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phantismaFandom: Supernatural, Keeper!Verse
Title: Losing Sam, Arc 3.10 (All Keeper Verse Here, including Arcs 1 & 2)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 37,625 (total arc)
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean (long term established wincest), John, Dana (Dean's daughter) Missouri, OFC & OMC
Summary: Dean proves that maybe he hasn't actually learned anything, Sam and John head home..
A/Ns & Warnings: This story pics up after arc 2 as written by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shotofjack. It would never have happened without her. From the original concept to her beta, this fic owes a good amount to her. Expect a chapter a day until it is finished. Posting early today in case this afternoon is insane as yesterday's was. Enjoy!
Dean watched until Dana was asleep, then went back to the kitchen. He had dinner cooking and every surface in the kitchen was covered in books. Somewhere in one of these was the answer…the way to kill the motherfucking son of a bitch.
He’d let Dana and Missouri both think he intended to wait for Sam, but he had no intention of letting that thing near Sam again. He stirred the sauce and checked his pasta, then went back to the book he’d been looking through when he heard the door.
It was an old volume, Catholic in origin. It spoke about angels sent to earth to learn lessons. There was a lot of nonsense in a lot of books about hawthorn berries and demon spit and half a dozen other shitty bits of folklore. This however was getting closer to the truth.
Not that he was all that keen to call upon Pagan gods for help…but it that’s what it took…that’s what it took. There was a reference to a book with a ritual that could strip an angel of its powers, make it human.
Dean could kill it if it were human. He smiled at the thought. All he had to do now was find yet another book.
“Very good, Samuel.” Ally murmured beside him.
Sam deflected yet another attack from Inda with relative ease. He felt Inda reach for the outside of his shields and shuffled them so that he couldn’t get a grip on them, then did the mental equivalent of a roll to end up out of his reach.
For the first time it was Inda who broke off the exercise, panting and sweating. Sam sank gratefully onto the porch, grinning. “That was fun.”
“Speak for yourself.” Inda said. “You are quite strong, Samuel. I am most impressed with your progress.”
“I’m not ready. Not yet.”
Inda wiped his face with a towel and squatted down in front of Sam. “Perhaps, but you can not stay here forever.”
Sam nodded, the grin slipping away.
“It is natural to fear, Samuel.” Ally said, touching his shoulder. “After all you have been through.”
There was a lot to be afraid of. He’d seen so much, done so much. He knew his father was getting anxious to get back…and part of him was too. They’d finished the re-integration two days before…his memories and gifts were whole again…in fact more so than they’d ever been. His mind was an ordered, neat place. His shields were stronger than ever. The power at his disposal was nearly dizzying.
In fact, he was pretty certain that if he reached out for Dana, he’d find her…maybe even Dean. Sam licked his lips, exhaled slowly. “I think I should meditate a while.”
“As you wish.”
They withdrew and left Sam alone in the quiet, still afternoon. He sighed and settled himself. The last memories were still fresh, the afternoon of the attack, Dean’s voice telling him to go to their mother, to Michael. Sam inhaled and tried to blank his mind.
He and Aristotle had been out walking when he felt it. Just like Dana had described it. Murk, darkness, like a psychic stench. At first he couldn’t place it, then it got closer and Aristotle’s fur stood up. The man hadn’t seemed like much, but the way he looked at him gave Sam chills.
A block from home it attacked. They ran. Sam got Aristotle off her leash and sent her running, hoping she’d get clear, and then he turned to face the attacker.
Sam shivered, remembering the way it sliced through his shields like they weren’t even there. He took a deep breath and centered himself. He needed to be able to look at the memory without it shredding him. He walked through the cleansing and grounding ritual twice, then pulled it back up.
He’d been trying to get to the house, to the passive wards that protected the house, but once he’d felt the intrusion of that mind, he’d known it would be useless. The generic wards of protection wouldn’t hinder it.
It had come at him single-mindedly, ripping through everything in search of something. It had nearly gotten to it before Sam realized what it was the thing wanted. He’d grabbed it and buried it deep, ripping his own mind up in his wake to slow the thing down.
He hadn’t even been fully aware of the physical battle that echoed the psychic one. He’d fought like hell though. He could see himself through Dean’s eyes when Dean found him, the blood loss alone might have killed him.
Unclean. Unworthy. Dirty. Evil. Sinner.
The words whispered around him, circling his center. Insidious. He blasted them with white light and they dissipated. It wasn’t like any demon he’d ever faced, determined that Sam should not have the good things in his life because of his past, like Sam’s own guilt and self-conflict had been brought to life.
Sam went down fighting, praying that the thing would be content with ending him, and leave Dean and Dana alone. He’d inflicted some damage of his own, but his fight was mostly defensive. He had been sure he was dead, grateful Dean had given him the grace to pass over…until he felt the psychic nuclear bomb go off and felt Dana rushing to put things back together.
Sam breathed in deep, the scent of pine trees and earth. The smell was so different than anything in his life, simpler, cleaner. He re-centered, letting go of the memory and concentrating on making his mind still and calm.
He was strong. He was healed. He opened his eyes to find his father sitting in front of him. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be meditating also. After a few seconds, John opened his eyes, smiling through the scruff of weeks without shaving.
“I brought you something.”
Sam cocked his head as John’s hand opened. On it rested a scrap of pink blanket and a silver ring. Sam’s smile spread over his face. “I’d forgotten.” He breathed the words, didn’t quite reach for them.
“You bought this blanket for Dana when she was about nine months old. She carried it around until it was rags. Kept a piece of it in her backpack until she was twelve.” He put the scrap in Sam’s hand.
“And I put this piece away. Never told her.” Sam rubbed his thumb over the scrap of material. He closed his eyes and the sense of Dana surrounded him, the way she felt in his arms when she was an infant, the love that had poured out of her unconditionally. It had been unlike anything he had ever felt in his life. It had changed him…it had given him the room to change himself.
“And this…” John held up the ring. “Dean had this made for you. It’s not quite as elaborate as the one you gave him…but he had it rushed, because he wanted you to have it so badly. It was after the blowback.”
He put it in Sam’s other hand. “I was still pretty weak, and he was moving slow…He asked me to stop working…” It had been before they found the healing power, before they stepped in to make him realize he was killing himself with his guilt and self-denial. Before that love that had started with Dana all those years before had finally redeemed him.
Solemnly, Sam slid the ring onto the ring finger of his left hand, where it belonged. He breathed in and out slowly, then opened his eyes. “Now I’m ready.”
Dean was nearly ready. He had the ritual mapped out. He had what he needed, even though it was damn near impossible to find mistletoe at this time of year.
There was only one obstacle. There was no way to get both Missouri and Dana out of the house at the same time. He sat on his bed and sorted through the elements he needed. He wanted to be ready when the opportunity came.
There was a quick knock on his door and Dean pulled the comforter back, hiding his stuff as the door opened. “Dad?”
“Yeah?” He looked up. She was frowning at him. “Is something wrong?”
“Can I talk to you?”
“Always.”
She closed the door and came to sit on the end of the bed. She seemed nervous…very not Dana-like. “Honey, what is it?”
“I’ve been thinking…about Bellius, and me.” She was very serious, her eyes on her knees. “I—I always thought that I should know stuff…that it was important to be able to fight with anything and everything.” She made a face. “I never understood why you and Sam got so upset. I mean, Sam used dark stuff and you never said anything to him…but now…I think maybe I understand.”
“Honey, you know Sam and I only ever wanted to protect you. You are nothing like that monster in the garage.”
She nodded, then looked up at him, her green eyes bright with unshed tears. “I miss Sam.”
“Me too, honey. Me too.”
She put a hand down as she leaned in to kiss his cheek, pulling it up sharply. “Ow. What the—“ Before he could stop her, she pulled the comforter back. “Dad?”
Dean sighed and lowered his head.
“What is this?” Her hand reached for the book, lifting it and opening it to his marked page. “Shit.” Her eyes skimmed over the page, then over the stuff spread out on Sam’s side of the bed. “You were going to try this…without one of us there to protect you?”
“I want him dead.” Dean said, his own voice cold in his ears. “I don’t want him here when Sam comes home.”
“Nothing I’ve said has penetrated that thick skull, has it?” Dana asked, standing. “I have half a mind to lock you in your room like a fucking kid.” She paced away. “We can’t just kill him.”
“Maybe you can’t. But I can.” Dean said, standing himself now. “Besides, that only makes him mortal.”
Dana sighed and shook her head. “You agreed to wait.”
“Only so you’d leave me alone.” Dean said, not sure why he was being truthful now.
“You’re impossible. Do you know that?” She stalked to the door, the book still in her hands.
“Dana, give me the book.”
“No.” She walked out of the room and Dean followed, but the door slammed in his face.
He reached for the doorknob, but it didn’t budge. “Dana, let me out.”
“Not until you come to your senses.” Dana said through the door.
Dean wiggled the doorknob, at least until it got hot. Then he let go of it and pounded on the door. “Dana Elizabeth Winchester open this door.”
Dana didn’t answer, and Dean got the impression she wasn’t even there anymore. “Dana?” He sighed and moved back to the bed. “Yeah, good move Winchester.”
The drive home seemed to take forever…at least to Sam who had slept while Missouri drove them out. Sam hadn’t even wanted to take time to get changed, and so he was still in the white robes he’d worn at the sanctuary. As they reached Lawrence city limits, Sam reached out to touch his father’s arm. “Stop…can you stop for a minute?”
John nodded and pulled them over the side of the road. “You okay, Sammy?”
Sam got out of the truck. The late afternoon air was chill, almost cold. Sam didn’t answer his father, couldn’t express what he was feeling. Anxious, hungry for Dean’s voice, his touch…to feel him again, and yet….and yet…
Sam took a deep breath and centered himself. “What if he’s still angry?”
John was leaning against the truck, watching. “He’s not.”
“How do you know?”
“Talked to him this morning, while you were finishing up your session.”
Sam nodded. He stopped, feeling…something. Dana. He let her brush up against his shields, let her feel her way around them and slowly he opened to her, reached for her.
Hey.
He was slammed with a dead-on shot of full-bore Dana, giggling and excited. Under that he got the sense that she was tired, worn a little thin, concerned, worried.
What’s wrong?
There was a flurry of reassurance before actual words. Nothing. Just tired. Where are you?
Just into Lawrence. Be home in about twenty minutes. He reached a little more strongly for her, felt a surge of energy signatures around her. He recognized Dean and Missouri…and there was something else…something strong. Dana?
He felt her putting up walls. I’ll explain when you get here.
He opened his eyes and headed for the truck. His apprehension about what kind of reception he would get evaporated under concern for what she was hiding. John wasted no time getting back behind the wheel.
“Did Dean say anything about Dana when you talked to him?”
“Dana? No. Why?”
Sam chewed on his lip. “She’s hiding something.”
John snorted. “When isn’t she??”
“It felt…wrong.” He couldn’t shake it. It felt wrong, yet familiar somehow. As they rounded the corner onto their street, it snapped into place. It was the thing that attacked him. It was there. At the house.
He scanned the house as they came to a stop. It seemed contained. Closed off. Sam’s eyes focused on the garage door. It was in there.
Then the front door of the house opened and Aristotle came running for him, barking and bouncing like she was a puppy again. The puppy came tearing out after her, barking and yipping, though it was fairly clear he wasn’t sure what all the excitement was about.
Remmy came to a screaming halt as Sam bent and Ari bathed his face with her tongue. He looked at Sam and John and barked at them. Dean wasn’t far behind the puppy, and Remmy looked to him, for approval. Sam’s eyes followed the puppy’s, and his heart skipped, his eyes sliding over Dean, his breath stopping. He would almost swear Dean had gotten more devastatingly beautiful while he was gone.
Before Sam even raised a hand, he reached for him mentally, the old familiar connection snapping into place almost audibly. They both gasped and fell together, psychically first, then physically.
Dean’s arms wrapped around him, grabbed handfuls of robe and dragged him closer, squeezing until Sam was fighting to get enough air to keep standing. Across their connection was an endless loop of love you and missed you and wordless, formless waves of emotion that were nearly overwhelming after weeks of being disconnected. When Dean’s hands finally released his clothing, they grabbed at Sam’s face, his lips skipping over his skin, cheeks, chin until finally finding his mouth.
Their first touch was soft, reverent, moist with tears Sam hadn’t realized he was crying…or maybe they were Dean’s. He didn’t really know…didn’t care…just knew he needed this, needed more…and as he opened his mouth and Dean’s tongue slid inside it was both of those, intense and it took his breath away.
He was aware of Dana then, waiting with mock impatience, standing an arm’s length away. He pulled up, reached for her and she joined them, laughing and wrapping herself around them. Sam kissed her cheek and forehead and hugged them both to him.
Information surged between them without words, their three heads pressed together, arms looped around and hands holding one another close. By the time John cleared his throat and they all came up for air, Sam had the gist of everything that had happened with him gone, and Sam had filled them in on the basics of what he’d been through.
Sam was the quickest to recover, and he ran a hand over Dean’s chin, with a beard nearly equal to the one their father was sporting. “What’s this?”
Dean responded by grabbing a handful of robes and raising an eyebrow. “What’s this?”
Sam laughed and kissed him again. I like it. Remmy barked, wiggling his little puppy body between their legs, using his butt to push Sam’s legs.
Dean ran a hand over the hair a little self consciously, then John was pulling him into a hug and Remmy switched his attentions to John. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”
Sam dropped back as Dana took her turn to hug John, bending over to scratch at Aristotle’s insistent head and cooing to her until Missouri stepped out of the garage. He met her eyes, read the tired expression. It was similar to Dana’s. Keeping it contained was draining them.
His eyes met Missouri’s and she smiled. “Sam, look at you.”
He grinned and went to hug her, scanning her and pulling back with concern. “You need a break.”
She shook her head. “You just got home. You need to love on your family. I’ll be fine.”
“No.”
Missouri took a step back from the force he accidentally sent out with the word. She raised an eyebrow. “My, my. You’ve grown.”
He lowered his eyes, blushing. “Sorry. Still learning how to handle it.”
“Sam, let us take care of this, at least until morning.” Dana said as she slipped in beside Missouri. “In the morning we can talk about it.”
“Sam…I’ve got dinner almost ready.” Dean said, slipping an arm around his waist, his other holding the still squirming and barking puppy. Remmy took one look at Missouri and stopped barking, licking his lips and putting his head on Dean’s shoulder. “Come inside.”
Sam exhaled and nodded. “Okay. But tomorrow—“
“Tomorrow.” Dana pushed him toward the house.
Dean pulled him in, threading his fingers through Sam’s and not stopping until they were in the kitchen behind a closed door. Dean put the puppy down near the food dishes, then turned to Sam.
Sam let Dean push him up against the wall, his hands sliding over Sam as if mapping out forgotten territory. Dean’s eyes were filled with lust and love and maybe just a touch of fear.
Across their link Sam could feel that fear echoed, mixed with shame and guilt…images of Dana and the fight in the church, of Dean drinking himself into oblivion filled the space between them, and Dean’s desperation when Sam left.
I’m here, Dean. Right here. And I’m fine. I’m good.
Dean’s kiss was as desperate as his words had been that day Sam left, his hands threading through Sam’s hair. Sam pulled him close, surrounded him, pulled Dean inside him.
Thought I’d lost you. Dean’s hands pulled at Sam, at his robes, his hair, seeking contact. Thought I’d lost you forever.
Sam could feel his anguish, the tilt of his stomach as he thought it, as the memory rushed through him, Sam lying still in his arms, bloody and dying. Sam pulled back, caught Dean’s hands and held them, kissing Dean’s face and breathing in the smell of home. “You didn’t lose me Dean.” Sam’s lips caught Dean’s, his tongue slipping through and sliding across Dean’s. “The only thing lost is the man I used to be before you and Dana. He’s gone forever.”
Dean surged inside him, touching him mentally and physically and Sam lifted his head, as Dean’s lips traveled over his chin and onto his neck. Arousal swept through him, something he hadn’t felt since he left…desire burned, circling around them both and Sam didn’t need hands or lube or nakedness. He was going to come just like that, just from having Dean in his arms, in his head, filling him up.
Sam groaned and shivered as it happened and Dean only pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow. Want you so much. Sam pulled him back, lips pressing against Dean’s. Don’t want dinner…want to get you naked and get you sweaty and inside me.
Dean was panting as he nodded, his body pressed against Sam’s. His hand fisted in the front of his robes and he pulled the door open, dragging Sam through it and toward the stairs. “Going to help Sammy get settled. Watch dinner.” Dean said to Dana as she looked up from her Papa’s lap.
Sam sensed her amusement and the way she slammed the privacy wall up before they’d even gotten to the third stair made him smile. Dean yanked when Sam wasn’t moving fast enough and they stumbled the last few steps and through the doorway of their room, tripping over Remmy who was racing to get to the bed.
Sam laughed when Dean finally let go of him and they turned to find Rembrandt sitting dead center on the bed, looking from Dean to Sam and back again. “I think your dog wants to know what we’re doing.” Sam said, sticking his hand out to let Remmy sniff at it.
“Worse than a kid.”
“He’s just protecting you. Probably doesn’t really remember me.” Remmy sniffed and stood up, inching closer. He yelped when Dean caught him by the belly and lifted him off the bed.
“You can protect me later little man. Right now I want to do my own kind of remembering.” Dean scooted Remmy’s little butt out the door and shut it.
Sam doubled up Dana’s wall with a sound dampening one and was already reaching to start pulling clothes off of Dean when Dean stepped away. “You first.”
“Me first?”
Dean nodded. “I want to see that fine ass and those killer abs.”
“You’re just not sure how to get the robes off.”
“Well, that too.”
“That’s easy.” Sam caught mental hooks in either shoulder and gave a shrug, ripping the robes down the center and dropping them to the floor. Dean stared, open mouthed. Sam blushed at the excessive use of his newly discovered power. “Sorry…that was a little…showy.”
Dean raised an eyebrow and Sam got the challenge instantly, crossed his arms and flicked a thought at Dean’s shirt. It ripped and fell open, revealing his own fairly muscular stomach and chest. Sam felt his cock stirring for a second go. “I am one lucky man.” Sam breathed as he closed the distance between them, pulling Dean to him and dropping the remnants of his t-shirt.
He kissed down Dean’s neck and over his shoulder. Slowly, Sam went to his knees, tongue and teeth and lips marking the way. His fingers pulled at the zipper and button of Dean’s jeans, sliding them down, chasing the fabric with his lips. He groaned as the musky smell of Dean met his nose and his cock bobbed to life in front of him.
Eager boy?
Sam grinned up at him. Been celibate a month. Horny.
Sam opened his mouth and took Dean in, earning a groan from him. Now who’s the eager boy?
“Want you.” Dean was pulling on him, urging him up.
“Way ahead of you.” Sam got up and went for the lube, lifting one knee onto the bed before reaching behind himself with a lubed up finger.
You sure you don’t want to be on top?
Sam looked over his shoulder, reached for Dean mentally and pulled him closer. Want you inside of me, all the ways you can be.
Dean grinned and licked his lips. Sam tossed him the lube and got up on the bed, laying on his stomach and canting his hips up, tucking two pillows under him. With mental fingers he stroked over Dean’s body, urging him faster, closer.
“Easy Sammy…don’t want to break you your first night home.” Dean murmured, but even as he said it he was settling the tip of his cock at the opening of Sam’s ass. His hand slid up Sam’s back and down again.
His movement forward was slow, sliding in on an abundance of lube despite the less than full prep work. Sam groaned, sinking into the familiar heat. Dean kept moving until his cock was deep inside and then he leaned forward, laying over Sam’s body. “Missed you Sammy…missed you so damn much…don’t ever want you to leave me again.”
I came back to you Dean…need you…always need you.
Sam opened up their connection to full, let the feeling of Dean swarm into him, penetrating him the way his cock did. They writhed around one another, bodies and minds fucking with abandon, rubbing pleasure centers that had Sam nearing his second orgasm rapidly.
Mentally Sam added the sensation of a tongue licking at Dean’s balls and Dean yelled out in surprise, his rhythm stuttering and his orgasm spilling into Sam. Not fair. Dean rolled off and Sam rolled on to his back, his cock standing up bright and red. Before he could say a word, Dean was leaning over him and sliding his mouth over Sam’s cock.
It didn’t take much, and Sam was yelling, thrusting up into Dean’s mouth as he came. Dean was grinning when he sat up, wiping at his mouth. “Welcome home Sammy.”
Sam held out his arms and Dean came to lay beside him, his head on Sam’s shoulder. He was still thin, his eyes still sunken, though not as dark as they’d been when he left. Some of that Sam knew how to fix. He tapped his healing power and let it wash around him…them. Dean’s eyes opened as he felt it flow into him, righting some of the balances, feeding energy into him in much the same way he’d done for Sam.
Relax and let me. Sam thought at him as he felt Dean starting to tense. Trust me.
The warmth grew, and Sam could feel Dean’s body respond. It wasn’t the same as it was for Sam when he used the healing power, but it was good. Sam could feel that.
When they both opened their eyes, Dean was hard again and slightly sweaty. “You said something about getting sweaty, I didn’t think that’s what you meant.”
Sam laughed and kissed over his face. “I feel like a teenager again…give me five minutes and I’ll be ready to fuck you.”
Dean reached for his cock and moaned. “Keep doing that freaky thing with your mind powers and I’ll be dead in five minutes.”
Sam grinned, reaching for Dean’s hands and pinning them as he rose up and straddled his body. “Maybe we should go for the record.”
He pulled up the memory of a night long before, a night before Dean had known who Sam was…before Dana had entered their lives…a night of debauchery. It wasn’t his proudest moment…but Dean had come ten times that night.
Dean shook his head. “Don’t even think about it, Sam. I’m not…I’m…”
Sam held his wrists and raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me that you’re too old?”
“No. I’m not saying I’m too old.”
Sam sent a thought sliding over the skin of Dean’s dick and he jumped. “Jesus Sam.”
He grinned. Licked his lips, sending the sensation of his tongue over the head. “Fuck.”
“Patience.” Sam said, concentrating now. He held Dean trapped and used his mind to stroke him, alternating between tongue and fingers until Dean was bucking up and cursing a blue streak.
“Sammy!”
Sam grinned and closed a mental fist over him. Dean bucked and came all over Sam’s hand. “That’s two.” Sam said.
“I have the feeling Dana and Dad are eating alone tonight.”
Title: Losing Sam, Arc 3.10 (All Keeper Verse Here, including Arcs 1 & 2)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 37,625 (total arc)
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean (long term established wincest), John, Dana (Dean's daughter) Missouri, OFC & OMC
Summary: Dean proves that maybe he hasn't actually learned anything, Sam and John head home..
A/Ns & Warnings: This story pics up after arc 2 as written by
shotofjack. It would never have happened without her. From the original concept to her beta, this fic owes a good amount to her. Expect a chapter a day until it is finished. Posting early today in case this afternoon is insane as yesterday's was. Enjoy!Dean watched until Dana was asleep, then went back to the kitchen. He had dinner cooking and every surface in the kitchen was covered in books. Somewhere in one of these was the answer…the way to kill the motherfucking son of a bitch.
He’d let Dana and Missouri both think he intended to wait for Sam, but he had no intention of letting that thing near Sam again. He stirred the sauce and checked his pasta, then went back to the book he’d been looking through when he heard the door.
It was an old volume, Catholic in origin. It spoke about angels sent to earth to learn lessons. There was a lot of nonsense in a lot of books about hawthorn berries and demon spit and half a dozen other shitty bits of folklore. This however was getting closer to the truth.
Not that he was all that keen to call upon Pagan gods for help…but it that’s what it took…that’s what it took. There was a reference to a book with a ritual that could strip an angel of its powers, make it human.
Dean could kill it if it were human. He smiled at the thought. All he had to do now was find yet another book.
“Very good, Samuel.” Ally murmured beside him.
Sam deflected yet another attack from Inda with relative ease. He felt Inda reach for the outside of his shields and shuffled them so that he couldn’t get a grip on them, then did the mental equivalent of a roll to end up out of his reach.
For the first time it was Inda who broke off the exercise, panting and sweating. Sam sank gratefully onto the porch, grinning. “That was fun.”
“Speak for yourself.” Inda said. “You are quite strong, Samuel. I am most impressed with your progress.”
“I’m not ready. Not yet.”
Inda wiped his face with a towel and squatted down in front of Sam. “Perhaps, but you can not stay here forever.”
Sam nodded, the grin slipping away.
“It is natural to fear, Samuel.” Ally said, touching his shoulder. “After all you have been through.”
There was a lot to be afraid of. He’d seen so much, done so much. He knew his father was getting anxious to get back…and part of him was too. They’d finished the re-integration two days before…his memories and gifts were whole again…in fact more so than they’d ever been. His mind was an ordered, neat place. His shields were stronger than ever. The power at his disposal was nearly dizzying.
In fact, he was pretty certain that if he reached out for Dana, he’d find her…maybe even Dean. Sam licked his lips, exhaled slowly. “I think I should meditate a while.”
“As you wish.”
They withdrew and left Sam alone in the quiet, still afternoon. He sighed and settled himself. The last memories were still fresh, the afternoon of the attack, Dean’s voice telling him to go to their mother, to Michael. Sam inhaled and tried to blank his mind.
He and Aristotle had been out walking when he felt it. Just like Dana had described it. Murk, darkness, like a psychic stench. At first he couldn’t place it, then it got closer and Aristotle’s fur stood up. The man hadn’t seemed like much, but the way he looked at him gave Sam chills.
A block from home it attacked. They ran. Sam got Aristotle off her leash and sent her running, hoping she’d get clear, and then he turned to face the attacker.
Sam shivered, remembering the way it sliced through his shields like they weren’t even there. He took a deep breath and centered himself. He needed to be able to look at the memory without it shredding him. He walked through the cleansing and grounding ritual twice, then pulled it back up.
He’d been trying to get to the house, to the passive wards that protected the house, but once he’d felt the intrusion of that mind, he’d known it would be useless. The generic wards of protection wouldn’t hinder it.
It had come at him single-mindedly, ripping through everything in search of something. It had nearly gotten to it before Sam realized what it was the thing wanted. He’d grabbed it and buried it deep, ripping his own mind up in his wake to slow the thing down.
He hadn’t even been fully aware of the physical battle that echoed the psychic one. He’d fought like hell though. He could see himself through Dean’s eyes when Dean found him, the blood loss alone might have killed him.
Unclean. Unworthy. Dirty. Evil. Sinner.
The words whispered around him, circling his center. Insidious. He blasted them with white light and they dissipated. It wasn’t like any demon he’d ever faced, determined that Sam should not have the good things in his life because of his past, like Sam’s own guilt and self-conflict had been brought to life.
Sam went down fighting, praying that the thing would be content with ending him, and leave Dean and Dana alone. He’d inflicted some damage of his own, but his fight was mostly defensive. He had been sure he was dead, grateful Dean had given him the grace to pass over…until he felt the psychic nuclear bomb go off and felt Dana rushing to put things back together.
Sam breathed in deep, the scent of pine trees and earth. The smell was so different than anything in his life, simpler, cleaner. He re-centered, letting go of the memory and concentrating on making his mind still and calm.
He was strong. He was healed. He opened his eyes to find his father sitting in front of him. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be meditating also. After a few seconds, John opened his eyes, smiling through the scruff of weeks without shaving.
“I brought you something.”
Sam cocked his head as John’s hand opened. On it rested a scrap of pink blanket and a silver ring. Sam’s smile spread over his face. “I’d forgotten.” He breathed the words, didn’t quite reach for them.
“You bought this blanket for Dana when she was about nine months old. She carried it around until it was rags. Kept a piece of it in her backpack until she was twelve.” He put the scrap in Sam’s hand.
“And I put this piece away. Never told her.” Sam rubbed his thumb over the scrap of material. He closed his eyes and the sense of Dana surrounded him, the way she felt in his arms when she was an infant, the love that had poured out of her unconditionally. It had been unlike anything he had ever felt in his life. It had changed him…it had given him the room to change himself.
“And this…” John held up the ring. “Dean had this made for you. It’s not quite as elaborate as the one you gave him…but he had it rushed, because he wanted you to have it so badly. It was after the blowback.”
He put it in Sam’s other hand. “I was still pretty weak, and he was moving slow…He asked me to stop working…” It had been before they found the healing power, before they stepped in to make him realize he was killing himself with his guilt and self-denial. Before that love that had started with Dana all those years before had finally redeemed him.
Solemnly, Sam slid the ring onto the ring finger of his left hand, where it belonged. He breathed in and out slowly, then opened his eyes. “Now I’m ready.”
Dean was nearly ready. He had the ritual mapped out. He had what he needed, even though it was damn near impossible to find mistletoe at this time of year.
There was only one obstacle. There was no way to get both Missouri and Dana out of the house at the same time. He sat on his bed and sorted through the elements he needed. He wanted to be ready when the opportunity came.
There was a quick knock on his door and Dean pulled the comforter back, hiding his stuff as the door opened. “Dad?”
“Yeah?” He looked up. She was frowning at him. “Is something wrong?”
“Can I talk to you?”
“Always.”
She closed the door and came to sit on the end of the bed. She seemed nervous…very not Dana-like. “Honey, what is it?”
“I’ve been thinking…about Bellius, and me.” She was very serious, her eyes on her knees. “I—I always thought that I should know stuff…that it was important to be able to fight with anything and everything.” She made a face. “I never understood why you and Sam got so upset. I mean, Sam used dark stuff and you never said anything to him…but now…I think maybe I understand.”
“Honey, you know Sam and I only ever wanted to protect you. You are nothing like that monster in the garage.”
She nodded, then looked up at him, her green eyes bright with unshed tears. “I miss Sam.”
“Me too, honey. Me too.”
She put a hand down as she leaned in to kiss his cheek, pulling it up sharply. “Ow. What the—“ Before he could stop her, she pulled the comforter back. “Dad?”
Dean sighed and lowered his head.
“What is this?” Her hand reached for the book, lifting it and opening it to his marked page. “Shit.” Her eyes skimmed over the page, then over the stuff spread out on Sam’s side of the bed. “You were going to try this…without one of us there to protect you?”
“I want him dead.” Dean said, his own voice cold in his ears. “I don’t want him here when Sam comes home.”
“Nothing I’ve said has penetrated that thick skull, has it?” Dana asked, standing. “I have half a mind to lock you in your room like a fucking kid.” She paced away. “We can’t just kill him.”
“Maybe you can’t. But I can.” Dean said, standing himself now. “Besides, that only makes him mortal.”
Dana sighed and shook her head. “You agreed to wait.”
“Only so you’d leave me alone.” Dean said, not sure why he was being truthful now.
“You’re impossible. Do you know that?” She stalked to the door, the book still in her hands.
“Dana, give me the book.”
“No.” She walked out of the room and Dean followed, but the door slammed in his face.
He reached for the doorknob, but it didn’t budge. “Dana, let me out.”
“Not until you come to your senses.” Dana said through the door.
Dean wiggled the doorknob, at least until it got hot. Then he let go of it and pounded on the door. “Dana Elizabeth Winchester open this door.”
Dana didn’t answer, and Dean got the impression she wasn’t even there anymore. “Dana?” He sighed and moved back to the bed. “Yeah, good move Winchester.”
The drive home seemed to take forever…at least to Sam who had slept while Missouri drove them out. Sam hadn’t even wanted to take time to get changed, and so he was still in the white robes he’d worn at the sanctuary. As they reached Lawrence city limits, Sam reached out to touch his father’s arm. “Stop…can you stop for a minute?”
John nodded and pulled them over the side of the road. “You okay, Sammy?”
Sam got out of the truck. The late afternoon air was chill, almost cold. Sam didn’t answer his father, couldn’t express what he was feeling. Anxious, hungry for Dean’s voice, his touch…to feel him again, and yet….and yet…
Sam took a deep breath and centered himself. “What if he’s still angry?”
John was leaning against the truck, watching. “He’s not.”
“How do you know?”
“Talked to him this morning, while you were finishing up your session.”
Sam nodded. He stopped, feeling…something. Dana. He let her brush up against his shields, let her feel her way around them and slowly he opened to her, reached for her.
Hey.
He was slammed with a dead-on shot of full-bore Dana, giggling and excited. Under that he got the sense that she was tired, worn a little thin, concerned, worried.
What’s wrong?
There was a flurry of reassurance before actual words. Nothing. Just tired. Where are you?
Just into Lawrence. Be home in about twenty minutes. He reached a little more strongly for her, felt a surge of energy signatures around her. He recognized Dean and Missouri…and there was something else…something strong. Dana?
He felt her putting up walls. I’ll explain when you get here.
He opened his eyes and headed for the truck. His apprehension about what kind of reception he would get evaporated under concern for what she was hiding. John wasted no time getting back behind the wheel.
“Did Dean say anything about Dana when you talked to him?”
“Dana? No. Why?”
Sam chewed on his lip. “She’s hiding something.”
John snorted. “When isn’t she??”
“It felt…wrong.” He couldn’t shake it. It felt wrong, yet familiar somehow. As they rounded the corner onto their street, it snapped into place. It was the thing that attacked him. It was there. At the house.
He scanned the house as they came to a stop. It seemed contained. Closed off. Sam’s eyes focused on the garage door. It was in there.
Then the front door of the house opened and Aristotle came running for him, barking and bouncing like she was a puppy again. The puppy came tearing out after her, barking and yipping, though it was fairly clear he wasn’t sure what all the excitement was about.
Remmy came to a screaming halt as Sam bent and Ari bathed his face with her tongue. He looked at Sam and John and barked at them. Dean wasn’t far behind the puppy, and Remmy looked to him, for approval. Sam’s eyes followed the puppy’s, and his heart skipped, his eyes sliding over Dean, his breath stopping. He would almost swear Dean had gotten more devastatingly beautiful while he was gone.
Before Sam even raised a hand, he reached for him mentally, the old familiar connection snapping into place almost audibly. They both gasped and fell together, psychically first, then physically.
Dean’s arms wrapped around him, grabbed handfuls of robe and dragged him closer, squeezing until Sam was fighting to get enough air to keep standing. Across their connection was an endless loop of love you and missed you and wordless, formless waves of emotion that were nearly overwhelming after weeks of being disconnected. When Dean’s hands finally released his clothing, they grabbed at Sam’s face, his lips skipping over his skin, cheeks, chin until finally finding his mouth.
Their first touch was soft, reverent, moist with tears Sam hadn’t realized he was crying…or maybe they were Dean’s. He didn’t really know…didn’t care…just knew he needed this, needed more…and as he opened his mouth and Dean’s tongue slid inside it was both of those, intense and it took his breath away.
He was aware of Dana then, waiting with mock impatience, standing an arm’s length away. He pulled up, reached for her and she joined them, laughing and wrapping herself around them. Sam kissed her cheek and forehead and hugged them both to him.
Information surged between them without words, their three heads pressed together, arms looped around and hands holding one another close. By the time John cleared his throat and they all came up for air, Sam had the gist of everything that had happened with him gone, and Sam had filled them in on the basics of what he’d been through.
Sam was the quickest to recover, and he ran a hand over Dean’s chin, with a beard nearly equal to the one their father was sporting. “What’s this?”
Dean responded by grabbing a handful of robes and raising an eyebrow. “What’s this?”
Sam laughed and kissed him again. I like it. Remmy barked, wiggling his little puppy body between their legs, using his butt to push Sam’s legs.
Dean ran a hand over the hair a little self consciously, then John was pulling him into a hug and Remmy switched his attentions to John. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”
Sam dropped back as Dana took her turn to hug John, bending over to scratch at Aristotle’s insistent head and cooing to her until Missouri stepped out of the garage. He met her eyes, read the tired expression. It was similar to Dana’s. Keeping it contained was draining them.
His eyes met Missouri’s and she smiled. “Sam, look at you.”
He grinned and went to hug her, scanning her and pulling back with concern. “You need a break.”
She shook her head. “You just got home. You need to love on your family. I’ll be fine.”
“No.”
Missouri took a step back from the force he accidentally sent out with the word. She raised an eyebrow. “My, my. You’ve grown.”
He lowered his eyes, blushing. “Sorry. Still learning how to handle it.”
“Sam, let us take care of this, at least until morning.” Dana said as she slipped in beside Missouri. “In the morning we can talk about it.”
“Sam…I’ve got dinner almost ready.” Dean said, slipping an arm around his waist, his other holding the still squirming and barking puppy. Remmy took one look at Missouri and stopped barking, licking his lips and putting his head on Dean’s shoulder. “Come inside.”
Sam exhaled and nodded. “Okay. But tomorrow—“
“Tomorrow.” Dana pushed him toward the house.
Dean pulled him in, threading his fingers through Sam’s and not stopping until they were in the kitchen behind a closed door. Dean put the puppy down near the food dishes, then turned to Sam.
Sam let Dean push him up against the wall, his hands sliding over Sam as if mapping out forgotten territory. Dean’s eyes were filled with lust and love and maybe just a touch of fear.
Across their link Sam could feel that fear echoed, mixed with shame and guilt…images of Dana and the fight in the church, of Dean drinking himself into oblivion filled the space between them, and Dean’s desperation when Sam left.
I’m here, Dean. Right here. And I’m fine. I’m good.
Dean’s kiss was as desperate as his words had been that day Sam left, his hands threading through Sam’s hair. Sam pulled him close, surrounded him, pulled Dean inside him.
Thought I’d lost you. Dean’s hands pulled at Sam, at his robes, his hair, seeking contact. Thought I’d lost you forever.
Sam could feel his anguish, the tilt of his stomach as he thought it, as the memory rushed through him, Sam lying still in his arms, bloody and dying. Sam pulled back, caught Dean’s hands and held them, kissing Dean’s face and breathing in the smell of home. “You didn’t lose me Dean.” Sam’s lips caught Dean’s, his tongue slipping through and sliding across Dean’s. “The only thing lost is the man I used to be before you and Dana. He’s gone forever.”
Dean surged inside him, touching him mentally and physically and Sam lifted his head, as Dean’s lips traveled over his chin and onto his neck. Arousal swept through him, something he hadn’t felt since he left…desire burned, circling around them both and Sam didn’t need hands or lube or nakedness. He was going to come just like that, just from having Dean in his arms, in his head, filling him up.
Sam groaned and shivered as it happened and Dean only pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow. Want you so much. Sam pulled him back, lips pressing against Dean’s. Don’t want dinner…want to get you naked and get you sweaty and inside me.
Dean was panting as he nodded, his body pressed against Sam’s. His hand fisted in the front of his robes and he pulled the door open, dragging Sam through it and toward the stairs. “Going to help Sammy get settled. Watch dinner.” Dean said to Dana as she looked up from her Papa’s lap.
Sam sensed her amusement and the way she slammed the privacy wall up before they’d even gotten to the third stair made him smile. Dean yanked when Sam wasn’t moving fast enough and they stumbled the last few steps and through the doorway of their room, tripping over Remmy who was racing to get to the bed.
Sam laughed when Dean finally let go of him and they turned to find Rembrandt sitting dead center on the bed, looking from Dean to Sam and back again. “I think your dog wants to know what we’re doing.” Sam said, sticking his hand out to let Remmy sniff at it.
“Worse than a kid.”
“He’s just protecting you. Probably doesn’t really remember me.” Remmy sniffed and stood up, inching closer. He yelped when Dean caught him by the belly and lifted him off the bed.
“You can protect me later little man. Right now I want to do my own kind of remembering.” Dean scooted Remmy’s little butt out the door and shut it.
Sam doubled up Dana’s wall with a sound dampening one and was already reaching to start pulling clothes off of Dean when Dean stepped away. “You first.”
“Me first?”
Dean nodded. “I want to see that fine ass and those killer abs.”
“You’re just not sure how to get the robes off.”
“Well, that too.”
“That’s easy.” Sam caught mental hooks in either shoulder and gave a shrug, ripping the robes down the center and dropping them to the floor. Dean stared, open mouthed. Sam blushed at the excessive use of his newly discovered power. “Sorry…that was a little…showy.”
Dean raised an eyebrow and Sam got the challenge instantly, crossed his arms and flicked a thought at Dean’s shirt. It ripped and fell open, revealing his own fairly muscular stomach and chest. Sam felt his cock stirring for a second go. “I am one lucky man.” Sam breathed as he closed the distance between them, pulling Dean to him and dropping the remnants of his t-shirt.
He kissed down Dean’s neck and over his shoulder. Slowly, Sam went to his knees, tongue and teeth and lips marking the way. His fingers pulled at the zipper and button of Dean’s jeans, sliding them down, chasing the fabric with his lips. He groaned as the musky smell of Dean met his nose and his cock bobbed to life in front of him.
Eager boy?
Sam grinned up at him. Been celibate a month. Horny.
Sam opened his mouth and took Dean in, earning a groan from him. Now who’s the eager boy?
“Want you.” Dean was pulling on him, urging him up.
“Way ahead of you.” Sam got up and went for the lube, lifting one knee onto the bed before reaching behind himself with a lubed up finger.
You sure you don’t want to be on top?
Sam looked over his shoulder, reached for Dean mentally and pulled him closer. Want you inside of me, all the ways you can be.
Dean grinned and licked his lips. Sam tossed him the lube and got up on the bed, laying on his stomach and canting his hips up, tucking two pillows under him. With mental fingers he stroked over Dean’s body, urging him faster, closer.
“Easy Sammy…don’t want to break you your first night home.” Dean murmured, but even as he said it he was settling the tip of his cock at the opening of Sam’s ass. His hand slid up Sam’s back and down again.
His movement forward was slow, sliding in on an abundance of lube despite the less than full prep work. Sam groaned, sinking into the familiar heat. Dean kept moving until his cock was deep inside and then he leaned forward, laying over Sam’s body. “Missed you Sammy…missed you so damn much…don’t ever want you to leave me again.”
I came back to you Dean…need you…always need you.
Sam opened up their connection to full, let the feeling of Dean swarm into him, penetrating him the way his cock did. They writhed around one another, bodies and minds fucking with abandon, rubbing pleasure centers that had Sam nearing his second orgasm rapidly.
Mentally Sam added the sensation of a tongue licking at Dean’s balls and Dean yelled out in surprise, his rhythm stuttering and his orgasm spilling into Sam. Not fair. Dean rolled off and Sam rolled on to his back, his cock standing up bright and red. Before he could say a word, Dean was leaning over him and sliding his mouth over Sam’s cock.
It didn’t take much, and Sam was yelling, thrusting up into Dean’s mouth as he came. Dean was grinning when he sat up, wiping at his mouth. “Welcome home Sammy.”
Sam held out his arms and Dean came to lay beside him, his head on Sam’s shoulder. He was still thin, his eyes still sunken, though not as dark as they’d been when he left. Some of that Sam knew how to fix. He tapped his healing power and let it wash around him…them. Dean’s eyes opened as he felt it flow into him, righting some of the balances, feeding energy into him in much the same way he’d done for Sam.
Relax and let me. Sam thought at him as he felt Dean starting to tense. Trust me.
The warmth grew, and Sam could feel Dean’s body respond. It wasn’t the same as it was for Sam when he used the healing power, but it was good. Sam could feel that.
When they both opened their eyes, Dean was hard again and slightly sweaty. “You said something about getting sweaty, I didn’t think that’s what you meant.”
Sam laughed and kissed over his face. “I feel like a teenager again…give me five minutes and I’ll be ready to fuck you.”
Dean reached for his cock and moaned. “Keep doing that freaky thing with your mind powers and I’ll be dead in five minutes.”
Sam grinned, reaching for Dean’s hands and pinning them as he rose up and straddled his body. “Maybe we should go for the record.”
He pulled up the memory of a night long before, a night before Dean had known who Sam was…before Dana had entered their lives…a night of debauchery. It wasn’t his proudest moment…but Dean had come ten times that night.
Dean shook his head. “Don’t even think about it, Sam. I’m not…I’m…”
Sam held his wrists and raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me that you’re too old?”
“No. I’m not saying I’m too old.”
Sam sent a thought sliding over the skin of Dean’s dick and he jumped. “Jesus Sam.”
He grinned. Licked his lips, sending the sensation of his tongue over the head. “Fuck.”
“Patience.” Sam said, concentrating now. He held Dean trapped and used his mind to stroke him, alternating between tongue and fingers until Dean was bucking up and cursing a blue streak.
“Sammy!”
Sam grinned and closed a mental fist over him. Dean bucked and came all over Sam’s hand. “That’s two.” Sam said.
“I have the feeling Dana and Dad are eating alone tonight.”
