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phantismaFandom: Supernatural
Title: My Brother's Keeper, Part Twelve(Part One Here, Part Two Here, Part Three Here, Part Four Here, Part Five Here, Part Six Here, Part Seven Here, Part Eight Here, Part Nine Here, Part Ten Here, Part Eleven Here)
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Table: #1
Prompt: 044 Stuck
Word Count: 2561
Summary: Complete AU. On the night the demon kills Mary Winchester, John saves Dean, but before he can go back for Sam, the fire spreads. It is assumed that Sam is dead along with his mother. In reality, he has been taken and is raised by a family dedicate to the demon who killed Mary. One night after a hunt, Dean runs into him in a bar in Palo Alto, never a clue who he really is.
Warnings: Overall-Incest, m/m sex, blood play, bondage, non-con. Babies and demons and blood and come...No sex...a little unraveling...Sam sat up and declared it was his turn to tell part of the story, and threatened to possess me if I didn't let him...
This is my thirty-first ficlet for my Supernatural claim on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
100_situations. Clicky for table
Sam eyed the rest of the room as he slowly put his feet to the floor. He’d proven earlier in the day he could stand on his own, and other than the aches and the lingering weakness from the blood loss, he was recovering. Dean had spent the last hour pulling out stitches, and Sam felt rather like a pin cushion. A pin cushion with a desperate need to pee.
Dean was feeding the baby and John seemed deeply involved in research of some variety, and Sam was determined he could make the bathroom on his own. His steps were short, shuffling. Dean looked up, a question on his face, but Sam waved him off. He was irritated. He’d never spent this much time in bed in his life, that didn’t involve sex, and he was tired of the drugs, the forced convalescence…tired of the way John looked at him, never sure what it was he saw in the older man’s eyes.
Sam reached the bathroom door and stopped, resting against the wall. He hated feeling so fucking weak, hated being this person he was letting himself become. It reminded him too much of those years as a child when his father…that man that raised him, dominated his life and Sam had bowed and scraped and let himself be bullied. He closed his eyes and shuffled into the bathroom, closing the door and cherishing the moment of privacy. He hadn’t been alone in a room since the hospital unless he was drugged into unconsciousness.
They didn’t trust him. Not that he could blame them. He didn’t trust them either. He didn’t know what they had planned. He couldn’t read John the way he could Dean, and since the whole thing with the Demon, he couldn’t really read Dean either. Unless it was about sex. Dean was completely transparent when it came to that.
Sam braced himself with the inside of his calves against the cool porcelain of the toilet and peed, sighing a little at the relief and quiet. Worse than not knowing what they had planned, Sam was at a loss himself.
By now his life was gone. All access to the money, the contacts, everything would be gone. He was stuck.
He’d been meant to die, to take one for the team or some stupid shit. It just showed that the old man really didn’t know him, despite everything.
They had never been close. He’d made sure Sam knew from a very young age that he wasn’t his, wasn’t wanted and he wouldn’t be there if someone very powerful hadn’t paid for him to be there. It wasn’t until he was thirteen that Sam began to see how to work the situation to his advantage.
Sam shook his head and tucked himself back into the sweat pants that were too short and overstretched. He didn’t want to think about that, about them. He needed to think about now, about what he was going to do, before Dean brought out the syringe and clouded up his head again. Stuck with two crazy men and an infant. Stuck with people who despised him.
He flushed the toilet and turned to the sink, running the cold water to splash over his face and neck. He felt…flushed, almost feverish…anxious. Part of him wanted to get away, break free…figure his own path. Part of him wanted Dean. Part of him wanted to order Dean to put down the baby and suck his cock, right there in front of John.
Sam sighed and looked at himself in the mirror. His skin was pale, his eyes hollow, the dark circles making them look sunken and dead. “You look like shit,” he mumbled before taking a deep breath. Now that the stitches were out, he could shower. If he could manage to stand that long. He decided to risk it, if just to have the room to himself a little while longer.
The hot water felt good, and he had to think about when his last shower had been. More than a week he decided, though he couldn’t place it exactly…Before he’d told Dean…before he’d thrown his last punch in the effort to twist Dean so far around the bend he’d never come back.
Sam let the water flow over him, holding himself upright with a hand on either wall, breathing in the moist air. He didn’t exactly regret what he’d done to Dean…he’d thought he was saving him. The Demon…played him off his father, manipulated him. He should have known the two of them were working together. Should have known he was getting played.
On some level maybe he did. Maybe he knew and was too fucked up in the head to stand up and be a man. Maybe it wasn’t his head at all.
Sam shuddered at the thought and turned off the water. He could hear Dean and John moving around in the next room, probably nervous with what was taking him so long, imagining him conjuring demons with soap and water or something. He snorted at the thought and wrapped himself in a flimsy hotel towel before snatching the sweatpants off the floor.
He shuffled out of the bathroom, moving even more slowly than before, all strength draining through his toes into the dirty carpeting beneath him.
“Bout time you showered, dude. You reeked.” Dean said flippantly, handing Dana to John. “Need a hand?”
Sam shook his head, but regretted it as pain shot through his temples. He grabbed at the wall, missing the first time and stumbling, before grabbing the corner of the wall and turning his back to it, pressing his body into the cheap wall paper to keep from falling down.
It lanced into him, like fire and ice and sharp, sharp pokers into both temples and between his eyes. He grabbed at his face, vaguely aware of Dana’s sudden crying, and Dean’s yelling. He was falling, his knees giving out and there were pictures, faces…people with black, black eyes…demons taking shape out of the dark…corporeal and ready to do violence. The screaming hit him like a physical blow…or was that Dean?
Sam struggled to open his eyes, saw Dean squatting beside him, his fists in his shirt, his face looking over his shoulder. “Get Dana out of here!” Sam shook his head, reading the fear and disgust and somehow through the haze realizing that Dean though he was doing something to the baby, hurting her somehow.
Then Dean’s hands were on the side of his face and that seemed to anchor him, pull him out of the pictures in his head and Sam remembered suddenly to breathe. He gasped, pulling air into his lungs as he the images and sounds faded and he was completely within his body.
It took a moment for it to process, to understand what had happened. When he did, he looked up at Dean with wild eyes. “We have to go. We have to get out of here. They know where we are.”
Dean looked angrier than Sam could remember seeing him. “Who?” he asked, practically chewing the word.
“Demons…lots of demons.”
“Maybe we should let them have you.” Dean said, pushing Sam’s head to the wall. “What did you do to her?”
“Nothing Dean. Nothing. I swear. Its never happened before. Not like this. Sometimes the dreams…but always at night, when I’m asleep. Never like this.”
“What?” Dean’s face softened just a little, or maybe Sam imagined it.
Sam took a deep breath. “A…vision…premonition…or something. I don’t know. It’s never happened before. It fucking hurt.”
Dean glanced over his shoulder at the door, through which his father had fled with his daughter. “This got to do with the Seer thing?”
Sam shrugged. “Maybe.”
“So maybe she saw it too?” Dean moved his hands and stood up. “Maybe it hurt her too.” He rubbed a hand over his face.
“It said it had been suppressing my…gifts.” Sam said softly, remembering the words. “I never thought…it didn’t make sense.”
“What are you blathering about?”
Sam settled to sit on the floor, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The ritual, Dean. I didn’t put it together. The Seer has to be powerful…both of them have to have two or more of the gifts…I’ve never had more than the occasional prophetic dream. Never.”
“Until now.”
Sam nodded. “Until now.”
“Fuck.” Dean paced away, going to look for his father. At the door he stopped, already spotting John moving back toward them. “What else?”
He turned back to Sam. Sam blinked, not sure what he meant. “What other gifts, Sam?”
Sam shrugged. “Telekinesis, mind reading, fire starting…I don’t know.”
“Great. This keeps getting better.” Dean paced back toward him, frowning. “I really don’t need a 6 month old who can start fires with her mind.” Dean reached down to help Sam up, grimacing when the towel fell off. “Cover up. They’re almost back.”
Sam looked up, spotted John, and grabbed the towel, holding it in front of himself as Dean guided him back to the bed. “I’m serious Dean.” Sam said as Dean pulled the covers over him. “We have to go.”
“Not now Sam.” Dean said wearily.
Sam grabbed his hand and pulled him close. “They’re coming. They’re going to kill us.”
Dean pulled away, anger flaring in his face before he turned away. “Go to sleep Sam. Or I’ll put you out.”
“Damn it Dean, listen to me.”
Dean turned back to him, and Sam instantly regretted it. “I-I didn’t mean…sorry.” He didn’t want to force him, just wanted him to listen.
“Go to sleep. We’ll talk later.”
Sam had to admit, the whole shower and premonition had just about finished him, and sleep wasn’t really a hard thing. He watched Dean walk away, meeting his father by the playpen, then closed his eyes, pushing the images away and reaching out for the promise of sleep.
“Sam. Time to get up, get dressed.” Dean’s voice was quiet, but Sam knew even before he opened his eyes that he was in no mood for anything but obedience from his prisoner. Yeah. Sometimes you just had to call it what it was. Sam opened his eyes and sat up, taking the clean pair of sweats from Dean’s hand. “Those should fit better. They’re new.”
Sam noticed, even in the half light of the motel’s dim bedside lamp that something had changed. The room was nearly empty. “What’s going on?”
Dean turned away as Sam dressed. “Dad ran into a demon…convinced me maybe you were right. It’s time to move on.”
“Where to?”
“Haven’t decided yet. You done?”
“Yeah. Help me up?”
Dean turned back around and put a hand under his arm, pulling him up to his feet. Dean was quiet as he walked him out to the car, settling him in before going back inside for the last of their things. John approached from the other side of the car, carrying the baby. He crawled into the back seat to secure her in her car seat, and looked at Sam for a long minute.
“I’m only going to say this once. If you hurt my boy or this baby, there will be no where you can go that I can’t find you. You think those demons will hurt you? They’ve got nothing on what I would do to you. Is that clear?”
Sam didn’t need any special abilities to know John meant what he said, meant everything he said. Sam nodded. “Yes, sir.” Sam turned in the small space, resting his head against the seat and sighed as John finished his task and pulled out of the car. Dean was there only moments later, settling into the driver’s seat after checking on Dana.
“He doesn’t like me.” Sam said as Dean waved his father out in front of them.
“Who?” Dean asked, guiding the Impala out onto the street.
“Your father.”
“Our father.”
Sam sighed and turned his head away. “No. He hates me.”
Dean didn’t answer right away and when he did, Sam wasn’t sure how to interpret the tone of voice. “He’s…it’s a lot, Sam. But he’s your father. We have proof. Now.”
Sam inhaled and sat up straighter. “What proof?”
“The friend he went to see, has access to labs. We had them run you and Dana both. You are definitely my brother and she is definitely my child.”
Sam scowled and turned to look out the side window. Somehow the idea that they had checked, that they had doubted, irked him. But really, why would they believe him? It wasn’t like he hadn’t had his own doubts.
Dean wouldn’t want him anymore…now for sure. It burned. Sam sighed and tried to go back to sleep. At least when he was sleeping he didn’t need to think anymore.
“Dean?”
Hours had passed. Dawn wasn’t far away, and still they drove. “Yeah, Sam?”
“I want you to know…I’m sorry. For the whole thing. I didn’t want that girl to die.”
“I know Sam.”
“Do you? You look at me differently now. When you look at me at all.”
“Sam, I’m trying to drive.”
Sam sighed. He didn’t know how to say what he wanted to say…or even why he wanted to say it. “Fuck,” he whispered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “This isn’t easy for me.”
Dean shook his head. “And you think its easy for me?” He looked at Sam for a long moment before turning back to the road. “For god’s sake, Sam, in the last week I’ve found out the guy I was letting fuck my ass is my brother, who I thought was dead, killed the demon that I thought killed the brother who is in fact, not dead and fucking my ass and fucking with my head, discovered I’m a father and to top it all off, I’ve been fucking hexed. I can’t trust you not to hurt the people I love. I can’t trust the people I love not to hurt you. I can’t fucking trust myself not to beg you to have sex with me. I haven’t slept more than two hours at a time since the warehouse and I’m running from demons. What about that is easy?”
“I’m sorry.” Sam said again. What surprised him was how much he meant it. “I could drive…if you want.”
He felt Dean look at him and look away. “I sure as hell am not trusting you with my car.”
Dean’s phone rang and he fumbled with it a little before getting it open. “Yeah? Sure. Okay.” He hung it up and put the phone on the seat between them. “Dad says there’s an all night truck stop up ahead. We’re stopping for chow and to stretch our legs.”
Sam nodded. “Then where?”
Dean turned them off the road and into the truck stop, pulling up beside his father’s truck. He took a deep breath and looked at Sam. “Missouri.”
“What’s in Missouri?”
“Not the state.” Dean said, getting out of the car. “Missouri is a person. A friend. Dad called in a favor. Now, get out of the car.” Sam pulled himself to his feet and watched as Dean got Dana up and out. John nodded at them and together they headed in to the diner part of the truck stop, Sam shuffling slowly, but on his own, behind them.
Title: My Brother's Keeper, Part Twelve(Part One Here, Part Two Here, Part Three Here, Part Four Here, Part Five Here, Part Six Here, Part Seven Here, Part Eight Here, Part Nine Here, Part Ten Here, Part Eleven Here)
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Table: #1
Prompt: 044 Stuck
Word Count: 2561
Summary: Complete AU. On the night the demon kills Mary Winchester, John saves Dean, but before he can go back for Sam, the fire spreads. It is assumed that Sam is dead along with his mother. In reality, he has been taken and is raised by a family dedicate to the demon who killed Mary. One night after a hunt, Dean runs into him in a bar in Palo Alto, never a clue who he really is.
Warnings: Overall-Incest, m/m sex, blood play, bondage, non-con. Babies and demons and blood and come...No sex...a little unraveling...Sam sat up and declared it was his turn to tell part of the story, and threatened to possess me if I didn't let him...
This is my thirty-first ficlet for my Supernatural claim on
100_situations. Clicky for tableSam eyed the rest of the room as he slowly put his feet to the floor. He’d proven earlier in the day he could stand on his own, and other than the aches and the lingering weakness from the blood loss, he was recovering. Dean had spent the last hour pulling out stitches, and Sam felt rather like a pin cushion. A pin cushion with a desperate need to pee.
Dean was feeding the baby and John seemed deeply involved in research of some variety, and Sam was determined he could make the bathroom on his own. His steps were short, shuffling. Dean looked up, a question on his face, but Sam waved him off. He was irritated. He’d never spent this much time in bed in his life, that didn’t involve sex, and he was tired of the drugs, the forced convalescence…tired of the way John looked at him, never sure what it was he saw in the older man’s eyes.
Sam reached the bathroom door and stopped, resting against the wall. He hated feeling so fucking weak, hated being this person he was letting himself become. It reminded him too much of those years as a child when his father…that man that raised him, dominated his life and Sam had bowed and scraped and let himself be bullied. He closed his eyes and shuffled into the bathroom, closing the door and cherishing the moment of privacy. He hadn’t been alone in a room since the hospital unless he was drugged into unconsciousness.
They didn’t trust him. Not that he could blame them. He didn’t trust them either. He didn’t know what they had planned. He couldn’t read John the way he could Dean, and since the whole thing with the Demon, he couldn’t really read Dean either. Unless it was about sex. Dean was completely transparent when it came to that.
Sam braced himself with the inside of his calves against the cool porcelain of the toilet and peed, sighing a little at the relief and quiet. Worse than not knowing what they had planned, Sam was at a loss himself.
By now his life was gone. All access to the money, the contacts, everything would be gone. He was stuck.
He’d been meant to die, to take one for the team or some stupid shit. It just showed that the old man really didn’t know him, despite everything.
They had never been close. He’d made sure Sam knew from a very young age that he wasn’t his, wasn’t wanted and he wouldn’t be there if someone very powerful hadn’t paid for him to be there. It wasn’t until he was thirteen that Sam began to see how to work the situation to his advantage.
Sam shook his head and tucked himself back into the sweat pants that were too short and overstretched. He didn’t want to think about that, about them. He needed to think about now, about what he was going to do, before Dean brought out the syringe and clouded up his head again. Stuck with two crazy men and an infant. Stuck with people who despised him.
He flushed the toilet and turned to the sink, running the cold water to splash over his face and neck. He felt…flushed, almost feverish…anxious. Part of him wanted to get away, break free…figure his own path. Part of him wanted Dean. Part of him wanted to order Dean to put down the baby and suck his cock, right there in front of John.
Sam sighed and looked at himself in the mirror. His skin was pale, his eyes hollow, the dark circles making them look sunken and dead. “You look like shit,” he mumbled before taking a deep breath. Now that the stitches were out, he could shower. If he could manage to stand that long. He decided to risk it, if just to have the room to himself a little while longer.
The hot water felt good, and he had to think about when his last shower had been. More than a week he decided, though he couldn’t place it exactly…Before he’d told Dean…before he’d thrown his last punch in the effort to twist Dean so far around the bend he’d never come back.
Sam let the water flow over him, holding himself upright with a hand on either wall, breathing in the moist air. He didn’t exactly regret what he’d done to Dean…he’d thought he was saving him. The Demon…played him off his father, manipulated him. He should have known the two of them were working together. Should have known he was getting played.
On some level maybe he did. Maybe he knew and was too fucked up in the head to stand up and be a man. Maybe it wasn’t his head at all.
Sam shuddered at the thought and turned off the water. He could hear Dean and John moving around in the next room, probably nervous with what was taking him so long, imagining him conjuring demons with soap and water or something. He snorted at the thought and wrapped himself in a flimsy hotel towel before snatching the sweatpants off the floor.
He shuffled out of the bathroom, moving even more slowly than before, all strength draining through his toes into the dirty carpeting beneath him.
“Bout time you showered, dude. You reeked.” Dean said flippantly, handing Dana to John. “Need a hand?”
Sam shook his head, but regretted it as pain shot through his temples. He grabbed at the wall, missing the first time and stumbling, before grabbing the corner of the wall and turning his back to it, pressing his body into the cheap wall paper to keep from falling down.
It lanced into him, like fire and ice and sharp, sharp pokers into both temples and between his eyes. He grabbed at his face, vaguely aware of Dana’s sudden crying, and Dean’s yelling. He was falling, his knees giving out and there were pictures, faces…people with black, black eyes…demons taking shape out of the dark…corporeal and ready to do violence. The screaming hit him like a physical blow…or was that Dean?
Sam struggled to open his eyes, saw Dean squatting beside him, his fists in his shirt, his face looking over his shoulder. “Get Dana out of here!” Sam shook his head, reading the fear and disgust and somehow through the haze realizing that Dean though he was doing something to the baby, hurting her somehow.
Then Dean’s hands were on the side of his face and that seemed to anchor him, pull him out of the pictures in his head and Sam remembered suddenly to breathe. He gasped, pulling air into his lungs as he the images and sounds faded and he was completely within his body.
It took a moment for it to process, to understand what had happened. When he did, he looked up at Dean with wild eyes. “We have to go. We have to get out of here. They know where we are.”
Dean looked angrier than Sam could remember seeing him. “Who?” he asked, practically chewing the word.
“Demons…lots of demons.”
“Maybe we should let them have you.” Dean said, pushing Sam’s head to the wall. “What did you do to her?”
“Nothing Dean. Nothing. I swear. Its never happened before. Not like this. Sometimes the dreams…but always at night, when I’m asleep. Never like this.”
“What?” Dean’s face softened just a little, or maybe Sam imagined it.
Sam took a deep breath. “A…vision…premonition…or something. I don’t know. It’s never happened before. It fucking hurt.”
Dean glanced over his shoulder at the door, through which his father had fled with his daughter. “This got to do with the Seer thing?”
Sam shrugged. “Maybe.”
“So maybe she saw it too?” Dean moved his hands and stood up. “Maybe it hurt her too.” He rubbed a hand over his face.
“It said it had been suppressing my…gifts.” Sam said softly, remembering the words. “I never thought…it didn’t make sense.”
“What are you blathering about?”
Sam settled to sit on the floor, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The ritual, Dean. I didn’t put it together. The Seer has to be powerful…both of them have to have two or more of the gifts…I’ve never had more than the occasional prophetic dream. Never.”
“Until now.”
Sam nodded. “Until now.”
“Fuck.” Dean paced away, going to look for his father. At the door he stopped, already spotting John moving back toward them. “What else?”
He turned back to Sam. Sam blinked, not sure what he meant. “What other gifts, Sam?”
Sam shrugged. “Telekinesis, mind reading, fire starting…I don’t know.”
“Great. This keeps getting better.” Dean paced back toward him, frowning. “I really don’t need a 6 month old who can start fires with her mind.” Dean reached down to help Sam up, grimacing when the towel fell off. “Cover up. They’re almost back.”
Sam looked up, spotted John, and grabbed the towel, holding it in front of himself as Dean guided him back to the bed. “I’m serious Dean.” Sam said as Dean pulled the covers over him. “We have to go.”
“Not now Sam.” Dean said wearily.
Sam grabbed his hand and pulled him close. “They’re coming. They’re going to kill us.”
Dean pulled away, anger flaring in his face before he turned away. “Go to sleep Sam. Or I’ll put you out.”
“Damn it Dean, listen to me.”
Dean turned back to him, and Sam instantly regretted it. “I-I didn’t mean…sorry.” He didn’t want to force him, just wanted him to listen.
“Go to sleep. We’ll talk later.”
Sam had to admit, the whole shower and premonition had just about finished him, and sleep wasn’t really a hard thing. He watched Dean walk away, meeting his father by the playpen, then closed his eyes, pushing the images away and reaching out for the promise of sleep.
“Sam. Time to get up, get dressed.” Dean’s voice was quiet, but Sam knew even before he opened his eyes that he was in no mood for anything but obedience from his prisoner. Yeah. Sometimes you just had to call it what it was. Sam opened his eyes and sat up, taking the clean pair of sweats from Dean’s hand. “Those should fit better. They’re new.”
Sam noticed, even in the half light of the motel’s dim bedside lamp that something had changed. The room was nearly empty. “What’s going on?”
Dean turned away as Sam dressed. “Dad ran into a demon…convinced me maybe you were right. It’s time to move on.”
“Where to?”
“Haven’t decided yet. You done?”
“Yeah. Help me up?”
Dean turned back around and put a hand under his arm, pulling him up to his feet. Dean was quiet as he walked him out to the car, settling him in before going back inside for the last of their things. John approached from the other side of the car, carrying the baby. He crawled into the back seat to secure her in her car seat, and looked at Sam for a long minute.
“I’m only going to say this once. If you hurt my boy or this baby, there will be no where you can go that I can’t find you. You think those demons will hurt you? They’ve got nothing on what I would do to you. Is that clear?”
Sam didn’t need any special abilities to know John meant what he said, meant everything he said. Sam nodded. “Yes, sir.” Sam turned in the small space, resting his head against the seat and sighed as John finished his task and pulled out of the car. Dean was there only moments later, settling into the driver’s seat after checking on Dana.
“He doesn’t like me.” Sam said as Dean waved his father out in front of them.
“Who?” Dean asked, guiding the Impala out onto the street.
“Your father.”
“Our father.”
Sam sighed and turned his head away. “No. He hates me.”
Dean didn’t answer right away and when he did, Sam wasn’t sure how to interpret the tone of voice. “He’s…it’s a lot, Sam. But he’s your father. We have proof. Now.”
Sam inhaled and sat up straighter. “What proof?”
“The friend he went to see, has access to labs. We had them run you and Dana both. You are definitely my brother and she is definitely my child.”
Sam scowled and turned to look out the side window. Somehow the idea that they had checked, that they had doubted, irked him. But really, why would they believe him? It wasn’t like he hadn’t had his own doubts.
Dean wouldn’t want him anymore…now for sure. It burned. Sam sighed and tried to go back to sleep. At least when he was sleeping he didn’t need to think anymore.
“Dean?”
Hours had passed. Dawn wasn’t far away, and still they drove. “Yeah, Sam?”
“I want you to know…I’m sorry. For the whole thing. I didn’t want that girl to die.”
“I know Sam.”
“Do you? You look at me differently now. When you look at me at all.”
“Sam, I’m trying to drive.”
Sam sighed. He didn’t know how to say what he wanted to say…or even why he wanted to say it. “Fuck,” he whispered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “This isn’t easy for me.”
Dean shook his head. “And you think its easy for me?” He looked at Sam for a long moment before turning back to the road. “For god’s sake, Sam, in the last week I’ve found out the guy I was letting fuck my ass is my brother, who I thought was dead, killed the demon that I thought killed the brother who is in fact, not dead and fucking my ass and fucking with my head, discovered I’m a father and to top it all off, I’ve been fucking hexed. I can’t trust you not to hurt the people I love. I can’t trust the people I love not to hurt you. I can’t fucking trust myself not to beg you to have sex with me. I haven’t slept more than two hours at a time since the warehouse and I’m running from demons. What about that is easy?”
“I’m sorry.” Sam said again. What surprised him was how much he meant it. “I could drive…if you want.”
He felt Dean look at him and look away. “I sure as hell am not trusting you with my car.”
Dean’s phone rang and he fumbled with it a little before getting it open. “Yeah? Sure. Okay.” He hung it up and put the phone on the seat between them. “Dad says there’s an all night truck stop up ahead. We’re stopping for chow and to stretch our legs.”
Sam nodded. “Then where?”
Dean turned them off the road and into the truck stop, pulling up beside his father’s truck. He took a deep breath and looked at Sam. “Missouri.”
“What’s in Missouri?”
“Not the state.” Dean said, getting out of the car. “Missouri is a person. A friend. Dad called in a favor. Now, get out of the car.” Sam pulled himself to his feet and watched as Dean got Dana up and out. John nodded at them and together they headed in to the diner part of the truck stop, Sam shuffling slowly, but on his own, behind them.
