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Entry tags:
Another Life, Supernatural -- for the Supernatural Picture Prompt Fic Challenge
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Another Life
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean, mentions of Sam/OFC
For the Supernatural Picture Prompt Fic Challenge
Word Count: 9250
Summary: Dean wakes up after a drunk to find himself in Sam's "normal" life, only life isn't as normal as it should be...and Sam isn't as happy as normal was supposed to make him.
Warnings and A/N: So this was going to be a quick little bit, based on the picture...then the fairy tale challenge from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ellipsisblack somehow wormed it's way in...and voila! Rumplestilskin! Of course, my own, twisted version...but then, I just wouldn't be me without that....and then...it just sort of ran away with me...9000 words! Damn!
Thanks to a wonderful betacariadean
Disclaimer: Soooo not mine, bugger that.
It’s way too fucking early, he knows that without opening his eyes. His body groans it, his head pounds it…the way the light is shining in through the window screams it. Dean rolls onto his back, eyes closed, trying to recapture the sleep that was interrupted by…he frowns. What did wake him up?
Cautiously Dean opens one eye. The room is bright and for a moment he’s lost, disoriented. The bed is far too comfortable, the air too clean. There’s a faint sound, like…cartoons. He shifts, and starts, jumps out of the bed, trips over his clothes and falls against the wall.
The child looks at him, smiles, then turns back to the TV. Dean rubs a hand over the growth on his face and stares, trying to remember. The headache told him he’d been drunk…totally and completely drunk. He vaguely remembered talking to Sam….Sam.
“Sam?” He said it tentatively at first, because he isn’t sure if he remembers exactly…it’s been so long…his eyes stay on the boy, watching him watch the television. “Sam?” A little louder now, a glance at the half-open door. “Sam!” Emphatic, demanding.
Sam appeared in the door, lopsided smile and a roll of his eyes. “Matt, I told you to leave him be, let him sleep.”
The boy looked up at Sam, then to Dean and smiled before turning back to the television. Dean just glared at Sam who shrugged. “It is his room.”
Dean shook his head. “You…” His hand shook as he pointed at his brother. “…should have said something about kids.”
“You should have stuck around.” Sam countered easily. He looked at the boy again. His face radiated a contentment Dean wasn’t accustomed to seeing in his brother’s face. Then again, it had been a few years. “Five years, Dean.” His voice was hard, cold. “Besides I did tell you. You were drunk.”
Dean got his feet under him and reached for his jeans. “Maybe I should—“
“Come down stairs. Have some coffee.” The cold was gone from Sam’s tone, but not his eyes as they swept over Dean.
Dean was thinking more like “hit the road” but coffee sounded better. “Yeah okay. Give me a minute.”
“Take your time. Breakfast won’t be ready for a few more minutes.”
Dean’s stomach rolled at the thought of food. Definitely drunk the night before. He struggled into his jeans and pulled on his gray t-shirt before thumping down the stairs in his bare feet, leaving the inarticulate Matt watching an old Road Runner cartoon.
In the kitchen, Dean half expected to see a wife and more kids…but there was just Sam, pouring a cup of coffee and handing it to Dean. “He isn’t mine…not…he’s seven.” Sam said quietly.
“Didn’t ask.” Dean straddled a chair, cradling the coffee and inhaling it’s rich scent. Dean couldn’t help but notice that the table was pushed into a corner and there were only the two chairs.
Sam shrugged. “No…I’m just offering.” He poured his own cup of coffee and took the other seat. “How much do you remember from last night?”
Dean ran a hand through his close-cropped hair. This was uncomfortable. Very. “Not much. I must have been pretty drunk.”
Sam chuckled, some of the cold distance melting. “I’ll say. Fred at the bar called me when you wouldn’t stop harassing his customers looking for me.”
Dean vaguely remembered realizing where he was as he pulled in to town. He hadn’t meant it…hadn’t…wanted to interfere, to interrupt Sam’s normal…but it wasn’t a big town, and it was late…and he found himself in the bar slamming back shots. The town hadn’t changed in five years. Not since he’d given Sam what he wanted. Not since he’d packed his stuff and left Sam sleeping on the hotel bed…
“Sam, I—“
Sam’s hand touched his and he shook his head. “No. It’s okay.”
Dean nodded and sipped at his coffee.
“You always were a sloppy drunk.” Sam said with a laugh.
“So…” Dean leaned back against the wall and regarded his little brother. Not much about him had changed…his hair was still too long, his eyes still too bright, and he seemed hesitant and unsure…just like he’d been before…before Dean had left him…before Dean had…He closed his eyes and shook it off. “You look good.”
Sam nodded. “You don’t. You’ve lost weight.”
“Money’s been tight.” Dean took a long drink from his coffee. “ So what’s with the kid?”
Sam closed his eyes for a minute and Dean was afraid he’d said something wrong. “He’s…Matt. Matthew Bartholomew Baron.”
“And…he isn’t yours…but somehow he lives with you?”
Sam shook his head and blew out a long breath, drank from his coffee, then set the cup down to wipe his hands on his jeans. “It’s a long story, Dean. Five years, man. Long damn time.”
“I ain’t going nowhere.” Dean said, settling in. It was strange and unfamiliar and entirely too fucking domestic to be sitting here, in his brother’s house, in his brother’s kitchen, talking like they’re old college buddies or something…but he hadn’t realized how much he missed that face…or the sight of those hands.
“Okay…He’s my…step-son.”
“You got married?” Dean sat forward, his eyes scanning his brother’s hands for a ring that wasn’t there.
“Yeah…Her name was Elizabeth Baron. Matt was two when we met. She…” Sam hid his hands between his thighs. “She died three years ago. Matt…he’s all alone. She was the last…” He sighed and got up to pace. “It’s my fault. I should have known, should have suspected…”
Dean had a sinking feeling in his stomach. “What was it?”
Sam stopped his pacing and looked up, making Dean turn. Matt was there at the door of the kitchen. “Hey, you hungry?” Sam asked and Matt nodded.
“Bacon’s almost done.”
Matt came to sit in Sam’s abandoned chair while Sam moved to the stove, hiding his face from Matt. Dean knew Sam was trying to marshal in some emotion he didn’t want the boy, or his brother, for that matter, to see. He let him have it for a moment and turned instead to the boy.
He was around seven, dark hair buzzed close to his scalp, his eyes a startling blue. Those eyes looked up at him, questioning, but guarded. “I’m Dean,” he offered gruffly and Matt smiled.
“He…doesn’t really talk much.” Sam said from the stove…quiet, calm…with very little intonation. Dean’s eyes caught on his brother’s and he tried to see what it was that had Sam so…tense. Sam shook his head and served up two strips of bacon and a spoonful of scrambled eggs and brought them to Matt. “Here you go, Matt. You eat, I’m going to take your Uncle Dean into the other room to talk, okay?”
Matt nodded and attacked his breakfast while Sam herded Dean into the living room. “Uncle Dean?”
Sam shrugged and sighed and hugged his arms around himself. “Are you going to tell me?” Dean asked, crossing his arms. He wished his head didn’t hurt so bad. He wondered if maybe he got hit on the head while he was drunk.
Sam looked like he wanted to be angry…like he wanted to yell and throw things, but then his hand fell on a picture on the table beside him and he lifted it. “I…didn’t love her.” He said it so softly, Dean wasn’t sure he heard him. “You can see it…in the pictures.”
Sam turned and showed him the 8x10 of him, his arms around a woman with long black hair and bright blue eyes. Her arms, in turn, were around a three year old version of Matt. Sam looked happy. “You seem…”
Sam shook his head, raised an eyebrow. “Don’t get me wrong, I was…content. It wasn’t what I wanted…but it was…good.” He put the picture back. “She was a good woman, and she loved Matt…Loved me.”
“So, tell me what happened.”
The anger came back, flaring in Sam’s eyes. “You left me, you prick. You…fucking left me.”
Dean didn’t really have an answer to that, because he was right, he did leave. “I had to.”
“Why?” Sam demanded, moving to stand over Dean.
Dean deflated, collapsed onto the couch. “It was…wrong, Sam…everything was so fucked up.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Sam said.
“Do you?” Dean shook his head. He didn’t want to remember it…the months following Jessica’s death…the tension between them, the desperate denial…then their father’s death. It had only gotten worse after that. Every look, every touch leading to that night when they’d both had a little too much to drink and there had been yelling and fighting and shoving into walls…and the tension broke when he’d thrown his brother to the floor and fucked him. Sam had begged…cried…begged for more. And when it was done, Dean had held him, cradled him against him and apologized over and over. He never slept that night. Once Sam had finally gone to sleep, Dean left…and he’d been gone for five years.
Sam looked at him, and there was something in his eyes that made Dean shiver. “You left me because you couldn’t deal with what we did.”
“We? I—“ Dean closed his eyes. He could still see the look on Sam’s face when he’d touched him…when he’d put his hands on his brother’s cock. “You didn’t do anything, Sam. I did.”
“Last I knew, it still takes two Dean.”
Dean looked up, stood up. He was angry now too. “No. No. Just. No. Sam.”
Sam’s smile was crooked. “If…do you think I couldn’t have stopped you?” He crossed his arms. “In fact, I think that is why you left. Because I didn’t.”
“Fuck.” Dean swiped a hand over his stubble again, wondering idly when he’d shaved last. It had almost gone past stubble and on into beard. “I don’t want to do this, Sam.”
“What? Talk about us? You never did.”
That was the truth, because he was Dean Winchester and talking about his feelings was just a little too chick-flick for him. Which was, more than likely, what had led to the fucked up shit that happened that night.
“I didn’t…I didn’t come here for this.”
“Why then? Why now? Five fucking years, Dean. You walked out on me. You didn’t ask, you didn’t say goodbye. You didn’t even leave a fucking note. I sat there for two days waiting for you to come back from whatever pity party you’d dragged yourself off to.”
“Sam—“
“You didn’t ask, Dean.”
Dean sighed explosively and stalked to the front door and back again. “I couldn’t, okay? I couldn’t ask that of you. You always wanted normal…I can’t be normal Sam. I can’t. I couldn’t…”
“So, you just leave?”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay? I thought if I left, if I gave you…you could find what you wanted.”
Sam’s eyes closed and he bit his lip. “You really can be very dense, you know that Dean?”
Dean chuckled a little, because, yeah, he did know that. “Yeah?”
Sam turned, his body steering Dean, his hands falling on Dean’s hips as he pressed him into the wall. Dean closed his eyes, he didn’t want to see…but Sam pushed a little harder, his body knocking against the wall and when Dean opened his eyes, all he could see was Sam’s face. “Yeah.” Sam breathed, smelling of coffee.
Dean stopped breathing when Sam kissed him. Short, soft…and gone far too fast. “Sam?”
Sam let go of him, stepped away. “Maybe next time you should ask me what I want, before you decide for yourself.” He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Dean against the wall, touching his lips. When he reappeared he had Matt in tow. “I have to go to work. Breakfast is on the stove. There are clean towels in the closet by the bathroom. Your car’s still downtown, but I grabbed your bags, they’re in the closet in Matt’s room.”
“Wait, work?”
Sam smiled and damn it was a beautiful thing. “Yeah, it’s what normal people do, Dean.” He quirked his head to the side as he said it, and Dean rolled his eyes.
“Where? I mean…what do you do?”
“I run the library. Matt helps me, don’t you?” He rubbed the boy’s head and his smile was almost as brilliant as Sam’s. “Don’t worry, we’ll be home before 5.”
Matt waved goodbye as Sam held the door, and just like that, they were gone.
Dean stared at the door. After a long minute, he let himself out onto the porch and looked around. He groaned and would have kicked something if he wasn’t barefoot. The house was surrounded by trees, a single dirt lane leading into them. It was Vermont, after all. Fucking Vermont. It was silent, the trees swaying lightly in a soft breeze. The town of Baroness was a decent size, so the silence could only mean they were well outside of town. And he was stranded here, alone.
Baroness. Fuck. The kid’s last name was Baron. Sam’s…wife had been named Baron. That familiar tingling in his stomach made Dean shake his head. He didn’t like how this sounded. Dean turned back inside, closed the door and padded over to the picture. She was pretty. What was it Sam had said? She was the last…the last what?
For the next two hours, Dean scoured the house, looking at pictures of Sam and Elizabeth, looking through photo albums and documents and putting together the story of Sam’s last five years.
He sat at the kitchen table eating cold eggs and burnt bacon as he sorted through his brother’s life. The pictures told a story of a quick courtship, a spring wedding. Sam was right, the pictures gave away his feelings. He looked at them both with affection…but not that all consuming Sammy look of love that he swore he would drown in when it was directed at him.
As the morning melted into afternoon, Dean put the pictures and photo albums away where he’d found them and went looking for the stuff Sam wouldn’t leave out for anyone to see. Under Sam’s bed he found an old scrap book, something that pre-dated any relationship Sam and Elizabeth had, predated Sam and Elizabeth if their ages were combined. The name Baron was stamped in gold letters across it and the pages were brittle with time.
Dean sat on Sam’s bed and looked through the pictures and articles, trinkets and ribbons. That prickly feeling was back in his stomach. Unless he was just reading into Sam’s apparent over-active guilt complex, something wasn’t right with this family. He was still there when he heard the door open downstairs. “Dean?”
He slipped the scrap book under the bed and went downstairs. “You’re back.”
“With dinner.” Sam held up a pizza box, looking at Dean quizzically. “We’re too far out for delivery.”
“So I gathered.” Dean took the pizza box. “It’s cold.”
“Warm it up.”
“You don’t have a microwave.”
Sam laughed. “Use the oven, dude.”
Dean rolled his eyes and disappeared into the kitchen with the pizza. Dinner was quiet, and aside from Matt’s particular taste, picking the cheese off of his pizza and putting the pepperoni and mushrooms back on it, unremarkable.
“You can sleep in my bed again tonight, okay Matt?” Sam said as he finished clearing the table. “Uncle Dean is going to stay for a while…so he needs your room.”
Matt nodded, then looked at Dean, his eyes narrowing. After a minute he smiled and Dean couldn’t help but smile back. “Okay, let’s get you ready for bed. I’ll be down after our story, Dean.”
Dean waited a few minutes before he followed Sam up the stairs. He could hear him, reading to Matt, his voice soft. “The little man took the necklace, sat himself down at the wheel, and whir, whir, whir, the wheel went round three times, and the bobbin was full. Then he put on another, and whir, whir, whir, the wheel went round three times, and the second too was full; and so it went on till the morning, when all the straw was spun away, and all the bobbins were full of gold.”
Dean leaned on the door frame, watching as Sam lulled the boy to sleep with a soft voice and a fairy tale. Sam glanced up and smiled once, then went back to reading. Before he’d reached the end, Matt was asleep and Sam slipped off the bed and gestured down the hall.
“So, Rumpelstiltskin, huh?”
Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “How much have you figured out?” he asked, as if this wasn’t about his life…as if it were any hunt and five years hadn’t gone by.
“Well…I figure there was some sort of devil’s bargain involved. Something she couldn’t escape. You didn’t make it easy for me.” The clues were there, in the bits and pieces, in the obituary he’d found cut out and pasted into the scrap book, in the records from the hospital, test results and…He just couldn’t put it all together.
Sam nodded and cracked open a beer. “Yeah. Something like that.”
He handed the beer to Dean and opened another for himself. Sam chewed on his lip. “I still don’t have it all…three years…and…” He sighed and took a swig of his beer. “She died because I didn’t tell her Dean. Just like Jessica. If I had…if I’d told her what I do, who I am, she might have told me…we could have figured it out.”
“What? You’re blaming yourself for this? Did you have a dream? A vision?”
Sam shook his head. “No…just…I wasn’t honest with her. I owed her that much.” He sank onto the couch and kicked off his shoes. “She was good to me, Dean.”
Dean took the easy chair, keeping his distance because even if Sam had kissed him, Dean wasn’t interested in inviting more…just yet. “So tell me what happened.”
“Elizabeth was…the last of the Barons…other than Matt. Her family founded the town, but the women…the females born Barons, they had a way of dying tragically. Most of them before they could have kids of their own. When one of them did, it was always a girl, and she always died young.”
“Curse?” Dean’s eyes flicked over Sam’s posture, slumped down, defeated.
Sam shrugged. “She…told me some of it before she died.” He twirled his beer bottle in his hand, then looked up at Dean. “Before they came here, they were actual Barons…in Germany. Apparently, several hundred years ago, one of them had ten daughters and not a single son to carry on the family name. He was desperate for a son, so he made a bargain.”
“I take it the bargain wasn’t with a goblin who turns straw into gold?”
Sam shook his head. “No. It was with a goblin who apparently liked killing women and was willing to trade baby boys for them.”
He stood up and paced the room. “I’m still not clear on the whole thing. She didn’t believe it, not until Matt was born.” Sam sighed. “She never told me who his father was, but…I got the impression…I just know that she needed me. She chose me to take care of her son.” It was obvious he wasn’t saying everything.
“That’s quite a load to lay in your lap, Sammy.”
Sam shook his head. “The Baron who came, who started this town, he had two boys and a girl. Things were hard, the town was…dying. The girl died unexpectedly when she was twelve, in the middle of a hard winter. When spring came, the town began to thrive.”
“So you think this guy renewed the pact, giving his little girl over to the goblin or whatever?”
Sam shrugged. “I don’t honestly know, Dean. All I know for sure is that the little boy upstairs is the last Baron.”
Dean watched as Sam looked out the window. “What else?”
“She asked me to do something. I haven’t…I…don’t know if it will do any good.”
Dean stood and put his beer on the coffee table. “What?” He moved so that he was behind Sam, wanting to touch him, comfort him. “What did she ask?”
Sam leaned back, resting his body against Dean’s and sighed. “Adopt him. Give him our name.”
Dean took a deep breath. “You think that will beat it? Whatever it is?”
Sam was quiet for a minute, then reached for Dean’s hand, pulling it up to cover his heart. “I don’t know.”
Dean’s whole body was attuned to Sam’s as his free hand slid up Sam’s back. He found himself pressing a kiss against the bare skin just above his shirt and Sam moaned, his chest reverberating against Dean’s hand. “Sam.” Dean’s voice was breathless, his eyes closed.
Sam turned, his hands on Dean’s face, tilting it for his kiss and it was Dean’s turn to moan. “Please.” Dean whispered and Sam pulled back. His green eyes were bright as he looked into Dean’s and whatever he saw was enough to make him step back. “Sam, I-“ He reached for him, but Sam stepped back out of reach.
“No…you’re right.” He took a deep breath. “I’m gonna go to bed. We can talk about this in the morning.”
Dean watched him go, not sure if he meant the kiss, or the curse, or maybe both. After a few minutes, he gave up trying to figure it out and climbed the stairs himself.
The sound of the television coming on woke him again the next morning. Dean opened one eye and looked at Matt who was laying next to him, his head against the headboard. Matt looked at him, his blue eyes sparkling. His small hand touched Dean’s face and he smiled. Dean smiled too, then closed his eyes and threw an arm over them to block out the sun. “Just you keep it down over there, Matthew. Uncle Dean wants to sleep.”
When Dean woke up the second time, there was a weight on his chest. He opened his eyes to find Matt using his chest as a pillow. Sam stopped in the doorway and smiled. “He must like you.”
Matt sat up suddenly and beckoned Sam, who came, instantly concerned. When he got close enough, he grabbed Sam’s hand and pulled him until he was in the bed, on the other side of Matt from Dean. Matt laid back down between them and reached for Dean’s hand. He put them together between his and held them, before he kissed Sam’s cheek.
“Okay.” Dean said, holding Sam’s hand lightly over the small body. “That’s interesting.” Sam grinned at him and they sat a while like that, until Matt seemed to be caught up again in the television.
Sam got up first, citing a need to use the restroom and something about laundry. Dean stayed a few minutes, bonding with Matt over Power Rangers, then he went looking for Sam.
He found him in his bedroom, sorting through laundry. “So…are we going to talk about this?” Dean asked, making Sam jump.
“About what?” Sam responded, keeping his back to his brother as he picked out whites to throw in the laundry basket.
Dean snorted. “You come on to me like I’m a hot seventeen year old cheerleader and you have to ask what?”
Sam turned at that, his face all shock. “I what?”
“Okay, I admit. You freaked me out.” Dean said, holding up his hands and moving closer.
Sam put his hands on his hips. “Oh? I didn’t know you were that easy to fluster.”
Dean sighed and closed the door. “Normally, I’m not. But this is different.”
Sam just looked at him and waited. Dean met his eyes and spoke carefully. “You asked me to stop, and I didn’t.” He could still see Sam’s eyes, the fear, the confusion…he could still feel his body trembling when he had pinned him to the ground.
Sam nodded and took two steps toward him. “I did ask. I was…confused. Freaked out.” He tilted his head to the side and bit his lip. “It happened too fast.”
“If you ask me, it took too long.” Dean said, then he closed his eyes. “I didn’t mean…”
“No, you’re right. It was building for a long time.”
“But you said stop.”
“And you knew I meant don’t.” Sam was right in front of him now. His hands still on his hips. They didn’t touch.
“I wanted you so much…and it was so wrong…” Dean’s breathing was shallow. He knew he should step away, step back…but the heat of Sam so close was intoxicating. “I shouldn’t…we shouldn’t…”
Sam took away even more of the distance between them, his lips hovering near Dean’s. “Do you remember Dean? When you…when you were inside me? Do you remember how I begged?” Sam’s breath was hot and Dean licked his lips to taste it. “It wasn’t for you to stop. Do you remember?”
Dean remembered…the broken, lust-filled voice of his baby brother begging him harder…please, Dean…please…fuck me…please…make me come…. His breath hitched as Sam’s lips ghosted over his. “Sam.”
“I’m going to kiss you Dean.” Sam whispered, just before his lips connected for real, his tongue stealing out to take Dean’s mouth, sweeping through him. Dean’s stomach turned to jelly as Sam’s hand moved to his hip, pulling their bodies together. Sam’s kiss was certain, strong. “Five years,” Sam whispered into his mouth. “Five years I’ve waited for that.”
Dean opened his eyes. The taste of Sam in his mouth was too much. “Please,” he whispered, chasing after Sam’s mouth. Sam let him touch, lip to lip, chaste before he pulled back.
“Please what, Dean?”
“Let me…” Dean kissed again, catching Sam’s lower lip and sucking on it. Sam pulled back, stepping away, drawing Dean in again.
“What? Let you what?” Sam’s breathing was starting to get heavy, the look on his face playful. Dean stopped thinking and reached for him, one hand grabbing his shoulder, the other cupping his cock and feeling it harden for him.
He kissed him again, tasting him and walking them toward the bed. “This…let me…do this..”
Sam’s zipper was down, and his cock in Dean’s hand as he slipped to his knees. He licked the tip lightly, then looked up at Sam. “Is this…?”
Sam nodded, his eyes fluttering closed. “God…yes…please…Dean…”
Dean smiled, his body flushing with heat as he opened his mouth and took as much of Sam’s cock into his mouth as he could. Sam’s guttural explosion of breath was all the encouragement he needed to lick and suck and nibble his way around and up and over and back down until Sam was squirming and thrusting up and grabbing Dean’s head as he came, spurting onto Dean’s shirt and chin. “Sorry…I…”
Dean grinned and wiped his chin on his sleeve. “Don’t be.”
The silence hung there for a minute between them, then Sam leaned over and kissed him. Dean shifted, his own hardness making him uncomfortable in his jeans. “Take off your shirt.” Sam said, his voice husky. Dean raised an eyebrow and Sam laughed. “Laundry.” He pointed to the pile of clothes.
“What? You’re not…”
Sam smiled and stood up, tucking himself back into his jeans. “Five years, Dean. You made me wait. You can too.”
Sam grabbed the basket full of whites and headed for the door as Dean collapsed onto the floor. “You can wear one of mine. We have to go get your car before Sheriff Dolan tows it.”
The town was quiet on the late fall Sunday and Dean couldn’t help but wonder how it had kept Sam, why Sam was still here. They took coffee from the local diner to the park, sitting on a picnic table as Matt ran off to play with the handful of other kids on the playground. They watched him for a while, then Dean watched Sam watching him. “So, what’s his story? Why doesn’t he talk?”
Sam squinted and glanced aside at him. “He talks, just not to…most people.”
Something about the evasion made Dean uncomfortable. “Does he talk to you?”
“Sometimes. He’s…” Sam sighed. “He’s gifted. And not just in intelligence.”
Dean looked at Sam to make sure he understood correctly. “Yeah?”
Sam nodded. “He sees things.”
Dean looked at Matt, then back at Sam. “He saw it come for her, didn’t he?”
Sam nodded. “I could see it in his eyes, and I couldn’t stop it.”
“Did he say what it was?”
Sam shook his head, dropping his eyes. “Didn’t have to. I could literally see it in his eyes.” He sighed. “He squeezed my hand and expected me to do something, and I couldn’t. Because the only place I could see it was in his eyes, and by the time I tried, she was gone.”
Dean squeezed his brother’s knee in comfort. “I doubt you could have done anything even if you did see it.”
Sam licked his lips. “We should go. It’s going to get cold tonight.”
“Sam? You okay?”
Sam took a deep breath. “Have you ever thought about what it would be like?”
“What?”
Sam looked around them, then back at Dean. “This. Another life…one that…I don’t know…something different.”
“Yeah…I have…” Sam’s look is different and Dean knew he’d surprised him. “What? I’m not allowed to be human?”
“No…I just…It used to be what I thought I wanted…you know, a wife, kids…”
“And now?”
“I can’t leave him, Dean.”
“No one’s asking you to, Sam.”
Sam nodded, slowly and Dean could see the tenseness in his shoulders, as if he has been holding his breath for a long time. “But I don’t…I don’t want this either. This…normal thing I’ve got going.”
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should get Matt home.”
Sam settled Matt into his own bed that night. Dean watched from the doorway as Sam read him a story and tucked him in and kissed his forehead. “You’re really very good at that.” Dean said softly as Sam came to him.
“I had a good teacher.” Sam kissed his nose in passing, then took his hand. “Come with me, I want to show you something.”
“I’ve already seen your bedroom, Sammy.” Dean said, sinking down on to the bed as Sam made a face at him.
“Yeah wise ass, but not this.” Sam opened a dresser drawer and pulled out a box. He dumped the contents of the box onto the bed. “I’ve done some digging, over the years…it hasn’t been easy in this town. That’s actually how I ended up working at the library.”
Dean rifled through the old pictures, and newspaper clippings. “Dude, these are in German.”
Sam nodded and sat beside him. “Some, yes. In the town that the Barons came from, they tell the story of the old Baron and his lack of sons. There’s a story that the old man met a manikin…”
“So we really are talking about a goblin?”
Sam shrugged. “Yeah, I think maybe we are.”
“And it has some hold on the family?”
Sam picked up a picture. “The story goes that the man was so desperate for a son to carry on the family name that he agreed that the first born daughter of every son would be given to the manikin when she was twenty five if the manikin would preserve his family name.”
“Let me guess, Elizabeth was twenty five?”
Sam nodded. “Now, sometimes they died younger. Not a single first born Baron girl has ever seen 26 since then.”
“So…”
Sam shook his head. “I don’t know Dean. There’s all the folklore about the name thing, about family names and the blood that ties them. Maybe Beth was right. Maybe if I adopt him…Maybe it will break the curse.”
Dean picked up a picture of three generations of Baron women. “The family name would die off. The goblin, or whatever, would have lost his bargaining chip.”
Sam sighed and leaned back against the headboard. Dean started picking up the bits of paper and photos. He watched Sam pick up his cell phone and hesitantly dial. “Hey Marie, it’s Sam Winchester. Yes, I did. Thank you. Listen, I know it’s Sunday and all, but…could I talk to Phil? Thanks.”
“Phil?”
“Lawyer.” Sam mouthed before returning to his call. “Hey Phil, it’s Sam. I…I’ve decided to go through with it. Yeah. The whole plan. Could you…thanks. I really appreciate this. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”
“Plan?” Dean asked as he finished put everything back in the box.
Sam nodded. “Yeah. The adoption, selling the house, the land…If it’s attached to the family, and this is the last bastion of the family in the world, lets just take it away.”
“What were you going to do then?” Dean asked, setting the box on the floor beside the bed and moving close enough that he could touch Sam’s arm with his foot.
“I hadn’t gotten that far. Take Matt away from here. Maybe Lawrence,…maybe…” He sighed. “Look for you.”
“I’m right here.”
Sam smiled, his face blushing. “Yeah…you are…”
“Can I ask you something…without you getting mad at me again?”
Sam’s smile faded, but he nodded.
“Five years…and you’re still here…where I left you…why?”
“I was waiting for you…to come back…to come back to me.”
Dean closed his eyes and shook his head. “And now that I have?”
Sam was quiet. “I’m thinking that now we’re even,” he said after a long while.
“Even?” Sam’s hand was idly tracing lines over Dean’s bare foot and he nodded when the silence got long again. “How so?”
“I left you once, to go to Stanford. You left me once, to save me from yourself. I freaked out on you because you wanted to fuck me. You freaked out on me because I wanted to fuck you.” Sam looked up, his smile soft. “See…even.”
“As I recall, you left me hanging earlier. So, we’re far from even.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “So does this mean we’re done with the freaking out?”
Dean shifted uncomfortably. Not really, obviously. “I can’t make promises.” Sam’s face clouded and Dean shook his head. “Come on Sam. This isn’t exactly…what’s the word?”
“Normal?” Sam sat forward, then crawled…crawled over him. “Already said I’m done with normal. Don’t want normal. Want this.” His kiss was quick and Dean’s elbow gave out, dropping his head to the mattress.
“Learn to talk like that in college?” Dean gasped as Sam’s tongue left his mouth and his lips took a route south. Big hands fisted in the t-shirt and pulled, ripping it open so Sam’s lips could continue downward. “Shit…shirt…” Dean gasped.
Sam grinned at him. “Mine…don’t need it…got others.”
Dean tried to find purchase for his bare feet in the comforter, but Sam was still moving, his hands pressing against skin, down denim clad legs. “Sam…fuck…slow down.”
Sam stilled briefly, his eyes glittering darkly. “Five fucking years Dean…I’m going to fuck you for every single one of them.”
Dean groaned, his head slipping off the end of the bed as Sam resumed his assault on stomach and chest with hands and tongue, lips and teeth. Dean’s cock was hard and pressing into his zipper when Sam’s hand finally made it there. “I’m going to lick you and suck you and then I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t know how to walk.”
Dean lifted his head to look at Sam. He’d never heard him talk that way. “Yeah, little brother? Who taught you to talk like that?”
Sam blushed as he sat up to pull Dean’s jeans down his legs. He shifted enough to shed his own jeans too. “You…I used to listen…watch…god Dean…watching you jerk off, talking like that…you don’t know what that did to me…”
“I think you should show me.” Dean managed to say before Sam slid down to lick the skin around his hips.
“Gonna. Gonna show you.” His kisses skirted all around Dean’s dick, which was straining already. Then just as Dean was ready to whine, Sam licked up the underside with just the tip of his tongue and Dean arched up.
“Fuck…who taught you that?”
Sam just grinned at him, looking like an eager teenager. “Its been five years Dean…I’ve learned a trick or two.” Sam’s hand kneaded the muscles of Dean’s thighs before he sat back on his knees and reached for the nightstand drawer. When he came back he nudged Dean’s legs further apart and dropped a condom on his stomach while he opened the small bottle of lube. “How long has it been?” Sam asked when he stuck a slick finger into Dean and he shuddered.
“What?”
“Just trying to figure out how much work I’ll have to do here.” Sam said playfully and Dean shook his head.
“Damn Sam!” He arched again as his finger found the tender spot inside. “Its not like I let just anyone…”
“So it’s been a while.” Sam grinned and worked a second finger into Dean while Dean tossed his head back. “God…you aren’t kidding…you’re tight…”
“Yeah, Sam…tight…fuck…” Dean grimaced and tried to hide it…because…this was something he’d never done…this is something…He grabbed Sam’s hand just as he moved a third finger inside. “Stop…just for a second.” His eyes opened and some of Sam’s eagerness faded. “Just…” Dean exhaled slowly. “Come here.”
Sam’s fingers slip out of him and Dean pulls him up to kiss him, widening his legs to accommodate the shifting of Sam’s body. “Here.” Dean holds up the condom, tearing it open and sliding his hands between them to glide it onto Sam’s cock before guiding it to his opening. “Slow…Sam…please…want to feel everything…” Dean closed his eyes as the head pressed in and Sam gasped.
“That’s it….slow.” It burned, but not unpleasantly…not like he’d been expecting. Sam’s eyes widened as Dean swallowed around the lump of fear as Sam realized suddenly.
“Oh god, Dean.” He stopped moving, half inside him. “You should have said something.”
“Don’t stop Sammy.”
“Dean.”
Dean propped himself on his elbows and looked him in the eye. “Please…Sam…just go easy.”
Sam kissed him fervently then, his lips slipping down to Dean’s ear. “I’m going to make this so fucking good for you,” he whispered and Dean shuddered.
So slowly, Sam pulled out, then eased his way back inside, going a little deeper with each stroke. Dean breathed deep and did his best to relax into it. Sam’s hands moved to his hips, tilting them a little for a better angle. “Is it okay?” he breathed as he pushed in deep enough that his balls touched Dean’s ass.
“What happened to the dirty talk?” Dean gasped, though he nodded.
“Not for this.” Sam said with a smirk.
“Christ. That’s why I didn’t say anything.”
“You only get one first time, Dean.”
“And what? It’s sacred? What does that say about yours?”
Sam’s eyes were bright as he stopped moving and looked down at him. “It was perfect…you were perfect…you were exactly what I wanted Dean…there’s nothing more sacred.”
“I think I like the profanity better.”
Sam rolled his hips and Dean groaned. “Fuck…Sam…”
“Like that?” He did it again, then resumed his rhythm, setting back and letting his hands slide over Dean’s thighs. “You are so hot like that Dean…you should see…” Sam arched back and his thrusts came longer, harder. Dean’s cock bobbed between them. “Touch yourself.”
Dean met Sam’s eyes. “Jack off for me Dean.” Sam said, his voice husky and deep. “I want to watch you come with my cock in your ass.”
Dean was pretty sure he tried to say something as his eyes rolled closed, but all he heard was a guttural groan as his hand moved to his cock. Sam dribbled lube down over the crown and it was enough to bring Dean up off the bed. He closed his hand over the lube and worked it down over him. “Yeah…Dean….like that….”
Sam moved in him languidly, his eyes half-hidden as they watched the slow slip/pull of Dean’s hand. Sam shifted again, just a little and something like fireworks shot through Dean’s body. He froze, waiting for Sam to hit it on the down stroke, when he did Dean cried out, his cock shooting between them, come painting his chest as he panted through the white out and stars.
When he opened his eyes, Sam was grinning down at him. When Sam leaned down and licked, fucking licked a long line of come off his chest, Dean felt himself squirt yet again. Sam kissed him, and Dean tasted himself, even as Sam started thrusting again. His first few were shallow, giving Dean a few moments of recovery before going for his prostrate again. Dean saw stars, both hands grabbing Sam’s. “Fuck…God…Sam…”
“Yeah…I know.” Sam sped up, squeezing Dean’s hands as he arched into his and came, thrusting against him several times before collapsing forward against Dean. It took a minute for coherent thought to return, and by then, Sam was sitting up, pulling out and taking care of the condom.
Dean rolled over to watch him pad into the adjoining bathroom and come back with a washcloth that he tossed at Dean. “So now I think we’re even.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I guess we are.”
“So what now?”
“I don’t know about you, but I have to work in the morning. I need sleep.” Sam pushed him over and crawled in under the blankets. “You coming?”
“Already have.” Dean quipped, but he slid around on the bed until he could crawl under the blankets with Sam. “Don’t take my pillow.”
“You’re the pillow thief.” Sam said.
“Whatever Dude. I don’t want to wake up to you all over me either. I need my beauty sleep.”
“You certainly do.” Sam said, turning off the light. “Ow!”
“Sorry…not used to sharing a bed.”
“Maybe you should go sleep on the couch.”
“Come here you.” Dean wrapped himself around Sam, welcoming the warmth of his body, the way they seemed to just fit around one another, no matter who was where. He was already drifting toward sleep. “I really missed you Sammy,” he murmured.
Sam moaned and kissed his fingers. “Sleep.”
It was two weeks before Dean started to get stir crazy. Two weeks before he found any references to Sam’s manikin in his father’s journal. He was waiting for Sam and Matt when they got home that night. “I think I know what we need to do.”
Sam shook his head and settled a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go on upstairs, okay Matt? I’ll be up in a minute.”
“What happened?”
Sam held up his hand and watched until he was sure Matt was out of ear shot. Then he sighed. “School didn’t go well. He…had…today’s the anniversary of Beth’s death. He saw something on the playground and freaked out.”
“Did he see the thing?”
Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. He hasn’t said a word.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. He had the look he got when he had visions in the past. “I got a call from Phil this morning. There’s been an offer on the house.”
“No one’s even come to look at it.” Dean said with a frown.
“Yeah, I know. Right now I don’t really care. I want out of this town Dean.”
“I’m all for that, Sam…but you got legal shit to deal with. I mean you said you have custody of Matt mostly because there’s no one else, right?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah. And the adoption’s going to take some time. There shouldn’t be anything to block it, but it takes at least three months to put the paperwork through.”
“Are you okay?”
Sam shook his head. “Headache. Long day.”
“Vision?”
Sam nodded miserably. “I haven’t had one in more than a year.”
“What was it?”
Sam looked up at his brother and shook his head. “The damn thing. The fucking manikin. Something. I don’t know. It was over too fast.”
Dean came and took Sam’s hand, lifting it to his mouth to kiss. “Okay, look. I found some things about manikins in Dad’s journal. I think I have an idea.”
The eyes that met his were tired and worn. “What?”
“We have to figure out the terms of the original contract. They’re particular. They go into a contract wanting something specific, it wants the very thing Baron wanted.”
“The family name?” Sam squeezed his eyes shut. “How?”
Dean faltered and stood back. “I’m not sure. I mean, the bargain was the name against the lives of the daughters, right? So there are no more daughters.”
“It still wants the name.” Sam sank into the chair. “Now there’s only Matt. So what do we do?”
“I don’t know, exactly. But…” Dean slid to his knees in front of Sam. “I think I know someone who will. He’s this retired hunter I met at Missouri’s a few years ago.”
Sam’s eyebrow went up. “You went to Missouri’s? By yourself?”
Dean made a face. “Not on purpose. I was nearby and I was hurt. I needed a place to crash.”
Sam sat up a little straighter. “You were hurt?”
Dean shook his head. “Focus Sam. He’s an expert on German folklore…tracks the German beasties, you know? If I take him what we have he should be able to confirm my thoughts.”
“Take him…” Sam’s voice trailed off. “You’re going to leave?”
Dean took his hands. “Just for a little while. I’ve already called Missouri, asked her to find out where he is right now. I can go, find him and be back by the time the adoption is final.”
Sam sank into the chair, and despite his best efforts to keep the fear and disappointment off his face, Dean saw them. Dean put his arms around Sam, put his head on his chest. “Not like before Sam. I promise. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“When would you leave?” Sam’s voice sounded sad and defeated.
“Tomorrow. The sooner I go, the quicker I get back.”
Sam’s eyes closed and he nodded. “I should go check on Matt.”
“Do you mind if I do it?” Dean asked. His hand brushed over Sam’s hair. “You’re beat. Let me?”
Sam nodded and Dean kissed his forehead before he went upstairs.
Matt was sitting on his bed, looking like he would cry at any moment. “Hey buddy…can I come in?”
Matt didn’t look up and didn’t move, but Dean stepped lightly into the room and sat gently on the end of the bed. “So…not a good day, huh? Boy do I know what that’s like.” He wiped his hands on his thighs. “So, I hear Sam told you about how he wants to adopt you, give you our name, right?”
Matt finally looked up, his eyes wide. “Yeah, he told me too.” Dean said. He moved a little closer. “See…he really, really loves you…and he wants to make sure that you’ll be safe.”
Matt got up off the bed and went to the half open door, peering into the hallway before closing the door. He looked at Dean, then went into his closet, disappearing behind the door for a minute before he came out with a notebook.
He climbed up on the bed, closer to Dean. He opened the notebook and Dean got flashes of drawings in pencil and crayon as Matt flipped through the book. When he stopped he turned it and gave it to Dean.
It was a pencil drawing of a little man, dressed all in blue and gold, dancing around a stump. Matt pointed at the man, then to himself.
Dean shook his head. “No, Matt, we’re not going to let him take you.”
Matt shook his head. He flipped the page and there was a woman with dark hair in a hospital bed. The same little man was beside her on the bed. “Yes, I know he took your mother.”
The room was quiet for a minute as Dean flipped through the pictures. “Have you seen all of these things Matt?” Dean asked. There were werewolves and vampires and ghosts and others he couldn’t identify. Matt shrugged.
Dean took his hand. “This is what Sam and I do, Matt. We hunt these things. We kill them. We’re going to get this one too.”
Matt nodded. Then he tugged on Dean’s hand. Dean looked up when Matt’s hand touched his cheek, as if he wanted him to pay close attention. “It wants my name.” Matt said very carefully, his voice soft.
Dean opened his mouth, then closed it. He had never heard the boy speak before, not in the two weeks he’d been there. Slowly, he nodded. “Yes, I think he does.”
Matt flipped the notebook to the back, leaving it open to a carefully scribed note, addressed to a Baron Rumplegeist. Dean glanced over it, then up at Matt. “Is this it’s name?”
Matt shook his head. “It has no name. That’s why it wants mine.”
Dean re-read the note. “Matty, I think you’re a genius. Wait here.”
Dean raced into Sam’s room and pulled out the scrap book and the shoe box of pictures. It took him a minute to remember that what he wanted was actually in a family photo album. He dug it out of the closet and found the family tree, dating back to the first Baron on American soil, a man named Matthew Bartholomew Baron, a man that the notes claimed was named for an ancestor who had ten daughters and one single son.
“Heh. Gotcha little bugger.”
Dean didn’t leave the next morning. Instead he headed into town for research. It wasn’t easy in a town like this, where everyone knew everyone and were suspicious of outsiders. He could have asked Sam for help, but he wanted to give this to him, to make up for five years away…for leaving him when they both really needed each other.
A few weeks later, Dean was particularly pleased with himself. There was no way to confirm the boy’s parentage, since Elizabeth Baron was the only biological parent listed on the birth certificate. It was obvious from the family records that no woman born a Baron had ever given birth to anything other than girls. Which meant one of two things. Either Elizabeth wasn’t a Baron by birth, or Matthew’s father had also been a Baron, which meant a male child as the first born. Considering the manikin had come for her when she was twenty-five, Dean figured it was the latter.
Town gossip, won with long afternoon teas and bridge games, from the tongues of ladies old enough to remember when the Baron family had been the most prominent family in town, as well as one of the largest, said that Matt’s father was none other than Elizabeth’s half brother, Benjamin Baron, who had died before Elizabeth even knew she was pregnant. No one blamed her of course, because he was a cad who had apparently slept with most of the women in town and they had grown up with just each other and a father who drank too much after his wife died. Small town gossip really was an excellent source of information.
The house was sold and nearly empty. Sam knelt beside Matt outside the local courthouse, adjusting his tie. “Are you really sure about this Matt? Once we go inside and see the judge it will all be over.”
Matt nodded, his eyes big. “I can pick any name?”
Sam smiled. “Yes, any name at all.”
Matt nodded and took Sam’s hand. Dean watched as they headed to the door, but Matt stopped and looked back at him. “Aren’t you coming, Uncle Dean?”
“Nope, buddy, I’m going to keep watch out here.”
“He’s just afraid he’ll cry.” Sam said with a grin.
Dean rolled his eyes. “You’re the one becoming a Daddy.”
“I’ll hold your hand so you don’t cry, okay.” Matt said, letting go of Sam’s hand to come grabbed Dean’s. “Come on. I want you there.”
Twenty minutes later, Dean did have to wipe his eyes as Sam lifted his son, newly christened Matthew Dean Winchester, because the judge had rolled his eyes when he’d tried to add Samuel too.
“Let’s get this over with.” Dean said, slipping on his shades and ruffling Matt’s hair.
The ritual to summon the manikin was pretty simple, and when it appeared on the stump in the backyard of the Baron’s house, Dean was actually kind of surprised.
It didn’t stand 18 inches tall, and it dressed in blue and gold, with pointy shoes and a dorky hat hanging cockeyed off its head. Dirty blond hair covered half his face. “What you want humans?” It danced across the stump, moving back and forth until Dean thought he was going to be sick.
“Dude settle down. We got a bargain for you.”
It’s face screwed up as it peered up at him. “I don’t know you. You don’t have anything I want.”
“I do.” Sam said, his hand falling on Matt’s shoulders.
It looked at Matt and nodded. “Yes, you do.”
“He isn’t a Baron anymore.” Dean said. “You’re contract is broken.”
“No, not broken. He has blood. He has name.”
Matthew handed him his note, signed with his new name, sealed with a smear of blood, giving his old name away to the little man. “Not enough. Not enough. Still Baron by blood.”
Dean smirked and looked at Sam. They both held up their hands, blood still seeping into the bandages there. A little more slowly, Matt did too. “Not anymore. I’m a Winchester, and now you are the only Baron.” So it wasn’t exactly orthodox, but in keeping with longstanding boyhood tradition, the three of them had shared blood. Sam had cut Matt’s hand to make the seal on the contract, then his eyes lit up and in what was first a show of solidarity, cut his own hand as well.
At first it howled and threw itself around, then it danced and looked like it was going to fall over with laughter. “Well played, gentlemen. Well played indeed.” It bowed suddenly and disappeared.
“A hundred years of death…and that was it?” Sam asked a few minutes later and Dean laughed.
“Apparently.” He ruffled Matt’s hair. “So, Mr. Winchester, are you ready to hit the road?”
“Where are we going?”
Sam took his hand and they headed around the house to where the Impala waited. “How about California?”
“Maybe Texas.” Dean countered.
“Can we go to Disneyworld?” Matt asked, running ahead to the car.
Sam shrugged and looked at Dean. “Haven’t ever been there.”
Dean tossed the idea around and slid into the car. “Florida it is.”
“So who do I call Dad?” Matt asked as he settled into the seat behind them.
“That would be Sam.” Dean said, pointing at his brother.
“You can him Mom, if you want.” Sam said, moving quickly to avoid Dean’s slap.
“And who do I tell when I see something?”
“That would also be Sam. Unless she’s blond and wearing—ow!”
Sam chucked, then turned to Matt. “You can tell either of us Matt. Don’t be afraid to either okay? We’ll believe you.”
“Good, because before we leave town we should totally take care of the freaky little ghost dog that’s been chasing Mrs. Howard’s beagle.”
Dean backed them out of the driveway and set them off down the dirt road. “Mrs. Howard’s beagle, then Disneyworld. Gotcha.”
Title: Another Life
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean, mentions of Sam/OFC
For the Supernatural Picture Prompt Fic Challenge
Word Count: 9250
Summary: Dean wakes up after a drunk to find himself in Sam's "normal" life, only life isn't as normal as it should be...and Sam isn't as happy as normal was supposed to make him.
Warnings and A/N: So this was going to be a quick little bit, based on the picture...then the fairy tale challenge from
ellipsisblack somehow wormed it's way in...and voila! Rumplestilskin! Of course, my own, twisted version...but then, I just wouldn't be me without that....and then...it just sort of ran away with me...9000 words! Damn!Thanks to a wonderful beta
cariadeanDisclaimer: Soooo not mine, bugger that.
It’s way too fucking early, he knows that without opening his eyes. His body groans it, his head pounds it…the way the light is shining in through the window screams it. Dean rolls onto his back, eyes closed, trying to recapture the sleep that was interrupted by…he frowns. What did wake him up?
Cautiously Dean opens one eye. The room is bright and for a moment he’s lost, disoriented. The bed is far too comfortable, the air too clean. There’s a faint sound, like…cartoons. He shifts, and starts, jumps out of the bed, trips over his clothes and falls against the wall.
The child looks at him, smiles, then turns back to the TV. Dean rubs a hand over the growth on his face and stares, trying to remember. The headache told him he’d been drunk…totally and completely drunk. He vaguely remembered talking to Sam….Sam.
“Sam?” He said it tentatively at first, because he isn’t sure if he remembers exactly…it’s been so long…his eyes stay on the boy, watching him watch the television. “Sam?” A little louder now, a glance at the half-open door. “Sam!” Emphatic, demanding.
Sam appeared in the door, lopsided smile and a roll of his eyes. “Matt, I told you to leave him be, let him sleep.”
The boy looked up at Sam, then to Dean and smiled before turning back to the television. Dean just glared at Sam who shrugged. “It is his room.”
Dean shook his head. “You…” His hand shook as he pointed at his brother. “…should have said something about kids.”
“You should have stuck around.” Sam countered easily. He looked at the boy again. His face radiated a contentment Dean wasn’t accustomed to seeing in his brother’s face. Then again, it had been a few years. “Five years, Dean.” His voice was hard, cold. “Besides I did tell you. You were drunk.”
Dean got his feet under him and reached for his jeans. “Maybe I should—“
“Come down stairs. Have some coffee.” The cold was gone from Sam’s tone, but not his eyes as they swept over Dean.
Dean was thinking more like “hit the road” but coffee sounded better. “Yeah okay. Give me a minute.”
“Take your time. Breakfast won’t be ready for a few more minutes.”
Dean’s stomach rolled at the thought of food. Definitely drunk the night before. He struggled into his jeans and pulled on his gray t-shirt before thumping down the stairs in his bare feet, leaving the inarticulate Matt watching an old Road Runner cartoon.
In the kitchen, Dean half expected to see a wife and more kids…but there was just Sam, pouring a cup of coffee and handing it to Dean. “He isn’t mine…not…he’s seven.” Sam said quietly.
“Didn’t ask.” Dean straddled a chair, cradling the coffee and inhaling it’s rich scent. Dean couldn’t help but notice that the table was pushed into a corner and there were only the two chairs.
Sam shrugged. “No…I’m just offering.” He poured his own cup of coffee and took the other seat. “How much do you remember from last night?”
Dean ran a hand through his close-cropped hair. This was uncomfortable. Very. “Not much. I must have been pretty drunk.”
Sam chuckled, some of the cold distance melting. “I’ll say. Fred at the bar called me when you wouldn’t stop harassing his customers looking for me.”
Dean vaguely remembered realizing where he was as he pulled in to town. He hadn’t meant it…hadn’t…wanted to interfere, to interrupt Sam’s normal…but it wasn’t a big town, and it was late…and he found himself in the bar slamming back shots. The town hadn’t changed in five years. Not since he’d given Sam what he wanted. Not since he’d packed his stuff and left Sam sleeping on the hotel bed…
“Sam, I—“
Sam’s hand touched his and he shook his head. “No. It’s okay.”
Dean nodded and sipped at his coffee.
“You always were a sloppy drunk.” Sam said with a laugh.
“So…” Dean leaned back against the wall and regarded his little brother. Not much about him had changed…his hair was still too long, his eyes still too bright, and he seemed hesitant and unsure…just like he’d been before…before Dean had left him…before Dean had…He closed his eyes and shook it off. “You look good.”
Sam nodded. “You don’t. You’ve lost weight.”
“Money’s been tight.” Dean took a long drink from his coffee. “ So what’s with the kid?”
Sam closed his eyes for a minute and Dean was afraid he’d said something wrong. “He’s…Matt. Matthew Bartholomew Baron.”
“And…he isn’t yours…but somehow he lives with you?”
Sam shook his head and blew out a long breath, drank from his coffee, then set the cup down to wipe his hands on his jeans. “It’s a long story, Dean. Five years, man. Long damn time.”
“I ain’t going nowhere.” Dean said, settling in. It was strange and unfamiliar and entirely too fucking domestic to be sitting here, in his brother’s house, in his brother’s kitchen, talking like they’re old college buddies or something…but he hadn’t realized how much he missed that face…or the sight of those hands.
“Okay…He’s my…step-son.”
“You got married?” Dean sat forward, his eyes scanning his brother’s hands for a ring that wasn’t there.
“Yeah…Her name was Elizabeth Baron. Matt was two when we met. She…” Sam hid his hands between his thighs. “She died three years ago. Matt…he’s all alone. She was the last…” He sighed and got up to pace. “It’s my fault. I should have known, should have suspected…”
Dean had a sinking feeling in his stomach. “What was it?”
Sam stopped his pacing and looked up, making Dean turn. Matt was there at the door of the kitchen. “Hey, you hungry?” Sam asked and Matt nodded.
“Bacon’s almost done.”
Matt came to sit in Sam’s abandoned chair while Sam moved to the stove, hiding his face from Matt. Dean knew Sam was trying to marshal in some emotion he didn’t want the boy, or his brother, for that matter, to see. He let him have it for a moment and turned instead to the boy.
He was around seven, dark hair buzzed close to his scalp, his eyes a startling blue. Those eyes looked up at him, questioning, but guarded. “I’m Dean,” he offered gruffly and Matt smiled.
“He…doesn’t really talk much.” Sam said from the stove…quiet, calm…with very little intonation. Dean’s eyes caught on his brother’s and he tried to see what it was that had Sam so…tense. Sam shook his head and served up two strips of bacon and a spoonful of scrambled eggs and brought them to Matt. “Here you go, Matt. You eat, I’m going to take your Uncle Dean into the other room to talk, okay?”
Matt nodded and attacked his breakfast while Sam herded Dean into the living room. “Uncle Dean?”
Sam shrugged and sighed and hugged his arms around himself. “Are you going to tell me?” Dean asked, crossing his arms. He wished his head didn’t hurt so bad. He wondered if maybe he got hit on the head while he was drunk.
Sam looked like he wanted to be angry…like he wanted to yell and throw things, but then his hand fell on a picture on the table beside him and he lifted it. “I…didn’t love her.” He said it so softly, Dean wasn’t sure he heard him. “You can see it…in the pictures.”
Sam turned and showed him the 8x10 of him, his arms around a woman with long black hair and bright blue eyes. Her arms, in turn, were around a three year old version of Matt. Sam looked happy. “You seem…”
Sam shook his head, raised an eyebrow. “Don’t get me wrong, I was…content. It wasn’t what I wanted…but it was…good.” He put the picture back. “She was a good woman, and she loved Matt…Loved me.”
“So, tell me what happened.”
The anger came back, flaring in Sam’s eyes. “You left me, you prick. You…fucking left me.”
Dean didn’t really have an answer to that, because he was right, he did leave. “I had to.”
“Why?” Sam demanded, moving to stand over Dean.
Dean deflated, collapsed onto the couch. “It was…wrong, Sam…everything was so fucked up.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Sam said.
“Do you?” Dean shook his head. He didn’t want to remember it…the months following Jessica’s death…the tension between them, the desperate denial…then their father’s death. It had only gotten worse after that. Every look, every touch leading to that night when they’d both had a little too much to drink and there had been yelling and fighting and shoving into walls…and the tension broke when he’d thrown his brother to the floor and fucked him. Sam had begged…cried…begged for more. And when it was done, Dean had held him, cradled him against him and apologized over and over. He never slept that night. Once Sam had finally gone to sleep, Dean left…and he’d been gone for five years.
Sam looked at him, and there was something in his eyes that made Dean shiver. “You left me because you couldn’t deal with what we did.”
“We? I—“ Dean closed his eyes. He could still see the look on Sam’s face when he’d touched him…when he’d put his hands on his brother’s cock. “You didn’t do anything, Sam. I did.”
“Last I knew, it still takes two Dean.”
Dean looked up, stood up. He was angry now too. “No. No. Just. No. Sam.”
Sam’s smile was crooked. “If…do you think I couldn’t have stopped you?” He crossed his arms. “In fact, I think that is why you left. Because I didn’t.”
“Fuck.” Dean swiped a hand over his stubble again, wondering idly when he’d shaved last. It had almost gone past stubble and on into beard. “I don’t want to do this, Sam.”
“What? Talk about us? You never did.”
That was the truth, because he was Dean Winchester and talking about his feelings was just a little too chick-flick for him. Which was, more than likely, what had led to the fucked up shit that happened that night.
“I didn’t…I didn’t come here for this.”
“Why then? Why now? Five fucking years, Dean. You walked out on me. You didn’t ask, you didn’t say goodbye. You didn’t even leave a fucking note. I sat there for two days waiting for you to come back from whatever pity party you’d dragged yourself off to.”
“Sam—“
“You didn’t ask, Dean.”
Dean sighed explosively and stalked to the front door and back again. “I couldn’t, okay? I couldn’t ask that of you. You always wanted normal…I can’t be normal Sam. I can’t. I couldn’t…”
“So, you just leave?”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay? I thought if I left, if I gave you…you could find what you wanted.”
Sam’s eyes closed and he bit his lip. “You really can be very dense, you know that Dean?”
Dean chuckled a little, because, yeah, he did know that. “Yeah?”
Sam turned, his body steering Dean, his hands falling on Dean’s hips as he pressed him into the wall. Dean closed his eyes, he didn’t want to see…but Sam pushed a little harder, his body knocking against the wall and when Dean opened his eyes, all he could see was Sam’s face. “Yeah.” Sam breathed, smelling of coffee.
Dean stopped breathing when Sam kissed him. Short, soft…and gone far too fast. “Sam?”
Sam let go of him, stepped away. “Maybe next time you should ask me what I want, before you decide for yourself.” He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Dean against the wall, touching his lips. When he reappeared he had Matt in tow. “I have to go to work. Breakfast is on the stove. There are clean towels in the closet by the bathroom. Your car’s still downtown, but I grabbed your bags, they’re in the closet in Matt’s room.”
“Wait, work?”
Sam smiled and damn it was a beautiful thing. “Yeah, it’s what normal people do, Dean.” He quirked his head to the side as he said it, and Dean rolled his eyes.
“Where? I mean…what do you do?”
“I run the library. Matt helps me, don’t you?” He rubbed the boy’s head and his smile was almost as brilliant as Sam’s. “Don’t worry, we’ll be home before 5.”
Matt waved goodbye as Sam held the door, and just like that, they were gone.
Dean stared at the door. After a long minute, he let himself out onto the porch and looked around. He groaned and would have kicked something if he wasn’t barefoot. The house was surrounded by trees, a single dirt lane leading into them. It was Vermont, after all. Fucking Vermont. It was silent, the trees swaying lightly in a soft breeze. The town of Baroness was a decent size, so the silence could only mean they were well outside of town. And he was stranded here, alone.
Baroness. Fuck. The kid’s last name was Baron. Sam’s…wife had been named Baron. That familiar tingling in his stomach made Dean shake his head. He didn’t like how this sounded. Dean turned back inside, closed the door and padded over to the picture. She was pretty. What was it Sam had said? She was the last…the last what?
For the next two hours, Dean scoured the house, looking at pictures of Sam and Elizabeth, looking through photo albums and documents and putting together the story of Sam’s last five years.
He sat at the kitchen table eating cold eggs and burnt bacon as he sorted through his brother’s life. The pictures told a story of a quick courtship, a spring wedding. Sam was right, the pictures gave away his feelings. He looked at them both with affection…but not that all consuming Sammy look of love that he swore he would drown in when it was directed at him.
As the morning melted into afternoon, Dean put the pictures and photo albums away where he’d found them and went looking for the stuff Sam wouldn’t leave out for anyone to see. Under Sam’s bed he found an old scrap book, something that pre-dated any relationship Sam and Elizabeth had, predated Sam and Elizabeth if their ages were combined. The name Baron was stamped in gold letters across it and the pages were brittle with time.
Dean sat on Sam’s bed and looked through the pictures and articles, trinkets and ribbons. That prickly feeling was back in his stomach. Unless he was just reading into Sam’s apparent over-active guilt complex, something wasn’t right with this family. He was still there when he heard the door open downstairs. “Dean?”
He slipped the scrap book under the bed and went downstairs. “You’re back.”
“With dinner.” Sam held up a pizza box, looking at Dean quizzically. “We’re too far out for delivery.”
“So I gathered.” Dean took the pizza box. “It’s cold.”
“Warm it up.”
“You don’t have a microwave.”
Sam laughed. “Use the oven, dude.”
Dean rolled his eyes and disappeared into the kitchen with the pizza. Dinner was quiet, and aside from Matt’s particular taste, picking the cheese off of his pizza and putting the pepperoni and mushrooms back on it, unremarkable.
“You can sleep in my bed again tonight, okay Matt?” Sam said as he finished clearing the table. “Uncle Dean is going to stay for a while…so he needs your room.”
Matt nodded, then looked at Dean, his eyes narrowing. After a minute he smiled and Dean couldn’t help but smile back. “Okay, let’s get you ready for bed. I’ll be down after our story, Dean.”
Dean waited a few minutes before he followed Sam up the stairs. He could hear him, reading to Matt, his voice soft. “The little man took the necklace, sat himself down at the wheel, and whir, whir, whir, the wheel went round three times, and the bobbin was full. Then he put on another, and whir, whir, whir, the wheel went round three times, and the second too was full; and so it went on till the morning, when all the straw was spun away, and all the bobbins were full of gold.”
Dean leaned on the door frame, watching as Sam lulled the boy to sleep with a soft voice and a fairy tale. Sam glanced up and smiled once, then went back to reading. Before he’d reached the end, Matt was asleep and Sam slipped off the bed and gestured down the hall.
“So, Rumpelstiltskin, huh?”
Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “How much have you figured out?” he asked, as if this wasn’t about his life…as if it were any hunt and five years hadn’t gone by.
“Well…I figure there was some sort of devil’s bargain involved. Something she couldn’t escape. You didn’t make it easy for me.” The clues were there, in the bits and pieces, in the obituary he’d found cut out and pasted into the scrap book, in the records from the hospital, test results and…He just couldn’t put it all together.
Sam nodded and cracked open a beer. “Yeah. Something like that.”
He handed the beer to Dean and opened another for himself. Sam chewed on his lip. “I still don’t have it all…three years…and…” He sighed and took a swig of his beer. “She died because I didn’t tell her Dean. Just like Jessica. If I had…if I’d told her what I do, who I am, she might have told me…we could have figured it out.”
“What? You’re blaming yourself for this? Did you have a dream? A vision?”
Sam shook his head. “No…just…I wasn’t honest with her. I owed her that much.” He sank onto the couch and kicked off his shoes. “She was good to me, Dean.”
Dean took the easy chair, keeping his distance because even if Sam had kissed him, Dean wasn’t interested in inviting more…just yet. “So tell me what happened.”
“Elizabeth was…the last of the Barons…other than Matt. Her family founded the town, but the women…the females born Barons, they had a way of dying tragically. Most of them before they could have kids of their own. When one of them did, it was always a girl, and she always died young.”
“Curse?” Dean’s eyes flicked over Sam’s posture, slumped down, defeated.
Sam shrugged. “She…told me some of it before she died.” He twirled his beer bottle in his hand, then looked up at Dean. “Before they came here, they were actual Barons…in Germany. Apparently, several hundred years ago, one of them had ten daughters and not a single son to carry on the family name. He was desperate for a son, so he made a bargain.”
“I take it the bargain wasn’t with a goblin who turns straw into gold?”
Sam shook his head. “No. It was with a goblin who apparently liked killing women and was willing to trade baby boys for them.”
He stood up and paced the room. “I’m still not clear on the whole thing. She didn’t believe it, not until Matt was born.” Sam sighed. “She never told me who his father was, but…I got the impression…I just know that she needed me. She chose me to take care of her son.” It was obvious he wasn’t saying everything.
“That’s quite a load to lay in your lap, Sammy.”
Sam shook his head. “The Baron who came, who started this town, he had two boys and a girl. Things were hard, the town was…dying. The girl died unexpectedly when she was twelve, in the middle of a hard winter. When spring came, the town began to thrive.”
“So you think this guy renewed the pact, giving his little girl over to the goblin or whatever?”
Sam shrugged. “I don’t honestly know, Dean. All I know for sure is that the little boy upstairs is the last Baron.”
Dean watched as Sam looked out the window. “What else?”
“She asked me to do something. I haven’t…I…don’t know if it will do any good.”
Dean stood and put his beer on the coffee table. “What?” He moved so that he was behind Sam, wanting to touch him, comfort him. “What did she ask?”
Sam leaned back, resting his body against Dean’s and sighed. “Adopt him. Give him our name.”
Dean took a deep breath. “You think that will beat it? Whatever it is?”
Sam was quiet for a minute, then reached for Dean’s hand, pulling it up to cover his heart. “I don’t know.”
Dean’s whole body was attuned to Sam’s as his free hand slid up Sam’s back. He found himself pressing a kiss against the bare skin just above his shirt and Sam moaned, his chest reverberating against Dean’s hand. “Sam.” Dean’s voice was breathless, his eyes closed.
Sam turned, his hands on Dean’s face, tilting it for his kiss and it was Dean’s turn to moan. “Please.” Dean whispered and Sam pulled back. His green eyes were bright as he looked into Dean’s and whatever he saw was enough to make him step back. “Sam, I-“ He reached for him, but Sam stepped back out of reach.
“No…you’re right.” He took a deep breath. “I’m gonna go to bed. We can talk about this in the morning.”
Dean watched him go, not sure if he meant the kiss, or the curse, or maybe both. After a few minutes, he gave up trying to figure it out and climbed the stairs himself.
The sound of the television coming on woke him again the next morning. Dean opened one eye and looked at Matt who was laying next to him, his head against the headboard. Matt looked at him, his blue eyes sparkling. His small hand touched Dean’s face and he smiled. Dean smiled too, then closed his eyes and threw an arm over them to block out the sun. “Just you keep it down over there, Matthew. Uncle Dean wants to sleep.”
When Dean woke up the second time, there was a weight on his chest. He opened his eyes to find Matt using his chest as a pillow. Sam stopped in the doorway and smiled. “He must like you.”
Matt sat up suddenly and beckoned Sam, who came, instantly concerned. When he got close enough, he grabbed Sam’s hand and pulled him until he was in the bed, on the other side of Matt from Dean. Matt laid back down between them and reached for Dean’s hand. He put them together between his and held them, before he kissed Sam’s cheek.
“Okay.” Dean said, holding Sam’s hand lightly over the small body. “That’s interesting.” Sam grinned at him and they sat a while like that, until Matt seemed to be caught up again in the television.
Sam got up first, citing a need to use the restroom and something about laundry. Dean stayed a few minutes, bonding with Matt over Power Rangers, then he went looking for Sam.
He found him in his bedroom, sorting through laundry. “So…are we going to talk about this?” Dean asked, making Sam jump.
“About what?” Sam responded, keeping his back to his brother as he picked out whites to throw in the laundry basket.
Dean snorted. “You come on to me like I’m a hot seventeen year old cheerleader and you have to ask what?”
Sam turned at that, his face all shock. “I what?”
“Okay, I admit. You freaked me out.” Dean said, holding up his hands and moving closer.
Sam put his hands on his hips. “Oh? I didn’t know you were that easy to fluster.”
Dean sighed and closed the door. “Normally, I’m not. But this is different.”
Sam just looked at him and waited. Dean met his eyes and spoke carefully. “You asked me to stop, and I didn’t.” He could still see Sam’s eyes, the fear, the confusion…he could still feel his body trembling when he had pinned him to the ground.
Sam nodded and took two steps toward him. “I did ask. I was…confused. Freaked out.” He tilted his head to the side and bit his lip. “It happened too fast.”
“If you ask me, it took too long.” Dean said, then he closed his eyes. “I didn’t mean…”
“No, you’re right. It was building for a long time.”
“But you said stop.”
“And you knew I meant don’t.” Sam was right in front of him now. His hands still on his hips. They didn’t touch.
“I wanted you so much…and it was so wrong…” Dean’s breathing was shallow. He knew he should step away, step back…but the heat of Sam so close was intoxicating. “I shouldn’t…we shouldn’t…”
Sam took away even more of the distance between them, his lips hovering near Dean’s. “Do you remember Dean? When you…when you were inside me? Do you remember how I begged?” Sam’s breath was hot and Dean licked his lips to taste it. “It wasn’t for you to stop. Do you remember?”
Dean remembered…the broken, lust-filled voice of his baby brother begging him harder…please, Dean…please…fuck me…please…make me come…. His breath hitched as Sam’s lips ghosted over his. “Sam.”
“I’m going to kiss you Dean.” Sam whispered, just before his lips connected for real, his tongue stealing out to take Dean’s mouth, sweeping through him. Dean’s stomach turned to jelly as Sam’s hand moved to his hip, pulling their bodies together. Sam’s kiss was certain, strong. “Five years,” Sam whispered into his mouth. “Five years I’ve waited for that.”
Dean opened his eyes. The taste of Sam in his mouth was too much. “Please,” he whispered, chasing after Sam’s mouth. Sam let him touch, lip to lip, chaste before he pulled back.
“Please what, Dean?”
“Let me…” Dean kissed again, catching Sam’s lower lip and sucking on it. Sam pulled back, stepping away, drawing Dean in again.
“What? Let you what?” Sam’s breathing was starting to get heavy, the look on his face playful. Dean stopped thinking and reached for him, one hand grabbing his shoulder, the other cupping his cock and feeling it harden for him.
He kissed him again, tasting him and walking them toward the bed. “This…let me…do this..”
Sam’s zipper was down, and his cock in Dean’s hand as he slipped to his knees. He licked the tip lightly, then looked up at Sam. “Is this…?”
Sam nodded, his eyes fluttering closed. “God…yes…please…Dean…”
Dean smiled, his body flushing with heat as he opened his mouth and took as much of Sam’s cock into his mouth as he could. Sam’s guttural explosion of breath was all the encouragement he needed to lick and suck and nibble his way around and up and over and back down until Sam was squirming and thrusting up and grabbing Dean’s head as he came, spurting onto Dean’s shirt and chin. “Sorry…I…”
Dean grinned and wiped his chin on his sleeve. “Don’t be.”
The silence hung there for a minute between them, then Sam leaned over and kissed him. Dean shifted, his own hardness making him uncomfortable in his jeans. “Take off your shirt.” Sam said, his voice husky. Dean raised an eyebrow and Sam laughed. “Laundry.” He pointed to the pile of clothes.
“What? You’re not…”
Sam smiled and stood up, tucking himself back into his jeans. “Five years, Dean. You made me wait. You can too.”
Sam grabbed the basket full of whites and headed for the door as Dean collapsed onto the floor. “You can wear one of mine. We have to go get your car before Sheriff Dolan tows it.”
The town was quiet on the late fall Sunday and Dean couldn’t help but wonder how it had kept Sam, why Sam was still here. They took coffee from the local diner to the park, sitting on a picnic table as Matt ran off to play with the handful of other kids on the playground. They watched him for a while, then Dean watched Sam watching him. “So, what’s his story? Why doesn’t he talk?”
Sam squinted and glanced aside at him. “He talks, just not to…most people.”
Something about the evasion made Dean uncomfortable. “Does he talk to you?”
“Sometimes. He’s…” Sam sighed. “He’s gifted. And not just in intelligence.”
Dean looked at Sam to make sure he understood correctly. “Yeah?”
Sam nodded. “He sees things.”
Dean looked at Matt, then back at Sam. “He saw it come for her, didn’t he?”
Sam nodded. “I could see it in his eyes, and I couldn’t stop it.”
“Did he say what it was?”
Sam shook his head, dropping his eyes. “Didn’t have to. I could literally see it in his eyes.” He sighed. “He squeezed my hand and expected me to do something, and I couldn’t. Because the only place I could see it was in his eyes, and by the time I tried, she was gone.”
Dean squeezed his brother’s knee in comfort. “I doubt you could have done anything even if you did see it.”
Sam licked his lips. “We should go. It’s going to get cold tonight.”
“Sam? You okay?”
Sam took a deep breath. “Have you ever thought about what it would be like?”
“What?”
Sam looked around them, then back at Dean. “This. Another life…one that…I don’t know…something different.”
“Yeah…I have…” Sam’s look is different and Dean knew he’d surprised him. “What? I’m not allowed to be human?”
“No…I just…It used to be what I thought I wanted…you know, a wife, kids…”
“And now?”
“I can’t leave him, Dean.”
“No one’s asking you to, Sam.”
Sam nodded, slowly and Dean could see the tenseness in his shoulders, as if he has been holding his breath for a long time. “But I don’t…I don’t want this either. This…normal thing I’ve got going.”
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should get Matt home.”
Sam settled Matt into his own bed that night. Dean watched from the doorway as Sam read him a story and tucked him in and kissed his forehead. “You’re really very good at that.” Dean said softly as Sam came to him.
“I had a good teacher.” Sam kissed his nose in passing, then took his hand. “Come with me, I want to show you something.”
“I’ve already seen your bedroom, Sammy.” Dean said, sinking down on to the bed as Sam made a face at him.
“Yeah wise ass, but not this.” Sam opened a dresser drawer and pulled out a box. He dumped the contents of the box onto the bed. “I’ve done some digging, over the years…it hasn’t been easy in this town. That’s actually how I ended up working at the library.”
Dean rifled through the old pictures, and newspaper clippings. “Dude, these are in German.”
Sam nodded and sat beside him. “Some, yes. In the town that the Barons came from, they tell the story of the old Baron and his lack of sons. There’s a story that the old man met a manikin…”
“So we really are talking about a goblin?”
Sam shrugged. “Yeah, I think maybe we are.”
“And it has some hold on the family?”
Sam picked up a picture. “The story goes that the man was so desperate for a son to carry on the family name that he agreed that the first born daughter of every son would be given to the manikin when she was twenty five if the manikin would preserve his family name.”
“Let me guess, Elizabeth was twenty five?”
Sam nodded. “Now, sometimes they died younger. Not a single first born Baron girl has ever seen 26 since then.”
“So…”
Sam shook his head. “I don’t know Dean. There’s all the folklore about the name thing, about family names and the blood that ties them. Maybe Beth was right. Maybe if I adopt him…Maybe it will break the curse.”
Dean picked up a picture of three generations of Baron women. “The family name would die off. The goblin, or whatever, would have lost his bargaining chip.”
Sam sighed and leaned back against the headboard. Dean started picking up the bits of paper and photos. He watched Sam pick up his cell phone and hesitantly dial. “Hey Marie, it’s Sam Winchester. Yes, I did. Thank you. Listen, I know it’s Sunday and all, but…could I talk to Phil? Thanks.”
“Phil?”
“Lawyer.” Sam mouthed before returning to his call. “Hey Phil, it’s Sam. I…I’ve decided to go through with it. Yeah. The whole plan. Could you…thanks. I really appreciate this. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”
“Plan?” Dean asked as he finished put everything back in the box.
Sam nodded. “Yeah. The adoption, selling the house, the land…If it’s attached to the family, and this is the last bastion of the family in the world, lets just take it away.”
“What were you going to do then?” Dean asked, setting the box on the floor beside the bed and moving close enough that he could touch Sam’s arm with his foot.
“I hadn’t gotten that far. Take Matt away from here. Maybe Lawrence,…maybe…” He sighed. “Look for you.”
“I’m right here.”
Sam smiled, his face blushing. “Yeah…you are…”
“Can I ask you something…without you getting mad at me again?”
Sam’s smile faded, but he nodded.
“Five years…and you’re still here…where I left you…why?”
“I was waiting for you…to come back…to come back to me.”
Dean closed his eyes and shook his head. “And now that I have?”
Sam was quiet. “I’m thinking that now we’re even,” he said after a long while.
“Even?” Sam’s hand was idly tracing lines over Dean’s bare foot and he nodded when the silence got long again. “How so?”
“I left you once, to go to Stanford. You left me once, to save me from yourself. I freaked out on you because you wanted to fuck me. You freaked out on me because I wanted to fuck you.” Sam looked up, his smile soft. “See…even.”
“As I recall, you left me hanging earlier. So, we’re far from even.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “So does this mean we’re done with the freaking out?”
Dean shifted uncomfortably. Not really, obviously. “I can’t make promises.” Sam’s face clouded and Dean shook his head. “Come on Sam. This isn’t exactly…what’s the word?”
“Normal?” Sam sat forward, then crawled…crawled over him. “Already said I’m done with normal. Don’t want normal. Want this.” His kiss was quick and Dean’s elbow gave out, dropping his head to the mattress.
“Learn to talk like that in college?” Dean gasped as Sam’s tongue left his mouth and his lips took a route south. Big hands fisted in the t-shirt and pulled, ripping it open so Sam’s lips could continue downward. “Shit…shirt…” Dean gasped.
Sam grinned at him. “Mine…don’t need it…got others.”
Dean tried to find purchase for his bare feet in the comforter, but Sam was still moving, his hands pressing against skin, down denim clad legs. “Sam…fuck…slow down.”
Sam stilled briefly, his eyes glittering darkly. “Five fucking years Dean…I’m going to fuck you for every single one of them.”
Dean groaned, his head slipping off the end of the bed as Sam resumed his assault on stomach and chest with hands and tongue, lips and teeth. Dean’s cock was hard and pressing into his zipper when Sam’s hand finally made it there. “I’m going to lick you and suck you and then I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t know how to walk.”
Dean lifted his head to look at Sam. He’d never heard him talk that way. “Yeah, little brother? Who taught you to talk like that?”
Sam blushed as he sat up to pull Dean’s jeans down his legs. He shifted enough to shed his own jeans too. “You…I used to listen…watch…god Dean…watching you jerk off, talking like that…you don’t know what that did to me…”
“I think you should show me.” Dean managed to say before Sam slid down to lick the skin around his hips.
“Gonna. Gonna show you.” His kisses skirted all around Dean’s dick, which was straining already. Then just as Dean was ready to whine, Sam licked up the underside with just the tip of his tongue and Dean arched up.
“Fuck…who taught you that?”
Sam just grinned at him, looking like an eager teenager. “Its been five years Dean…I’ve learned a trick or two.” Sam’s hand kneaded the muscles of Dean’s thighs before he sat back on his knees and reached for the nightstand drawer. When he came back he nudged Dean’s legs further apart and dropped a condom on his stomach while he opened the small bottle of lube. “How long has it been?” Sam asked when he stuck a slick finger into Dean and he shuddered.
“What?”
“Just trying to figure out how much work I’ll have to do here.” Sam said playfully and Dean shook his head.
“Damn Sam!” He arched again as his finger found the tender spot inside. “Its not like I let just anyone…”
“So it’s been a while.” Sam grinned and worked a second finger into Dean while Dean tossed his head back. “God…you aren’t kidding…you’re tight…”
“Yeah, Sam…tight…fuck…” Dean grimaced and tried to hide it…because…this was something he’d never done…this is something…He grabbed Sam’s hand just as he moved a third finger inside. “Stop…just for a second.” His eyes opened and some of Sam’s eagerness faded. “Just…” Dean exhaled slowly. “Come here.”
Sam’s fingers slip out of him and Dean pulls him up to kiss him, widening his legs to accommodate the shifting of Sam’s body. “Here.” Dean holds up the condom, tearing it open and sliding his hands between them to glide it onto Sam’s cock before guiding it to his opening. “Slow…Sam…please…want to feel everything…” Dean closed his eyes as the head pressed in and Sam gasped.
“That’s it….slow.” It burned, but not unpleasantly…not like he’d been expecting. Sam’s eyes widened as Dean swallowed around the lump of fear as Sam realized suddenly.
“Oh god, Dean.” He stopped moving, half inside him. “You should have said something.”
“Don’t stop Sammy.”
“Dean.”
Dean propped himself on his elbows and looked him in the eye. “Please…Sam…just go easy.”
Sam kissed him fervently then, his lips slipping down to Dean’s ear. “I’m going to make this so fucking good for you,” he whispered and Dean shuddered.
So slowly, Sam pulled out, then eased his way back inside, going a little deeper with each stroke. Dean breathed deep and did his best to relax into it. Sam’s hands moved to his hips, tilting them a little for a better angle. “Is it okay?” he breathed as he pushed in deep enough that his balls touched Dean’s ass.
“What happened to the dirty talk?” Dean gasped, though he nodded.
“Not for this.” Sam said with a smirk.
“Christ. That’s why I didn’t say anything.”
“You only get one first time, Dean.”
“And what? It’s sacred? What does that say about yours?”
Sam’s eyes were bright as he stopped moving and looked down at him. “It was perfect…you were perfect…you were exactly what I wanted Dean…there’s nothing more sacred.”
“I think I like the profanity better.”
Sam rolled his hips and Dean groaned. “Fuck…Sam…”
“Like that?” He did it again, then resumed his rhythm, setting back and letting his hands slide over Dean’s thighs. “You are so hot like that Dean…you should see…” Sam arched back and his thrusts came longer, harder. Dean’s cock bobbed between them. “Touch yourself.”
Dean met Sam’s eyes. “Jack off for me Dean.” Sam said, his voice husky and deep. “I want to watch you come with my cock in your ass.”
Dean was pretty sure he tried to say something as his eyes rolled closed, but all he heard was a guttural groan as his hand moved to his cock. Sam dribbled lube down over the crown and it was enough to bring Dean up off the bed. He closed his hand over the lube and worked it down over him. “Yeah…Dean….like that….”
Sam moved in him languidly, his eyes half-hidden as they watched the slow slip/pull of Dean’s hand. Sam shifted again, just a little and something like fireworks shot through Dean’s body. He froze, waiting for Sam to hit it on the down stroke, when he did Dean cried out, his cock shooting between them, come painting his chest as he panted through the white out and stars.
When he opened his eyes, Sam was grinning down at him. When Sam leaned down and licked, fucking licked a long line of come off his chest, Dean felt himself squirt yet again. Sam kissed him, and Dean tasted himself, even as Sam started thrusting again. His first few were shallow, giving Dean a few moments of recovery before going for his prostrate again. Dean saw stars, both hands grabbing Sam’s. “Fuck…God…Sam…”
“Yeah…I know.” Sam sped up, squeezing Dean’s hands as he arched into his and came, thrusting against him several times before collapsing forward against Dean. It took a minute for coherent thought to return, and by then, Sam was sitting up, pulling out and taking care of the condom.
Dean rolled over to watch him pad into the adjoining bathroom and come back with a washcloth that he tossed at Dean. “So now I think we’re even.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I guess we are.”
“So what now?”
“I don’t know about you, but I have to work in the morning. I need sleep.” Sam pushed him over and crawled in under the blankets. “You coming?”
“Already have.” Dean quipped, but he slid around on the bed until he could crawl under the blankets with Sam. “Don’t take my pillow.”
“You’re the pillow thief.” Sam said.
“Whatever Dude. I don’t want to wake up to you all over me either. I need my beauty sleep.”
“You certainly do.” Sam said, turning off the light. “Ow!”
“Sorry…not used to sharing a bed.”
“Maybe you should go sleep on the couch.”
“Come here you.” Dean wrapped himself around Sam, welcoming the warmth of his body, the way they seemed to just fit around one another, no matter who was where. He was already drifting toward sleep. “I really missed you Sammy,” he murmured.
Sam moaned and kissed his fingers. “Sleep.”
It was two weeks before Dean started to get stir crazy. Two weeks before he found any references to Sam’s manikin in his father’s journal. He was waiting for Sam and Matt when they got home that night. “I think I know what we need to do.”
Sam shook his head and settled a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go on upstairs, okay Matt? I’ll be up in a minute.”
“What happened?”
Sam held up his hand and watched until he was sure Matt was out of ear shot. Then he sighed. “School didn’t go well. He…had…today’s the anniversary of Beth’s death. He saw something on the playground and freaked out.”
“Did he see the thing?”
Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. He hasn’t said a word.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. He had the look he got when he had visions in the past. “I got a call from Phil this morning. There’s been an offer on the house.”
“No one’s even come to look at it.” Dean said with a frown.
“Yeah, I know. Right now I don’t really care. I want out of this town Dean.”
“I’m all for that, Sam…but you got legal shit to deal with. I mean you said you have custody of Matt mostly because there’s no one else, right?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah. And the adoption’s going to take some time. There shouldn’t be anything to block it, but it takes at least three months to put the paperwork through.”
“Are you okay?”
Sam shook his head. “Headache. Long day.”
“Vision?”
Sam nodded miserably. “I haven’t had one in more than a year.”
“What was it?”
Sam looked up at his brother and shook his head. “The damn thing. The fucking manikin. Something. I don’t know. It was over too fast.”
Dean came and took Sam’s hand, lifting it to his mouth to kiss. “Okay, look. I found some things about manikins in Dad’s journal. I think I have an idea.”
The eyes that met his were tired and worn. “What?”
“We have to figure out the terms of the original contract. They’re particular. They go into a contract wanting something specific, it wants the very thing Baron wanted.”
“The family name?” Sam squeezed his eyes shut. “How?”
Dean faltered and stood back. “I’m not sure. I mean, the bargain was the name against the lives of the daughters, right? So there are no more daughters.”
“It still wants the name.” Sam sank into the chair. “Now there’s only Matt. So what do we do?”
“I don’t know, exactly. But…” Dean slid to his knees in front of Sam. “I think I know someone who will. He’s this retired hunter I met at Missouri’s a few years ago.”
Sam’s eyebrow went up. “You went to Missouri’s? By yourself?”
Dean made a face. “Not on purpose. I was nearby and I was hurt. I needed a place to crash.”
Sam sat up a little straighter. “You were hurt?”
Dean shook his head. “Focus Sam. He’s an expert on German folklore…tracks the German beasties, you know? If I take him what we have he should be able to confirm my thoughts.”
“Take him…” Sam’s voice trailed off. “You’re going to leave?”
Dean took his hands. “Just for a little while. I’ve already called Missouri, asked her to find out where he is right now. I can go, find him and be back by the time the adoption is final.”
Sam sank into the chair, and despite his best efforts to keep the fear and disappointment off his face, Dean saw them. Dean put his arms around Sam, put his head on his chest. “Not like before Sam. I promise. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“When would you leave?” Sam’s voice sounded sad and defeated.
“Tomorrow. The sooner I go, the quicker I get back.”
Sam’s eyes closed and he nodded. “I should go check on Matt.”
“Do you mind if I do it?” Dean asked. His hand brushed over Sam’s hair. “You’re beat. Let me?”
Sam nodded and Dean kissed his forehead before he went upstairs.
Matt was sitting on his bed, looking like he would cry at any moment. “Hey buddy…can I come in?”
Matt didn’t look up and didn’t move, but Dean stepped lightly into the room and sat gently on the end of the bed. “So…not a good day, huh? Boy do I know what that’s like.” He wiped his hands on his thighs. “So, I hear Sam told you about how he wants to adopt you, give you our name, right?”
Matt finally looked up, his eyes wide. “Yeah, he told me too.” Dean said. He moved a little closer. “See…he really, really loves you…and he wants to make sure that you’ll be safe.”
Matt got up off the bed and went to the half open door, peering into the hallway before closing the door. He looked at Dean, then went into his closet, disappearing behind the door for a minute before he came out with a notebook.
He climbed up on the bed, closer to Dean. He opened the notebook and Dean got flashes of drawings in pencil and crayon as Matt flipped through the book. When he stopped he turned it and gave it to Dean.
It was a pencil drawing of a little man, dressed all in blue and gold, dancing around a stump. Matt pointed at the man, then to himself.
Dean shook his head. “No, Matt, we’re not going to let him take you.”
Matt shook his head. He flipped the page and there was a woman with dark hair in a hospital bed. The same little man was beside her on the bed. “Yes, I know he took your mother.”
The room was quiet for a minute as Dean flipped through the pictures. “Have you seen all of these things Matt?” Dean asked. There were werewolves and vampires and ghosts and others he couldn’t identify. Matt shrugged.
Dean took his hand. “This is what Sam and I do, Matt. We hunt these things. We kill them. We’re going to get this one too.”
Matt nodded. Then he tugged on Dean’s hand. Dean looked up when Matt’s hand touched his cheek, as if he wanted him to pay close attention. “It wants my name.” Matt said very carefully, his voice soft.
Dean opened his mouth, then closed it. He had never heard the boy speak before, not in the two weeks he’d been there. Slowly, he nodded. “Yes, I think he does.”
Matt flipped the notebook to the back, leaving it open to a carefully scribed note, addressed to a Baron Rumplegeist. Dean glanced over it, then up at Matt. “Is this it’s name?”
Matt shook his head. “It has no name. That’s why it wants mine.”
Dean re-read the note. “Matty, I think you’re a genius. Wait here.”
Dean raced into Sam’s room and pulled out the scrap book and the shoe box of pictures. It took him a minute to remember that what he wanted was actually in a family photo album. He dug it out of the closet and found the family tree, dating back to the first Baron on American soil, a man named Matthew Bartholomew Baron, a man that the notes claimed was named for an ancestor who had ten daughters and one single son.
“Heh. Gotcha little bugger.”
Dean didn’t leave the next morning. Instead he headed into town for research. It wasn’t easy in a town like this, where everyone knew everyone and were suspicious of outsiders. He could have asked Sam for help, but he wanted to give this to him, to make up for five years away…for leaving him when they both really needed each other.
A few weeks later, Dean was particularly pleased with himself. There was no way to confirm the boy’s parentage, since Elizabeth Baron was the only biological parent listed on the birth certificate. It was obvious from the family records that no woman born a Baron had ever given birth to anything other than girls. Which meant one of two things. Either Elizabeth wasn’t a Baron by birth, or Matthew’s father had also been a Baron, which meant a male child as the first born. Considering the manikin had come for her when she was twenty-five, Dean figured it was the latter.
Town gossip, won with long afternoon teas and bridge games, from the tongues of ladies old enough to remember when the Baron family had been the most prominent family in town, as well as one of the largest, said that Matt’s father was none other than Elizabeth’s half brother, Benjamin Baron, who had died before Elizabeth even knew she was pregnant. No one blamed her of course, because he was a cad who had apparently slept with most of the women in town and they had grown up with just each other and a father who drank too much after his wife died. Small town gossip really was an excellent source of information.
The house was sold and nearly empty. Sam knelt beside Matt outside the local courthouse, adjusting his tie. “Are you really sure about this Matt? Once we go inside and see the judge it will all be over.”
Matt nodded, his eyes big. “I can pick any name?”
Sam smiled. “Yes, any name at all.”
Matt nodded and took Sam’s hand. Dean watched as they headed to the door, but Matt stopped and looked back at him. “Aren’t you coming, Uncle Dean?”
“Nope, buddy, I’m going to keep watch out here.”
“He’s just afraid he’ll cry.” Sam said with a grin.
Dean rolled his eyes. “You’re the one becoming a Daddy.”
“I’ll hold your hand so you don’t cry, okay.” Matt said, letting go of Sam’s hand to come grabbed Dean’s. “Come on. I want you there.”
Twenty minutes later, Dean did have to wipe his eyes as Sam lifted his son, newly christened Matthew Dean Winchester, because the judge had rolled his eyes when he’d tried to add Samuel too.
“Let’s get this over with.” Dean said, slipping on his shades and ruffling Matt’s hair.
The ritual to summon the manikin was pretty simple, and when it appeared on the stump in the backyard of the Baron’s house, Dean was actually kind of surprised.
It didn’t stand 18 inches tall, and it dressed in blue and gold, with pointy shoes and a dorky hat hanging cockeyed off its head. Dirty blond hair covered half his face. “What you want humans?” It danced across the stump, moving back and forth until Dean thought he was going to be sick.
“Dude settle down. We got a bargain for you.”
It’s face screwed up as it peered up at him. “I don’t know you. You don’t have anything I want.”
“I do.” Sam said, his hand falling on Matt’s shoulders.
It looked at Matt and nodded. “Yes, you do.”
“He isn’t a Baron anymore.” Dean said. “You’re contract is broken.”
“No, not broken. He has blood. He has name.”
Matthew handed him his note, signed with his new name, sealed with a smear of blood, giving his old name away to the little man. “Not enough. Not enough. Still Baron by blood.”
Dean smirked and looked at Sam. They both held up their hands, blood still seeping into the bandages there. A little more slowly, Matt did too. “Not anymore. I’m a Winchester, and now you are the only Baron.” So it wasn’t exactly orthodox, but in keeping with longstanding boyhood tradition, the three of them had shared blood. Sam had cut Matt’s hand to make the seal on the contract, then his eyes lit up and in what was first a show of solidarity, cut his own hand as well.
At first it howled and threw itself around, then it danced and looked like it was going to fall over with laughter. “Well played, gentlemen. Well played indeed.” It bowed suddenly and disappeared.
“A hundred years of death…and that was it?” Sam asked a few minutes later and Dean laughed.
“Apparently.” He ruffled Matt’s hair. “So, Mr. Winchester, are you ready to hit the road?”
“Where are we going?”
Sam took his hand and they headed around the house to where the Impala waited. “How about California?”
“Maybe Texas.” Dean countered.
“Can we go to Disneyworld?” Matt asked, running ahead to the car.
Sam shrugged and looked at Dean. “Haven’t ever been there.”
Dean tossed the idea around and slid into the car. “Florida it is.”
“So who do I call Dad?” Matt asked as he settled into the seat behind them.
“That would be Sam.” Dean said, pointing at his brother.
“You can him Mom, if you want.” Sam said, moving quickly to avoid Dean’s slap.
“And who do I tell when I see something?”
“That would also be Sam. Unless she’s blond and wearing—ow!”
Sam chucked, then turned to Matt. “You can tell either of us Matt. Don’t be afraid to either okay? We’ll believe you.”
“Good, because before we leave town we should totally take care of the freaky little ghost dog that’s been chasing Mrs. Howard’s beagle.”
Dean backed them out of the driveway and set them off down the dirt road. “Mrs. Howard’s beagle, then Disneyworld. Gotcha.”