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phantismaTitle: All You Ever Learned of Love (Part Five- Index is Here)
Author name:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
phantisma
Artist name:raggedy_edge
Genre: SPN Wincest
Pairing: Sam/Dean, Sam/Jess, Sam/OC, Dean/OC
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~24, 848
Warnings/Spoilers: Brainwashing, het sex, group sex, dub-con, blood kink
Summary: First Sam disappeared, and no matter how hard they looked, John and Dean couldn't find him. Then Dean went missing. John Winchester searches for them, enlisting the help of friends at first to find them, and then once he has to save them from the cult that has brainwashed them with sex and magic. But this is no ordinary cult, and their leader is the demon John's been hunting since his wife died. He isn't about to let his favorite followers go without a fight.
A/Ns: This is my entry into this year's Big Bang for SPN. It is the sequel to last years. You don't have to read that one to follow this one, but if you're interested, the master post is here. Many thank yous to my betaeboniorchid. Also, a big thank you to my artist, raggedy_edge, who is awesome.
Master Art Post: http://raggedy-edge.livejournal.com/87154.html
Sam lay still and quiet on his cot, his breathing shallow as he focused himself. He could feel Bobby and Joshua and Caleb nearby. Beyond them he could feel Dean. He drew on the power Daniel had given him and called out to his brother, feeling him stir. He tried to connect to him, to speak to his mind, to comfort him, but all he really managed was a light touch to tell him he was there.
He was weakening.
Without daily contact with the energy of the temple, his ability to use the gifts Daniel had given him was fading.
Sam lifted his wrist, bringing the blue stone of his position up to his forehead, grateful that they had at least given him use of his arms and legs back. "Daniel."
He spoke the name aloud, concentrated on Daniel's true form, tried to reach out to him. He got a vague impression of rage and violence, then he was flushed with the familiar feeling of Daniel, of power and love and arousal.
"I love you." The words echoed around him and Sam sat up. He could tell Dean had felt it. Daniel knew, Daniel would come. Sam stood, crossing to the door.
"Dad? Can I talk to you?"
The door opened and his father entered cautiously. Not that Sam could blame him, not with the bruise still darkening his cheek where Sam had hit him the last time he'd been in the room.
"What is it?" John asked.
"I…I wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have said the things I did. I was…" He shook his head and looked away. "My head's all fuzzy. Nothing makes sense."
He could sense the relief in his father at the first sign that something was changing. He turned back, lifting his hand to brush along the bruise. His father didn't flinch. Sam reached out to nudge him, urging arousal, need, base wanton desire. John grunted and took a step back. "I'm so sorry." Sam whispered, moving in closer. "Let me make it up to you."
His lips brushed John's and he could feel the resistance now, sudden realization what he was doing. Sam pushed ahead, pressing him into the door, closing his lips over his father's, reaching into him for every pleasure spot he had.
John shoved him back, grabbing at Sam's wrist to keep him from falling. Instead, his hand caught on the leather cord of the bracelet, snapping it and Sam fell to the floor.
Sam shuddered, the wind knocked out of him as he hit the floor, his tangible connection severed. He was naked, stripped bare, all of Daniel ripped from him in that single movement, his gifts pouring out of him so quickly he couldn't breathe. "What have you done!" Sam screamed at his father who stood in the door, holding the bracelet and staring at him.
"Get out! Get out! Leave me alone!" Sam yelled, clawing his way back to his feet. John's face was white as he realized what had changed and he stepped back, shoving through the door and closing it behind him.
"Daniel! Don't leave me!" Sam tried to reach out for him, tried to feel the connection like he had before, but he was suddenly and completely alone.
John ran from Sam's door to Dean's, the others following and asking questions he didn't stop to answer. He pulled the door open, startling Dean and stalking into the room, crowding Dean into the corner.
"Dad?"
John grabbed his hand and pulled his arm up, his fingers twisting in the leather.
"No." Dean shook his head and tried to pull the hand away, but just succeeding in helping John rip the bracelet off of him. He didn't scream the way Sam had, but his face went pasty white and he sagged into the wall, slowly sliding down it as John stepped away. "No. Please give it back. Please?"
John was shaking when he left the room, closing the door and throwing the lock.
"Are you going to tell us what is going on?" Bobby asked.
"I'm not completely sure." John put the two leather bracelets on the table and brushed his hands down his thighs. "Sam…he was trying to…" He shook his head. "I pushed him, but didn't want to hurt him. Grabbed his wrist and the thing broke. The way he reacted…it was like I took away his…connection…or something."
"So they're more than just an indication of rank like we thought." Joshua said, picking up Dean's and lifting it to examine.
"I guess so." They could still hear Sam yelling, in turns angry and begging. In the distance they could hear thunder rumbling. "We might want to prepare for company." John said, the hair on the back of his neck standing up.
"You think it would come for them?" Caleb asked, though he was already loading rock salt rounds into the shotgun.
Before he could respond, the sound of the outer wards being breached could be heard. "That answers that question." Bobby said.
They were prepared, the whole property well warded to give any demon a hell of a time getting in, the whole barn itself built on sacred ground, over a devil's trap. John went to the cabinet and pulled out holy water.
Screams echoed around them as the second round of wards were breached. "Sounds like Daniel didn't come alone." Joshua said.
The doors blew off the barn, off the doors that held Sam and Dean. Wind howled through and there, in the doorway was a tall figure. They circled, spread out and ready.
Sam and Dean started toward him, then stopped, eyes downcast.
"You must be Daniel." John said, stepping forward, into the middle of the space, luring the damn demon in.
"John Winchester. Now this is a moment." He stepped into the open space, his eyes flicking over John and his shotgun. "Come now, really? Can't we just settle this like civilized beings?"
"If you were civilized." John responded, nodding to Bobby who began the incantation.
Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Exorcism? You think your measly words can bother me, John?" His eyes flashed yellow and John felt his stomach pitch to the side. "Remember me?"
He grit his teeth and threw a jar of holy water at him. He hissed and his skin sizzled and he tried to step toward John, looking at his feet when they wouldn't move. "Oh so clever, John." He lifted his eyes to Sam. "Come to me Sam."
Sam stepped closer, his eyes darting from Daniel to John and back again. Joshua's voice joined Bobby's. Daniel's hand fisted in Sam's hair and pressed him to his knees. "Dean, join your brother."
Dean was more hesitant, but he came, sinking to his knees willingly and reaching for Sam. Daniel's free hand found his head and he threw his own head back, cracking his neck.. "Your boys belong to me now John. Their souls feed me, make me stronger. Their love is stronger than your silly Latin words."
John lifted the shotgun and aimed it directly at the bastard's face. He pulled the trigger, plastering his neck and face with salt. He yanked back on both heads as he lowered his yellow eyes and the shotgun twisted out of John's hands.
"Now that stings." Flesh dripped off Daniel's face and suddenly John felt a hand twisted in his shirt even though there was no hand there. He was yanked across the floor toward Daniel.
The volume in the room lifted as Caleb's voice joined the chanting. "I would have kept the three of you forever with nothing to do but fuck and be fucked and live eternally." Daniel said. "Now I'm going to peel the flesh from your bones and let your blood baptize your boys into hell."
John fought to get his hand up, the rosary clenched tight until he could press it into the skin at Daniel's neck. “Praecípio tibi, quicúmque es, spíritus immúnde, et ómnibus sóciis tuis hunc dei fámulum (hanc dei fámulam) obsidéntibus: ut per mystéria incarnatiónis, passiónis, resurrectiónis et ascensiónis Dómini nostri Jesu Christi, per missiónem Spíritus Sancti."
Daniel laughed, then coughed, his eyes bulging. "You think you can beat me?"
"Et per advéntum ejúsdem Dómini nostri ad judicium, dicas mihi nomen tuum, die et horam éxitus tui, cum áliquo signo: et ut mihi Dei minístro licet indígno, prorsus in ómnibus obédias: neque hanc creatúram Dei, vel circunstántes, aut eórum bona ullo modo offéndas."
The four of them recited the words together, not the standard exorcism they used on lesser demons. No, this one had come from long before, it was etched into the cement below their feet. Daniel's grip on him wavered. His face contorted and the smoking of his skin got worse.
John's feet hit the ground and he pressed forward. Holy water sprayed from the hose in Joshua's hands, slamming into them as they continued with the words. Daniel's knees buckled and John rode him to the ground, pressing the crucifix of the rosary into his face.
Suddenly, Daniel's mouth opened and black billows of inky smoke spilled out of him, screaming around them before flying out into the night.
In the silence that followed, none of them moved. The body under John was cold, probably long dead. His limbs were heavy and achy as he fought to catch his breath. He shook off the pull of exhaustion and crawled up to his knees as Bobby and Caleb and Joshua staggered toward them.
Sam and Dean were sprawled out to either side of Daniel, neither of them moving. For a moment his heart stopped, then Dean twitched and Caleb fell to his knees beside him, reaching to check his pulse. He nodded at John who turned to where Bobby was checking on Sam.
"It ain't over." Joshua said, helping John up.
"It is for now." John amended. "Lets get the boys cleaned up and those doors fixed. No telling if exorcising the bastard is enough to get them free of him."
Dean's first thought was that he was hungry, and his second was that he really needed to pee. He opened his eyes slowly, wondering why his head hurt so bad and where the fuck he was. He sat up, realizing it wasn't just his head that hurt. His whole body felt like he'd been worked over.
He was also not in clothes he recognized. Or anything he would actually wear. His feet were bare and there were bruises on his wrist. He rubbed at his head and tried to remember what had happened, only to discover a needle in his arm and tubes that run up to an IV hung above him.
The last thing he remembered clearly was having a burger with Sam in San Francisco. Sam.
He stood, pulling the needle out of his arm and frowning hard as he crossed to the door of the small room. There were flashes after that. Sam and some guy who wasn't Sam, sex, girls. He shook his head, trying to make it make sense. He tried the door. It was locked, which somehow didn't surprise him.
"Hello?" He knocked at the door. "Anybody out there?"
The lock turned and the door opened. Dean stepped back, not sure what to expect, and certainly the last thing he expected was his father. "Dad?" Dean asked, rubbing his head again.
"How you feeling?"
"Confused. Why the hell is the door locked?" Dean looked past his father, spotting Bobby. "Where the hell are we?"
"I need you to calm down." John said.
"I'm calm. I'm confused as fuck, but I'm calm." He rubbed his head. "I feel like I've been run over by a truck, and I don't know what the fuck is going on, but this is as calm as I get, waking up in a strange place, locked in a room by my father."
"Okay, that's not exactly as calm as I'd like." John said. "But given the circumstances, I'll take it."
"Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?"
His father crossed his arms and looked him over. "I need you to trust me, and tell me something first."
"Okay." Dean said hesitantly.
"What do you remember?"
Dean shrugged and walked back to the cot, suddenly very tired. "I went to San Francisco to find Sam. We had a burger. He said something about a hunt. I was going to help him with a ghost problem." He shook his head. "Everything goes weird after that, then I woke up here."
His father nodded. "Okay."
"Okay?" Dean frowned harder. "How is that okay?"
"It means maybe we're on the road to getting you better," his father said.
"I don't understand."
John sighed and nodded. "I know. For now, how about we get you something to eat and something for that headache? You've been out cold for almost seventy-two hours. Before that you'd refused food for almost two days. We had to give you fluids the hard way." He gestured at the IV. "But Caleb's got some hot dogs on the grill."
He gestured out the door and Dean nodded, moving past him. "I refused food?"
His father chuckled and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'll explain later, okay?"
Dean nodded. "Will that explanation include where the hell my shoes are?"
A blood curdling scream stopped him and he turned toward the sound, his stomach sinking. Sam. He took a step toward it, but his father's hand stopped him. "Not just yet."
"That's Sam." Dean said, trying to pull away. He knew something was terribly wrong, that sound just wasn't normal. "What's wrong with Sam?"
His father's grip tightened on his shoulder and turned Dean away from the place where he knew Sam was. "He's not coming out of it as well as you did. He was gone a whole lot longer."
"What does that mean?" Dean asked, digging in his feet to keep from getting pulled away.
"He's not well, Dean." John sighed and for the first time Dean realized how gaunt and tired looking his father was, his face bruised under the facial hair, his eyes dark and sunken.
Dean shrugged his father's hand off. "Explain to me what the fuck is going on."
"That's a mighty strong demand, coming from you, Son." Bobby said. "You sure he ain't playing you, John?"
"I ain't playing, Bobby. What the fuck is wrong with Sam?"
"Near as I can tell he's going through withdrawal, though it ain't like nothing I ever saw."
"Withdrawal? From what?"
John shrugged and sagged a little. "Who knows? The sex? The magic? Some drug they fed you?"
"They…" Dean trailed off, his brow tightening as he squinted at his father. Flashes of memory filled him. Sam. Sex. Blood. He shook his head, unable to connect it all. Demon. There was a demon…and he….it slipped away and Dean's knees gave out on him. Bobby and his father caught him, held him up.
"Lets get you fed and bathed and we'll go from there." His father slung an arm around his back and helped him get his feet under him, supporting him out into a yard beside a big farmhouse. Caleb smiled from beside a big grill as John helped Dean sit at the picnic table next to it.
"Good to see you up and around."
Dean sort of nodded thanks as Caleb slipped a plate with three hotdogs on it and his father set a can of soda beside it along with a bag of chips. His stomach rumbled and for the moment, he put everything else aside to deal with the importance of eating.
Of course, that led to only making his need to pee all that much stronger. He looked up at the house. "I take it there's a bathroom in there with my name on it."
"Come on, I'll show you." His father didn't say anything else until they were inside. "There are clean towels in there. I have clothes for you in the bedroom at the end of the hall. You think you can manage?"
Dean nodded. "I'll be fine. But when I'm done, we're going to talk."
John nodded in agreement. "I'll be here."
Dean relieved himself first and contemplated the big old claw foot tub. A hot bath would feel incredibly good. He started the water and started to strip down. He flushed with something like embarrassment as he stood naked beside the tub, though he wasn't sure why. Something to do with being naked…though Dean had never really had a problem with nudity before.
He stepped into the tub and tried to focus on the flashes of memory. Sam stood out the strongest. Sam's smile, the way his hair flopped down over his eyes when he dropped his face a little. Dean flushed with an entirely different feeling then, his cock hardening. He took a deep breath and forced the arousal away.
He remembered that too, thinking he'd gotten over it, that he'd moved past his obsession with his brother, right up until he saw him again. Sam's voice, his laugh, his giant hands…Dean had been hard pressed not to kiss him on the spot.
Dean sank into the water, his achy body responding well to the heat, relaxing slowly. Everything about that moment was crystal clear, Sam's bear hug, the tight line of him, the clear joy at seeing Dean again…everything about Sam was clear, but nothing outside of him was coming back.
He laid his head back against the tub and closed his eyes. His father would explain. He had to.
Dean pulled on jeans that should have fit him, but seemed too big and t-shirt that was huge on him before shoving his feet into a pair of boots he recognized as his fathers. He stopped to look at himself in the dresser on the back of the bedroom door.
He was thin, his face pale and gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes. He almost didn't believe that was really him.
Sighing, he headed down the stairs, finding his father in the kitchen alone. "So, I remember getting a call from Sam, telling me he was in California. I remember driving like a bat out of hell to get there. I remember seeing him. Thing is, I can't remember where, outside of San Francisco. I try to picture the place and all I get is gray blur." Dean said without preamble, opening the fridge and pulling out a beer.
His father nodded. "I'm not surprised. You were under the influence of a demon, and probably drugs, brainwashing." He shook his head. "Bobby thinks it will come back over time, but for now, this is how your brain is dealing with it."
"Brainwashing?" Dean snorted, straddling a chair. "That doesn't sound like me."
His father looked up at him and Dean could see the seriousness in his eyes. "I'm not sure how they managed it, but I know it involved sex and blood magic."
Dean sat back like the words were physical and could hurt him. "Whoa, that's some heavy mojo."
"Yeah, you're telling me." His father rubbed a hand over his face. "Apparently this demon specializes in exploiting sexual trauma. He targets victims of abuse and molestation, rape victims."
Dean froze, his hand wrapped around the beer. He'd never told a soul, not even Sam. No one knew. He forced himself to lift the beer and swallow. "Also doesn't sound like me."
"I know, Dean."
Dean blinked and pushed away the rush of fear. No. No. No. No one knew. No one. "I don't know what—"
John slapped his hand down on the table. "Stop. No more secrets and lies. I can't help you when you lie to me." He turned to look Dean in the eye. "I know because you told me."
Dean shoved back from the table, knocking the chair over. It was pure reflex, defense. He would never have told that. Not to his father. Not to John Winchester.
"I know about Sam too." His father's voice was flat, tired. Not at all like he'd just told Dean he knew all the dirty secrets he'd been keeping for years.
"I…" Dean wiped at his mouth, pulled his hand through his hair. "Dad…I…"
John held up his hand. "Now isn't the time to tell me how sorry you are or whatever deflection you're thinking. I'm not angry."
"Right." Dean turned away. His father couldn't be saying he accepted the information like Dean had spilled the beans about some girl he'd fucked or car he stole.
Suddenly, John was there, turning him around. "I'm not angry, Dean. I'm hurt that you never told me about that goddamn coach so I could disembowel him. I'm bothered that you and Sam didn't come to me when the thing with the idol happened."
"How could I tell you?" Dean asked, his voice cracking. He closed his eyes, remembering the fear, the humiliation, the shame. He'd crawled out of that coach's office and he'd taken Sam home and he'd showered and scrubbed himself raw, cried in a corner of the living room with a pillow over his face so he wouldn't wake Sam. They'd ended up leaving town before the week was over and Dean had buried the whole thing, and never brought up football again.
His father's hand caught the back of his head and pulled him into a hug. "You're my son, Dean. I would have helped you."
Tears burned at the corner of his eyes and he blinked to clear them. John held him tight for a minute, then stepped back, his hand cupping to Dean's face. "I would have killed the bastard…but I would have supported you."
Dean wiped at his face. "And the thing with Sam?"
His father grimaced, but didn't turn away. "That was as much my fault as yours. I shouldn't have taken you two with me, or made you wait in the car. That old fool was always collecting the most dangerous, stupid shit around. You couldn't have known what it was going to do."
Dean reached for his beer. "No, but we should have told you. Once we realized something was wrong."
"I'm not arguing with that. If you had, we might have found a solution."
He bit his lip, remembering the moment he'd decided to go through with it. He hated himself, but he couldn't think past the need to have Sam, to taste his skin, to sink into him, to make him forever his. "At the time, there didn't seem to be any other solution. It was…a powerful compulsion." He lifted the beer and swallowed a mouthful.
"And now?"
Dean almost choked and turned to look at his father. "I…what?"
"The compulsion. It is still there, isn't it?"
Dean exhaled and tried to find a way to deny it. "I…so don't want to be having this conversation."
John's hand came down on his shoulder. "I think that's why you and Sam were susceptible to this demon, Dean. You were both already under the influence of some powerful sex magic."
"Something else I told you that I can't remember?"
John chuckled darkly. "Not so much told me. It was obvious though, watching the two of you together."
Dean's head filled with an image, a moment…sitting across a table from his father, Sam at his side, Sam's hand covering his as though it was completely natural…his voice spilling dirty secrets, things best kept hidden.
"Daniel." The name came bubbling out, though Dean couldn't place a face to go with it, he could feel the heat of lips on his own, the touch of fingers on his skin. He traced a finger over his lips. "He…" It slipped away and Dean shook his head.
"He was the demon." John supplied. "You should probably get some rest. I need to go out and relieve Bobby."
"I want to see Sam."
"I don't think it's a wise idea."
"I don't care." Dean said a little more forcefully than he actually felt. To his surprise his father didn't argue, just lead the way out the back porch and down to the barn.
Sam was quiet as John opened the door to the room they were keeping him in, but he was restrained to the bed, in little more than sweatpants, his chest marked up. His eyes opened as they came in, widening as they spotted Dean.
"Dean…help me."
Arousal flushed through him, followed by anger at himself. "Sammy." John put an arm out to keep him from getting too close.
"How you feeling, Sam?"
"Like you care? Dean, help me. Let me go."
He could see the shaking in Sam's hands, the wild in his eyes. "I'll be good, I promise."
"The last time we let you up, you nearly killed Joshua." John said.
"I won't hurt anybody. Just let me have Dean? Dean, you'll stay with me? For a little while? Please Dean? I need you."
It was obvious what Sam meant, his sweats tented with his need. Dean eased his way around his father to kneel beside the cot, his hand lifting to caress Sam's sweaty cheek. "Holy shit, he's burning up."
"Yeah, it started right after we exorcised the fucking demon. We got him into this room and he started convulsing and spewing vile words and the fever started."
Sam's eyes met his, filled with begging. "Dad, gimme a few minutes?"
"Dean--"
He looked up at his father. "Please?"
He was almost sure his father wouldn't agree, then he nodded. "I'll be right outside that door."
When the door was shut, he turned back to Sam. "Easy, Sammy."
"Hurts so much Dean. I need him."
"Shh." Dean wiped his sweaty face. "You need to get better."
"Daniel. You have to find Daniel."
Dean shook his head. "He's gone Sam. Dad exorcised him."
Sam's head tossed on the cot. "No." His voice was a desperate whine.
Dean kissed him to make the sound stop, then froze. That was familiar. Sam's tongue filled his mouth, his teeth nipping. "Dean. Dean." He pulled at the restraints, but Dean pulled back. "In the car."
"What?" Dean swallowed hard.
"In the car, in the glove box. My flask. Bring it to me?"
"I…I'll try, okay?" Dean said, backing up. He could still taste Sam on his tongue, feel him. Right that moment Dean needed to get away though, before he did something they'd both regret. Again.
His skin burned and the restraints chaffed. He imagined the shadows on the walls were alive, coming for him and he cried out for help. Yellow eyes burned in the dark, mocking him, telling him he was weak, that he didn't deserve to be one of the Chosen.
"There's a special place in hell for those who fail me, Samuel. I'll see you there real soon."
He writhed against the sweaty sheets, trying to free his hands to fight them. "Dean!" He screamed his brother's name, not really expecting him to answer.
The door opened, dim light slipping over the floor, making the shadows dance more obscenely around him. "Sam." The voice was a whisper, Dean's voice.
The door closed and one shadow moved closer, an actual hand touching Sam. "Dean?"
"I'm here, Sam. Shh…don't wake Caleb." Dean's hand slid over Sam's chest. "I know what you need, Sammy. I'm going to give it to you." His hand slid under Sam's sweats, curled around his cock and Sam was hard instantly. "See, let me help you Sammy."
"Dean…" Sam gasped as Dean moved to straddle over him, his own pants gone. "Need…"
Dean guided Sam's cock to his ass and sank down onto him. "Shh…I know."
"He's gonna kill me Dean."
Dean rose up and sank down, setting up a rhythm. "No, Sammy…no demon's going to take you away from me. You belong to me, remember?"
Sam saw the knife then, as Dean lifted his hand and sliced into the meat of his palm. "You want blood? You get mine." Blood dripped down onto Sam's face as Dean lowered his hand. Sam licked at the blood on his lips, thrusting up into Dean as his mouth closed over the wound. "Just you and me, Sammy. Just like it used to be."
Sam came in a rush and Dean slipped off him, leaning in to kiss him. A warm cloth followed, washing his face. Warmth spread through him, not the fire of Daniel's blood…but something familiar, necessary. "Dean?"
"Right here, Sam. Sleep."
"I love you Dean." His eyes closed, sudden lethargy taking over and dragging him under.
"You shouldn't be down here." John said in way of good morning as he joined Dean at the table in the barn.
Dean made a face. "Couldn't sleep. Besides, Sam's been quiet since I got here."
"No outbursts?"
Dean shook his head. "Fever seems to have broken. I checked on him a few hours ago and he was sleeping."
John sipped his coffee, looking at Sam's door. "How long you been out here?"
"I came down around three and sent Caleb to bed." Dean stood and headed for the coffee pot on the counter.
John put his hand down on the pile of books Bobby had been digging through, trying to come up with something to help the boy. Dean had one open in front of him, and beside the book was a flask and a knife. "You find something?"
Dean squinted at him. "Remembered something. The book helped."
That was when John saw the bandage on Dean's hand. "Maybe the right question is, did you do something?"
Again, Dean made the face. "I just…gave him what he needed. Okay?"
John's stomach tightened. "Dean, what did you do?"
Dean sighed and shook his head. "It's been two days since I came out of it, he's just gotten worse. I took a chance."
"Dean, you don't fuck around with this shit."
"No, Dad. He was dying. You broke the connection to Daniel, you took away the supply of blood." Dean picked up the flask and threw it at him. "Demon blood. That's what I remembered. Daniel, he feeds it to them…his special ones, his chosen. That's what gives them their power."
John opened the flask and recoiled from the smell. "It's like a drug, and combined with the sex and the magic….Sam was jonesing hard."
"So you did…what?"
Dean held up his hand. "I gave him something stronger."
John came around the table and grabbed Dean's hand, peeling back the bandage to look at the gash. "I soaked my hand in holy water and slipped him something to take the edge off to let him sleep."
"And you think that's going to make a difference?"
"You and me and Sam, we're family. That's more important than any demon, right?"
John frowned at him, not at all sure that would actually work, but Dean seemed so determined and after the last two days John could only hope he was right. "I'm going to check on him."
He left Dean and opened the door as quietly as he could, not wanting to wake Sam if he really was finally sleeping. Sam's body was lax against the cot, his face peaceful for the first time in days. He looked so young and innocent lying there that John could almost believe they were past the worst of it.
He eased the door shut. "I'll get an IV set up, get some fluid and nutrition into him."
Dean seemed to relax. "I'm going to go up to the house and re-bandage this."
"Bobby's up, have him give you a hand."
John watched him go, then fished out what he needed to set up and IV. He'd wait to dope Sam up until he knew he was out of the woods. But he didn't blame Dean for offering the kid a shot at sleeping.
He let himself back into the room and lowered himself down beside the cot, laying the bag out on Sam's stomach and set about finding a vein in his arm. Once he had the needle in, he taped it down and looked up, surprised to find Sam's eyes on him.
John offered a smile and Sam blinked. "Dad…" his voice was cracked and dry and he licked his lips like that would help.
"It's okay, Sam. You're safe."
Sam nodded, blinking slowly. "Dean…"
"He's safe too."
"Did I hurt you?"
John shook his head. "No, Son. I'm fine."
"Tired."
He brushed the hair off Sam's forehead and leaned in to kiss it. "I know. Sleep. I'll be right here." He stood and lifted the bag, watching Sam's eyes close again. Maybe Dean was right. Maybe.
Everything hurt. Sam groaned and pressed both hands to his eyes. He could smell bacon and coffee. Warm air blew in the open window. He could feel his father and Dean downstairs. But at least it was just the three of them now that Bobby and Caleb had finally left.
It was harder with all of them there. Everything was still so ragged, raw.
He sat up slowly. Two weeks had passed since he woke up with an IV in his arm and Dean asleep in a chair in the corner. Parts of the last months were still blurry, other parts were crystal clear.
The guilt sat heavy in his stomach, though both Dean and their father had told him that he wasn't to blame. He knew better. This had all been his fault.
He exhaled and tried to stretch. He was tired of this room. He pushed himself upright, teetering a little as he reached vertical, but his knees held and he grabbed the robe on the back of the door before shuffling out of the bedroom and toward the bathroom.
He was shaking a little when he got there, but he managed to deal with his needs by himself, the first time since he'd been awake he hadn't need a hand to keep him from falling. He flushed and washed his hands and decided to see how far his good luck held.
At the top of the stairs he paused, wondering if he should call for help. He'd been enough of a burden. He gripped the railing and put his foot on the top stair. He got down three of them before his knees started to wobble.
Determined, he gripped the railing tighter and stumbled down the next few steps. Five or so from the bottom, he sat down with a thump, breathing hard. Dean appeared in the doorway, cursing.
"What are you doing?"
"Coming to breakfast?" Sam responded, trying to smile, but not really looking his brother in the eye. No matter what else they'd come through, the desire was still there.
"You should have called me."
"You would have just made me stay in bed. I'm tired of being in bed." He held out his hand for Dean to help him up and despite huffing at his hard headedness, Dean took it.
"You must be feeling better at least." Dean said as he slipped his arm around Sam's back to support him out into the kitchen where their father was just serving up plates.
"What are you doing down here?"
Sam rolled his eyes and let Dean help him into the chair. "Stretching my legs. Can't stay in bed forever." Not alone anyway. He sighed and pushed the thought away. Dean offered a tight smile. At least now Sam knew he wasn't alone in his perversion and that Dean didn't hate him for it.
He was still mortified that his father knew, but it made dealing with with the compulsion, or rather the long silences as they fought it, somewhat easier, knowing that everyone in the room understood what was at stake.
John set a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him and one in front of Dean. "Coffee?"
Sam nodded and smiled. "This smells so good."
John joined them at the table with a coffee mug for Sam and it fell silent as they all started eating. It was awkward and strange and more than a little unreal. He half expected every morning to wake up back at Stanford or in Daniel's bed at the temple. Dean touched his knee under the table and Sam looked up, nodding. "Just thinking."
"That'll get you in trouble." Dean said, grinning.
Sam was quiet then for a long time, chewing thoughtfully. None of them had said it, but they all knew it wasn't over. The demon was still out there somewhere. All they had done was send it out of the body it had been in. Daniel's body. "We should go back." Sam said finally when the silence had stretched out.
"What?" Dean asked. "Are you crazy?"
Sam shook his head. "No, hear me out. We need to know what happened to the others."
"I repeat, are you crazy?"
"Sam has a point." John interjected before Sam could argue his case. "You boys weren't the only ones caught up in this bastard's spell. But I don't think either of you is ready for that." He put his fork down and drained his coffee cup. "You two are staying here for another couple of weeks. I'll go back to San Francisco, see what's happened since we left."
He pushed his chair back and stood, taking his dishes to the sink. "Got a line on something south of there anyway. Been meaning to get to heading after it." He opened a drawer and pulled out two new phones. "Got you boys these. Got my number and Bobby's and Caleb's in 'em already."
Dean pushed his chair back and crossed his arms. "A line on what, exactly?" Dean asked.
John frowned. "Nothing all that nasty. A haunting by the sound. I'll be gone a week, maybe two. When I come back, we can all hit the road out of here. You boys should be strong enough by then."
"Strong enough for what?" Sam asked, though he knew the answer. His father expected them to go back to what they had before. To hunting.
"Bobby's looking into your other problem. Keep your dicks in your own pants until then."
Right, like it was that easy.
Sam didn't say anything, but Dean wasn't keeping quiet. He stood. "You’re just going to take off?"
John sighed. "You boys are safer here than with me."
Dean narrowed his eyes. "You're going after the demon." John didn't deny it. "Not alone."
"I'm meeting up with Joshua. There are omens in Jericho. Your brother isn't ready, and he can't stay here alone."
Sam put a hand on Dean's back and Dean softened. "Yeah, why should now be any different? Go on. We'll be fine."
"I'm going to make this right." John said fervently. Then he was gone, grabbing a duffel bag near the door and heading out to the truck. A few minutes later, they were alone.
Sam's hand burned where it touched Dean and he pulled it away. "You going to be okay for a few minutes alone?" Dean asked suddenly.
"Yeah, why?"
Dean huffed. "I need a shower."
They did okay not touching for the first few days, as long as they didn't touch or stand too close it wasn't too bad. But then Dean brushed the hair out of Sam's eyes without thinking and before either one of them could breathe, they were kissing…all hungry and desperate, even the air between them was too much.
Skin on skin happened fast and the floor rose up to meet them as they fell together, grabbing and pulling and when Dean's cock sank into Sam, they both yelled in relief. Dean came quickly, then turned his mouth to Sam's leaking cock, swallowing him fast and furious until Sam spilled down his throat.
They lay panting, side by side on the floor, both of them still hard, still wanting more.
It was worse after that. They took to sleeping in opposite corners of the house, but always ended up together, bodies tangled together, the smell of sex in the air. They didn't talk about it, but it made the days easier.
Dean began to think that maybe that was okay. If they could function, think beyond the touch of the other's body once they'd sated one another, no one had to know what they did alone together at night. Sam seemed happier too. And, that was worth a lot.
John called about a week and a half after he left, said the temple building had been burnt to the ground, the people scattered.
That was the last they heard from him.
Two weeks went by, then a third. Dean dialed his father's number every day, but it dumped straight to voicemail. He closed the phone and sighed, looking out at the Impala and the dirt road leading toward the highway. Sam set a duffle bag on the picnic table.
"He said Jericho, right?" Sam asked.
Dean nodded. He pulled the car keys out of his pocket. "Driver picks the music."
"Shotgun shuts his cakehole." Sam replied with a grin.
"Damn straight, bitch."
"Jerk."
It was familiar, and comfortable, even with everything still hanging over them. Dean started the engine and slipped on his sunglasses. They left a spray of gravel and dust behind them, headed for the last place they knew they’re father had been. Together.
That alone was more than Dean had thought he’d ever have again.
Author name:
phantismaArtist name:
raggedy_edgeGenre: SPN Wincest
Pairing: Sam/Dean, Sam/Jess, Sam/OC, Dean/OC
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~24, 848
Warnings/Spoilers: Brainwashing, het sex, group sex, dub-con, blood kink
Summary: First Sam disappeared, and no matter how hard they looked, John and Dean couldn't find him. Then Dean went missing. John Winchester searches for them, enlisting the help of friends at first to find them, and then once he has to save them from the cult that has brainwashed them with sex and magic. But this is no ordinary cult, and their leader is the demon John's been hunting since his wife died. He isn't about to let his favorite followers go without a fight.
A/Ns: This is my entry into this year's Big Bang for SPN. It is the sequel to last years. You don't have to read that one to follow this one, but if you're interested, the master post is here. Many thank yous to my beta
eboniorchid. Also, a big thank you to my artist, raggedy_edge, who is awesome.Master Art Post: http://raggedy-edge.livejournal.com/87154.html
Sam lay still and quiet on his cot, his breathing shallow as he focused himself. He could feel Bobby and Joshua and Caleb nearby. Beyond them he could feel Dean. He drew on the power Daniel had given him and called out to his brother, feeling him stir. He tried to connect to him, to speak to his mind, to comfort him, but all he really managed was a light touch to tell him he was there.
He was weakening.
Without daily contact with the energy of the temple, his ability to use the gifts Daniel had given him was fading.
Sam lifted his wrist, bringing the blue stone of his position up to his forehead, grateful that they had at least given him use of his arms and legs back. "Daniel."
He spoke the name aloud, concentrated on Daniel's true form, tried to reach out to him. He got a vague impression of rage and violence, then he was flushed with the familiar feeling of Daniel, of power and love and arousal.
"I love you." The words echoed around him and Sam sat up. He could tell Dean had felt it. Daniel knew, Daniel would come. Sam stood, crossing to the door.
"Dad? Can I talk to you?"
The door opened and his father entered cautiously. Not that Sam could blame him, not with the bruise still darkening his cheek where Sam had hit him the last time he'd been in the room.
"What is it?" John asked.
"I…I wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have said the things I did. I was…" He shook his head and looked away. "My head's all fuzzy. Nothing makes sense."
He could sense the relief in his father at the first sign that something was changing. He turned back, lifting his hand to brush along the bruise. His father didn't flinch. Sam reached out to nudge him, urging arousal, need, base wanton desire. John grunted and took a step back. "I'm so sorry." Sam whispered, moving in closer. "Let me make it up to you."
His lips brushed John's and he could feel the resistance now, sudden realization what he was doing. Sam pushed ahead, pressing him into the door, closing his lips over his father's, reaching into him for every pleasure spot he had.
John shoved him back, grabbing at Sam's wrist to keep him from falling. Instead, his hand caught on the leather cord of the bracelet, snapping it and Sam fell to the floor.
Sam shuddered, the wind knocked out of him as he hit the floor, his tangible connection severed. He was naked, stripped bare, all of Daniel ripped from him in that single movement, his gifts pouring out of him so quickly he couldn't breathe. "What have you done!" Sam screamed at his father who stood in the door, holding the bracelet and staring at him.
"Get out! Get out! Leave me alone!" Sam yelled, clawing his way back to his feet. John's face was white as he realized what had changed and he stepped back, shoving through the door and closing it behind him.
"Daniel! Don't leave me!" Sam tried to reach out for him, tried to feel the connection like he had before, but he was suddenly and completely alone.
John ran from Sam's door to Dean's, the others following and asking questions he didn't stop to answer. He pulled the door open, startling Dean and stalking into the room, crowding Dean into the corner.
"Dad?"
John grabbed his hand and pulled his arm up, his fingers twisting in the leather.
"No." Dean shook his head and tried to pull the hand away, but just succeeding in helping John rip the bracelet off of him. He didn't scream the way Sam had, but his face went pasty white and he sagged into the wall, slowly sliding down it as John stepped away. "No. Please give it back. Please?"
John was shaking when he left the room, closing the door and throwing the lock.
"Are you going to tell us what is going on?" Bobby asked.
"I'm not completely sure." John put the two leather bracelets on the table and brushed his hands down his thighs. "Sam…he was trying to…" He shook his head. "I pushed him, but didn't want to hurt him. Grabbed his wrist and the thing broke. The way he reacted…it was like I took away his…connection…or something."
"So they're more than just an indication of rank like we thought." Joshua said, picking up Dean's and lifting it to examine.
"I guess so." They could still hear Sam yelling, in turns angry and begging. In the distance they could hear thunder rumbling. "We might want to prepare for company." John said, the hair on the back of his neck standing up.
"You think it would come for them?" Caleb asked, though he was already loading rock salt rounds into the shotgun.
Before he could respond, the sound of the outer wards being breached could be heard. "That answers that question." Bobby said.
They were prepared, the whole property well warded to give any demon a hell of a time getting in, the whole barn itself built on sacred ground, over a devil's trap. John went to the cabinet and pulled out holy water.
Screams echoed around them as the second round of wards were breached. "Sounds like Daniel didn't come alone." Joshua said.
The doors blew off the barn, off the doors that held Sam and Dean. Wind howled through and there, in the doorway was a tall figure. They circled, spread out and ready.
Sam and Dean started toward him, then stopped, eyes downcast.
"You must be Daniel." John said, stepping forward, into the middle of the space, luring the damn demon in.
"John Winchester. Now this is a moment." He stepped into the open space, his eyes flicking over John and his shotgun. "Come now, really? Can't we just settle this like civilized beings?"
"If you were civilized." John responded, nodding to Bobby who began the incantation.
Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Exorcism? You think your measly words can bother me, John?" His eyes flashed yellow and John felt his stomach pitch to the side. "Remember me?"
He grit his teeth and threw a jar of holy water at him. He hissed and his skin sizzled and he tried to step toward John, looking at his feet when they wouldn't move. "Oh so clever, John." He lifted his eyes to Sam. "Come to me Sam."
Sam stepped closer, his eyes darting from Daniel to John and back again. Joshua's voice joined Bobby's. Daniel's hand fisted in Sam's hair and pressed him to his knees. "Dean, join your brother."
Dean was more hesitant, but he came, sinking to his knees willingly and reaching for Sam. Daniel's free hand found his head and he threw his own head back, cracking his neck.. "Your boys belong to me now John. Their souls feed me, make me stronger. Their love is stronger than your silly Latin words."
John lifted the shotgun and aimed it directly at the bastard's face. He pulled the trigger, plastering his neck and face with salt. He yanked back on both heads as he lowered his yellow eyes and the shotgun twisted out of John's hands.
"Now that stings." Flesh dripped off Daniel's face and suddenly John felt a hand twisted in his shirt even though there was no hand there. He was yanked across the floor toward Daniel.
The volume in the room lifted as Caleb's voice joined the chanting. "I would have kept the three of you forever with nothing to do but fuck and be fucked and live eternally." Daniel said. "Now I'm going to peel the flesh from your bones and let your blood baptize your boys into hell."
John fought to get his hand up, the rosary clenched tight until he could press it into the skin at Daniel's neck. “Praecípio tibi, quicúmque es, spíritus immúnde, et ómnibus sóciis tuis hunc dei fámulum (hanc dei fámulam) obsidéntibus: ut per mystéria incarnatiónis, passiónis, resurrectiónis et ascensiónis Dómini nostri Jesu Christi, per missiónem Spíritus Sancti."
Daniel laughed, then coughed, his eyes bulging. "You think you can beat me?"
"Et per advéntum ejúsdem Dómini nostri ad judicium, dicas mihi nomen tuum, die et horam éxitus tui, cum áliquo signo: et ut mihi Dei minístro licet indígno, prorsus in ómnibus obédias: neque hanc creatúram Dei, vel circunstántes, aut eórum bona ullo modo offéndas."
The four of them recited the words together, not the standard exorcism they used on lesser demons. No, this one had come from long before, it was etched into the cement below their feet. Daniel's grip on him wavered. His face contorted and the smoking of his skin got worse.
John's feet hit the ground and he pressed forward. Holy water sprayed from the hose in Joshua's hands, slamming into them as they continued with the words. Daniel's knees buckled and John rode him to the ground, pressing the crucifix of the rosary into his face.
Suddenly, Daniel's mouth opened and black billows of inky smoke spilled out of him, screaming around them before flying out into the night.
In the silence that followed, none of them moved. The body under John was cold, probably long dead. His limbs were heavy and achy as he fought to catch his breath. He shook off the pull of exhaustion and crawled up to his knees as Bobby and Caleb and Joshua staggered toward them.
Sam and Dean were sprawled out to either side of Daniel, neither of them moving. For a moment his heart stopped, then Dean twitched and Caleb fell to his knees beside him, reaching to check his pulse. He nodded at John who turned to where Bobby was checking on Sam.
"It ain't over." Joshua said, helping John up.
"It is for now." John amended. "Lets get the boys cleaned up and those doors fixed. No telling if exorcising the bastard is enough to get them free of him."
Dean's first thought was that he was hungry, and his second was that he really needed to pee. He opened his eyes slowly, wondering why his head hurt so bad and where the fuck he was. He sat up, realizing it wasn't just his head that hurt. His whole body felt like he'd been worked over.
He was also not in clothes he recognized. Or anything he would actually wear. His feet were bare and there were bruises on his wrist. He rubbed at his head and tried to remember what had happened, only to discover a needle in his arm and tubes that run up to an IV hung above him.
The last thing he remembered clearly was having a burger with Sam in San Francisco. Sam.
He stood, pulling the needle out of his arm and frowning hard as he crossed to the door of the small room. There were flashes after that. Sam and some guy who wasn't Sam, sex, girls. He shook his head, trying to make it make sense. He tried the door. It was locked, which somehow didn't surprise him.
"Hello?" He knocked at the door. "Anybody out there?"
The lock turned and the door opened. Dean stepped back, not sure what to expect, and certainly the last thing he expected was his father. "Dad?" Dean asked, rubbing his head again.
"How you feeling?"
"Confused. Why the hell is the door locked?" Dean looked past his father, spotting Bobby. "Where the hell are we?"
"I need you to calm down." John said.
"I'm calm. I'm confused as fuck, but I'm calm." He rubbed his head. "I feel like I've been run over by a truck, and I don't know what the fuck is going on, but this is as calm as I get, waking up in a strange place, locked in a room by my father."
"Okay, that's not exactly as calm as I'd like." John said. "But given the circumstances, I'll take it."
"Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?"
His father crossed his arms and looked him over. "I need you to trust me, and tell me something first."
"Okay." Dean said hesitantly.
"What do you remember?"
Dean shrugged and walked back to the cot, suddenly very tired. "I went to San Francisco to find Sam. We had a burger. He said something about a hunt. I was going to help him with a ghost problem." He shook his head. "Everything goes weird after that, then I woke up here."
His father nodded. "Okay."
"Okay?" Dean frowned harder. "How is that okay?"
"It means maybe we're on the road to getting you better," his father said.
"I don't understand."
John sighed and nodded. "I know. For now, how about we get you something to eat and something for that headache? You've been out cold for almost seventy-two hours. Before that you'd refused food for almost two days. We had to give you fluids the hard way." He gestured at the IV. "But Caleb's got some hot dogs on the grill."
He gestured out the door and Dean nodded, moving past him. "I refused food?"
His father chuckled and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'll explain later, okay?"
Dean nodded. "Will that explanation include where the hell my shoes are?"
A blood curdling scream stopped him and he turned toward the sound, his stomach sinking. Sam. He took a step toward it, but his father's hand stopped him. "Not just yet."
"That's Sam." Dean said, trying to pull away. He knew something was terribly wrong, that sound just wasn't normal. "What's wrong with Sam?"
His father's grip tightened on his shoulder and turned Dean away from the place where he knew Sam was. "He's not coming out of it as well as you did. He was gone a whole lot longer."
"What does that mean?" Dean asked, digging in his feet to keep from getting pulled away.
"He's not well, Dean." John sighed and for the first time Dean realized how gaunt and tired looking his father was, his face bruised under the facial hair, his eyes dark and sunken.
Dean shrugged his father's hand off. "Explain to me what the fuck is going on."
"That's a mighty strong demand, coming from you, Son." Bobby said. "You sure he ain't playing you, John?"
"I ain't playing, Bobby. What the fuck is wrong with Sam?"
"Near as I can tell he's going through withdrawal, though it ain't like nothing I ever saw."
"Withdrawal? From what?"
John shrugged and sagged a little. "Who knows? The sex? The magic? Some drug they fed you?"
"They…" Dean trailed off, his brow tightening as he squinted at his father. Flashes of memory filled him. Sam. Sex. Blood. He shook his head, unable to connect it all. Demon. There was a demon…and he….it slipped away and Dean's knees gave out on him. Bobby and his father caught him, held him up.
"Lets get you fed and bathed and we'll go from there." His father slung an arm around his back and helped him get his feet under him, supporting him out into a yard beside a big farmhouse. Caleb smiled from beside a big grill as John helped Dean sit at the picnic table next to it.
"Good to see you up and around."
Dean sort of nodded thanks as Caleb slipped a plate with three hotdogs on it and his father set a can of soda beside it along with a bag of chips. His stomach rumbled and for the moment, he put everything else aside to deal with the importance of eating.
Of course, that led to only making his need to pee all that much stronger. He looked up at the house. "I take it there's a bathroom in there with my name on it."
"Come on, I'll show you." His father didn't say anything else until they were inside. "There are clean towels in there. I have clothes for you in the bedroom at the end of the hall. You think you can manage?"
Dean nodded. "I'll be fine. But when I'm done, we're going to talk."
John nodded in agreement. "I'll be here."
Dean relieved himself first and contemplated the big old claw foot tub. A hot bath would feel incredibly good. He started the water and started to strip down. He flushed with something like embarrassment as he stood naked beside the tub, though he wasn't sure why. Something to do with being naked…though Dean had never really had a problem with nudity before.
He stepped into the tub and tried to focus on the flashes of memory. Sam stood out the strongest. Sam's smile, the way his hair flopped down over his eyes when he dropped his face a little. Dean flushed with an entirely different feeling then, his cock hardening. He took a deep breath and forced the arousal away.
He remembered that too, thinking he'd gotten over it, that he'd moved past his obsession with his brother, right up until he saw him again. Sam's voice, his laugh, his giant hands…Dean had been hard pressed not to kiss him on the spot.
Dean sank into the water, his achy body responding well to the heat, relaxing slowly. Everything about that moment was crystal clear, Sam's bear hug, the tight line of him, the clear joy at seeing Dean again…everything about Sam was clear, but nothing outside of him was coming back.
He laid his head back against the tub and closed his eyes. His father would explain. He had to.
Dean pulled on jeans that should have fit him, but seemed too big and t-shirt that was huge on him before shoving his feet into a pair of boots he recognized as his fathers. He stopped to look at himself in the dresser on the back of the bedroom door.
He was thin, his face pale and gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes. He almost didn't believe that was really him.
Sighing, he headed down the stairs, finding his father in the kitchen alone. "So, I remember getting a call from Sam, telling me he was in California. I remember driving like a bat out of hell to get there. I remember seeing him. Thing is, I can't remember where, outside of San Francisco. I try to picture the place and all I get is gray blur." Dean said without preamble, opening the fridge and pulling out a beer.
His father nodded. "I'm not surprised. You were under the influence of a demon, and probably drugs, brainwashing." He shook his head. "Bobby thinks it will come back over time, but for now, this is how your brain is dealing with it."
"Brainwashing?" Dean snorted, straddling a chair. "That doesn't sound like me."
His father looked up at him and Dean could see the seriousness in his eyes. "I'm not sure how they managed it, but I know it involved sex and blood magic."
Dean sat back like the words were physical and could hurt him. "Whoa, that's some heavy mojo."
"Yeah, you're telling me." His father rubbed a hand over his face. "Apparently this demon specializes in exploiting sexual trauma. He targets victims of abuse and molestation, rape victims."
Dean froze, his hand wrapped around the beer. He'd never told a soul, not even Sam. No one knew. He forced himself to lift the beer and swallow. "Also doesn't sound like me."
"I know, Dean."
Dean blinked and pushed away the rush of fear. No. No. No. No one knew. No one. "I don't know what—"
John slapped his hand down on the table. "Stop. No more secrets and lies. I can't help you when you lie to me." He turned to look Dean in the eye. "I know because you told me."
Dean shoved back from the table, knocking the chair over. It was pure reflex, defense. He would never have told that. Not to his father. Not to John Winchester.
"I know about Sam too." His father's voice was flat, tired. Not at all like he'd just told Dean he knew all the dirty secrets he'd been keeping for years.
"I…" Dean wiped at his mouth, pulled his hand through his hair. "Dad…I…"
John held up his hand. "Now isn't the time to tell me how sorry you are or whatever deflection you're thinking. I'm not angry."
"Right." Dean turned away. His father couldn't be saying he accepted the information like Dean had spilled the beans about some girl he'd fucked or car he stole.
Suddenly, John was there, turning him around. "I'm not angry, Dean. I'm hurt that you never told me about that goddamn coach so I could disembowel him. I'm bothered that you and Sam didn't come to me when the thing with the idol happened."
"How could I tell you?" Dean asked, his voice cracking. He closed his eyes, remembering the fear, the humiliation, the shame. He'd crawled out of that coach's office and he'd taken Sam home and he'd showered and scrubbed himself raw, cried in a corner of the living room with a pillow over his face so he wouldn't wake Sam. They'd ended up leaving town before the week was over and Dean had buried the whole thing, and never brought up football again.
His father's hand caught the back of his head and pulled him into a hug. "You're my son, Dean. I would have helped you."
Tears burned at the corner of his eyes and he blinked to clear them. John held him tight for a minute, then stepped back, his hand cupping to Dean's face. "I would have killed the bastard…but I would have supported you."
Dean wiped at his face. "And the thing with Sam?"
His father grimaced, but didn't turn away. "That was as much my fault as yours. I shouldn't have taken you two with me, or made you wait in the car. That old fool was always collecting the most dangerous, stupid shit around. You couldn't have known what it was going to do."
Dean reached for his beer. "No, but we should have told you. Once we realized something was wrong."
"I'm not arguing with that. If you had, we might have found a solution."
He bit his lip, remembering the moment he'd decided to go through with it. He hated himself, but he couldn't think past the need to have Sam, to taste his skin, to sink into him, to make him forever his. "At the time, there didn't seem to be any other solution. It was…a powerful compulsion." He lifted the beer and swallowed a mouthful.
"And now?"
Dean almost choked and turned to look at his father. "I…what?"
"The compulsion. It is still there, isn't it?"
Dean exhaled and tried to find a way to deny it. "I…so don't want to be having this conversation."
John's hand came down on his shoulder. "I think that's why you and Sam were susceptible to this demon, Dean. You were both already under the influence of some powerful sex magic."
"Something else I told you that I can't remember?"
John chuckled darkly. "Not so much told me. It was obvious though, watching the two of you together."
Dean's head filled with an image, a moment…sitting across a table from his father, Sam at his side, Sam's hand covering his as though it was completely natural…his voice spilling dirty secrets, things best kept hidden.
"Daniel." The name came bubbling out, though Dean couldn't place a face to go with it, he could feel the heat of lips on his own, the touch of fingers on his skin. He traced a finger over his lips. "He…" It slipped away and Dean shook his head.
"He was the demon." John supplied. "You should probably get some rest. I need to go out and relieve Bobby."
"I want to see Sam."
"I don't think it's a wise idea."
"I don't care." Dean said a little more forcefully than he actually felt. To his surprise his father didn't argue, just lead the way out the back porch and down to the barn.
Sam was quiet as John opened the door to the room they were keeping him in, but he was restrained to the bed, in little more than sweatpants, his chest marked up. His eyes opened as they came in, widening as they spotted Dean.
"Dean…help me."
Arousal flushed through him, followed by anger at himself. "Sammy." John put an arm out to keep him from getting too close.
"How you feeling, Sam?"
"Like you care? Dean, help me. Let me go."
He could see the shaking in Sam's hands, the wild in his eyes. "I'll be good, I promise."
"The last time we let you up, you nearly killed Joshua." John said.
"I won't hurt anybody. Just let me have Dean? Dean, you'll stay with me? For a little while? Please Dean? I need you."
It was obvious what Sam meant, his sweats tented with his need. Dean eased his way around his father to kneel beside the cot, his hand lifting to caress Sam's sweaty cheek. "Holy shit, he's burning up."
"Yeah, it started right after we exorcised the fucking demon. We got him into this room and he started convulsing and spewing vile words and the fever started."
Sam's eyes met his, filled with begging. "Dad, gimme a few minutes?"
"Dean--"
He looked up at his father. "Please?"
He was almost sure his father wouldn't agree, then he nodded. "I'll be right outside that door."
When the door was shut, he turned back to Sam. "Easy, Sammy."
"Hurts so much Dean. I need him."
"Shh." Dean wiped his sweaty face. "You need to get better."
"Daniel. You have to find Daniel."
Dean shook his head. "He's gone Sam. Dad exorcised him."
Sam's head tossed on the cot. "No." His voice was a desperate whine.
Dean kissed him to make the sound stop, then froze. That was familiar. Sam's tongue filled his mouth, his teeth nipping. "Dean. Dean." He pulled at the restraints, but Dean pulled back. "In the car."
"What?" Dean swallowed hard.
"In the car, in the glove box. My flask. Bring it to me?"
"I…I'll try, okay?" Dean said, backing up. He could still taste Sam on his tongue, feel him. Right that moment Dean needed to get away though, before he did something they'd both regret. Again.
His skin burned and the restraints chaffed. He imagined the shadows on the walls were alive, coming for him and he cried out for help. Yellow eyes burned in the dark, mocking him, telling him he was weak, that he didn't deserve to be one of the Chosen.
"There's a special place in hell for those who fail me, Samuel. I'll see you there real soon."
He writhed against the sweaty sheets, trying to free his hands to fight them. "Dean!" He screamed his brother's name, not really expecting him to answer.
The door opened, dim light slipping over the floor, making the shadows dance more obscenely around him. "Sam." The voice was a whisper, Dean's voice.
The door closed and one shadow moved closer, an actual hand touching Sam. "Dean?"
"I'm here, Sam. Shh…don't wake Caleb." Dean's hand slid over Sam's chest. "I know what you need, Sammy. I'm going to give it to you." His hand slid under Sam's sweats, curled around his cock and Sam was hard instantly. "See, let me help you Sammy."
"Dean…" Sam gasped as Dean moved to straddle over him, his own pants gone. "Need…"
Dean guided Sam's cock to his ass and sank down onto him. "Shh…I know."
"He's gonna kill me Dean."
Dean rose up and sank down, setting up a rhythm. "No, Sammy…no demon's going to take you away from me. You belong to me, remember?"
Sam saw the knife then, as Dean lifted his hand and sliced into the meat of his palm. "You want blood? You get mine." Blood dripped down onto Sam's face as Dean lowered his hand. Sam licked at the blood on his lips, thrusting up into Dean as his mouth closed over the wound. "Just you and me, Sammy. Just like it used to be."
Sam came in a rush and Dean slipped off him, leaning in to kiss him. A warm cloth followed, washing his face. Warmth spread through him, not the fire of Daniel's blood…but something familiar, necessary. "Dean?"
"Right here, Sam. Sleep."
"I love you Dean." His eyes closed, sudden lethargy taking over and dragging him under.
"You shouldn't be down here." John said in way of good morning as he joined Dean at the table in the barn.
Dean made a face. "Couldn't sleep. Besides, Sam's been quiet since I got here."
"No outbursts?"
Dean shook his head. "Fever seems to have broken. I checked on him a few hours ago and he was sleeping."
John sipped his coffee, looking at Sam's door. "How long you been out here?"
"I came down around three and sent Caleb to bed." Dean stood and headed for the coffee pot on the counter.
John put his hand down on the pile of books Bobby had been digging through, trying to come up with something to help the boy. Dean had one open in front of him, and beside the book was a flask and a knife. "You find something?"
Dean squinted at him. "Remembered something. The book helped."
That was when John saw the bandage on Dean's hand. "Maybe the right question is, did you do something?"
Again, Dean made the face. "I just…gave him what he needed. Okay?"
John's stomach tightened. "Dean, what did you do?"
Dean sighed and shook his head. "It's been two days since I came out of it, he's just gotten worse. I took a chance."
"Dean, you don't fuck around with this shit."
"No, Dad. He was dying. You broke the connection to Daniel, you took away the supply of blood." Dean picked up the flask and threw it at him. "Demon blood. That's what I remembered. Daniel, he feeds it to them…his special ones, his chosen. That's what gives them their power."
John opened the flask and recoiled from the smell. "It's like a drug, and combined with the sex and the magic….Sam was jonesing hard."
"So you did…what?"
Dean held up his hand. "I gave him something stronger."
John came around the table and grabbed Dean's hand, peeling back the bandage to look at the gash. "I soaked my hand in holy water and slipped him something to take the edge off to let him sleep."
"And you think that's going to make a difference?"
"You and me and Sam, we're family. That's more important than any demon, right?"
John frowned at him, not at all sure that would actually work, but Dean seemed so determined and after the last two days John could only hope he was right. "I'm going to check on him."
He left Dean and opened the door as quietly as he could, not wanting to wake Sam if he really was finally sleeping. Sam's body was lax against the cot, his face peaceful for the first time in days. He looked so young and innocent lying there that John could almost believe they were past the worst of it.
He eased the door shut. "I'll get an IV set up, get some fluid and nutrition into him."
Dean seemed to relax. "I'm going to go up to the house and re-bandage this."
"Bobby's up, have him give you a hand."
John watched him go, then fished out what he needed to set up and IV. He'd wait to dope Sam up until he knew he was out of the woods. But he didn't blame Dean for offering the kid a shot at sleeping.
He let himself back into the room and lowered himself down beside the cot, laying the bag out on Sam's stomach and set about finding a vein in his arm. Once he had the needle in, he taped it down and looked up, surprised to find Sam's eyes on him.
John offered a smile and Sam blinked. "Dad…" his voice was cracked and dry and he licked his lips like that would help.
"It's okay, Sam. You're safe."
Sam nodded, blinking slowly. "Dean…"
"He's safe too."
"Did I hurt you?"
John shook his head. "No, Son. I'm fine."
"Tired."
He brushed the hair off Sam's forehead and leaned in to kiss it. "I know. Sleep. I'll be right here." He stood and lifted the bag, watching Sam's eyes close again. Maybe Dean was right. Maybe.
Everything hurt. Sam groaned and pressed both hands to his eyes. He could smell bacon and coffee. Warm air blew in the open window. He could feel his father and Dean downstairs. But at least it was just the three of them now that Bobby and Caleb had finally left.
It was harder with all of them there. Everything was still so ragged, raw.
He sat up slowly. Two weeks had passed since he woke up with an IV in his arm and Dean asleep in a chair in the corner. Parts of the last months were still blurry, other parts were crystal clear.
The guilt sat heavy in his stomach, though both Dean and their father had told him that he wasn't to blame. He knew better. This had all been his fault.
He exhaled and tried to stretch. He was tired of this room. He pushed himself upright, teetering a little as he reached vertical, but his knees held and he grabbed the robe on the back of the door before shuffling out of the bedroom and toward the bathroom.
He was shaking a little when he got there, but he managed to deal with his needs by himself, the first time since he'd been awake he hadn't need a hand to keep him from falling. He flushed and washed his hands and decided to see how far his good luck held.
At the top of the stairs he paused, wondering if he should call for help. He'd been enough of a burden. He gripped the railing and put his foot on the top stair. He got down three of them before his knees started to wobble.
Determined, he gripped the railing tighter and stumbled down the next few steps. Five or so from the bottom, he sat down with a thump, breathing hard. Dean appeared in the doorway, cursing.
"What are you doing?"
"Coming to breakfast?" Sam responded, trying to smile, but not really looking his brother in the eye. No matter what else they'd come through, the desire was still there.
"You should have called me."
"You would have just made me stay in bed. I'm tired of being in bed." He held out his hand for Dean to help him up and despite huffing at his hard headedness, Dean took it.
"You must be feeling better at least." Dean said as he slipped his arm around Sam's back to support him out into the kitchen where their father was just serving up plates.
"What are you doing down here?"
Sam rolled his eyes and let Dean help him into the chair. "Stretching my legs. Can't stay in bed forever." Not alone anyway. He sighed and pushed the thought away. Dean offered a tight smile. At least now Sam knew he wasn't alone in his perversion and that Dean didn't hate him for it.
He was still mortified that his father knew, but it made dealing with with the compulsion, or rather the long silences as they fought it, somewhat easier, knowing that everyone in the room understood what was at stake.
John set a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him and one in front of Dean. "Coffee?"
Sam nodded and smiled. "This smells so good."
John joined them at the table with a coffee mug for Sam and it fell silent as they all started eating. It was awkward and strange and more than a little unreal. He half expected every morning to wake up back at Stanford or in Daniel's bed at the temple. Dean touched his knee under the table and Sam looked up, nodding. "Just thinking."
"That'll get you in trouble." Dean said, grinning.
Sam was quiet then for a long time, chewing thoughtfully. None of them had said it, but they all knew it wasn't over. The demon was still out there somewhere. All they had done was send it out of the body it had been in. Daniel's body. "We should go back." Sam said finally when the silence had stretched out.
"What?" Dean asked. "Are you crazy?"
Sam shook his head. "No, hear me out. We need to know what happened to the others."
"I repeat, are you crazy?"
"Sam has a point." John interjected before Sam could argue his case. "You boys weren't the only ones caught up in this bastard's spell. But I don't think either of you is ready for that." He put his fork down and drained his coffee cup. "You two are staying here for another couple of weeks. I'll go back to San Francisco, see what's happened since we left."
He pushed his chair back and stood, taking his dishes to the sink. "Got a line on something south of there anyway. Been meaning to get to heading after it." He opened a drawer and pulled out two new phones. "Got you boys these. Got my number and Bobby's and Caleb's in 'em already."
Dean pushed his chair back and crossed his arms. "A line on what, exactly?" Dean asked.
John frowned. "Nothing all that nasty. A haunting by the sound. I'll be gone a week, maybe two. When I come back, we can all hit the road out of here. You boys should be strong enough by then."
"Strong enough for what?" Sam asked, though he knew the answer. His father expected them to go back to what they had before. To hunting.
"Bobby's looking into your other problem. Keep your dicks in your own pants until then."
Right, like it was that easy.
Sam didn't say anything, but Dean wasn't keeping quiet. He stood. "You’re just going to take off?"
John sighed. "You boys are safer here than with me."
Dean narrowed his eyes. "You're going after the demon." John didn't deny it. "Not alone."
"I'm meeting up with Joshua. There are omens in Jericho. Your brother isn't ready, and he can't stay here alone."
Sam put a hand on Dean's back and Dean softened. "Yeah, why should now be any different? Go on. We'll be fine."
"I'm going to make this right." John said fervently. Then he was gone, grabbing a duffel bag near the door and heading out to the truck. A few minutes later, they were alone.
Sam's hand burned where it touched Dean and he pulled it away. "You going to be okay for a few minutes alone?" Dean asked suddenly.
"Yeah, why?"
Dean huffed. "I need a shower."
They did okay not touching for the first few days, as long as they didn't touch or stand too close it wasn't too bad. But then Dean brushed the hair out of Sam's eyes without thinking and before either one of them could breathe, they were kissing…all hungry and desperate, even the air between them was too much.
Skin on skin happened fast and the floor rose up to meet them as they fell together, grabbing and pulling and when Dean's cock sank into Sam, they both yelled in relief. Dean came quickly, then turned his mouth to Sam's leaking cock, swallowing him fast and furious until Sam spilled down his throat.
They lay panting, side by side on the floor, both of them still hard, still wanting more.
It was worse after that. They took to sleeping in opposite corners of the house, but always ended up together, bodies tangled together, the smell of sex in the air. They didn't talk about it, but it made the days easier.
Dean began to think that maybe that was okay. If they could function, think beyond the touch of the other's body once they'd sated one another, no one had to know what they did alone together at night. Sam seemed happier too. And, that was worth a lot.
John called about a week and a half after he left, said the temple building had been burnt to the ground, the people scattered.
That was the last they heard from him.
Two weeks went by, then a third. Dean dialed his father's number every day, but it dumped straight to voicemail. He closed the phone and sighed, looking out at the Impala and the dirt road leading toward the highway. Sam set a duffle bag on the picnic table.
"He said Jericho, right?" Sam asked.
Dean nodded. He pulled the car keys out of his pocket. "Driver picks the music."
"Shotgun shuts his cakehole." Sam replied with a grin.
"Damn straight, bitch."
"Jerk."
It was familiar, and comfortable, even with everything still hanging over them. Dean started the engine and slipped on his sunglasses. They left a spray of gravel and dust behind them, headed for the last place they knew they’re father had been. Together.
That alone was more than Dean had thought he’d ever have again.
