phantisma: (SamDean BW)
[personal profile] phantisma
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Coming Close
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean, John
Rating: NC-17 (for thematic reasons)
Word Count: 4656

Summary: Broken!Verse, chapter 50 (Click here for Index of all chapters)
Summary: This is the end. Dean realizes what Sam needs, Sam comes clean with Dean. Gabe and Caleb grab a moment. Final chapter. For now. Snippets and ficlets to come.

A/Ns and Warnings: Very dark. Includes memory of torture and rape and very dark violence, threats of self-violence.

Dean hands were hot around the gun, under Sam’s. He wasn’t sure how long they sat there without moving. His heart thundered with self-loathing…the image of himself on his knees…the sound of his voice as he recited rules…the way Sam looked at him…trusted him…and he had destroyed that trust…The gun was pressed tight against Sam, and Sam leaned in to it, closing his eyes.

He wanted it. Sam wanted it…in a different way than Dean did. An end. Peace. Dean could taste the salt of Sam’s tears mixed with his own, smell the tang of gun oil.

Random memories recoiled through him. Beyond giving Sam to…him…and Dean couldn’t see him, wouldn’t know his face…but he could feel his fingers on his neck, could hear his voice slithering around his ears.

Thank you, slave, for your honest report. I am pleased with your performance.

There had been a collar. A reward for giving up his brother to a monster…for letting his brother be raped and beaten…broken and offered up to be made a slave.

Sam’s breathing was sharp against his ears. Sam really wanted it…had thought about it…this wasn’t some spur of the moment anguish…not a response to memories of betraying his brother…out of context and incomplete…this was his baby brother, ready to end it…ready for Dean to end it for them both.

Dean quivered…the adrenaline fading…the feeling of betrayal and disgust disintegrating under the fear. Because he felt like he wanted to die…but Sammy actually did want it…and that cut him worse than any memory of fucking his brother while he cried into his pillow.

“Can’t Sam….can’t…” Dean pulled on the gun, pulled back, but Sam didn’t let go. Dean shook his head “Sam…please…”

“Dean…” Sam’s eyes opened, he licked his lips. Dean looked down at him, kneeling between his legs. Shattered. It was the only word. Sam was a shell…a body that held the shattered pieces of who he was before. “Won’t live without you.” Sam whispered.

The weight of the gun was in Sam’s hands now, Dean’s hands falling away, falling as his forehead pressed to Sam’s. “No Sam….no…”

“It’s okay Dean…my Dean.”

Dean swallowed and moved forward on the bed, closer to Sam, pressing a kiss to Sam’s forehead. “Yours…Sammy…yours…” That he remembered…Sam coming for him. Sam claiming him…leading him slowly out of the fog.

Sam cradled the gun to his stomach, his lips seeking out Dean’s, both wet and salty. “Mine Dean? Are you still mine?” Sam whispered anxiously.

Dean breathed his answer, “Always Sammy…always…” Anything to stop this…before he hurt Sam again…before he let his own despair destroy Sam…

He kissed over Sam’s face, over tear soaked cheeks. “Want you to kiss me Sam…want you to touch me.”

Sam groaned and his grip on the gun softened.

“Don’t want to lose you. Never again.” Dean slid to the floor, to his knees beside Sam. His lips found Sam’s, soft but insistent. The gun was pressed between them, but Sam’s hold on it was wavering.

Dean moved one hand to Sam’s face, cradling, tender. The other to the gun. “Just for now…okay…can’t touch me if you’re holding it.”

Sam looked down at the gun and blinked. His hand dropped, awkwardly to the side, both of them watching as he slid the gun to the floor, under the bed. Dean drew him in, kissing him slowly, his hands moving to touch the bit of flesh at the bottom of Sam’s shirt. “Is it okay?” Dean murmured, kissing down to Sam’s ear. “I want you Sammy…I want it to be you…always you.”

Dean pulled back enough to take off his shirt, then pulled Sam in again, his kiss a little fiercer. Sam’s eyes fell on the J shaped scar, shaking his head and pulling away.

This is my mark, so everyone will know that you belong to me. So that everyone will know that you are nothing, no one, alone.”

Dean nodded slowly, reaching for their duffle still on the bed. His hand came out with Sam’s hunting knife. “Make me yours Sam.” Dean said softly, unsheathing the blade.

Sam’s eyes were red from crying and they grew wide with some emotion Dean wasn’t sure he could name. Dean put the hilt in Sam’s hand, the point on his skin. “Mark me.”

Sam shook his head, his eyes never leaving Dean’s. “Not like this…he did it like this…before…I want…I want to do it….”

Dean could see in his eyes what he couldn’t say and got to his feet, shucking is jeans and moving to the bed. “Come here then.”

Sam was hard, Dean could see it before he even got close. He was breathing hard and he set the knife on the bed by Dean’s head. He took a minute to find a small bottle of lube in the duffle and moved between Dean’s legs…his eyes skimming up over Dean, to his face.

“I don’t know if I…”

Dean nodded slowly. “Can…want you to.”

Sam was nearly undone, Dean could see it in his eyes…lost in the web of emotion that had taken him from desperate to take care of Dean to desperate to desperately passionate…His fingers fumbled over Dean’s skin, slick with lube as they moved into the tight space between Dean’s thighs, and Dean couldn’t help but tense as his fingers slipped inside him.

Dean shifted, tried to relax and reached for Sam. “Come on Sammy…want you.”

Sam managed to get his cock out of his jeans, his breath stuttering as he fought coming too soon. They moaned as one as Sam slid inside, his weight falling across Dean as he kissed him. “Dean…my Dean.” Sam whispered.

Dean nodded and reached for the knife. Sam was buried inside him, not moving, legs flexed against the bed. “Mark me.” Dean whispered and Sam’s eyes opened, staring into him with a combination of lust and fear and possessiveness that was intoxicating.

Sam pushed in a little more, taking the knife. “You sure?”

Dean’s hands grabbed his arms, just above the elbows. “Yours Sammy…always.”

He set the tip of the knife to Dean’s skin. Sam’s eyes glazed over as it bit into Dean’s skin and Dean arched up under him, hissing. “Mine.” Sam whispered, carving now, careful, delicate…changing the shape of the scar. Dean’s hands tightened on Sam’s arms as Sam pulled out ever so slightly and thrust back in, tracing the knife back through the bloody S…just a little more, a little deeper, obliterating the J that had been there.

“Mine.” Sam whispered again, his cock pulsing deep inside Dean as he came.

Dean’s hands skated up over Sam’s arms, up to his neck, pulling him down, his lips closing over Sam’s, his body arching up, his cock pressing against Sam’s stomach. “Yours Sammy.”

His own come was hot as it slicked his stomach and Dean shuddered…but before he was even breathing again, Sam was pressing the knife into his hand. “Me…Dean…Let me be yours too….can I please…Dean…Mark me…”

Dean’s breath caught in his throat but he nodded slowly and lifted the knife. “Yeah, Sammy…mine.” He kissed him once more, tightening his legs around Sam as he pressed the knife to his skin.

“Yours Dean….always…never leaving you…never letting you go.”

Dean couldn’t answer…his ability to speak was lost. He bit his tongue in echo of the knife biting into Sam, slow strokes transforming that offending letter to a D. Blood dripped down Sam’s chest as he collapsed forward, Dean’s hand falling to the side, knocking the knife to the floor before rolling them so that they lay side by side, Sam’s cock slipping from him and Sam’s lips kissing over his face even as he whispered almost frantically…words Dean couldn’t hear or understand.

Sam’s eyes were starting to close…the emotion spent…his body following. Dean let him kiss and touch and drift slowly…until Sam’s face was nestled into his neck and shoulder, one hand cradling one of Dean’s to the fresh wound on his chest. Dean kissed his hair. “Sleep baby…I’ll be right here.”

Dean shifted them enough to get one of the blankets over them. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. His memory was full of holes…dark empty places…and yet there was memory so vivid he could feel it in his body.

It was scattered and made little sense. A shower with Sam…comforting him. Kneeling beside Sam, his head bowed. There was a flash of Sam naked and alone…bruised, being examined by…him while he watched and did nothing. Then there were…the things he couldn’t tell if he was remembering or putting himself in Sam’s narrative.

It had come crashing over him in a series of waves, pulling him under, filling him with hurt…hurt he couldn’t bear until he saw what it was doing to Sam. He tugged Sam a little closer and sighed. He wouldn’t have done it.

He nodded to himself and settled more comfortably to the mattress. It would have been giving up. Winchesters don’t give up. Especially not when it meant taking your brother with you.



“What do you remember?” Sam’s finger was tracing over the new wound on Dean’s chest, and Dean couldn’t bring himself to stop him. The tender skin hurt enough to keep him from drifting back to sleep.

“I’m not sure Sam. It’s disconnected. There was a werewolf in Boise two years ago. A poltergeist that threw Dad out a window. You crying in the car at Bobby’s…telling me it was the right thing.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” Dean sighed. “You mean, what made me pick up the gun.”

Sam nodded, his chin scraping lightly over Dean’s shoulder. Knees apart, ankles crossed, hands in your lap. “It isn’t important now.”

“I’m sorry.”

Dean smiled softly. “It isn’t your fault Sam. It’s my brain that’s decided to go all Quantum Leap on me.”

“It beats the catatonic zombie Dean.”


Sam sat up a bit and nodded. “All but the brain eating.”

Dean squinted up at his brother. “You’re not going to keep feeding me that shit, are you? Expecting me to believe you?”

Sam blushed and pressed a kiss over the red S on his chest. “We should put something on these. Keep them from getting infected.”

“Later. Right now I want to just lay here…and think about all the ways I can enjoy having you all to myself out here in the middle of nowhere.”

Sam quieted and Dean could almost see the way his thoughts turned. He rolled, turning so that Sam was on his back under him. He struggled for a minute but Dean just held his gaze. “I’m not going to hurt you Sam.” He said it softly and watched Sam still. When Sam’s eyes were clear of the panic, Dean leaned forward and pressed kisses along Sam’s collarbone.

“I have this theory.” Dean said and he saw Sam smile just a little.

“This should be interesting. Do you remember your last theory?”

Dean ignored his brother and continued chasing kisses along his neck. “Do you want to hear it?”

Sam reached up for Dean, but he swatted his hands away. “Yes, yes…I want to hear it.”

Dean pushed up so he could look at his brother. “If you really are mine, Sammy…I’m going to take my time…work my way over every inch of you…mark you with my lips and my tongue and my fingers…until there isn’t any trace of those…of them…until your body only knows my touch…until your body forgets any pain or violation…and then…you’ll do the same for me.”

Dean lowered his head again, kissing and licking a path down Sam’s belly. “Gentle and slow…because we have all the time in the world…we can be here the rest of our lives…as long as it takes.” He closed his lips over Sam’s navel and felt him squirm. “You say stop, and I’ll stop. You say no, and I’ll let go.”

He rose up to kiss Sam’s lips once. “Okay?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah…Dean…yeah…”

“Someone’s going to see us Gabe.” Caleb whispered as Gabe pulled him back behind the Roadhouse.

“Don’t care. I’ve been thinking about this for hours.” Gabe pressed Caleb up against the wall and kissed him. Caleb chuckled and settled his hands on Gabe’s waist.

“You’re the eager one.”

“I’m eighteen!” Gabe exclaimed. “And I’m horny.”

Caleb chuckled again and pulled Gabe closer, his lips open in offering as he leaned in for more. There was the sound of a throat clearing and Gabe jumped. Bobby’s voice came to them from around the corner.

“Your Dad’s looking for you Gabe.”


Caleb kissed his cheek. “By the way…Bobby knows.”

“You told him?” Gabe squeaked.

Caleb shook his head. “No. He’s just…observant.”

“He won’t…tell my father, will he? I mean…I want to be the one…when it’s time…and…”

“Relax. Bobby can keep a secret.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Let’s go see what your Dad wants.”

“There you are.” Allen said as Gabe came into the main room of the Roadhouse. He turned the laptop around to face Gabe. “I found four cameras in my search. John got two more.”

“You want me to make sure you didn’t miss any?”

Allen nodded.

“Okay. Caleb, hand me my backpack. Let’s see what equipment I got left.”

“Gabe.” They looked up as John emerged from what had been Ash’s room. “You should probably start in here. Looks like maybe he expected to come back. There’s a lot of stuff in here.”

Ellen emerged from the back. “I’ve got burgers on the grill, beer on ice and Jo working the laundry room.” She put her hands on the bar and closed her eyes. “It feels good to be home. But I can’t help but feel we should be doing something…spreading the word about Ash and Andrew.”

John slipped onto a stool and covered one of her hands with his. “We have to be careful, Ellen. We don’t know who we can trust.”

“We can’t spend the rest of our lives like that.” Ellen said softly.

Gabe stopped on his way to Ash’s room. “You know…if it makes you feel safer, I can set you and Jo up with new names, new identities…the whole nine yards. Take a couple of days, but even the business stuff could be taken care of.”

Ellen smiled at him sadly. “Let me think about it, okay? This here’s been Bill’s place long as I’ve been here. Not sure it would be right changing that.” She looked at John. “Do you really think they’re coming back here? Even if they find out they didn’t kill us?”

John sighed and raised her hand to his lips. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

He was fragile…and he knew it. Dean had hidden the gun. Not that he’d looked for it, but Sam knew it wasn’t where he’d left it and it wasn’t under the pillows. The woods around them were quiet, only the occasional bird call…and the wind. Dean was sleeping and Sam had left the cabin to sit in the cold.

His hand slipped up to cover the bandage on his chest, covering the mark his brother had made in his flesh.

Of course, it wasn’t alone now. There were bruises and bite marks. There was the red handprint on the inside of his left thigh. His body was covered in Dean…in his marks…in his scent.

For the first time since Robert cold-cocked him, Sam felt…safe, able to breathe…though he still teetered a bit on the edge.


Sam looked up at his brother standing in the doorway, shivering in his bare skin. “Hey.”

“Made coffee.”

Sam nodded. “Coffee’s good.”

“It’s cold. Get in here.”

Sam stood and shivered as if he was just feeling the cold because Dean had said something. “We should probably eat.”

“Got oatmeal cooking.”

Sam made a face as he slipped past Dean. “What?”


“Sam.” Dean growled and Sam rolled his eyes.

“It was…you brought me oatmeal…after…” And it shouldn’t be this hard now…to admit something so small. “I hadn’t been given food in four days and that’s what you brought me. I ate it in the cage with no spoon.”

Dean was close, hovering, trying to find the right words, trying to decide between comfort and playing it off…and Sam wasn’t really sure which he needed. Dean’s hand fell on Sam’s shoulder and he leaned in close. “I filled it with brown sugar and butter, just the way you always liked it.”

Sam nodded, brushing his cheek along Dean’s hand. “Sit Sammy. Coffee’s gonna get cold.”

They had spent hours in the bed, and the room still smelled vaguely of sex and sweat, despite the wood burning in the stove and the coffee. It smelled like Dean. Like everything he loved about his brother.

Dean grabbed the pan from the stove and dished up two bowls of thick oatmeal and made a big show of giving Sam a big spoon.

“I remember about the ring.” Dean said, without preamble. His eyes were on his bowl when Sam looked up. “I gave it to you to remind you, so that when you felt…lost…you would know where you belonged. Dad gave it to me.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Said Mom gave it to him…that she got down on one knee and proposed to him with that ring.” He put a spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth. Sam watched the muscles in his jaw twitch as he swallowed, as he looked down away, any where but at Sam.

“You remember what came before he gave it to you?” Sam asked softly.

He knew just from the expression that he did. Dean nodded tightly. “Not everything. Bits. I…wanted him to…punish me. I didn’t want it. Didn’t think I was good enough.”

Sam’s hand slid across the table, up over his brother’s. Dean let him hold it for a minute, then squeezed his hand and pulled away. “Everything’s all disjointed. But I think I’m starting to make sense of it.” He held his coffee up and sipped, then managed a glance in Sam’s direction. “If I tell you…will you fill in the gaps?”

Sam scowled and picked at his dish. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Dean.”

“Will you at least tell me if I’m….close?”

Sam tasted his oatmeal, decided it wasn’t bad and shoved a spoonful in his mouth before nodding.

“So, I figure, I got grabbed at some point…after you left. You found me, but I was…what? Brainwashed or something. And you and Dad tried to help me, but then you got grabbed, and we had to come after you.”

“That’s…yeah, that’s the high view.”

“So…when I…when I showered with you…and told you…what to do…I was…helping?”

“You were saving me Dean.” Sam said softly. “I wouldn’t have made it without you. You had no business coming in there after me. You were so…broken. But you did.” Sam’s voice cracked and he had to choke back the despair.

“Hey…hey…it’s okay Sam.”

Sam shook his head. “No it isn’t. I don’t…I didn’t deserve it…”

“What?” Dean pushed his chair back and stood. When Sam didn’t look up, Dean grabbed his chair and turned it, dropping to one knee in front of him. “You listen to me Samuel Winchester, you are…the only thing in my life worth anything. How could you not be? You saved me first.”

That only made Sam drop his head further, his chin in his chest. “No Dean. You came for me…four days I was there and you were still broken…and you came…even when M-master could have killed you.” He shook. He hadn’t called James that since right after their escape.

“Master.” Dean said it softly, slowly. Him.

“I didn’t even know, Dean…you were gone months before I even knew to start looking….before….and it took so long…and I had to…I had to do unspeakable things…”

“More unspeakable than kneeling before your own father naked and offering yourself to him?” Dean asked softly.

Sam cringed, pulled away. “Yes.” He said after a long time. “Yes Dean.”

He tried to stand up, but Dean pushed him back into his seat. “Talk to me Sammy.”

He shook his head. “I swore I’d never tell you. Never tell Dad. You…you would never forgive me….never…”

“I don’t care what you think, or what you swore Sam. I can’t help you if I don’t know. Tell me.”

Dean would hate him…”You told me I wasn’t like them…those men…but…I am…Dean. I’m just like them. I’m worse.”

Dean growled and his hand pulled Sam’s face around. “No Sammy….I don’t care what you’ve done—“

“No?” Sam looked deep into his brother’s eyes. “No? You don’t care that after a month and a half of looking I couldn’t find you…and then I went to see a friend of mine who’s psychic…she told me I needed to find the last woman you were with…and I did, Dean. I waited for her in that bar, and I seduced and drugged her. I fucked her into the ground and I hurt her until she gave me what I wanted?”

He scowled at Dean, pressing against the hand Dean had now on his shoulder. “You don’t care that I traded her confession for the next name, knowing they would kill her?” His breathing was harsh as he closed his eyes. “Or that I—“

No. He wasn’t going to say it. He could barely stand to think it.


He shook his head. “No. Dean.”

“Yes Sam. Obviously keeping this is eating you up. I love you. I will still love you. I will always love you.”

Sam knew it wasn’t true. He knew Dean would think twice about that gun once he’d said it. “I hunted like I’ve never hunted before Dean. I was ruthless. I…killed…I…hunted until I hit dead end after dead end. I dealt with people that make their livings peddling human beings to demons and monsters, who keep demons as fucking pets. I –“ He couldn’t look at Dean as he said it. “I summoned a demon Dean, and I negotiated with it…I gave it what it wanted just for the chance that it could get me closer.”


Sam pushed the chair away and stood, his fists clenched tight at his side. “It was controlled. He had a set window of time. I was desperate Dean. I was desperate…and he knew….He was how I found the driver. The one who gave up the name of the brothel. That’s why they didn’t kill me when I got there. They service demons.”

It was clear Dean wasn’t following everything he was saying, but Sam couldn’t stop now. “Still not caring, Dean?”

“What exactly are you telling me, Sam?”

“I let it climb inside me Dean. I let it torture that driver, after I got the answer I wanted. I let it fuck him and leave him chained in a sewer to die.”

Sam shoved his hands in his pockets because he didn’t know what else to do with them. He stood with his back to Dean, because he didn’t want to see the disgust, the hate he knew had to be there.

“Is there more?” Dean asked, his voice like ice.

Sam nodded. “Yeah. There is.”

“I’m waiting.”

Sam clenched his fists. “It got me to the brothel, but before it let the madam give me what I needed it…wanted…” He could see them, hear them pleading. “I’m not like the Gorlians, Dean. I’m far, far worse. I don’t deserve to be here with you.”

Dean’s hands were on his back. Sam stiffened. “Please…Dean…”

“Tell me the rest.”

Sam sighed. He was tired now. Just finally saying this much was exhausting. He hadn’t realized how heavy it had become, buried so deep he couldn’t even acknowledge it. “When I knew…when I was sure…god, Dean. I used everything, every trick. Magic, glamours, I hurt people. I stole. I became the man that came for you.”

“Are you done?”

Sam nodded, his entire being centered on the place where Dean was touching him. “The man who came for me is the man that loved me enough to do anything he had to…the man who makes me proud to know he could love me that much.”

“You don’t mean that.” Sam said.

“No? You reading my mind Sammy?”

“Dean. Don’t. Don’t…”

“Don’t what? Don’t love you for saving me? Sorry, not happening?”

“Don’t pretend what I did wasn’t heinous.”

“Not pretending anything Sam. Not now. Not about this.” Dean turned him around, met his eyes. “I’m not saying it wasn’t a fucked up thing, Sam…and I’m not saying it doesn’t scare the shit out of me…but…but…” He ducked his head to catch Sam’s eyes after he lowered them. “What I am saying is…I can’t believe you went through that for me…that I’m not sure I could have…not sure I would have thought of it, or known how to…and I know for a fact Dad would never consider….”

“Dad…” Sam groaned. “He can’t know, Dean. He’ll…hate me…more than he must already.”

“Okay…you need to stop now. Dad doesn’t hate you.”

“He knows Dean. About us. And he knows it was me. That I…seduced you.”

Dean grinned at that. “Oh? Is that what we’re calling it?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It was my fault.”

“Okay, so Dad knows. Obviously he didn’t kill either one of us over it. So it’s all good.”

“You’re not going to let me feel bad about this, are you?”

“Not on your life Sam. I’m starting to remember bits about where I was before you came to get me. I’m not going to complain that you killed a few unsavory people to find me. I did my own killing before we came for you.”

“I know. Pastor Jim told me.”

“Pastor Jim?”

“Yeah…he tried to help.”

“Did he?”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know Dean. I’m not sure what’s helping and what isn’t anymore.”

“You feeling okay now?”

Sam looked at him funny, but had to admit, he did feel better. “I guess.”

“Not gonna keep looking for the gun?”


“Sam. Dean walked back to the table and picked up the dishes. “I’m just saying. What you said yesterday, goes for me too. You go, I go. Full stop.” He scraped the cold oatmeal into the trash. “And you’re cooking lunch since you ruined my oatmeal with your emo breakdown.”

“Hey Dad, its Sam.” Sam stood outside the coffee shop where Dean was sucking down coffee like they hadn’t had any in days.

John sounded almost surprised to hear from him. “Everything okay, Sam?”

Sam smiled as Dean held up his latte. “Yeah, Dad. Things are starting to be really good.”

“How’s Dean?”

“He remembers new stuff everyday. He’s dealing. He’s good.”

“And you?”

“Better, Dad. Getting better everyday.”

“Dean really wants to see you, but I told him I had to check with you first.”

“We didn’t get them, Sam.”

His blood turned cold and he moved so that his back was to Dean. “Dad?”

“They dropped off the map. Three of them. Andrew, Ash and his brother. We don’t know how to find them.”

Sam nodded. “Until they want to be found, you won’t find them.”

“We just have to lay low a while.”

“No. If they want us, they’ll find us. Laying low or not.” He glanced at Dean through the window. “Our lease on the place we’re in is up in a few days. We’ll come to you.”

“I’m…staying with Ellen at the Roadhouse.”

Sam smiled at that. “I’m glad Dad. She’s a good lady.”

“Yes, Sam she is.”

“Text me an address? It might take us some time, but we’ll get there.” Sam hung up the phone and went into the coffee shop to drink his coffee and tell Dean that they were leaving the cabin. A year had passed since his father had called him in tears to tell him Dean was gone. He’d started breaking that day…and he wasn’t whole yet….but he had Dean…and together they came close.
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