The lost plateau - The lost brother Part 2

[siriala]

Sam hadn't done any research about the professor prior to their departure, convinced that he knew already the important details about the man's academic knowledge and stature, his ethics, kindness and interest towards Sam these past years.

He had vaguely checked Winchester's credentials, certain that the man was a show-off and that he would only be helpful in case muscles or rifles were needed. His reputation was one of a reveler, a bon vivant who loved nothing more than women, tasty food and alcohol, who tended to throw his money without restraint into the pursuit of these objectives, a hedonist constantly seeking pleasure.

Lady Jenn hadn't even deserved any real investigation either, Sam was so sure her only contribution would be monetary and that she'd never travel with them.

As time passed and the feud between Dean and the professor became more evident, Sam was just as much annoyed with himself for his lack of precaution, especially now that he was aware of the familial roots of the dissension. He could have asked Lady Jenn. After all, one of the few things he had learned about her since their arrival was that she had known Dean previous to the journey. But it also meant she would be just as biased towards Dean as he himself was towards the professor.

"Don't beat yourself up, Sam," Professor Singer had insisted when they had talked about it, chopping wood to heat the meal they would bring up the Tree. "I too let myself be blinded by Campbell's attitude towards his grandson. As much as I dislike the man at times, he's brilliant and driven and I allowed these qualities to mask his possible skewed relationship to his own family, accepting his judgment over Winchester without really trying to reach for the truth. I should have known though. Dean showed us from the beginning he was deserving of our trust. Let this be our lesson and move on."

Singer was right. Dean had proved himself again and again but it seemed it was never enough, not compared to the professor's brilliant achievements in their old world. The truth was that, so far, they owed being alive a lot more to Dean and Meg than the professors.

As he finished washing, Sam told himself that the important thing from now on was to be more open-minded and accepting of Dean's quirks and not to let Professor Campbell's opinion color his own.

Sam got out of the lake entirely naked before he realized that the lord was there waiting for him, casually leaning on a tree trunk, as if his thoughts had somehow conjured the hunter.

"Were you waiting for me ?"

He couldn't recall making any plans about shooting exercises or a hunting party.

"Yeah," Winchester answered nonchalantly, still not moving from his tree. "Campbell thinks he's found something possibly promising in one of Meg's books."

"What about ?" Sam asked, immediately interested as he approached Dean and the towel waiting next to his abandoned clothes.

"A way out, it seems. Or at least some clue about an ancient path."

Sam stopped drying himself to scrutinize Dean's face.

"Really ?"

"Well, that's what he said, anyway. Singer is not quite sure about it, so I'd like you to take a look and give me your opinion."

"My opinion ?!" Sam repeated, nonplussed. "Why ?"

"You've gone to college and you speak Latin ; you're smart. Also, you're new to all this, you'll look at it with a fresh set of eyes, without blinders or preconceived ideas."

Sam had a weird feeling. There was no amusement in Dean's voice this time over Sam's abilities, or the lack thereof, no contempt at all. The arrogant lord was definitely reaching out to him, seeking his professional expertise and putting him at the same level as two world-famous professors.

More than weird, it was wonderful to be acknowledged for your own worth. And he could feel a huge smile on his face as he basked in the sensation for a long while before he realized he was standing still on a beach, naked, in front of a just as still Lord Winchester.

"What are you looking at ?" he asked, unnerved by the fixity of Dean's stare.

Lord Winchester's answer first took the form of a lecherous grin.

"You," he finally said. "Your manhood, precisely. Quite impressive !"

No trace of shame at all.

It had happened that Sam had had to disrobe and bathe next to other boys as he was growing up, especially during the summer vacations in the small town his mother's father lived in, spending the too-hot afternoons swimming at the local pond, but never had he imagined that he could attract one of the guys back then, as much as he might have wished for it, and never had he been propositioned. Dean's behavior was new and bemusing for him, so different from the detached attitude he had used while he was helping with his treatment.

And this time Sam couldn't ignore anymore which part of his anatomy attracted Dean's gaze the most. His partially erect cock.

"You're creepy, Dean !"

"And you're pretty."

Sam blushed.

Well, if the lord thought he was going to get a rise - in any sense of the word - out of him that way, he was sorely mistaken ! Sam knew the man thought he was too soft, too naïve, too nice and well-mannered for this expedition, but Sam had long decided he would show him that he could hold his own and take anything thrown at him, leering gazes and salacious remarks included. He knew his body to be well-developed and strong, certainly no cause to blush or hide. Not more than the brain Dean had just admitted to admire enough that he wanted Sam's opinion !

And certainly not now that he didn't resemble a plucked chicken anymore.

He probably should have felt a lot more freaked out but the stare was actually nice, Dean's admiration for his body just as pleasant as the praise for his brains, and Sam didn't hurry to re-dress, any possible clue about their leaving mostly forgotten. It probably didn't amount to more than a false hope anyway, another one, a detail that might help them later on but didn't show the way any more than the other hints they had heard of or read about.

So Sam didn't hurry this time nor any of the numerous other ones when Dean surprised him during his morning bath after that first time. It became a daily occurrence Sam looked forward to, the moment when Dean didn’t need to preen for the women or show off his manliness to the professors, the real Dean Winchester here at last to meet Sam. This is how they got into the habit of private discussions in those few reserved minutes.

But as Dean quickly took to join Sam in the water, Sam in his turn couldn't help watching him naked, admiring of his very different frame, less muscled, shorter but more compact, and probably just as strong. The broad shoulders and surprisingly harmonious back, the enticing chest, the long, proud sex and heavy balls he found himself dreaming of one night, weighing and stroking. And sucking.

That got a rise out of him.

As the days passed, they moved closer and closer, personal space diminishing more and more until it meant next to nothing in those private moments.

"Do you want me to help wash your back ?" Dean asked from behind.

"What… only if you'd like to," Sam said, a bit stunned by the offer but strangely excited.

"Alrighty then, pass me the soap."

Sam acted without any thinking, proper or not, passing the soap over his shoulder for Dean to use it.

Soon, two strong hands applied themselves to his back, roaming to take in all the space over and between his shoulders. The foamy texture of the soap masked easily any callus on Dean's hands and Sam couldn't help shuddering through the delicious feeling.

He had never been touched like that.

He wouldn't admit to it in front of Dean, not for all the money in the world, but he had never found anyone attractive enough to let go of his aloofness. Then Dean Winchester came around and he brought down every one of Sam's insecurities and plans. Including his wish to keep himself for the right person. The one who would understand him and be happy for the gift of Sam's trust and virginity.

He felt he should say something when the hands began to stroke his ass and the sensation was just too good.

"I can reach there," he lamely objected, not sure at all why he shouldn't enjoy this pleasure freely offered.

"I bet you can. But I can reach better," Dean answered, his lips closer to Sam's ear than expected. "Make sure you're all clean, everywhere. Besides, isn't it so much nicer to let someone else take care of you ?"

Dean's fingers broke into his ass' cleft, gently descending along the virgin line and tying Sam's tongue in the process, all the more when a fingertip found his hole and began to massage it. Another finger soon replaced it, coated with soap and pushing against Sam's quivering sphincter.

"You feel so good," Dean murmured, his lips brushing Sam's neck.

A long moan escaped Sam's throat as the finger slowly entered him. Eyes closed, he was able to imagine Dean's head bent to look down at his ass, watching his own fingers through the clear water penetrating Sam with no resistance at all.

He felt his dick throbbing like mad as Dean's brushed against his ass, hard and hot, pushing to make its place between his cheeks too.

"I've dreamed this moment so many times," Dean continued as his fingers probed deeper, touching something inside of Sam that had him crying out with pleasure. "Imagined how you smelled, how you felt, how you moaned, and I wanted it all."

Between words, Dean's lips tasted his shoulders and then went back to his neck, up to his jaw. Sam began to turn his head, needing to be kissed right now, to taste in his turn and feel himself invaded and owned everywhere.

"Samuel !" his name resounded and jolted him back to the here and now.

Professor Campbell was on the beach, waving his arms to catch his attention and urge him to come back to the shore immediately.

Sam's first reaction was to detach from Dean to hide what they were doing, whimpering when he felt the other man's fingers slide out of him. He missed the sensation already but he just couldn't stay there and make love in front of such an audience. Thankfully, his erection had already abated and he wouldn't make a show of himself by getting out of the water.

Dean caught up with him as they stepped on the beach, heading to their towels and clothes.

"Tonight," he said with a secretive caress of his open palm along Sam's back, "we'll be alone again, we'll pick up from where he interrupted us. I can't wait."

Sam avoided his gaze lest he would forget about the professor and fall back into Dean's arms. He dried himself quickly and sent Dean a small, shy smile as he finished putting his clothes back on and headed back to where Samuel Campbell was still waiting for them.

As he passed next to him, the professor grabbed his arm and kept him back, looking more than serious. Almost angry.

"A word with you, Sam, if you will."

Sam nodded to Dean to tell him it was okay and the other man continued on his way to the Tree.

Professor Campbell waited to be sure Winchester was far enough and unable to hear their conversation before he turned to Sam without letting go of his arm.

"Sam," he began in a low, soothing tone, "I know Dean has been there for you a lot since we've been stranded, and that he helped and taught you many things. He's been around the world a few times and surely, to a positive young man like you who's still finding himself, his qualities make him look like a mature, reliable mentor. Dean's a great hunter, he's seemingly fearless and ready to do anything for you."

"I'm sure those are qualities he inherited from you."

"One would think so, wouldn't they ?"

"Absolutely. You know I've relied a lot on you during my studies. I'm sure it was the same for Dean growing up, and that even through your disagreements, he still looks up to you."

"Yes, well, maybe it would be more apparent if he acted a bit more like his mother, or more like you... But he's just like his father, stubborn and shallow, a military man marching to the sound of his own drill, no imagination or finesse. A complete waste of air."

"You're talking about your grandson, Professor !" Sam said, shocked by the sudden and vehement hostility.

"I'm talking about a man whose moral fiber is nonexistent next to his own interest."

"What are you trying to tell me, Professor ?"

"This : be careful, boy. My grandson is not called the Hunter for nothing."

"What do you mean ?" Sam asked, afraid to know already.

"I mean that it's not only beasts that he loves to stalk and shoot. Or women."

Sam was too shaken to even think of refuting his own possible leaning towards men. He knew about the lord's reputation, but surely, after all they had been through together, Dean had to realize Sam wasn't interested in some vulgar, insignificant affair.

"So you think he's only trying to…"

"I think his dick has seen no action in the past months so he's hunting the only available prey, the only person trusting enough to fall for his tricks. The most readily accessible piece of ass as long as we're stuck here."

Sam couldn't believe he had been so naïve ! He had lost sight of Winchester's true goal thanks to his stupendous ability to give pleasure, but Sam should have known someone like him was just a game for such a man. There was no reason to believe otherwise when even the lord's own grandfather was warning him to stay away.

"Sorry I was so crude but I needed you to realize the seriousness of the situation. You're worth much more than that, Sam," Campbell continued, "don't let him mess with you."

"Yes, Professor, I understand now. Thank you."

Sam's voice was so hesitant that even he heard it. The professor seemed to want to add something but thought better of it. Instead, he patted Sam's shoulder awkwardly and then left him to his thoughts. At least he hadn't seemed disgusted by Sam's more than probable proclivities.

By the time Dean found him again on the balcony circling the Tree house, Sam had worked himself to pure anger at the thought of being just another lay for him. An easy one at that.

So Dean's attempt at taking Sam in his arms was rebuked forcefully, enough that he stumbled a few steps backward. Sam met his surprised expression with a belligerent attitude.

"Your grandfather reminded me how all your conquests are just another notch on your bedpost. I don't care to be added to that grand total."

Dean's reaction was instantaneous, turning his flirty mood into contempt.

"Wait, which grandfather are we talking about here ? The one who abandoned me when I became an orphan ? The one who did his best to decimate my heritage to follow his whims ? The one who told me surely I was somehow responsible for my mother or my baby brother's disappearance when I was not even ten years old ?! If this is the man we're talking about, this paragon of virtue who lost any room to criticize any other human beings thirty years ago at least, then know that as much as I hate him, it's nothing next to the hatred he feels about me for no valid reason I could ever imagine, other than I was the son of John Winchester, the man who dared to marry his precious little girl. So yes, I can clearly see why that man's judgment of me and my actions is relevant to our relationship, Sam."

Sam was far too furious to listen.

"There's no relationship to speak of," he refuted. "You can bash him all you want, Dean, I can't believe a grandfather wouldn't love his only remaining grandson, the child of his own daughter. Surely you must have misunderstood his attitude, or done something to explain it. You are known for chasing women, don't try to pretend he lied on this account. And even if he wasn't the best grandfather, he's your family. You have to forgive him."

Even as he said it, Sam didn't really believe in his own words, born out of the orphan's desperation to be reunited with his own family, and Dean's response didn't surprise him in the slightest.

"Fuck you, Sam ! I don't need your petty moral lessons. I thought you were different. I thought there was something between us ! God, I'm so stupid !"

Dean left without looking back and Sam found himself with no outlet for his remaining anger. Dean hadn't exactly denied his accusations but there was a world of suffering in his words. He had told Sam much more about himself in this moment than any previous conversation. Sam had been able to see a glimpse of the lone, abandoned child who had grown into the smirking lord, and he felt that he was suddenly able to understand a lot about his demeanor.

He had wanted to know, and the knowledge didn't make him feel better at all. Just a case of be careful what you wish for.

Dean was keeping everyone at a distance, family included. Maybe especially his family, who had abandoned him in all the ways possible. His mom and brother leaving him behind, his father dying, and finally his grandfather ignoring him except for stealing his money.

It was difficult for Sam to reconcile the portrait Dean had painted of his grandfather with the professor who had helped and encouraged Sam ever since they had first met.

Feeling at a loss, Sam turned around to get away and found Meg and Jenn watching him. He hadn't even heard them coming in, probably attracted by the dispute. While Meg's stare was mostly curious, Jenn's eyes were crucifying Sam on the spot, definitely wishing for a dinosaur to fly in right then and crunch on Sam alive. Repeatedly.

Disgusted and still incapable of ordering his thoughts, Sam sighed and waved the girls off, marching resolutely to his room in the hope that Dean wouldn't come back any time soon.

He closed the door to let it be known that he wanted to be left alone - too bad a light door made of leaves and a wood framework couldn't be slammed - and then sat at the table with his journal.

July 2nd

One of the qualities that helped me become a good journalist is, if I can say so myself, the ability to tell quickly if someone's lying to me.

It's clear now that this ability will only work as far as I'm not concerned.

The professor wants me to believe that Dean is worse than even I expected of him when we first learned to know each other, selfish lover and disreputable man. Dean tells me that the professor has been the worst grandfather a child could ever suffer from, interested only in the money he could suck up from his inheritance, never caring for his well-being.

Who should I trust ? Who to believe ? The man who's been good to me and surely can't be the monster Dean described ? The one I'm falling for a bit more every day, who has saved my life more than once and never asked for anything in return, save maybe for my love and attention ?

I know who my mind trusts, and it's not the person my heart listens to. Not the one my eyes constantly look for, my hands wish to hold and feel.

Why can't he love me just like I want to do for him ?



Introspection hadn't helped in the slightest and Sam's anger was still simmering right under the surface, ready to explode at any moment. Everyone walked on eggshells around him, everyone but Jenn, who seemed just as angry, and Dean who simply ignored him.

Trying to keep away from the rest of the group as much as possible, he passed the time in many ways, alone most of the time, like going through the forest to enjoy his love of sketching the very rich and varied flora and fauna, or spending an afternoon going through old entries of his journal.

March 27th

…Who knows how to produce soap ? Or ropes ? Not me. I didn't even really know how to cook, to be honest, only the basics, when we arrived on the plateau. Back in our old world, I used to rely on someone else's knowledge to be able to wash myself or eat properly. Our new life has put an end to this attitude and I'm currently getting a new education, mostly thanks to Meg. I'm not sure what we'll find here that the professors wanted so much but I'll go home a changed man.

March 22th

…We're still wondering about the strangely hot weather. Professor Campbell was pretty sure the plateau's elevation culminated somewhere between two and three miles above the level of the sea, which means we should be freezing our bottoms off and bitterly regret the loss of our winter gear back in the valley. Yet the coldest it has been so far was around 86° F but the average temperature seems to climb to a meek and balmy 95, with frequent peaks around 105. Definitely not what my life in Boston had prepared me for, not to mention the last months in London.

March 16th

…Professor Singer says it has to do with the quantity of oxygen left in the air at such a height, that our bodies will adapt soon enough. In the meanwhile, the rifles are our best friends against the surprising and dangerous wildlife that seems to flourish here. Winchester asked that we spare the bullets for the bigger beasts and use the bows and arrows he made to catch our meals. I understand where he comes from, but it doesn't mean I don't want to punch his face every time he kills one of those big, dinosaur-like birds, and I miss my own prey by a mile.

March 2nd

…Every day we're getting closer to our take-off site. Every night, I'm sharing a tent with the Hunter. The man is certainly full of himself but I'm so tired after a day of paddling that I actually don't mind talking with him for the few minutes it takes me to fall asleep. And I'm still wondering about the professor's order to "under no circumstances ever trust Winchester." Arrogant he may be, but our English lord is doing more than his part to get us to our destination, dealing with our guides and making sure they're not slacking off or misguiding us. Especially Edgardo, the chief guide who failed to impress Winchester from the very beginning, maybe because Professor Campbell clearly relies on him. Strangely, I find myself willing to lean on Winchester far more than the native guy, so aloof and guarded.

Everything looked so much easier back then, when he had no clue about his own attraction to Dean, when Dean still played the part of the macho man. Before he had tried to change their easy relationship and to fuck him.

His own feelings were so muddled, his body longing for the pleasure Dean had revealed to him, his heart too bruised to give him permission to forget and forgive. Especially after he had learned that Dean had spent a lot of time with Castiel over the past days.

The last two weeks had been nothing but horrendous, Dean and Sam each camping on their antagonistic attitudes. Today, fed up at last with the heavy atmosphere in the Tree house, everyone else had conspired to get them together and talk. Save for Campbell, of course, the only one who had seemed quite happy with the latest turn of events.

So Professor Singer had taken his colleague along at dawn for a walk, in search of some inscriptions on the wall of a cavern Meg had told him about. Jenn had stayed in bed, saying she didn't feel great, and Meg had thrown Dean and Sam's rifles into their respective hands, telling them it was far past the day when they needed to put in a little bit of work instead of bitching their time away, because everybody was sick of them and it so happened that fresh meat was needed. Maybe killing some innocent animals would help them deal with their anger in a satisfactory and useful way.

The two men felt they deserved to be scolded enough for them to set out in a thick silence towards the clearing where they had shot their best game previously, close to a clear stream.

The first hours were strained, full of resentment from both parts, and they found themselves lucky that they needed to keep quiet to avoid frightening any potential prey.

Their usual playful rivalry took over without either of them realizing it as soon as they spotted their first Poolah of the day, a long and heavy dinosaur that would offer them all a decent meal for days to come. The ugly thing was difficult to kill, its whole body covered with protruding plates that could deflect bullets the same way they did with other predators' big teeth, but they had both managed before and they knew they could do it again.

Dean signaled to Sam to go hide behind a rock a few feet on the left so that they could try to shoot the beast from a different angle and improve the odds in their favor. Sam moved as silently as he had learned and positioned himself, waiting for the next signal that would tell him Dean was ready too and they could fire at the first opportunity.

Sam narrowed his eyes, aimed as finely as he could, and shot right into the beast's heart, one fraction of a second before Dean's bullet cracked its heavy skull. The show-off hadn't resisted the chance to impress Sam once again by shooting the most tightly protected area of the dino's body and Sam didn't know if he was more amazed or annoyed. Still, he had shot first and the kill was his, fair and square.



They forgot their dissension for the sake of the hunting thrill, exchanging a delighted smile before they remembered they were supposed to be angry at each other, but they didn't lose time arguing again about who should do what. They had done those same exact moves too many times already not to act in great synchronicity. They used ropes to tie the beast's legs, Dean pulled apart the branches they needed to carry it on their shoulders while Sam roughly patched the wound to make sure they wouldn't leave a trail of blood that bigger scavengers could follow, and then they set on their way back home.

Maybe because they couldn't look into each other's eyes, a sporadic conversation started timidly, pale comparison to what they had once shared, but at least they were trying.

"This trip does have positive effects too," Sam ventured. "You've taught me how to shoot, how to feed myself. I can definitely go back home and hunt the birds at Franklin Park."

"Lucky you, city boy."

"Have you ever visited Boston ?"

"Nah, too posh for me."

Sam snorted.

"You, the English lord, think Boston is too posh ?"

"Only thing my dreadful grandfather and I ever agreed on : all those titles and fancy houses are pretty useless. You can take the boy out of Kansas, but he will never become an English lord."

"So if you and the professor are in agreement on this at least, perhaps you could find other topics of compromise."

"Don't bother, Sam. It's hopeless. We hate each other's guts and the only way for he and I to be part of the same family is to live on different continents."

"Why did you join the expedition, then, if you can't stand to occupy the same space as him ?"

"Because I don't trust him. And he's always been obsessed with this place. If he needed so badly to find it, there must be something he's looking for. Something beyond fame and peer recognition."

"Something like what ?"

"I don't know exactly, not yet, but I'll find out."

"You think it's something dangerous ?"

"I think he's never believed in his daughter's disappearance and he's still looking for a way to bring her back. Any lead, any solution. And it could backfire in the worst way."

Sam watched him, full of incomprehension.

"I thought your mother was dead ?"

"She is, as far as I know. She left when I was a kid, without any explanation, and we were told later on that she had died, run over by the wheels of a carriage. The horses had gone mad, trying to escape the cargo of flaming hay at their back. My father never recovered after the news finally reached us. He still believed she would regret her decision, even told all our neighbors she was visiting her family in the USA with my little brother and they would be back soon… But then we learned about her. Nobody could tell us what had become of my brother, but we knew she'd never come back."

"Then I don't understand. What is Campbell after in this place that could have anything to do with his deceased daughter ? And how on Earth could he imagine bringing her back ?!"

Winchester seemed to think long and hard about his answer.

"Listen, I don't know if you're ready to hear this, and the easy way would be to tell you that he's just looking for her hiding place. But the truth is, he's looking for her spirit. He's visited pretty much each and every primeval forest of this world, and my best guess is that he believes this is the place where he'll be able to summon her back to our living plane. That's why I need to be here, to prevent him from summoning something potentially bad."

Sam stood gaping, forcing Dean to stop too and trying to decide if the other man was mocking him more than usual or if he was completely honest and just as crazy.

"Then what about Lady Jenn ?" he finally asked, because the woman seemed too normal and sensible for that kind of delusion.

"What about her ?"

"I'm pretty sure you know what, stop playing dumb. I can't believe a lady of her status and wealth chose to go on such an adventure for the sole purpose of enjoying the view."

"Don't worry about her, she's no danger," Dean dismissed his concern with a wave of his hand as he began to walk again, forcing Sam to follow.

"How do you know that ?" Sam insisted, jealousy close to the surface even though he didn't want to feel that way.

"I know it because she's my partner, okay ? We're both financing the expedition. She decided to tag along for fun, and because she doesn't trust Samuel any more than I do."

"So she's what ? Your bodyguard ?" Sam laughed.

"Laugh it up, college boy. But I advise you never to laugh like that in front of her. She's the most badass person you'll ever see. Her sense of humor is just not as developed as her punching skills, though."

There was so much admiration in Dean's voice that Sam's old jealousy reared instantly more of its ugly head and he couldn't control his curiosity any longer.

"Wait, are you two… involved ?"

Dean stopped again and his expression when he turned to face Sam, depositing the beast on the ground, was as guarded as it was at the beginning of their conversation.

"I see you keep preferring to believe my grandfather's lies rather than anything I say. If you must know, Jenny and I were an item once, a long time ago, when she needed someone to take care of her after her husband's death, but then we realized we were better off as friends than lovers. But what about you, Mr. Wesson ? If you ask questions, you should be prepared to answer them too. Why are you here ? Who told an unknown, newbie American journalist about this minor, crazy expedition that started off so far from him in England ? What got you interested enough that you'd come along at the risk of being killed in any number of ways ?"

Sam set the branches and the beast down too then sat on the nearest rock and leaned down, afraid of Dean's reaction. But the truth had to come out at some point and he needed to be honest with the man he wanted so badly as his lover, even though he couldn't trust him blindly.

"Professor Campbell told me," he finally confessed.

Deafening silence followed his statement for a long, outstretched minute.

"You knew him before we prepared for the expedition ? Before you went to England ?"

This was the soft tone Sam had come to associate with Dean at his most dangerous, the silence before the tempest, the recoil strangely coming before the fire shot.

"Yes, he… we met during my studies at BU. He lectured at the School of Liberal Arts and was part of an excellence jury. For some reason, he requested to meet me after he read my dissertation. He said he was impressed. We kept in touch. He would invite me to dinner every time he was in America, and tell me about his research. He could see how fascinated I was, so he knew I would be interested when he finally found Professor Morrison's journal that led him to pinpoint at last the lost plateau's location."

"And you went all the way to England just to hear him expose his findings and theories to a bunch of old geezers who call him crazy because they're definitely set in their ways and he challenges their perception ?"

"No," Sam answered, hesitant again. "I had been there already for a while. The professor had used his relationships to get me my first job, assistant to the correspondent in London for the Boston's Voice."

Sam could just about feel that wall Dean had been building around himself since Sam had told him to back off thickening anew with every revelation about his previous involvement with his grandfather. And it forced him to understand and admit at last, by the complete change in the adventurer's attitude, by the way the hurt he felt was obviously so personal, that Dean's initial interest in him had never been contrived or simulated. Sam had been more than a notch on his bedpost. Or rather he would have been, had Sam let Dean show him the depth of his feelings.

It was too late now. Dean would always associate him with the likes of his grandfather ; at the very least, Dean had realized that Sam was not the great judge of character he thought himself to be, not when he was involved anyway, and he would never offer Sam again the chance to get close.

The silence stretched again, allowing Sam to digest all the news he had gathered and try to make as much sense of it as he could.

"If the professor hates you so much," he asked suddenly, "why did he let you in ?"

Dean smirked.

"Oh, he did try to ditch me. He went to Jenny - stupid fool had known her as a child, the tomboy who followed me in each and every one of my exciting adventures around the countryside, but he didn't recognize the grown-up, widowed Jenn Mills he hadn't seen for many years when she introduced herself as Lady Shore - and told her I was not to be trusted, probably the same speech he gave you. Fortunately for me, Jenny knows me better than he ever will. She's a true friend and she told him that her financial support couldn't be granted unless I was there to ensure the safety of the whole group and be her personal expert, to assure her that he wouldn't try to lead an innocent woman on a merry chase unrelated to our goal."

"Lady Jenn, an innocent woman ?" Sam laughed. "I'm prepared to bet she hasn't matched the description since her early teenage years."

"I taught her how to defend herself and she fights for the people she loves. She might not be as learned and tough as the great and so respected Samuel Campbell but she's one hundred percent a better person than he will ever be, whatever all those professor types think."

"You don't seem to like scholars much."

Considering the relationship he had had with his grandfather, Sam could easily imagine how the lord would be unimpressed by scholars that had shown him so little empathy and love.

"Well, I don't admire journalists much either, they're like parasites who make a living out of others' lives and act all knowledgeable although they know very little of what they're talking about most of the time. Which explains why they get their facts wrong more often than not, and I'm not even mentioning those who deal in sensationalism. But between you and Professor Singer, I thought I might just change my mind a bit. As far as you're both concerned, anyway."

Sam felt an unexpected glow of pride wash over him at Dean's words. Surprise too, for it seemed he had never appreciated that much receiving the proof of the fact he was doing something right. What was it about it that made changing Dean's opinion so important to him ? Especially after their recent misunderstanding.

The conversation died again, for good this time as they picked up their load and put it back on their shoulders to restart their walk through the forest, but Sam was confident by the time they got back to the Tree that their relationship was on the mend.

He had a lot to think about, especially all the crazy stuff Dean had alluded to that Sam had voluntarily not asked about, and this continuing attraction that wouldn't quit despite their quarrel. He needed time to mull it all through and decide where he would let their relationship go, but he felt lighter already, able to think instead of fighting for breath every time Dean ignored him.



Obscurity was almost complete by the time Sam made it back to his bedroom.

He felt feverish tonight, sleep far from his mind. The need for closeness was too strong, fueled with memories of Dean's hands on his body, his fingers filling him.

But Dean right now was seemingly asleep, lightly covered by a thin blanket that looked black in the darkness of the room, his head turned in the opposite direction of Sam's cot. They had played it safe these past weeks since their argument, one of them spending some time out on the balcony circling the house while the other prepared for the night and went to bed, asleep - or pretending to be - before their roommate came back.

For some reason, Sam couldn't take it tonight. He wanted Dean to acknowledge his presence, to watch him undress, to admire him again, even though he wasn't sure if he was really ready to get intimate with the hunter again.

He made a show of taking his shirt off, stumbling against the cot on purpose to produce a lot of noise in the hope of wakening Dean in case the man was really sound asleep. Not daring to look and see if Dean's eyes were now open, he unbuttoned his trousers and let them fall to his feet, soon followed by his underpants. Then he stood there, naked and shivering, feeling both stupid and empowered by his brazen act.

It certainly wasn't the first time that Dean Winchester could see him bared from head to toe, but Sam had never disrobed for someone previously, and it felt good.

He needed to know if Dean's attraction to him had been just a fluke or something more profound that Sam could control, or maybe just reproduce at will. Wanted to experiment with his sex appeal, see what kind of reaction he could get out of Dean.

Still not looking at the other man, Sam pushed his own blanket to lie on the bed on his back. Now accustomed to the dark, the silhouette of his engorged cock stood proud, bigger than ever in the room so calm and silent. Sam felt like the heat had gotten that bit more enveloping, willing Dean's gaze to be the reason for this feeling. He had never touched himself like this, not without the protection of a sheet or his underpants to make sure no one would ever see him play with himself. But there he was tonight, abolishing all boundaries to entice a man he had already pushed away, insecure in his own power but prepared to do anything he could to make sure Dean would want him again.

The smell of sex already so pungent, Sam's body moved on its own to pursue its specific satisfaction. His hands rose, one of them joining his cock to begin a slow, lazy stroke, while the other gathered his balls and massaged them gently but firmly. He was in no hurry, abandoning himself to the exciting feeling of putting on a show for a captive audience, only artist in the world able to perform this actual part for such a very special person.

His thumb grazed the head of his cock and Sam hissed with pleasure, copying the move enough times to gather more pre-seminal liquid and use it to facilitate his caresses. He was getting close, he could tell, each stroke taking him that fraction closer to the brink.

He made sure to leave the view unobstructed when his legs fell apart and his right hand went in search of his hole, eager to appreciate again the sensation Dean had made him discover. It was hard pushing in without the water and soap to ease the way, but he soon came up with the idea to wet his finger with saliva. He missed the feeling of Dean all around him but it felt great anyway, decadent and wondrous.

So good everything else faded away. There was very little left in him in terms of display when he began to pinch his nipples and let out a rushed moan bearing all of his desire and pleasure. He was all given to the sensation. He didn't even realize when his hand went back to his cock, when he stripped himself frantically, two fingers now deep into his ass looking for the maddening bliss Dean was so talented for.

And then he came, fountain-like, incapable of keeping the raspy breath of his overworked lungs in.

Dean had turned over while Sam was pleasuring himself but nothing indicated he had seen any of it. Sam bit back a sound, half-sob, half-moan and turned too, facing his roommate.

He would find another way to get Dean's attention back.



Sam fled the Tree as soon as he woke up, unable to imagine looking Dean in the eyes after the previous night's display, caught between shame and lingering lust. It was a good thing the hunter had already left for parts unknown. So Sam sharpened his pencils, grabbed his sketchbook and some fruits, and then left home for another trip of discovery around the perimeter.



Nowhere near the carnivorous plants but still far enough from the Tree to feel at ease again.

He had been far more alert since his previous misadventure, looking for any kind of trouble before he went into a new area. But the cries he heard suddenly made him forget everything as he rushed towards the human being calling for help, understandable in any foreign language.

He found the young woman caught in a huge web, and Sam did his best to avoid imagining the size of the arachnid capable of weaving such a giant thing that it would have left room for him too. She was in hysterics, probably mistaking Sam for the predator that would eat her alive.

"Hey, don't worry," he whispered in a mix of English and the plateau's language to try to make her stop screaming. "I don't wanna hurt you, I'm here to help."

The girl began to calm down upon hearing his soothing tone, even before his words registered, the part she could understand anyway. Dean's knife came in handy, easily cutting through the sticky threads to free her. She would have to take a bath to get rid of the ones glued to her body, but soon she was able to move and get as far from the web as she wanted.

"Are you okay ?" he asked, never forgetting to look around for the spider's return.

She seemed to understand despite his accent and the probable differences between the Tapuils' dialect and her own. She smiled at him, answering with her own mostly incomprehensible words. She was pretty, the first blonde he had met on the plateau apart from Meg.

"Do you want to come back with me ?" he offered with a gesture of his hands in the direction of the Tree.

The idea to let her go unprotected in the forest didn't sit right with him, but he was also loath to wander further without his friends knowing about it. Maybe they could walk back to the Tree and then Dean and he would accompany her back to her tribe later.

She shook her head and indicated the other direction, and then did it again when Sam tried once more to get her to agree with his plan. She laughed and searched for something in her bag, taking a fruit out of it and offering it to Sam. Probably her way to thank him for saving her life.

"Thanks," he said, "but I'm all set."

She insisted, and Sam had never been one to hurt a girl's feelings so he capitulated quickly. He got one of his own fruits and exchanged it for the orangey one offered by the girl, looking so much like an apple except for the juice dripping as soon as he bit into it. The taste was quite enjoyable, fresh and acidulous, and Sam swallowed the whole thing far quicker than the girl who watched him with a blinding smile.

She pushed more fruits into Sam's hand and left with another smile and a few words. Sam called after her but she had already disappeared in the thick vegetation. He shrugged and decided to go back home.

He found Professor Campbell reading one of Meg's books as he was closing in on the Tree. It was the opportunity he had wished for, with the certitude Dean wouldn't look for him here.

"Professor, can I ask you a question ?" he asked as he approached.

"Of course, boy, go ahead."

Sam searched for his words, not willing to let his chance to learn more pass. It felt like an interview somehow, his usual way to get more information than the person in front of him would like to share.

"I find myself contemplating many new horizons since we arrived here. This place has forced me to consider new phenomena and truths that I'm sure you've encountered long before me, and I feel I'm in need of your opinion and guidance. Would you help me ?"

"That's part of my job, Sam. Teaching willing students the wonders and mysteries of our world. What were you thinking about exactly ?"

Sam sent the older man a relieved smile.

"Well, I keep feeling like I'm not alone, especially at times when I am indeed alone in the rainforest. Did you ever get this feeling ? Like someone was there, watching you"

"Absolutely, Samuel. I'm not surprised to see that your instinct didn't fail you here anymore than in our usual world. There are indeed many weird phenomena in this world, some that science is about to decipher, but others that will surely remain out of the realm of our scientific understanding. It will fall upon men like us to study them and make sure spiritual manifestations and monsters can't hurt anyone."

"So what are you saying ? That ghosts exist ? And what kind of monsters are you talking about ? Dinosaurs ? Is that why you wanted to come here ?"

"Yes and no. Ghosts do exist, and I knew it a long time before I learned about dinosaurs. But monsters are very real too, and lots of them are much, much worse than dinosaurs."

Sam watched the professor for a while, transfixed by his pinning gaze.

"Is professor Singer also knowledgeable in this area of expertise ?"

"Of course ! He wouldn't be much of a rival otherwise. Though the old fool is a lot more of a bleeding heart than me."

"What do you mean ?"

"That I will never dillydally if I need to exorcize someone, even if I know the host won't make it. Or to salt and burn bones to send a ghost where it belongs."

It was official now. Either he had landed with a bunch of lunatics, or there was something here to research and understand. He wouldn't let his assumptions get in the way once again.

So he went to find Professor Singer, found him busy collecting plant samples and immediately questioned him, which proved easy with the opening the older man had given him a few weeks before.

"When I was injured, I vaguely remember you talking about some Carpobrotus species, called witch's claws or some such, and that you had done research about it. I didn't give it much attention back then but something Dean told me recently leads me to believe this was not idle interest that motivated you. I guess you wanted to determine how real the witch of the name really is, right ?"

The professor turned to Sam in amusement.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to catch up with us, and who would be the one to give you the first clue, Campbell or Winchester."

"So you do believe too in ghosts and monsters."

Singer scoffed and really looked like a professor in this moment.

"It's not a question of believing, Samuel. It's about witnessing, questioning, learning. It's not really different than what you do for a job, I guess. You just have to ask the right questions and keep an open mind. Science is beautiful and helpful, but it's often limited by the blinders too many scientists choose to wear. I have no doubts physics and biology could explain ghosts and monsters if someone looked into them hard enough. Men in the Middle Ages feared lightning. Try to explain electricity or meteorology to them, they would certainly take you for a fool. I'm pretty sure someday we'll be the Middle Ages men of those who will have succeeded in explicating and treating what we still classify as 'unexplained phenomena'."

"Which means you've encountered witches ? I thought you said the name was a fluke."

"Not exactly," Singer answered in his best professorial tone, "but in light of your state of health back then, I'll let it pass. I said I haven't found any proof so far that the plant was indeed used by such creatures, but I have no doubt I will someday if I really look into it. I did encounter witches in my research, some good, some bad, but neither kind was ever in a hurry to disclose their rituals and practices. Knowledge takes time, Samuel, and it means power. It is the most valuable possession you can ever wish for. And in my area of expertise maybe more than any other one, it can make the difference between life and death."



They had kind of made up, but Dean had yet to join Sam again, as he used to every morning, to wash with him in the clear waters. In the first days after their quarrel, Sam had felt relieved to be left alone, wrapped in his righteous anger about the plans he thought Dean had made for him without ever wondering if Sam would agree. Now, he simply felt lonely.

He also felt very stupid the day some Amazon-like warriors found him in the lake, alone and unarmed, and dragged him easily along with them, tied, dripping wet, and naked as the day he was born.

He wondered if Dean would ever be able to find him without a clue as to his disappearance. There would probably be hours before someone even realized he was gone, and then what ?

The worst, though, was to think that maybe Dean didn't care that much now that Sam had pushed him away.

They walked long and hard, Sam's feet protected only by the crude fabric his abductors had covered them with, which was no real protection against rocks and thorns. Maybe it was an assurance for the girls that Sam would be more focused on where he walked than finding a way to escape.

Their own feet looked strong and hardened, encased in Roman-looking sandals he suddenly remembered seeing on the young girl he had helped escape the spider's web very recently. The rest of their clothes look very similar too, short and sexy tunic close to what Meg used to wear.

Sam couldn't help but wonder if those scary women had one breast cut off just like the legendary Amazons he had compared them to at first sight. They looked fearless, and even the one he had saved looked different now when he finally spotted her, not so much a frightened teenager but a composed woman ready to fight and win.

If this was all done to thank him, they sure had a weird sense of gratitude. But it was beginning to feel more and more like a trap had been set for him during their previous encounter and it was now closing on him. Something he didn't understand but had the potential to become lethal. Quickly.

Worst of all, he imagined all kinds of scenarios about his own fate at their hands, fueled by the legends around the Amazons. Was he going to be killed ? Because he was a male ? A stranger ? Or maybe they were looking for a procreator, as it seemed the tribe was all women ? It didn't look like a much better future, used by many women as a simple breeder, and they might still kill him afterwards, once he had fulfilled his role.

He couldn't do anything right now, just trail along feeling half-ashamed and half-silly with the leash attached to the collar around his neck as he stumbled again and again on the uneven ground, bare-assed and cock flopping around ridiculously.

Going through the forest naked was becoming kind of a tradition for him on the plateau. His mother had called him stuffy and too shy quite often, particularly before he went to college, and she would have laughed a lot at his recurring predicament. The reminder of his mother's laugh warmed him for a while and helped him get a measure of calm back. No reason to worry too much before the danger was facing him ; he could hear Dean telling him to be prepared but to stop sapping his own energy with unreasonable fears.

Sam estimated at three good hours the time it took them to rejoin the Amazons' village - he had decided to call them that as long as he didn't know their real name and once again, Dean's bad influence on him would have Professor Campbell seething if he could hear him, completely oblivious to the good part of it that had taught Sam to embed marks on the way to make sure his friends could follow him, upturned rocks and torn off leaves.

This village looked a lot wealthier than the Tapuils' had been. More ancient too. The constructions were all white rocks gleaming under the sun, burnished and eroded with time. The women slowly making their way out of the houses were the descendants of many generations and Sam wasn't the first one to be dragged there if the lack of surprise was anything to go by. His nakedness didn't bring about any catcall or whistling, not even through the very young male children - no male beyond six or seven, he could tell, confirming the tribe's association he had made with the Amazons.

The silence weighed on him as much as the heavy stares as the warriors leading him strolled through the streets until they came up to a lengthy plaza. Empty at first, the followers they had garnered along the way soon filled it, most of them coming close to Sam each in turn to touch him. The first hand had him jumping away but he got soon used to the feeling of a light and warm hand brushing against any part of his heated skin. And even though some of those hands came in contact with very intimate parts of his body, Sam could tell this wasn't sexual in nature. There was too much reverence in the act. They touched him like one would come in contact with a religious, most sacrosanct relic. With some kind of worship. The hope to catch onto something of the sacred and bring it forth inside oneself.

And still the silence. The silence that made everything else so heavy in comparison, so much more significant.

The crowd opened to let a beautiful woman come up to Sam. She was blonde like the girl he had first met, like many others in the tribe, her long hair falling straight down her back. Thin and tall, she had this air about her, this gravitas and superiority showing her as a high figure among her people.

She raised her hand and placed it against his sternum. Sam felt an immediate answer in himself, a heat closer to a burn than simple warmth, and he tried in vain to get away. A ball of fire seemed to grip his inside, to melt it all into radiating energy, trying to expand and leave his self behind, but then something settled in him again, his life power fighting back, everything he was gathering to match the intrusion and expel it far.

The woman watched him with a pleased smile and her words of approval were met with a huge cry of joy from everyone else, reverberating in the whole village. Whatever it meant for him, he had obviously passed the test.

Next thing he knew, his leash was stretched again and he was forced to follow behind the blonde leader who had to be some sort of shaman to her tribe, only a lot less nice than Castiel. They seemed to walk right out of the village, but then veered off to the left and entered another plaza, this one surrounded by stairs that doubled as chairs for the audience and were soon filled by the villagers, grown-up women and children mixed.

He could feel the excitement in the air, which made it clear that he was about to become the main attraction of a much desired show, but still he had no clue about the end game. They hadn't really mistreated him so far but he didn't feel much love from them either. He doubted they saw him as an equal, either because he was a man or because he was a foreigner. Maybe both.

The shaman - 'or should it be shawoman ?' he heard Dean's delighted voice say in his head - ordered his guards to take him to something looking too much like an altar for his peace of mind. But even though he tried to fight, he found himself overpowered once again and quickly lying back on the platform, his hands bound this time to the base of the dais and the rest of his body trussed up in a manner so revealing of his most intimate anatomy that he finally got a much better inkling about his role in this original play.

There was a ceremony, the shaman using branches made of soft, needle-like leaves to paint his body with a glossy oil as she went on and on about her job.

There were chants, reminding him of long and droning psalmodies, extended and soothing enough that he felt himself lulled into a wrong sense of calmness, almost to the brink of sleep, despite the cramps taking his limbs.

"Tebassa !" the shaman suddenly called, instantly bringing the crowd back to silence.

Startled, Sam raised his head to see what the squeaking sound of a door opening implied for him. And his heart stopped beating.

A dinosaur. Something between a gorilla and a canidae, mixing the arms of one species and the jaw of the other, but lacking the hair that would have hidden its powerful musculature to make it look less dangerous, or simply made it a tad fluffy. A beast so hideous and big it was difficult to decide if it would fuck him or kill him. Probably both, judging by the sheer size of the penis popping out of its sheath, eagerly bobbing towards Sam. There was no way a human body could take that then live to tell the tale and seek medical help. Even if Dean and the professor found him again, no amount of Carpobrotus would cut it this time. Not after Sam had been impaled and cut in two, and possibly half-eaten.

His legs tried to close on their own, his mind to black out. But nothing would work save for his eyes taking in the beast watching him back, hunger and delight readable in its whole demeanor while approaching Sam on its hind legs, its two upper limbs occupied in the age-old motions of a male preparing its penis for a good time.



| Masterpost | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Author's notes | AO3 | Art Post |