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phantismaFandom: Supernatural
Title: Scattered, Part Four --A sequel to Splintered and Shattered
Characters/Pairing: John/Dean, Dean/Sam, John/Sam, John/Dean/Sam, Dean/OMC, Sam/OMC
Rating: VERY NC-17
Word Count: 15, 456 (total)
Summary: The harder they try, the deeper the pieces cut on the way down. Dean isn't okay. John isn't okay. Sam is so far beyond not okay. Dean's splintered pieces are shattered and scattered and he can't seem to hold it all together.
A/Ns: This was difficult to write, but the story needed an ending. I didn't have anyone beta this for me. All mistakes and such are my own.
WARNINGS: Character Death. Violent sex, non-con/dub-con, depending on how you read the choices each character makes. This is incest. This is father/son and brother/brother incest. It is violent and ugly. It is also, in the end, about love and sacrifice and the lines that we blur when it's family.
You talk and talk and talk. You answer questions. You down your meds. You dream at night of your father and Sam and the way it was just before the end, when the three of you were together and you came over and over again. You wake hard and you jerk off, but you can’t come. You cry, but you don’t know anymore why.
“I brought you a letter from Sam.” Jim said as he sat at the table. He dropped the envelope on the table. It had a California post mark on it. “He’s doing really good Dean.”
Dean ran a hand over the postmark. “California?”
Jim nodded. “Stanford. He’s a smart one.”
“Always was.” Dean said dully.
“Dr. Daly tells me you’re finally talking. I’m glad Dean.”
Dean nodded. He didn’t tell him that it was only so he could get out. He didn’t tell him that he felt abandoned and alone. He didn’t tell him that his father had no right to end it, not after everything he’d done to keep them together and safe. Instead he stared at the envelope, at his name in Sam’s sloppy handwriting.
They talked for a while. Or rather, Jim talked and Dean pretended to listen. When Jim got up to leave, Dean cradled the letter to him, shuffled back to his room to read it, savor it.
It wasn’t long, but it was really Sam’s handwriting, his words. Sam was coming to see him. All he had to do was wait.
You mark the days. You pace your tiny room and try not to do anything that would make them suspect. You know Sam isn’t just coming to visit. You know he’s coming to get you out. He didn’t say so, but you know it anyway. You grab that tiny shard of yourself and hold onto it, never minding the sharp edges that dig into you and make you bleed.
He seemed like a different man when he walked in the room. Broad smile and broader shoulders, at least four inches taller than the last time Dean had seen him. He felt dwarfed as Sam swept him up in a hug, squeezing him until he thought his chest would pop open.
“Come on.” Sam looped an arm around Dean and turned him toward the door.
“Where?”
Sam grinned again. “Told you, I’ve got a surprise.”
Dean nodded and moved with him, alarm growing as they approached the guard station near the elevators. Sam just raised a hand and the guard nodded, smiling.
“Sam?”
“Just act like nothing’s wrong, I need to concentrate.”
He expected they’d get stopped in the lobby…or at the front doors…or as Sam opened the passenger side of the Impala. “Sam?”
“I can’t hold this forever, get in already.”
Sam shut the door behind him and climbed in the driver’s seat, bringing the car to life and roaring out of the hospital parking lot. Dean shivered, the winter air cold through his thin cotton scrubs and barely anything robe. He curled his toes in his slippers and wrapped his arms around himself.
“Sorry, the heater’s been a little temperamental. I brought you a change of clothes. They’re in the bag in the back.”
Sam sighed and his body relaxed. “That’s better,” he murmured.
Dean frowned at him and reached over the seat for the bag. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
Sam smiled and settled a hand on Dean’s thigh. “I’m getting you out.”
“How?” Dean pulled a sweater from the bag and settled it over his head, pulling it down over his t-shirt.
“Doesn’t matter. We’re together and I’m going to get us a room so we can fuck each other senseless.”
Dean didn’t argue, didn’t say another word, just held the bag and watched the world whiz by the windows. It had been so long he’d nearly forgotten what it was like.
You end up in a shitty motel half a state away and you’re just beginning to shake with the symptoms of withdrawal when Sam rouses you and pulls you into the room. You’re cold and stiff and petrified, but his touch is like fire, burning through the crust of blood and self and fear.
“Sam…Sam…slow down.” Dean dropped the bag as Sam’s fingers yanked at the t-shirt and sweater, yanking up and leaning in to kiss over Dean’s skin.
“Want to taste you. Want to feel you Dean. Want to take care of you.”
Dean melted under him, grabbing the doorknob to keep from falling to the floor. Sam’s hand delved in under the waistband of his pants, palming over his cock, laughing into Dean’s skin as it sprang to life in his hands. “Been so long, Dean.”
Sam slid to one knee, engulfed his cock and sucked hard and fast. It was familiar and easy and Dean let go just a little of the death grip he had on himself, closed his eyes and let the arousal and lust rush through him. He came in record time and Sam grinned up at him in triumph.
He stood, pressing into Dean and kissing him. He licked at the corners of Dean’s mouth until Dean opened and let him in, groaning as Sam’s tongue swept through him, marked him, claimed him.
“Get undressed. You’re going to need your sleep. I’ve got some of your pills to help wean you off…but the detox is going to make you sick.”
Sam moved away and Dean did as he was told, sliding into the bed and closing his eyes. He felt Sam’s side of the bed dip, felt the heat of his body wrap around Dean’s back. It felt safe. Dean closed his eyes and slept.
He woke hours later to kisses over his back, frantic whispers, the feeling of Sam’s hard cock against his ass. “Sam?”
Sam stilled, then his head lifted, his kisses peppering over Dean’s shoulder and up to his ear. “Missed you so much Dean, I need to…I want to fuck you…can I? Will you let me be him?”
Dean didn’t really answer, stunned a little. Sam had never wanted that before. There had been a system…until Sam seduced their father and broke it. Dean lifted his top leg, moved it up and away, giving Sam space to wiggle a finger into him. Sam was murmuring an endless stream of want you and let me touch you and a litany of filthy things. Dean bit into his pillow as Sam’s fingers worked him open, and then his cock was there, thick and hard and too much after so long alone.
It burned and ached but it wasn’t unwanted. Dean closed his eyes and he could almost imagine he had his father back, that John Winchester was in the room, inside him. He groaned and reached for his own hardness. Sam’s hand circled his and pulled it away. “Want you to come inside me Dean.” Sam whispered, squeezing the base of his cock as he sped up his pace, groaning and digging deep into Dean as he came.
Sam moved, rolled Dean onto his back and scooted up, squatted over, and no prep or lube, sank onto him, all the way down in one long motion. “God Dean…it feels so good.” Sam lifted up and sank back down. His hands stroked over Dean’s chest, rubbing over his nipples. Dean made game upward thrusts, feeling Sam’s come leak out of his ass as he clenched it tight.
Dean groaned as he came, Sam grinning down at him like it was some kind of prize before he slipped off and fell down to the mattress beside Dean, snuggling in close, his head on Dean’s shoulder. “Sleep Dean. It’s okay. Everything is okay.”
You’re still fairly sure that your brother never really learned the meaning of the word okay. You sit in the passenger seat and he drives. There’s no discernable pattern to the way the world moves outside those windows. It almost doesn’t exist. There’s just you and him. Driving and fucking and sleeping. You’re so happy to have him back that you don’t notice the differences, or pretend not to, and you don’t ask where he goes when he leaves your bed in the middle of the night and comes back smelling of sex and blood. You act like you don’t notice when he talks on his cell phone in strange, hushed voices.
“Are you angry?” Sam asked abruptly as they sat in some motel room eating burgers and fries.
“Angry?”
Sam nodded. “That I didn’t come sooner. About Dad.”
And there it is. They haven’t spoken about it. It was just something they avoided.
Sam looked up, suddenly sixteen again, uncertain, afraid that Dean might not understand, might not want him. Dean shook his head slowly. “Not anymore.” He sighed and put his burger down. He wasn’t hungry.
“I am.” Sam said it quietly. “I found pictures. I lived with Jim my senior year. He fucking took pictures Dean.” Sam looked away. His voice was deep and dark. “Dad called him, told him to come get us, to take care of his body. Told him he should never have let us think we could handle it. Told him he was a fucking monster.”
“Sam. It’s over.”
“Not yet it isn’t.” He dropped his burger back on the wrapper. “Do you know what he did?”
Dean wasn’t’ sure if he meant Jim or their father.
“He cut his dick off, Dean.” Sam looked at him, his eyes alive with fire and fury. “He told Jim he was a monster and he cut his dick off.”
Dean closed his eyes, picturing his father with one of their hunting blades on the bed. He shivered, moaned. “Sammy, please.”
“He cut his arms and his thighs, begged Jim to come for us. There was blood everywhere Dean. Jim couldn’t clean it up. The cops had to find something, he said. But he took pictures before he took the body.”
Sam stood and paced. “Told me that wanting you was perversion. Well, he’s one to talk. He didn’t even try to talk Dad out of it. Told him it was the right thing to do. Fucking told him to kill himself Dean.”
Dean stood and intersected his path, wrapping arms around him and kissing him to stop the flood of words. “It’s over Sammy…we need to let it go…we need to move on.”
“No!” Sam yelled, and the television exploded.
“What the fuck?”
“It’s okay, Dean. It’s okay. It happens sometimes.”
“What does? Televisions explode?”
“Calm down. I just have to calm down.”
Dean turned Sam back to him, pulled his face to his own. “Tell me what’s going on with you Sammy.”
Sam scrunched up his nose. “You’ll make a big thing out of it Dean, and it’s not a big thing. I have…this…ability?”
“Ability?” Dean looked at his brother, trying to make the words make sense.
“Yeah. I can do stuff. With my mind.” Sam shrugged and started cleaning up the glass. Just like that. Like he hadn’t just laid a load of shit down in the middle of the room.
“That shit at the hospital?”
Sam smiled and nodded. “Made them all think you were a doctor. Perfectly normal for you to be walking out.”
Dean sat hard on the bed. “You…I don’t even know what to say.”
“It’s okay, Dean. It’s okay.”
You realize that he’s telling you the same thing you told your father. That he’s placating you. You know it isn’t okay. You know he’s messing with something more. You start to recognize the pattern. He’s hunting, only there’s no research, no tracking. Sam just goes out and kills it and comes back and fucks you and tells you it’s okay.
Dean recognized the town, the church. “Sam?”
Sam was scrunched behind the wheel as they slowed, but didn’t turn into the parking lot. “Just need to get something Dean. Left it behind.” He wrenched the wheel and pulled them back out into traffic. “Later. I want to eat.”
He was quiet after that. They ate and got a room. Sam showered and stretched out on the bed. Dean joined him and together they drifted off. Dean felt it hours later when Sam got up and dressed quietly. When the door closed, Dean got up, following as quietly as he could.
Sam didn’t get into the car, for which Dean was grateful. Instead, he scuffed along in the dark to a nearby bar. For a while Dean thought maybe he was just there for the beer, but after a while a man joined him at the bar. There was something familiar about him. Dean sat in the shadows and watched him touch Sam, his hand on Sam’s back. He turned, looking into Dean’s corner as if he could see him and Dean started.
He knew that face, those eyes.
The cop. The one in that town where everything went to hell, where Jim discovered the truth, where his father nearly killed him. There was a sick smile on his face and Dean almost believed that he knew Dean was there. Then his eyes flashed yellow.
Demon yellow.
Just like his father had described.
The man tilted his head and Sam tossed back a shot before slipping off the stool. The man put something in Sam’s hand and they headed out the door together. He followed, listening as the spoke softly and headed into the dark. Somewhere ahead of him he heard Sam say, “No, Dean’s there. Here’s fine.”
“Getting kinky on my Sammy?”
Dean inched closer. Sam was bent over some beat up ford, his jeans around his ankles while the man with the yellow eyes stepped in close. The car rocked under his thrust. “Does your brother know how well he taught you to take it up the ass, Sammy?”
Sam grunted. “Don’t really need the commentary. Just do it.”
The man chuckled. “He was like that too. Never got in his ass though.” He pushed in and pulled out. “You though, you’re my boy Sammy. You’re smart and talented and you can have everything you ever wanted.”
“I only want Dean.”
“And he’s yours, isn’t he? I bet when you go back to him you’ll fuck him hard and tell him how he is all you have, how he’s yours.” He groaned loud and the car actually moved forward from his final push as he came. “Do this last job for me, and you’re free until it’s time.”
Dean could see Sam stand, nod. Yellow Eyes was looking his way again. He pulled back into the shadows. “That’s my boy Sammy. You’re Daddy must be so proud.”
Sam was moving away. Dean watched, his eyes slipping back to Yellow Eyes, but he was gone.
Dean pushed out of the shadows and followed his brother. Sam’s head was down, his hands in his pockets. Dean knew where he was going. He didn’t even hesitate. Sam cut through the parking lot and around the side of the church to the parish house. He let himself in. The kitchen light was on. Dean followed, holding his breath.
You hear his voice. Light banter. You want to yell out. You want to warn him. But you don’t. You know what Sam will do. You know what he’s become. You know it’s all your fault. You slip through the shadows, slide through the blood and sharp edges of your insides. You can’t tell it from the real blood spilling onto the pristine white linoleum of the kitchen floor…can’t tell what’s glass and what’s a shard of you on that floor.
Sam turned, his hard expression melting as Dean came to him, as Dean wrapped his arms around him and quivered. “Sam…Sammy…”
“Shh. Dean. It’s okay. It’s over now.”
Dean could feel his eyes. Cold, dead eyes. They stared up at him from the table. Accusing. “You did this,” they said. Dean clung to Sam.
Sam was kissing him, touching him. He was starting to breath heavy. His cock was hard. “Don’t be mad Dean. He put you in that place. He kept us apart. He said we were wrong. Don’t be mad. Don’t be mad.”
Dean shook his head, holding Sam’s face as he kissed him. “Not made, Sammy. Not mad.” He was terrified. He was horny. He was devastated. There weren’t enough words for what he was, but mad wasn’t one.
Sam pulled at him, unzipped him. “Need you Dean…need to feel you…make you mine forever. You’re mine Dean…no one can take you away again.”
Dean was numb. Sam dropped Dean’s jeans and bent him forward. Dean braced his hands on the table as Sam pushed inside him. Sam pushed in hard and fast. Dean squeezed his eyes shut and could still feel Jim’s dead eyes staring at him. There was blood under his hands.
Dean gasped, but the air wouldn’t move into him. He couldn’t breathe. He’d turned his brother into a monster…he’d damned them both. Sam fucked into him harder, pulled him in, growled over his back. “It’s okay Dean. It’s okay. I made it okay.”
Sam came and stepped back, breathing heavy and unaware that Dean couldn’t move. “We should go before someone comes.” Sam said, looking out the window. The skies were starting to lighten up. “Dean?”
Dean held up his bloody hands, staring at them. “He’s dead Sam.”
Sam nodded, bending to pull up Dean’s jeans for him. “Wash your hands Dean. We need to get moving.”
Dean shuffled to the sink and did as he was told. Sam guided him out into the early morning, holding his hand as they walked back to the motel. “I’m gonna shower, Dean.”
Dean sank onto the bed, staring at the floor. “I’m so sorry Sam.” He buried his face in his hands. He should have seen. He should have known.
”No one can blame you, Dad. It isn’t really your fault…it’s like a virus…makes you need it. But it was really fucking Dean up…and he needed me.”
The problem was he did. He’d needed Sam so desperately he couldn’t see.
“You should have killed me. Should have fucking killed me, Dean.”
He shook, his father’s despair filling his head.
”I don’t want to be a monster.”
Too late for that. Slowly Dean stood, crossed to the bathroom door. “I’m gonna go get us coffee.”
You drag your feet. You watch from a distance as the police cars race into the church parking lot. You breathe the crisp morning air. Finally you get the coffee and head back, knowing he’s waiting…knowing you have to make it okay.
Sam smiled that boyish grin that made Dean weak in the knees. He took the cup Dean offered and smiled. “Whatcha wanna do?”
Dean sank onto the chair and sipped at his coffee. “I want to drink my coffee and crawl back into bed with my brother.” He smiled.
Sam raised an eyebrow. “I figured you’d want to hit the road.”
Dean shook his head. “I want to fuck you. I want to hold you and fuck you. We can hit the road later.”
Sam grinned. “Well then, let’s skip the coffee and get to it.”
“I walked six blocks to get you that damn girly coffee.”
Sam chuckled. “And I love you for it.” Sam made a show of taking a big swallow. “Better?”
Dean only laughed and drank from his own cup. Sam down his as fast as he could, tossing the cup into a corner and standing up. “Shall I strip for you?”
“Strip?” Dean snorted. “You’ve only got a towel on Sammy.”
Sam swiveled his hips, turning slowly. “Better hurry Dean or I’ll get started without you.”
“Go on then. I want to see you get started.” Dean kicked off his shoes. He set his coffee aside and pulled off his sweater and t-shirt. Sam was on the bed, on his knees with the lube squirting sloppily over his hole. He tossed the lube and started rubbing it in, slipping two fingers in, then out and dragging through his crack.
Dean tossed back the last of the coffee and set the cup on the table before standing up and dropping his jeans. He crossed to the bed and slowly kissed up Sam’s nearer leg. He didn’t want this to be the frantic fucking of the last weeks, two men desperate for one another. He wanted this to be loving.
He needed Sam to know he was everything. He needed Sam to know how sorry he was for what he had become. He need Sam to feel how much he loved him.
“On your back Sammy. I want to see your face.”
Dean kissed up the front of the other leg, up to his hip, gently spreading his brother’s legs apart before moving between them. With the amount of lube he’d used, Dean slid in without resistance and he held himself there, kissing over Sam’s chest, licking over a nipple. “I love you so much Sammy. Nearly broke me losing you.”
Sam’s hands caressed down his arms as he stroked slowly. They settled on Dean’s hips, moving with his rhythm, Sam’s eyes on Dean’s face. “Love you too Dean. Only ever you.”
“I know Sammy. It’s going to be okay.” He ducked his head so Sam wouldn’t see the tears. He could feel the build up…wondered if Sam felt it too. “I’m going to make it okay. Couldn’t do it for Dad.”
Sam’s eyes closed, his hips tilted, looking for deeper penetration. Dean slid a hand up his chest, covered his heart. “Dean…Dean…” There was a tremor in his voice.
“It’s okay, Sammy…just let go….let me take you there…Love you…need you…”
He kept his rhythm slow, barely moving now as it settled in. His lips sought out Sam’s. “I’m so sorry Sammy…don’t be mad…love you.” He whispered into Sam’s open mouth, kissing and licking the words into his lips.
“Dean…”
Tears dripped from Dean’s nose onto Sam’s skin. “Sammy…never leaving you again. Yours forever Sammy.” Sam’s breath shuddered, hitched…and stopped, his mouth and eyes open. Dean kissed him urgently. Closed his eyes. “Love you…”
Dean laid his head on Sam’s chest and let go of that last shard…of the blood and the fear and the need to make it okay. His lungs constricted and he closed his eyes…
It started when you’re sixteen. It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t really his either, but you didn’t know that then. It wasn’t even wrong exactly. Not when it started. It took a while, happened a few times, before you made your peace with it. You didn’t realize how you’d started to come undone…unraveled. You never told him that you splintered around him…that you cracked and broke and before long all you had left was the shell. You couldn’t blame him. You knew how to end it. You existed between them…between your father’s taking and your brother’s giving… and it was wrong and so fucking beautiful you couldn’t help yourself. You wanted it to be okay…wanted it so bad you could taste it…and so you just kept moving because when you stopped you knew that all of those splintered pieces were going to come crashing down around you. Told him that he’d be okay…that you’d all be okay. You held on because they needed you. You held it together because you couldn’t fall apart.
But you don’t know how to be alone. You don’t know who you are without them on either side of you. You have nothing left...and it isn’t okay. It was never okay. You deceived yourself. You deceived them. And this can’t make it right, but it’s the only thing you have left to give them.
Title: Scattered, Part Four --A sequel to Splintered and Shattered
Characters/Pairing: John/Dean, Dean/Sam, John/Sam, John/Dean/Sam, Dean/OMC, Sam/OMC
Rating: VERY NC-17
Word Count: 15, 456 (total)
Summary: The harder they try, the deeper the pieces cut on the way down. Dean isn't okay. John isn't okay. Sam is so far beyond not okay. Dean's splintered pieces are shattered and scattered and he can't seem to hold it all together.
A/Ns: This was difficult to write, but the story needed an ending. I didn't have anyone beta this for me. All mistakes and such are my own.
WARNINGS: Character Death. Violent sex, non-con/dub-con, depending on how you read the choices each character makes. This is incest. This is father/son and brother/brother incest. It is violent and ugly. It is also, in the end, about love and sacrifice and the lines that we blur when it's family.
You talk and talk and talk. You answer questions. You down your meds. You dream at night of your father and Sam and the way it was just before the end, when the three of you were together and you came over and over again. You wake hard and you jerk off, but you can’t come. You cry, but you don’t know anymore why.
“I brought you a letter from Sam.” Jim said as he sat at the table. He dropped the envelope on the table. It had a California post mark on it. “He’s doing really good Dean.”
Dean ran a hand over the postmark. “California?”
Jim nodded. “Stanford. He’s a smart one.”
“Always was.” Dean said dully.
“Dr. Daly tells me you’re finally talking. I’m glad Dean.”
Dean nodded. He didn’t tell him that it was only so he could get out. He didn’t tell him that he felt abandoned and alone. He didn’t tell him that his father had no right to end it, not after everything he’d done to keep them together and safe. Instead he stared at the envelope, at his name in Sam’s sloppy handwriting.
They talked for a while. Or rather, Jim talked and Dean pretended to listen. When Jim got up to leave, Dean cradled the letter to him, shuffled back to his room to read it, savor it.
Dean,
College is harder than I thought. I miss you. I get a break at Christmas and I’m going to come see you. Jim wouldn’t let me come before. Kept telling me it would only upset you. But now you’re talking to them and he thinks it means you’re getting better. I have a surprise for you. Just hold on, okay. I’ll be there soon. I love you.
Sam
It wasn’t long, but it was really Sam’s handwriting, his words. Sam was coming to see him. All he had to do was wait.
You mark the days. You pace your tiny room and try not to do anything that would make them suspect. You know Sam isn’t just coming to visit. You know he’s coming to get you out. He didn’t say so, but you know it anyway. You grab that tiny shard of yourself and hold onto it, never minding the sharp edges that dig into you and make you bleed.
He seemed like a different man when he walked in the room. Broad smile and broader shoulders, at least four inches taller than the last time Dean had seen him. He felt dwarfed as Sam swept him up in a hug, squeezing him until he thought his chest would pop open.
“Come on.” Sam looped an arm around Dean and turned him toward the door.
“Where?”
Sam grinned again. “Told you, I’ve got a surprise.”
Dean nodded and moved with him, alarm growing as they approached the guard station near the elevators. Sam just raised a hand and the guard nodded, smiling.
“Sam?”
“Just act like nothing’s wrong, I need to concentrate.”
He expected they’d get stopped in the lobby…or at the front doors…or as Sam opened the passenger side of the Impala. “Sam?”
“I can’t hold this forever, get in already.”
Sam shut the door behind him and climbed in the driver’s seat, bringing the car to life and roaring out of the hospital parking lot. Dean shivered, the winter air cold through his thin cotton scrubs and barely anything robe. He curled his toes in his slippers and wrapped his arms around himself.
“Sorry, the heater’s been a little temperamental. I brought you a change of clothes. They’re in the bag in the back.”
Sam sighed and his body relaxed. “That’s better,” he murmured.
Dean frowned at him and reached over the seat for the bag. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
Sam smiled and settled a hand on Dean’s thigh. “I’m getting you out.”
“How?” Dean pulled a sweater from the bag and settled it over his head, pulling it down over his t-shirt.
“Doesn’t matter. We’re together and I’m going to get us a room so we can fuck each other senseless.”
Dean didn’t argue, didn’t say another word, just held the bag and watched the world whiz by the windows. It had been so long he’d nearly forgotten what it was like.
You end up in a shitty motel half a state away and you’re just beginning to shake with the symptoms of withdrawal when Sam rouses you and pulls you into the room. You’re cold and stiff and petrified, but his touch is like fire, burning through the crust of blood and self and fear.
“Sam…Sam…slow down.” Dean dropped the bag as Sam’s fingers yanked at the t-shirt and sweater, yanking up and leaning in to kiss over Dean’s skin.
“Want to taste you. Want to feel you Dean. Want to take care of you.”
Dean melted under him, grabbing the doorknob to keep from falling to the floor. Sam’s hand delved in under the waistband of his pants, palming over his cock, laughing into Dean’s skin as it sprang to life in his hands. “Been so long, Dean.”
Sam slid to one knee, engulfed his cock and sucked hard and fast. It was familiar and easy and Dean let go just a little of the death grip he had on himself, closed his eyes and let the arousal and lust rush through him. He came in record time and Sam grinned up at him in triumph.
He stood, pressing into Dean and kissing him. He licked at the corners of Dean’s mouth until Dean opened and let him in, groaning as Sam’s tongue swept through him, marked him, claimed him.
“Get undressed. You’re going to need your sleep. I’ve got some of your pills to help wean you off…but the detox is going to make you sick.”
Sam moved away and Dean did as he was told, sliding into the bed and closing his eyes. He felt Sam’s side of the bed dip, felt the heat of his body wrap around Dean’s back. It felt safe. Dean closed his eyes and slept.
He woke hours later to kisses over his back, frantic whispers, the feeling of Sam’s hard cock against his ass. “Sam?”
Sam stilled, then his head lifted, his kisses peppering over Dean’s shoulder and up to his ear. “Missed you so much Dean, I need to…I want to fuck you…can I? Will you let me be him?”
Dean didn’t really answer, stunned a little. Sam had never wanted that before. There had been a system…until Sam seduced their father and broke it. Dean lifted his top leg, moved it up and away, giving Sam space to wiggle a finger into him. Sam was murmuring an endless stream of want you and let me touch you and a litany of filthy things. Dean bit into his pillow as Sam’s fingers worked him open, and then his cock was there, thick and hard and too much after so long alone.
It burned and ached but it wasn’t unwanted. Dean closed his eyes and he could almost imagine he had his father back, that John Winchester was in the room, inside him. He groaned and reached for his own hardness. Sam’s hand circled his and pulled it away. “Want you to come inside me Dean.” Sam whispered, squeezing the base of his cock as he sped up his pace, groaning and digging deep into Dean as he came.
Sam moved, rolled Dean onto his back and scooted up, squatted over, and no prep or lube, sank onto him, all the way down in one long motion. “God Dean…it feels so good.” Sam lifted up and sank back down. His hands stroked over Dean’s chest, rubbing over his nipples. Dean made game upward thrusts, feeling Sam’s come leak out of his ass as he clenched it tight.
Dean groaned as he came, Sam grinning down at him like it was some kind of prize before he slipped off and fell down to the mattress beside Dean, snuggling in close, his head on Dean’s shoulder. “Sleep Dean. It’s okay. Everything is okay.”
You’re still fairly sure that your brother never really learned the meaning of the word okay. You sit in the passenger seat and he drives. There’s no discernable pattern to the way the world moves outside those windows. It almost doesn’t exist. There’s just you and him. Driving and fucking and sleeping. You’re so happy to have him back that you don’t notice the differences, or pretend not to, and you don’t ask where he goes when he leaves your bed in the middle of the night and comes back smelling of sex and blood. You act like you don’t notice when he talks on his cell phone in strange, hushed voices.
“Are you angry?” Sam asked abruptly as they sat in some motel room eating burgers and fries.
“Angry?”
Sam nodded. “That I didn’t come sooner. About Dad.”
And there it is. They haven’t spoken about it. It was just something they avoided.
Sam looked up, suddenly sixteen again, uncertain, afraid that Dean might not understand, might not want him. Dean shook his head slowly. “Not anymore.” He sighed and put his burger down. He wasn’t hungry.
“I am.” Sam said it quietly. “I found pictures. I lived with Jim my senior year. He fucking took pictures Dean.” Sam looked away. His voice was deep and dark. “Dad called him, told him to come get us, to take care of his body. Told him he should never have let us think we could handle it. Told him he was a fucking monster.”
“Sam. It’s over.”
“Not yet it isn’t.” He dropped his burger back on the wrapper. “Do you know what he did?”
Dean wasn’t’ sure if he meant Jim or their father.
“He cut his dick off, Dean.” Sam looked at him, his eyes alive with fire and fury. “He told Jim he was a monster and he cut his dick off.”
Dean closed his eyes, picturing his father with one of their hunting blades on the bed. He shivered, moaned. “Sammy, please.”
“He cut his arms and his thighs, begged Jim to come for us. There was blood everywhere Dean. Jim couldn’t clean it up. The cops had to find something, he said. But he took pictures before he took the body.”
Sam stood and paced. “Told me that wanting you was perversion. Well, he’s one to talk. He didn’t even try to talk Dad out of it. Told him it was the right thing to do. Fucking told him to kill himself Dean.”
Dean stood and intersected his path, wrapping arms around him and kissing him to stop the flood of words. “It’s over Sammy…we need to let it go…we need to move on.”
“No!” Sam yelled, and the television exploded.
“What the fuck?”
“It’s okay, Dean. It’s okay. It happens sometimes.”
“What does? Televisions explode?”
“Calm down. I just have to calm down.”
Dean turned Sam back to him, pulled his face to his own. “Tell me what’s going on with you Sammy.”
Sam scrunched up his nose. “You’ll make a big thing out of it Dean, and it’s not a big thing. I have…this…ability?”
“Ability?” Dean looked at his brother, trying to make the words make sense.
“Yeah. I can do stuff. With my mind.” Sam shrugged and started cleaning up the glass. Just like that. Like he hadn’t just laid a load of shit down in the middle of the room.
“That shit at the hospital?”
Sam smiled and nodded. “Made them all think you were a doctor. Perfectly normal for you to be walking out.”
Dean sat hard on the bed. “You…I don’t even know what to say.”
“It’s okay, Dean. It’s okay.”
You realize that he’s telling you the same thing you told your father. That he’s placating you. You know it isn’t okay. You know he’s messing with something more. You start to recognize the pattern. He’s hunting, only there’s no research, no tracking. Sam just goes out and kills it and comes back and fucks you and tells you it’s okay.
Dean recognized the town, the church. “Sam?”
Sam was scrunched behind the wheel as they slowed, but didn’t turn into the parking lot. “Just need to get something Dean. Left it behind.” He wrenched the wheel and pulled them back out into traffic. “Later. I want to eat.”
He was quiet after that. They ate and got a room. Sam showered and stretched out on the bed. Dean joined him and together they drifted off. Dean felt it hours later when Sam got up and dressed quietly. When the door closed, Dean got up, following as quietly as he could.
Sam didn’t get into the car, for which Dean was grateful. Instead, he scuffed along in the dark to a nearby bar. For a while Dean thought maybe he was just there for the beer, but after a while a man joined him at the bar. There was something familiar about him. Dean sat in the shadows and watched him touch Sam, his hand on Sam’s back. He turned, looking into Dean’s corner as if he could see him and Dean started.
He knew that face, those eyes.
The cop. The one in that town where everything went to hell, where Jim discovered the truth, where his father nearly killed him. There was a sick smile on his face and Dean almost believed that he knew Dean was there. Then his eyes flashed yellow.
Demon yellow.
Just like his father had described.
The man tilted his head and Sam tossed back a shot before slipping off the stool. The man put something in Sam’s hand and they headed out the door together. He followed, listening as the spoke softly and headed into the dark. Somewhere ahead of him he heard Sam say, “No, Dean’s there. Here’s fine.”
“Getting kinky on my Sammy?”
Dean inched closer. Sam was bent over some beat up ford, his jeans around his ankles while the man with the yellow eyes stepped in close. The car rocked under his thrust. “Does your brother know how well he taught you to take it up the ass, Sammy?”
Sam grunted. “Don’t really need the commentary. Just do it.”
The man chuckled. “He was like that too. Never got in his ass though.” He pushed in and pulled out. “You though, you’re my boy Sammy. You’re smart and talented and you can have everything you ever wanted.”
“I only want Dean.”
“And he’s yours, isn’t he? I bet when you go back to him you’ll fuck him hard and tell him how he is all you have, how he’s yours.” He groaned loud and the car actually moved forward from his final push as he came. “Do this last job for me, and you’re free until it’s time.”
Dean could see Sam stand, nod. Yellow Eyes was looking his way again. He pulled back into the shadows. “That’s my boy Sammy. You’re Daddy must be so proud.”
Sam was moving away. Dean watched, his eyes slipping back to Yellow Eyes, but he was gone.
Dean pushed out of the shadows and followed his brother. Sam’s head was down, his hands in his pockets. Dean knew where he was going. He didn’t even hesitate. Sam cut through the parking lot and around the side of the church to the parish house. He let himself in. The kitchen light was on. Dean followed, holding his breath.
You hear his voice. Light banter. You want to yell out. You want to warn him. But you don’t. You know what Sam will do. You know what he’s become. You know it’s all your fault. You slip through the shadows, slide through the blood and sharp edges of your insides. You can’t tell it from the real blood spilling onto the pristine white linoleum of the kitchen floor…can’t tell what’s glass and what’s a shard of you on that floor.
Sam turned, his hard expression melting as Dean came to him, as Dean wrapped his arms around him and quivered. “Sam…Sammy…”
“Shh. Dean. It’s okay. It’s over now.”
Dean could feel his eyes. Cold, dead eyes. They stared up at him from the table. Accusing. “You did this,” they said. Dean clung to Sam.
Sam was kissing him, touching him. He was starting to breath heavy. His cock was hard. “Don’t be mad Dean. He put you in that place. He kept us apart. He said we were wrong. Don’t be mad. Don’t be mad.”
Dean shook his head, holding Sam’s face as he kissed him. “Not made, Sammy. Not mad.” He was terrified. He was horny. He was devastated. There weren’t enough words for what he was, but mad wasn’t one.
Sam pulled at him, unzipped him. “Need you Dean…need to feel you…make you mine forever. You’re mine Dean…no one can take you away again.”
Dean was numb. Sam dropped Dean’s jeans and bent him forward. Dean braced his hands on the table as Sam pushed inside him. Sam pushed in hard and fast. Dean squeezed his eyes shut and could still feel Jim’s dead eyes staring at him. There was blood under his hands.
Dean gasped, but the air wouldn’t move into him. He couldn’t breathe. He’d turned his brother into a monster…he’d damned them both. Sam fucked into him harder, pulled him in, growled over his back. “It’s okay Dean. It’s okay. I made it okay.”
Sam came and stepped back, breathing heavy and unaware that Dean couldn’t move. “We should go before someone comes.” Sam said, looking out the window. The skies were starting to lighten up. “Dean?”
Dean held up his bloody hands, staring at them. “He’s dead Sam.”
Sam nodded, bending to pull up Dean’s jeans for him. “Wash your hands Dean. We need to get moving.”
Dean shuffled to the sink and did as he was told. Sam guided him out into the early morning, holding his hand as they walked back to the motel. “I’m gonna shower, Dean.”
Dean sank onto the bed, staring at the floor. “I’m so sorry Sam.” He buried his face in his hands. He should have seen. He should have known.
”No one can blame you, Dad. It isn’t really your fault…it’s like a virus…makes you need it. But it was really fucking Dean up…and he needed me.”
The problem was he did. He’d needed Sam so desperately he couldn’t see.
“You should have killed me. Should have fucking killed me, Dean.”
He shook, his father’s despair filling his head.
”I don’t want to be a monster.”
Too late for that. Slowly Dean stood, crossed to the bathroom door. “I’m gonna go get us coffee.”
You drag your feet. You watch from a distance as the police cars race into the church parking lot. You breathe the crisp morning air. Finally you get the coffee and head back, knowing he’s waiting…knowing you have to make it okay.
Sam smiled that boyish grin that made Dean weak in the knees. He took the cup Dean offered and smiled. “Whatcha wanna do?”
Dean sank onto the chair and sipped at his coffee. “I want to drink my coffee and crawl back into bed with my brother.” He smiled.
Sam raised an eyebrow. “I figured you’d want to hit the road.”
Dean shook his head. “I want to fuck you. I want to hold you and fuck you. We can hit the road later.”
Sam grinned. “Well then, let’s skip the coffee and get to it.”
“I walked six blocks to get you that damn girly coffee.”
Sam chuckled. “And I love you for it.” Sam made a show of taking a big swallow. “Better?”
Dean only laughed and drank from his own cup. Sam down his as fast as he could, tossing the cup into a corner and standing up. “Shall I strip for you?”
“Strip?” Dean snorted. “You’ve only got a towel on Sammy.”
Sam swiveled his hips, turning slowly. “Better hurry Dean or I’ll get started without you.”
“Go on then. I want to see you get started.” Dean kicked off his shoes. He set his coffee aside and pulled off his sweater and t-shirt. Sam was on the bed, on his knees with the lube squirting sloppily over his hole. He tossed the lube and started rubbing it in, slipping two fingers in, then out and dragging through his crack.
Dean tossed back the last of the coffee and set the cup on the table before standing up and dropping his jeans. He crossed to the bed and slowly kissed up Sam’s nearer leg. He didn’t want this to be the frantic fucking of the last weeks, two men desperate for one another. He wanted this to be loving.
He needed Sam to know he was everything. He needed Sam to know how sorry he was for what he had become. He need Sam to feel how much he loved him.
“On your back Sammy. I want to see your face.”
Dean kissed up the front of the other leg, up to his hip, gently spreading his brother’s legs apart before moving between them. With the amount of lube he’d used, Dean slid in without resistance and he held himself there, kissing over Sam’s chest, licking over a nipple. “I love you so much Sammy. Nearly broke me losing you.”
Sam’s hands caressed down his arms as he stroked slowly. They settled on Dean’s hips, moving with his rhythm, Sam’s eyes on Dean’s face. “Love you too Dean. Only ever you.”
“I know Sammy. It’s going to be okay.” He ducked his head so Sam wouldn’t see the tears. He could feel the build up…wondered if Sam felt it too. “I’m going to make it okay. Couldn’t do it for Dad.”
Sam’s eyes closed, his hips tilted, looking for deeper penetration. Dean slid a hand up his chest, covered his heart. “Dean…Dean…” There was a tremor in his voice.
“It’s okay, Sammy…just let go….let me take you there…Love you…need you…”
He kept his rhythm slow, barely moving now as it settled in. His lips sought out Sam’s. “I’m so sorry Sammy…don’t be mad…love you.” He whispered into Sam’s open mouth, kissing and licking the words into his lips.
“Dean…”
Tears dripped from Dean’s nose onto Sam’s skin. “Sammy…never leaving you again. Yours forever Sammy.” Sam’s breath shuddered, hitched…and stopped, his mouth and eyes open. Dean kissed him urgently. Closed his eyes. “Love you…”
Dean laid his head on Sam’s chest and let go of that last shard…of the blood and the fear and the need to make it okay. His lungs constricted and he closed his eyes…
It started when you’re sixteen. It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t really his either, but you didn’t know that then. It wasn’t even wrong exactly. Not when it started. It took a while, happened a few times, before you made your peace with it. You didn’t realize how you’d started to come undone…unraveled. You never told him that you splintered around him…that you cracked and broke and before long all you had left was the shell. You couldn’t blame him. You knew how to end it. You existed between them…between your father’s taking and your brother’s giving… and it was wrong and so fucking beautiful you couldn’t help yourself. You wanted it to be okay…wanted it so bad you could taste it…and so you just kept moving because when you stopped you knew that all of those splintered pieces were going to come crashing down around you. Told him that he’d be okay…that you’d all be okay. You held on because they needed you. You held it together because you couldn’t fall apart.
But you don’t know how to be alone. You don’t know who you are without them on either side of you. You have nothing left...and it isn’t okay. It was never okay. You deceived yourself. You deceived them. And this can’t make it right, but it’s the only thing you have left to give them.
