Finding Normal. *Spoilers for 8.03*
After 8.03, this idea has been scratching away at my brain and if I didn't write it then it was gonna end up scratching my brains out much like the girl with the hairbrush in 'I Believe the Children are Our Future'. So, I wrote it, hated it, deleted most of it, rewrote it from a different direction and now I've posted it here so I can dismiss it and get back on with my life. That is until Wednesday anyway. This is an explanation, not an excuse.
Finding Normal
Description: NC-17 Wincest. After Sam’s bombshell of wanting a normal life, Dean goes looking for Amelia. What he finds shakes him up enough to change his mind about how to deal with the revelation.
Warnings: *Spoilers* for season 8 up to 8.03, sexually explicit content, suicidal ideation, unbeta'd
Length: ~2,000 words
Disclaimer: This is all fiction, pure fantasy folks. Kripke and CW get to keep the boys.
It wasn’t hard to find her. He had a name and a state, and hints enough at the county. The number of female vets registered in the area was small, the number called Amelia, just one.
Dean waited and watched. A faint reflection of the moon shone on the Impala’s bodywork. Amelia came to the window to close the curtains and a man swept her into his arms and kissed her, right there in front of the window. Dean bit his lip and scowled.
He wasn’t sure what emotion he’d been expecting to feel but it wasn’t this. The sight of Amelia in this man’s arms, the love so obvious, made him angry. The betrayal twisted his gut and made the blood pound at his temple.
The stoop light came on and a door opened. A tabby cat yowled in disgust at being put out for the night. Amelia closed the door and the light reflected from her wedding ring just before the door clunked shut and then the stoop light went out. Dean’s brow creased in confusion.
***
“So how’d it go, college-boy?” Dean tried to make it sound light hearted, but his voice cracked. He hoped that Sam wouldn't detect it.
“The interview went good. I might even catch a full ride. Where are you Dean?”
“Oh, you know, checkin’ out a case. Looks like it’s nothing. I’m exhausted. Gonna get my head down. We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?”
“Be careful, Dean.”
“Yeah.”
***
Apparently Sam had crept out of the door, a few weeks before Dean got back from Purgatory, no clues or forwarding address and nobody went looking for him. The doctor remembered Sam, was obviously fond of him and still worried for him. Dean stood awkwardly in the clinical lobby, in his smart grey suit, with his FBI badge, and fought to keep the tears from his eyes.
***
“I didn't hear from you. I was worried, Dean.”
“Yeah. I thought I found something. Turns out it was a dead end. Should take me about a day to get back to you. You doing okay?”
“Fine. I've got some reading to do. Figure I should get a head start on the study. A lot has changed y’know. Are you eating properly?”
“There’s a diner. There’s burgers. I’ll live, Sam.”
“Eat some fruit, Dean.”
“I’m not a rabbit, Sammy.”
***
The road ended a few hundred yards ahead and there were few reasons why anybody would come here, be in this precise position, on this particular piece of blacktop. The door of the Impala slammed shut with a familiar thunk and Dean walked to the edge of the bridge, peered over the edge, tried to imagine the noise of stone shattering, metal screeching, crumpling and tearing, and then the silence of falling. He pictured the dull thud and splash and then sinking, the icy chill of cold water and the slow suffocation of drowning. He shuddered.
He paced back to the middle of the road but there was no sign of what had happened here, what had been prevented by the sudden appearance of a stray dog on the highway. Why should there be? But, beneath a tree near the verge, he found a small rectangular grave, marked only by the slight mound and a simple wooden cross. Dean stopped to toe at the marker and gave a nod of respect before climbing back into his Baby.
***
The car was silent without Sam. Dean leaned his head to the steering wheel, closed his eyes and breathed deep. He flipped his phone open.
“Dean. What’s up? You okay?” Sam sounded panicky.
“Yeah. I just ..”
“What, Dean? Are you sure you’re alright?”
“I just wanted you to know. It’s okay. To want normal. I get it.”
“Dean? Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Sure. You should get used to it. College boy getting calls from his big brother on the road.”
“Dean?”
“I needed you to know it. That’s all.”
“You’re coming back though?” There was a desperate edge to Sam’s voice.
“Course I am Sammy. Look you go study. I’m fine.”
***
He was just another normal person in a normal town, but Lou Miller remembered Sam. He took Dean’s hand in a firm grip, shook it and asked after Sam’s health, in a sincere voice.
Lou had come across Sam during a run, was drawn to smooth his hand in admiration over the sleek body of the Impala, before noticing that it was still idling, that there was somebody in the driver’s seat. Lou said it was lucky. Nobody usually took the path through that place, but he had been training for a marathon, had decided to put on a few miles by taking the long route. There was not much more he could tell Dean, so they made normal small-town talk about the weather, and then Lou bent to lace his trainers before jogging off. As the man rounded the corner and disappeared from view Dean finally found his voice, realized he hadn't thanked him. He gave a half wave and a quiet, “Thanks,” but Lou didn't hear him, and the word was woefully inadequate for the debt that Dean owed him.
Dean leaned against his Baby for a while, staring at the sky, trying to make sense of it all , before he rubbed tiredly at wet eyes and moved on.
***
“I didn't know the circumstances, but I couldn't save the dog. We let him clean it up, so he could take it away to bury it. Nobody ever asked after it.” Amelia leaned on the counter in her consulting room. Dark hair was pulled into a ponytail and a starched white coat hid a slight but curvy body. She was well-spoken, educated and precisely Sam’s type.
“And you expect me to believe you never saw him again?” Disbelief laced Dean’s voice and his tone was aggressive.
“I did see him once. About a month after he came in with the dog.” She pushed herself up and fiddled with some equipment on the counter as she spoke, “It’s a small town, Agent Tate; the sheriff interviewed me the day after Sam was found, but I really didn't have anything I could tell him. He called again a few weeks after that, he’d been talking to the doctors responsible for Sam. They said he’d developed a fixation about me and they thought it might help, for me to go and see him. So I did.”
“And?”
“He didn't recognize me, Agent Tate. I’m not sure he even knew I was there. I didn't go again.”
“And it didn't bother you, this fixation he had on you?”
“Honestly? No. It didn't seem significant. According to the staff, the man wasn't dangerous. Whatever it was he believed about this Amelia, it wasn't me. He didn't know me.”
***
Dean parked in the picnic spot. He leaned back against the familiar vinyl of the seat, inhaled the smell of a lifetime with his brother. He let the engine idle with the smell of raw power and petrol burning into carbon monoxide.
He wound down the window and looked across the parking lot to the path that Lou had taken, tried to imagine the stillness of the night, wondered how it would feel. He looked at the empty seat beside him and tried to recall the smiles and the banter of better times, but there was just the ice-chill of lonely memories, of being without Sam, and in that moment he thought he might understand. He’d once promised Sam that nothing bad would happen to him, not when Dean was around, but Dean hadn't been there. Too many times Dean hadn't been there and because of that, Sam had come to this place alone, utterly alone. He’d come with a length of flexible hose, tape to seal the window and a cell phone that only served as a roll-call of dead family and friends. There had been nobody to say, “No,” and not even a dog to keep him company.
Dean clenched his jaw and banged at the steering wheel in frustration “What am I supposed to do?” he yelled, but there was just the sound of the engine idling and the rush of wind in the trees.
The journey back from this place, just another normal town, with its psychiatric ward and its kind strangers, who couldn't know that Sam had saved the world once, gave Dean the opportunity to think, and at first he was angry. Really frickin’ angry. With Sam, with himself and with the shit they’d been dealt. The drive was long though, and anger eventually gave way to weariness and then finally to the vague workings of a plan.
***
Sam looked up from his laptop and smiled at Dean as he walked into the motel room.
Dean glanced at him sheepishly and proffered a cup. “Banana and blueberry smoothie. It’s organic,” he muttered.
“Dean …”
Dean lifted a hand to silence him. “I told you. I get it.”
“Thanks, Dean.”
Sam stood and crossed the room. His arms engulfed Dean and he held him close, his breath warm on Dean’s neck. His fingers traced Dean's back and caressed the nape of his neck before his lips ghosted over his jaw. Dean shivered, “You don’t have to,” he said, giving a half-hearted shove at his little brother’s chest.
“No. I want to. Stay.” Sam nipped gently at his jaw.
“What about Amelia?”
“I told you. There was a girl and then there wasn't. You’re here now.”
“But you want to leave me.”
“I can’t watch you die bloody. I won’t, Dean. I’ll be in one place. You can always come back to me. I can come to you.”
Deft fingers unbuttoned Dean’s shirt. Sam’s fingers. Hot, slick lips found his and kissed hard, begging access. Sam’s lips. For the first time since Purgatory, Dean welcomed them. This time there would no stubborn refusal.
Dean whined. His hands smoothed over Sam’s back and crept under his shirt, the pads of his fingers skin to skin with Sam.
Sam lifted Dean’s shirt from him and dropped it to the floor, he grasped the waistband of Dean’s denims and pulled him to the bed. They landed in a tangle without taking a moment from their kiss. There were no words, to their lovemaking, just neediness and a passion so ingrained, so intimate and familiar that every movement thrilled and excited them from the very tips of their nerves to the very center of their hearts. Sam took and Dean let him, opened himself to him body and soul. This was the very opposite of Purgatory, an ointment that soothed jagged wounds. There was no rush, no place to be or foe to run from, not this time. Sam took time, opened him carefully, stretched and filled him with careful slick and slide. There was the tease of tender fingers on nipples and the suck of Sam’s mouth over sensitive flesh. Sam’s hair fell over his face and tickled and tingled at Dean’s skin. Their climax built gradually with increasing rhythm, moans and grunts and then they were falling apart and together. Sam filled Dean with warm come and Dean spilled against Sam’s belly.
For now it was everything that Dean needed. Sam was here, with him. He understood how close he had come to losing him, and he had made a decision to be in it for the long haul.
When they lay panting in each other’s arms Dean finally spoke. “You know it wasn't real. Riot and Amelia wasn't real?” He cringed at his own insensitive words, but somehow he couldn't help himself, Dean needed Sam to let them go.
Sam stirred and turned to face him, propped himself up on his elbow with his chin in his hand. “I remember some things. It doesn't change what I want and what I don’t want. Whatever she was, I needed her then, but not any more.” It was spoken softly, without anger.
“Right.” Dean couldn't help the sense of crushing disappointment that came with Sam’s determined words.
Sam leaned in to kiss him deep, until they were both breathless and when they pulled apart with a soft smack of their lips, he spoke again. “You know that nothing will ever be as real as you and me. You know you could give hunting up, Dean. You could try normal with me.”
“I can’t. Not any more. Are you angry with me?” Dean closed his eyes and let himself sink back into the sagging mattress.
“No. Of course not, Dean.” Sam huffed a breath and then smiled at his brother, a dirty, wicked, sexy smile. “I don’t suppose it could hurt to try and convince you though?”
Dean gave a wry smile, shook his head and chuckled. If this is all he could have, it was enough to build on. They still hadn't found Kevin, and who knows how long that would take? He was going to do some convincing of his own and he was sure he had a very, very, good strategy. He moved in a moment, kneeling astride Sam’s sweat-slick flesh, sliding down the bed, licking a trail over his brother’s chest and around his nipples, then further, to nip at the skin that stretched over Sam’s hip bones. “Lie back Baby Boy, gonna make you feel so damn good ….”
~end~