fic: and two for the show (1/1, vamp!Winchesters)
title: and two for the show
author: acidquill
disclaimer: don't own em
rating: teen
pairing: Sam/Dean
word count: 447
notes: figured it was about time I let Dean's side of things out. companion to closer to that cold, cold ground. part & parcel of the rest of my vamp!Winchesters.
this is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill
fifteen percent concentrated power of will
Sometimes the need for his brother is so strong Dean could drown in it. But he keeps it under control. Mostly. He plays along at Sammy's new version of normal. He lets his brother tie him to a bed in the motel, ring it with salt, carve protection runes into the bed posts. All Sam's rituals cause an unpleasant hum under Dean's skin. But it's something something he can ignore.
At least it takes his mind off the constant loop of food,sleep, fuck, Sam that never (and Dean doesn't know if he wants it to) stops. It's been in his head since he woke up with his brother's heartbeat thundering in his ears.
He can still eat, though regular food doesn't satisfy him. Doesn't stop the hunger gnawing at his belly. When they hit diners (always at night now, always sitting in the back where no one can see) Dean never orders anything of his own, but he'll steal something off Sam's plate. The taste of ash is worth it just to see Sam's eyes look something besides broken. He's always been good at pretending, this just takes a little more work.
Sam brings him blood from hospitals, The Red Cross. Dean closes himself off in the bathroom when he feeds, or somewhere else where Sam can't see. He puntures the tough plastic bags, lets the smell of iron wash over him. Swallows every drop down when he really wants to gag. The blood is long cold and lifeless; it's almost as bad as the diner food. He's hungry, so hungry all the time. But he's still trying. For Sam.
Dean brushes against Sam more. He presses closer, can smell the blood rushing underneath Sam's skin. He doesn't remember it being like this before (when he was alive, when he didn't want to bitefuckkeep) but he can't keep his hands off his brother.
Brother. Even that doesn't mean the same thing now. It was a barrier, a way to keep them apart. But Sam is. Dean wishes Sam would get it already. The only thing Dean wants is to have Sammy with him. Forever.
Sam stops tying him to the bed. The first time he's free, Dean slips into Sam's bed, feels his brother flinch under his fingers. Dean nuzzles Sam in the dark.
"'Salright Sammy. I won't hurt you."
After that, all the motel rooms only have one bed. Dean curls as close as he can. Between Sam's warmth and the thud of his heart, Dean falls asleep just before the sun peeks over the horizon. Sooner or later he knows that Sam will let him in, let him make them who they're meant to be.
- end
author: acidquill
disclaimer: don't own em
rating: teen
pairing: Sam/Dean
word count: 447
notes: figured it was about time I let Dean's side of things out. companion to closer to that cold, cold ground. part & parcel of the rest of my vamp!Winchesters.
this is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill
fifteen percent concentrated power of will
Sometimes the need for his brother is so strong Dean could drown in it. But he keeps it under control. Mostly. He plays along at Sammy's new version of normal. He lets his brother tie him to a bed in the motel, ring it with salt, carve protection runes into the bed posts. All Sam's rituals cause an unpleasant hum under Dean's skin. But it's something something he can ignore.
At least it takes his mind off the constant loop of food,sleep, fuck, Sam that never (and Dean doesn't know if he wants it to) stops. It's been in his head since he woke up with his brother's heartbeat thundering in his ears.
He can still eat, though regular food doesn't satisfy him. Doesn't stop the hunger gnawing at his belly. When they hit diners (always at night now, always sitting in the back where no one can see) Dean never orders anything of his own, but he'll steal something off Sam's plate. The taste of ash is worth it just to see Sam's eyes look something besides broken. He's always been good at pretending, this just takes a little more work.
Sam brings him blood from hospitals, The Red Cross. Dean closes himself off in the bathroom when he feeds, or somewhere else where Sam can't see. He puntures the tough plastic bags, lets the smell of iron wash over him. Swallows every drop down when he really wants to gag. The blood is long cold and lifeless; it's almost as bad as the diner food. He's hungry, so hungry all the time. But he's still trying. For Sam.
Dean brushes against Sam more. He presses closer, can smell the blood rushing underneath Sam's skin. He doesn't remember it being like this before (when he was alive, when he didn't want to bitefuckkeep) but he can't keep his hands off his brother.
Brother. Even that doesn't mean the same thing now. It was a barrier, a way to keep them apart. But Sam is. Dean wishes Sam would get it already. The only thing Dean wants is to have Sammy with him. Forever.
Sam stops tying him to the bed. The first time he's free, Dean slips into Sam's bed, feels his brother flinch under his fingers. Dean nuzzles Sam in the dark.
"'Salright Sammy. I won't hurt you."
After that, all the motel rooms only have one bed. Dean curls as close as he can. Between Sam's warmth and the thud of his heart, Dean falls asleep just before the sun peeks over the horizon. Sooner or later he knows that Sam will let him in, let him make them who they're meant to be.
- end