know how a husband needs his wife right? Well I’m the husband, Sammy, and you’re my pretty wife. Do you get it?” Dean asks, smiling as he tightens his hold on Sam, who hardly likes the thought of being the wife in this relationship.

“Uh. No.” Sam says. He can hardly breathe.

“Don’t think about it so much. You’re stressing yourself out.” Dean whispers, pressing his lips to Sam’s jaw.

“No. I think I have good reasons to have insecurities. I mean, this right here, what you’re doing, two months ago you would have rather fuck ten chicks and beat the shit out of me before you did this… held me like this. You wouldn’t have allowed it.” Sam whispers back, hating the truth in his words.

“But I’ve thought about doing this very thing.” Dean says, pain in his eyes. “My own moral laws held me back, what I thought was right and wrong, what I felt I had to do to keep… to keep from doing something so dirty. But it’s not worth it. Fuck morals. Fuck right and wrong. We don’t lead normal lives, Sammy, we never will. So, why not? I’d rather be dirty than miserable.”

“So what you’re saying is…” Sam whispers, turning to face Dean. “You’ve given in, like a little bitch.”

“Your little bitch.” Dean replies, pressing their lips together.

It’s a long kiss, one that leaves Sam wanting so much more. Dean deepens the kiss, pressing himself against Sam, his hands roaming down Sam’s back. The younger Winchester knows what he wants, but he’s not ready to get it, still too shy, still too shocked, and still a little stung by the past. Some things you want in life turn out to be better than you ever expected while also being too much to comprehend, and that is how Sam feels about his relationship with Dean. He felt as if the whole thing was fragile, that if he held onto it too tightly, or got too close to it, the whole thing would fall apart.

Sam pulls away a couple inches, refusing to look Dean in the eyes. “Uh… John could wake up. We don’t want him to hear.”

“What’s on your mind, baby.” Dean whispers, cupping Sam’s cheeks.

“That I don’t want you to call me Baby.” Sam replies, a small smile.

“Alright. Sammy. What’s on your mind? I can see trouble in them. Can’t hide from me, you know.” Dean says.

“What happened to no chick flick moments?” Sam asks. Tentatively, he runs his hands up Dean’s chest, looping them around his neck.

“We’re past that. Far past it, actually.” Dean says.

“It’s just… now that I have you… I really don’t know what to do with you.” Sam whispers, truthful. “Being with you… I never thought I’d get it. Sure, I fought for it, but only because I had to or else I would’ve lost myself, only because I knew you felt the same way. Now that there’s nothing left to fight for… I feel displaced. I don’t know, Dean.”

“Then we can find out. We have the rest of our lives and then after.” Dean says.

Sam feels woozy. He knew he’d be in love with Dean for the rest of his life, he knew he’d be true to Dean for the rest of his life, but he never expected Dean to want the same. He never expected the both of them to actually be together till the end of time. A constricting feeling clogs Sam’s chest, making him want to double over.

Sam leans up, kissing Dean on the jaw, then he backs away, not looking at Dean. “I need… I need air. I’ll let you… do your thing.”

“You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?” Dean asks, voice barely a whisper. “You loved me so much and needed me so much but you never stopped to wonder how you’d react once you had me.”

“It never crossed my mind. I never thought I’d get this far.” Sam whispers.

“It was your safety net. You loved someone you could never have, and who you didn’t think would ever love you the same. You’re protecting yourself from getting hurt, Sammy.” Dean whispers, reaching out to brush Sam’s hair from his forehead. “I understand.”

“I love you Dean, but I’ll need time to adjust.” Sam responds, catching Dean’s hand with his own, lacing their fingers together. “Can you give me that?”

“Sammy, time is my middle name.” Dean says, kissing Sam’s hand.” How does that sound?”

“Perfect.” Sam whispers.

 

***

Sam leaves the bathroom, his stomach turning. Why was he haunted by his feelings? And why did they have to hold him back from Dean? He doesn’t know and he hates it. He goes over to the nightstand to get a cigarette, but he finds the pack gone. It makes him pause for a moment before he looks over at John’s bed to find it empty. John went outside to smoke. This startles Sam. Could John have heard them in the bathroom? Surely not? If he had he would’ve broken down the door. But, still, Sam has to check.
When he goes outside he finds John leaning against the impala, smoking and drinking a beer. Sam leans next to him, staring across the parking lot.

“Hey, Dad.” Sam says.

“I’m sending you two on a hunt. Without me.” John says. “About time you boys started getting your own cases.”

“Right.” Sam says.

“I found something you two should be able to handle.” John says. “Vampires. Not too strenuous, maybe one or two tops. It’s in Illinois. Chicago. I’ll fill you both in later.”

“Do you really think we’re ready for vampires?” Sam asks, timid.

“We’ll find out won’t we?” John replies gruffly.

“I just don’t-” Sam starts.

“No arguments. Shut your mouth and learn to listen.” John hisses. “Now go back inside. I need some peace.”

“Right. Right, Dad.” Sam says and he does as he is told.

Dean waits for him inside, dressed in jeans and a flannel open over a black tank top. He sits on the bed, sipping a bear.

“What’d the old man say?” Dean asks, a little tense.

“He has a hunt for us. Vampires. Says we’re ready.” Sam says, sitting beside Dean, an appropriate, brotherly, amount of space between their shoulders.

“Huh. Where?” Dean asks.

“Chicago, Illinois.” Sam says.

“We’d be alone then? Together? In another state?” Dean asks, a smirk creeping onto his face.

“Yeah, sure.” Sam says. Though the prospect of that excites him, the thought of vampires makes his skin crawl. “Vampires, Dean. Not the sparkling ones either.”

“Nothing we can’t handle.” Dean shrugs.

“Unless they drain us dry.” Sam says, frowning.

“Unlikely.” Dean mumbles.

“Don’t let the thought of me and you alone cloud your judgment. Vampires are-” Sam starts, lifting his hand to touch Dean’s shoulder. That’s when the door opens and John comes in, a fresh cigarette between his lips. At the sight of him, Sam’s voice dies and his hand drops back into his lap.

John pauses, studying the both of them. Sam forces himself not to twitch nervously.

“Did you update your brother for me, Sam?” John asks, finally.

“Yes. I-I did.” Sam says.

“Huh. Dean, do you think you’re ready?” John asks.

“I sure do.” Dean says. “It’ll be as easy as slicing pie.”

“That’s the right answer. Say that next time, Sam, instead of having doubts.” John says.

Dean sighs through his nose at what John had said, as if it irritated him more than it did Sam.

John takes a seat on the bed opposite them, opening the drawer of his nightstand and producing his journal from it. He flips through the worn pages, scribbled in ink and stained from use. Finding the right pages, he clears his throat and stares the two of them down.

“Most vampire lore is crap. A cross won’t repel them. Sunlight won’t kill them and neither will a stake to the heart. But the blood lust- that part’s true. They need fresh human blood to survive. They were once people, so you won’t know it’s a vampire until it’s too late.” John says. “Now, they’ve been hunted to near extinction, but they reproduce by transfusion, so you never really know how many there could be, if I’m honest. Your best bet is dead man’s blood, I already got you boys some, in the trunk, needles of it. Now, as I said, sunlight doesn't kill’em, but it’ll give them one bad sunburn. You’ll need a scent blocking mixture- saffron, skunk cabbage, and trillium, already got some ashes of it for you in jars right with the dead man’s blood. This is important, you must decapitate the vampire to kill it, you understand?”

“I’ve studied your journal. We both have.” Dean says.

“Studying for something is different than doing it, Dean.” John says.

Yeah, that was what worried Sam.

 

***

The boys head out three hours later, setting out in the impala with their bags in the back, headed toward a shit hotel in Chicago, located a few blocks away from the abandoned warehouse the vampires were rumored to be staying.

Sam looks out the open window, a cigarette in his fingers, looking out at the other cars speeding beside them on the highway. He doesn’t want to admit that he’s avoiding Dean.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you? For the hunt?” Dean asks, turning down the song blasting from the radio. Eye of the tiger.

“Sort of.” Sam says. “Aren’t you?”

“No.” Dean says. “You shouldn’t be either. We can do this, Sammy. You know we can.”

Sam reaches out, placing a light hand on Dean’s thigh. Dean stops breathing for a minute, keeping his eyes glued to the road.

“How long can we go before he finds out?” Sam asks. “Another month? Another year.”

“John won’t find out.” Dean says, a serious note in his voice.

“I know he’s gone most of the time, but he always comes home when we least expect it. How long before he catches us kissing or sleeping together or over hears us talking about things normal brothers would never speak of? He will find out, someday, no matter how careful we are. No matter how good we are at hiding. This secret we have-” Sam starts.

“I don’t want to have this conversation right now.” Dean says in the harshest voice he’s used on Sam since they got together.

“But we need to.” Sam stresses. “I don’t want him to find out just as much as you don’t but-”

“He won’t find out. Someday we’re gonna leave him, Sammy. He won’t know. He can’t. If he did you know how he’d react. He would kill me and probably you too. It’s not something we can be open about to him or anyone we know, you know that.” Dean says.

“I know that. I’m not stupid. I know we have to hide. I’m okay with that. But we have to make sure to be careful. Like you said, if he were to find out… it would be… immeasurably horrible.” Sam says, squeezing Dean’s thigh.

“We won’t have to hide forever. We will leave him, someday, when the time is right. When we are ready. Him finding out isn’t an option so don’t even worry about it, Sammy, it’ll give you wrinkles. And we can be careful. We have been so far. John’s too lost to notice anyway. He wants his revenge against yellow eyes.” Dean says, taking a hand off the wheel to remove Sam’s hand from his thigh so he can kiss it. “Try to relax, will you?”

“Alright. Alright. I’ll try. For you.” Sam says.

 

***

 

The hotel room is dirty and dingy, but it has two beds, a nicotine stained refrigerator, a table and two mismatched chairs, a ting bathroom, and a bible on the nightstand. The boys take their stuff in and throw it on the floor, falling back into bed.

“What do you say we go check out the vamps in the morning?” Dean asks, rising up to loom over Sam, a mischievousness in his eyes.

“Sounds fine to me. I’m in no rush.” Sam says, leaning up to meet Dean.

The two of them kiss, their lips moving in sync. Dean’s mouth is warm, soft and rough at the same time and Sam just wants to fall into him so far that they become one. One of his hands holds Sam by the back of the head, cradling him, the other is on the bed for support. Sam slowly traces his fingers up Dean’s back, under his shirt, causing the older boy to shiver. Soon Dean’s shirt comes off and then Sam’s, and they are flesh to flesh. Dean pressed down on Sam, crushing him to the bed. They moan together, breathing heavily, mumbling each other’s name, taking their time, enjoying the other with intense pleasure. Sam bites Dean’s lip, drawing a little blood, and Dean takes this personally. He kisses Sam hard, his teeth clashing with Sam’s, and he shoves his hand down Sam’s pants, cupping him. This causes the younger Winchester to gasp, bucking his hips a little.

“We should do it. We should do it.” Sam whispers to Dean. “You should take me. I want you to.”

“No.” Dean whispers back. “Not yet. Too soon. Kiss me.”

So Sam kisses him, hard and fast, before pulling away again. “How long? How soon? I’m tired of waiting! Dean! I fucking want you.”

Dean chuckles. “I fucking want you too, so bad I just wanna scream and fuck you into this bed till I have a stroke and die. But… we have to wait. I don’t deserve that part of you yet.”

Sam frowns, irritated. “What do you mean you don’t deserve that yet? What the hell?”

Dean sighs. “Down, tiger, I’m just saying we have time, plenty of time, for that. Why rush it?”

“You’ve had that, you know what sex is like, Dean. I don’t.” Sam says.

“But you will, someday. In time.” Dean whispers, kissing Sam’s forehead.

“You still drive me crazy.” Sam whispers. “Why did I think that would stop once I truly had you?”

“You drive me crazy, continuously.” Dean says, kissing Sam’s cheek.

“Who knew you were so romantic?” Sam mumbles, kissing down Dean’s neck, earning a moan.

“Who knew you like to act like a little slut?” Dean asks, chuckling.

Sam smirks. “My older brother taught me.”

“Oh did he, now? You little bastard.” Dean says, amused. He kisses Sam on the lips, a quick brush. “I could get used to this. Do this, right here, forever.”

“Me too.” Sam whispers. “Forever.”

 

***

 

They wake up early the next morning and share a shitty pot of coffee, preparing themselves in silence. One after the other, the boys both take showers, dressing in clean clothes, then they cover themselves in the scent blocking mixture. They divide the dead man’s blood evenly, tucking it away in their pockets. The boys glance at each other and then back down at the trunk of the impala. Dean chooses a long, wickedly sharp blade, and Sam chooses a shorter blade that is just as sharp.

“No guns. It’s daylight so they’re all asleep, more than likely. We’ll sneak in and quietly rid the world of them, easily. The sound of gun fire would wake them up and that’d be a problem.” Dean says.

“We’ll stay together. Fight back to back if things get rough.” Sam says.

“Keep your head, Sammy, even if shit goes south.” Dean says.

“I’ll keep mine if you keep yours.” Sam says.

“You got yourself a deal.” Dean says with a crooked smile Sam’s way.

 

***

 

They park the impala down the street from the warehouse and walk the rest of the way. Most of the buildings around them are abandoned, let go and aged with time. It casts an eerie feeling to the already nerve wracking hunt. Sam stays close to Dean, wishing now more than ever that he could crawl into his brother’s skin and hide away from the rest of the world.

The two of them pause in front of the warehouse, keeping to the alleyway. It is a tall building, four floors with wide windows that have been painted over black with more than a few glass panes missing and massive, shaped like a lopsided rectangle.

“What’d you think?” Sam asks.

“Enter through that broken window right there.” Dean says, nodding to a window on the first floor that’s half missing.

“Alright. You first.” Sam says, smirking.

“Oh really? How kind of you, Sammy. Such love you have for me.” Dean says, returning the smirk.

They leave the alley and scurry over to the window, keeping vigilant for any movement, for any sound, anything out of the ordinary. As Dean scrambles through the window, Sam keeps look out.

“Okay, baby, I’m in.” Dean whispers. “Kinda dirty but no blood-suckers so far.”

Sam hikes a leg over and slides inside. The room is cramped and dirty, covered in trash, dirty clothes, and decaying animals- rats, cats, dogs. A smell assaulted Sam’s nose, one that makes him choke to keep from gagging.

“God, that’s pungent.” Sam whispers.

“Really gets the eyes watering.” Dean mumbles. “Come on.”

They creep along, keeping to the wall. Out in the hall, the trash pile continues, and the smell gets worse. Without making a sound, they take the hall to the left and the next corridor is full of rooms with the doors torn off. Both Sam and Dean take this as a good sign.
Dean pauses at the first room to take a look. Inside, the blackened window is covered with pinned up blankets, blocking any trace of light. There is a bed in the center of the room with a trash pile on it, and sticking out of that pile is a pair of boots.

“You think?” Dean whispers.

“Probably.” Sam whispers back.

They creep into the room, Dean goes around one side of the bed, Sam takes the other. For a moment, they stand still, eyeing each other, communicating with eyes only, before Dean, quick as a snake, sweeps the trash away and jumps back as a man rises from it. He grows, his lips peeling back from his many fangs, and he hisses loudly, and the sound echoes.

Sam swings his knife and cuts the man’s head clean off. It bounces from the bed and onto the floor with a wet thwack.

“Do you think any friendlies heard that?” Dean whispers.

Sam opens his mouth to answer but a high pitched shriek interrupts him. Both boys look to the corner of the room and they see a woman. She’d been sleeping in the trash pile, out of sight, and, boy, is she upset.

“Oh fuck me.” Dean mumbles.

“They definitely heard that, lover boy.” Sam groans as Dean charges at the vampire lady. The woman is prepared for him and she kicks him in the chest, sending Dean flying against the opposite wall.

“You’re supposed to kill her.” Sam says, charging at the vampire next.

“Stop bitching and shut her up!” Dean yells, breathless, from his place on the floor.

The woman jumps at Sam and he backs away from her, swinging his knife, slicing her stomach. She reaches for his face, as if wanting to rip it off, or to slide her fangs into his neck. Sam swings his knife again, slicing her hand off.

She shrieks again, but it gets cut short. Dean had crept up behind her and, with one swipe, he cut her head off.

“Ugh.” Dean says. “I got vampire blood on my face.” He uses his sleeve to dab at the corner of his eye, getting most of the droplets.

“You know every vampire up in this place heard that, right?” Sam says, not bothering to whisper anymore.

“Well, Sammy, baby, my love, you’re supposed to cut their heads off… not their hands.” Dean says, reaching out to try and wipe some blood on Sam. He pulls away, giving Dean a mean look.

“And you should’ve cut her head off in the first place, mister hunter man, big tough guy.” Sam says, smirking.

“Why do I fucking love you?” Dean wonders, smirking back. “I don’t know. Let’s go.”

Sam follows Dean down the long hallway, and everything is silent, which isn’t good at all. At the hallway’s end is another door and they open it. Inside is a gargantuan storage area, full of old boxes, mountains of clothes and trash, old tvs, and furniture.

“You know what these assholes need?” Dean says. “A fucking maid.”

“Like you can say anything, you’re just as messy.” Sam replies, studying every pile of trash they pass, straining his neck to see the tops of them.

“Well, if I had forever, I sure as shit would learn to clean up after myself at some point.” Dean says.

“Highly, highly, doubt it.” Sam says. “Took you twenty years to get your dirty underwear from the floor to your bag, so you tell me.”

“Shut your mouth before I put my dick in it.” Dean says, chuckling.

“I mean, I’d do you right here, but we’re kinda busy.” Sam says.

“Come on, baby, live on the wild side. Let’s show these freaks something freaky.” Dean says, grabbing his junk with his free hand.

Sam laughs, forgetting about the vampires for just a moment.

“Do the two of you ever stop talking?” A voice echos, seeming to bounce through the room, not from a single place.

“Their blood smells the same and yet…” Another voice echos.

“I haven’t seen such degeneracy in ages…” A third voice whispers.

“Like I give a fuck about y’all’s judgement.” Dean replies. “If you can suck blood like it’s a fucking milkshake then I can fuck my brother. Now, come on out, all orderly and shit, so we can cut your heads off.”

The only reply is laughter, then silence.

“I think they’re afraid.” Sam says. “Too many of their kind have been…uhh… decapitated by our kind.”

“Why is it, do you think, that the two of you have such lust…” a voice echoes, a growling tinge to it. “Were you born with it? Did it infect you?”

“Something like that. Daddy didn’t hug us enough so we started hugging each other.” Dean replies.

Sam giggles.

“We will give you a chance… to leave with your lives. A love so grotesque should be given a chance… I live for such chaos.” The voice says.

“No thanks. We’d rather stay. Kinda like what you’ve done with the place.” Sam says.

And then they are surrounded by no less than seven vampires, three men, four women, on all sides. Immediately, the boys go back to back, weapons ready.

“How lovely the two of you are. It’s a pity.” One of the men says, his voice matches the one that had been echoing around them.

“Well, sorry to tell ya… you guys are fugly.” Dean says.

“Most of all you.” He says, eyeing Dean, his many fangs wet with saliva. “I could kill your bitch… give you immortal life.”

“Asshole.” Sam says.

Dean strikes, slashing at the man, cutting the front of his shirt and into his chest. That pisses all seven vampires off and they attack all at once. Sam, without a thought, slashes at the vampire to his right, cleanly cutting off the head. Dean takes on four at once, one grabs him by the arm, ripping him sideways, while another plows into him, taking him off his feet. Two others circle around him as Dean struggles against the vampires that hold him down, their fangs dangerously close to his face.
Sam would love to go to Dean and save him, but he has more pressing matters at hand, like the three vampires that prowl around him, smiling with sharp teeth and hungry eyes.

“I thought John said there’d be only a few.” Sam mumbles to himself, jumping away from the outstretched hand of the vampire in front of him, with one strike he cuts the monster’s hand off at the wrist. Then, something hard hits him from his left, knocking him down hard.

The male vampire that had taunted them was on Sam, his fangs inches from his face, dripping. A horrible stench comes from the vampire’s mouth, curdled blood, and spit drips onto Sam’s cheek.

“A hunter’s blood, the finest wine.” The vampire says. That is when Sam stabs him in the chest and pushes him back enough for Sam to jump to his feet, slicing the asshole’s head off as he does. Before he can check on Dean, the other two vampires encircle him, looking murderous. They lash out at the same time, one punches Sam in the face. The force of it knocks him back four feet and nearly makes him black out. He tries to shake the stars from his eyes, but the vampire punches him again with even more force, and that does make the world go black for a second. Sam knows that this will definitely leave a mark for a few weeks. He waves his knife blindly and it hits something meaty.

He’s stabbed one of the female vampires in the stomach. This pisses her off and she grabs Sam by the neck and digs her fingers in, as if trying to rip his throat out with her hands. She tries to pull him to her, her open mouth leaning toward his head. Sam yanks the knife with all his might and it slides out of her middle, earning a hiss and then he swings it, cutting her head from her shoulders. Sam turns, slicing his knife as he goes, and cuts the head off a third vampire. Immediately, his gaze finds Dean, who is pinned down by a female vampire, one of his hands is around her throat, keeping her fangs away from his throat, while his free hand reaches for the knife laying a few inches away from his fingers.

Sam crosses the space between them in three strides and he cuts her head off. It falls to the ground and rolls, and her blood splatters all over Dean’s face. Sputtering, Dean throws her body off him, giving Sam a dark look as he wipes his face off with his sleeve.

“I feel like you did this on purpose.” Dean says, scrubbing at the blood on his cheeks.

“I just saved your life, jerk.” Sam says, offering a hand to help Dean up. His elder brother takes it and Sam hoists him to his feet.

“You can really kick ass.” Dean admits, leaning forward to kiss Sam.

Sam turns his head. “Not with all that vampire residue on you.”

“Oh come on, Sammy.” Dean teases, pressing a forced kiss on Sam’s cheek. “Let’s go back to the hotel. We got the room for two more days, might as well enjoy it.”

As they walk to the impala, Sam says, “didn’t John say there would only be a couple?”

“A couple what?” Dean asks.

“Vampires. There were more than a couple. We could’ve died.” Sam says.

“We’re hunters, Sammy. Our job has a high mortality rate.” Dean says.

“But John had to know there was more than we could handle.” Sam says.

“Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he wanted to test us. See how good we are.” Dean says.

“That’s fucked up.” Sam mumbles.

“John takes gambles. He wants us to be good hunters.” Dean says.

“Do you really want to hunt forever? What about settling down? Buying a house. Getting a dog. Having a garden.” Sam says. “What about those things?”

“We weren’t made for those things.” Dean says as they get into the impala.

“How do you know? We could be.” Sam replies.

“Do you want a garden? A house? A dog?” Dean asks, putting the keys into the ignition and starting the engine.

“I just want you.” Sam says, reaching out and taking Dean’s hand.

Dean smiles at him and they drive off.

 

***

 

Later that night, back at the hotel, after both of them have taken showers, split a pizza and had four beers each, Sam and Dean sit on the floor of the hotel room, thumb wrestling.

So far, Sam hasn’t won once. But Dean doesn’t fight fair.

“Stop cheating you asshole.” Sam whines, jerking his hand away from Dean, but there’s a smile on his face. “Your ego won’t let you lose.”

“The more I win the more you want to win and the longer we play.” Dean says, pinning Sam’s thumb down for the hundredth time.

“What did you think when that vampire was… saying all that shit? About us?” Sam asks.

“That I don’t care what a blood sucker thinks of me. The only opinion that matters to me anymore is yours anyway. If I’m making you happy… then everything’s fine.” Dean says.

“You’re right about John. He won’t find out as long as we’re careful.” Sam says. “I shouldn’t worry about it.”

“John is… he doesn’t need to know. And it doesn’t matter anyway. He was never around and he raised us to be hunters, to hunt without him, so he’ll want us to go our own way eventually.” Dean says, shrugging.

“We were a good team today. We didn’t die. I say that’s a win.” Sam says, standing.

“Always a win.” Dean says, smirking. He stands too, wrapping his arms around Sam’s waist and pulling him close. “So what now?”

“Kiss me.” Sam says.

Dean kisses Sam on the corner of his mouth. “I saw a gas station down the block. Wanna walk down there? Get us some pie. I’ll get some beers out while you’re gone and… maybe we take another shower? Together? I’ll wash you squeaky clean.”

Sam grins. “Alright. I like that.” He gets on his tippy toes to kiss Dean on the mouth, just a quick peck. “I’ll do that. Don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t.” Dean says.

Sam puts his shoes on and pauses before he opens the door.

“Cherry?” He asks.

Dean chuckles. “Always. I love you, Sammy.”

“I love you too, handsome.” Sam says, and he leaves.

 

***

 

The walk to the gas station is uneventful. The door jingles as Sam walks inside. No one else is inside, aside from the elderly man running the register. Sam takes his time inspecting the meager pie selection. Apple and pumpkin. No cherry in sight.

Sam sighs, thinking of the shower that waits for him back at the hotel, and of Dean. They have never been fully naked together yet, and the thought of the elder Winchester naked really excites Sam. He grabs a slice of each and takes it to the counter. The old man rings it up and Sam pays.

When he comes upon the hotel room, the first thing he notices is that the front door has been kicked in. This makes his heart stop in his chest, and a chill goes down his spine. He drops the grocery bag and runs.

“Dean.” He whispers as he enters the room. “Dean!”

There’s no signs of a struggle. No signs of Dean either.

“DEAN!” Sam shouts. There are tears in his eyes. His head is fogged with confusion.

A scrap of paper lays on the table. When Sam picks it up, he sees that it is smeared with blood. He reads:

COME AND FIND HIM

Sam grits his teeth. John always told them to make sure every monster was dead before they finished their hunt. The boys had only assumed that they’d killed all the vampires, but they hadn’t, and now the fucking bloodsuckers had taken Dean and were doing god-knows-what to him.

But they aren’t going to kill him. Sam won’t let that happen.

Chapter 23

*Sam:Age 16*

 

COME AND FIND HIM.

Sam reads the note again before crumbling it up and throwing it across the room. His heart pounds in his chest and he starts hyperventilating from the shock. He paces back and forth with his hands on his head, trying to calm himself because he knows he can’t save Dean like this. But he can’t help it. The thought of Dean being in the clutches of vampires gives Sam chills. Not knowing if Dean is dead or alive makes Sam want to unravel. This is why they shouldn’t be hunters, this right here, it’ll end up killing the both of them. The high mortality rate of the job will never let them live past thirty, let alone grow old together. What was the point of being together if it didn’t last? If one of them died?

How can Sam save him? How can he go back to the warehouse, sneak in, and save Dean all by himself? He’s not an experienced hunter, he’s never hunted alone, and this wasn’t a job that could even be done alone! It could be a suicide mission. Knowing the only way to save Dean is to think rationally, Sam forces himself to stop dissolving. He must pull himself together. He gives a shuddering breath, praying to whatever god or creator was out there, he resolves himself to save his brother or die trying.

Sam gets the phone from the duffle bag and calls John. He doesn’t pick up. Sam calls him again. Once more, he doesn’t pick up.

“You. Fucking. Bastard. Pick. Up.” Sam shouts, calling him a third time.

“Hello.” John answered, sounding grouchy.

“You fucking lied, you bastard! I hate you, fuck you! There were more than a couple vampires. They fucking took Dean.” Sam hisses.

There’s a long pause.

“He was taken because the two of you lack vigilance.” John says. “I said there was a couple, but you should have expected the worst. Always search the area before you leave a hunt. Did you do that?”

“No… we assumed we got them all.” Sam croaks.

“That’s your mistake.” John says. “Fix it.”

“How? How can I get to Dean alone?” Sam shouts. “I need your help, Dad.”

“No, you don’t. I refuse to help you out of something you got yourself into. I won’t always be here to save your ass.” John says.

“What kind of father are you?” Sam asks. At this moment, he would like nothing better than to see John and Dean trade places, see how he liked it. That bastard would demand both Dean and Sam come and save him, he would blame them regardless.

“Did you use the dead man’s blood?” John asks, in a tone that implies he thought his younger son was an idiot.

“No. No we didn’t.” Sam says, sputtering, heart falling.

“Use that. Figure it out. If you ever hope to be a hunter-” John starts.

“Dean and I never chose hunting. You forced it on us and now he’s gone and you won’t help. He’s your fucking son-” Sam shouts.

“And you’re his brother. Start acting like it. Save him. Do what you have to do. I’m busy.” John replies.

“What if he dies? What if I can’t save him?” Sam whimpers.

“Then he dies and you have to live with it.” John says.

“I need you, Dad, please.” Sam begs. Just once he wanted John to show up for him.

“You don’t. Save your brother. I’ve got to go.” John says. “Don’t call me back. I won’t answer.”

John hangs up.

Sam screams with rage and throws his phone across the room. It hits the far wall, making a small hole.

“Fuck you, John Winchester.” Sam says.

 

***

 

Sam gets a few things from the back of the impala: an ax, a crossbow, the needles of dead man’s blood, and a crow bar. He sits them in the front seat of the impala and peels out of the parking lot, hands white knuckling the steering wheel. So John wouldn’t help him… why wasn’t he surprised? Why wasn’t he more upset? He should be crying. Instead, he wished John would die, let him die on a hunt, fuck him. In fact, Sam wanted to kill the dick himself. When Mary died, John had lost himself, falling into the heat of revenge, forgetting everything, even the two most important things, the two people Mary had loved most… her sons. He had pushed his children aside and now look at how they turned out. With no one else to depend on, the two had fallen in love. That bastard probably wouldn’t flinch if they died, would only be further enraged, blaming the vampires when he was the one who refused to help.

Sam parks down the street from the abandoned warehouse. He pulls out the cracked phone and sends his piece of shit father one message:

If we die, it’s on you. Whatever afterlife Mom’s in, she’s crying and she hates you.

***

Sam attaches the crossbow to his belt and the dead man’s blood. He carries the ax and walks the rest of the way to the old warehouse. He could do this, he could save Dean, they always saved each other, they always came back to each other. They had never needed John, fuck him.

A block away from the warehouse, Sam’s phone rings. It’s John.

Sam answers. “What? I’m busy.”

“Are you trying to hurt me?” John asks. “Don’t you dare to assume what Mary would-”

“Whatever, John. I’m almost there. I kinda fucking hope we die.” Sam says.

“For what? Revenge on me? Pathetic. If I had to choose one son, it’s Dean. He’s a hunter, born for this life. You aren’t.” John says.

Sam laughs. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

“If you’re so miserable, leave. Nothing is stopping you. I know you left before. Abandon your brother, go on. Leave.” John says.

“I won’t abandon him, John. I love him.” Sam says tersely. “If you won’t help me, then leave me alone.”

“Don’t fail me, Samuel.” John says, hanging up again.

Sam turns the phone off and shoves it in his pocket. That fucking prick, father of the year.

***

Sam crawls into the same window, covering his mouth against the stench. He stands there in the dark, tense, ready to swing his ax at any movement. The warehouse is silent. He creeps out into the hall and the smell worsens, nearly making him gag. Slowly, he makes his way down the hall, getting the creeps from how utterly silent the place was. Vampires are more active at night, so silence ment they knew Sam was there and he was doing exactly what they wanted. He had to force himself to remain calm. Sam pauses at the cracked door that leads into the large storage area full of trash, clothes, old tvs, and the old bodies of dead vampires.

 

Inside, Sam hears laughing, cackling, and one gruff voice.

“I don’t think he’s coming.”

“Probably chickened out.”

“Fuck you! You’re all dead. Sammy will fucking kill you.” Dean’s voice replies.

Sam angles himself to get a good look inside. Dean has been beaten, face bloody, nose broken, lips busted, clothing ripped, he’d put up one hell of a fight. He had been chained to a chair and a needle inserted into his arm with a tube connected to it. Four vampires stood around him, passing the tube around and sipping on Dean’s blood like he’s a McFlurry from MacDonald’s or something. Dean watches the vampires drink his blood with a look at disgust.

“One little boy won’t do shit, even if he is your brother.” A vampire replies.

“He won’t be alone. Our father-” Dean starts.

“If anyone comes for you, they will die.” Another vampire says.

“Then kill me.” Dean says. His face resolves to a stone cold twist of the mouth.

“Why? When we can draw him to us with you.” One of the vampires says, scoffing.

“If it’s revenge you want, take it.” Dean says.

“And we will, in due time.”

Slowly, fingers shaking, Sam loads an arrow into the crossbow, squirting a bit of deadman’s blood onto the iron tip.

“Shhh. Did you hear that?”

There’s silence.

“Devon, go and look, maybe we have a-” The vampire doesn’t get to finish its sentence as, suddenly, there’s an arrow sticking out of the top of its head. The monster falls and its fellow blood suckers go on the defensive. One goes to Dean, fangs out, teeth at his throat. The other two survey the room, a smirk on their faces.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” One vampire says.

“NO!” Dean shouts. “SAMMY DON’T”

Loading another arrow, clutching another needle of deadman’s blood in his freehand. He opens the door and, as he’d suspected, a weight drops on him. Another vampire who had been hiding in the loft above. Sam falls to the ground, holding the blood sucker by the face, trying to keep away from the glistening fangs.

“NO! NO!” Dean starts twisting in his chains, not caring about the fangs at his own throat.

Sam shoves the needle of deadman’s blood into the vampire's eye and squeezes. The vampire screeches and jerks away, making an inhuman sound as it flails and eventually goes still. Sam unloads an arrow into its head anyway. He takes his ax and cuts it’s head off too, in one swing.

He turns. Two vampires remain.

“Sammy…” Dean whispers.

Sam shrugs. “I’m fucking here.”

Dean nods and headbutts the vampire with its fangs at his throat. This shocks the blood sucker and it stumbles, giving Sam enough time to throw his ax, nailing the vampire in the head. Dean throws himself back, the wooden chair hits the cement and cracks. The elder man scrambles to his feet, chains hanging off him, he grabs the ax and cuts the monster’s head off. Only one remains.

“You fucked with the wrong guy.” Sam tells it.

“Where’s Dad?” Dean asks.

Sam snorts. “You’re a dumbass if you think he’d come.”

Dean grows cold. “Right.”

The vampire looks between them, a smile on his face. “Family troubles?”

“Something like that.” Dean says. He and Sam attack at the sametime. Dean swings the ax, nailing the vampire in the chest and Sam plunges the last needle into its neck. Quickly, the vampire lashes out, smacking Sam, probably fracturing his jaw. Dean pulls the ax from the bloodsucker’s chest and cuts his head off with a hiss. Then he turns around and cuts off the head of the vampire with the arrow in its skull. Then he turns to Sam and smiles.

“No chick flick moments, huh?” Dean asks.

“Dean… I was…” Sam gives a sob and quickly walks to the elder Winchester, enveloping into his arms. “I was so worried.”

“I know.” Dean whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of Sam's head.

“Dad refused to help.” Sam whispers. “He… he said… such fucking bullshit. I hate him.”

“He’s trying to teach us-” Dean starts.

Sam shakes his head. “Don;t defend him. I can’t stand it when you defend him.”

“We don’t need him.” Dean holds Sam tighter. “I just need you, Sammy, for the rest of my life.”

“I-I don’t want this life, Dean.” Sam whispers.

“But… it’s our destiny, Sammy. Saving people, hunting things, our family business.” Dean says. “We didn’t choose this life, Sammy, it chose us.”

“I don’t want it.” Sam says. “Not when I could die, when you could. What if we don’t get much time? It’s not worth it.”

“I can’t stop, Sammy, you can’t either.” Dean says.

Sam pulls away. “Would you give up for me?”

Dean gets a pained look. “Sammy…”

“Would you or not? We could have a life, Dean, together, away from this bullshit. How many times will one of us be in danger or both of us? What if this job kills me, Dean? What will you do? Turn into John? What if hunting kills you instead? What then? What do I do if you die?” Sam asks.

“I didn’t die…Sammy… I didn’t die cause you saved me. We save each other, it’s what we do, okay?” Dean promises. “We’ll figure it out, we always do. Maybe we give it up someday, maybe we don’t, but no matter what we’ll be together.” He kisses Sam, a deep kiss, so deep it makes Sam melt, forgetting his anger and his worry. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Sam says.

They leave the warehouse and as they walk back to the impala, they hold hands.

“John refused.” Dean says.

“He’s a piece of shit.” Sam says, voice bitter.

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, something like that.”

Once they’re both in the car, Dean in the driver’s seat, Sam in the passengers, Dean reaches over, placing a hand on the younger man’s thigh.

Sam looks at him. “What?”

“How about that pie? Huh, baby?” Dean asks.

Sam laughs. “I think I threw the piece I bought you.”

“I’m sure there’s a shitty diner open?” Dean offers.

Sam smiles. “Then let’s find it.”

Dean winks at Sam and peels out.

All is well, for now.

 

Notes:

What do you think?

Ready for more?

I've never written fanfiction before but I've been searching for a dean and Sam fic like this one forever and haven't found one so I decided 'bitch, you're a writer, write your own.'