Fic: The Way Things Were 5/?
Title: The Way Things Were 5/?
Rating: R
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Disclaimer: I don't own them and I'm not making any money off this. Don't sue.
Summary: The war is over, and the Demons have won. Sammy's in hiding, and Dean's determined to find him, and bring him back where he belongs. On their side.
April 2009
Dean didn’t know how he managed to hide his deal from Sam for an entire year. He knew Sam definitely wouldn’t approve of what he’d done, the choices he’d made, but Dean knew he wouldn’t have done anything differently. He would still have made that deal, still have agreed to do whatever the demon had offered, if only she’d bring back his brother.
She’d offered him one year, and then a lifetime of service. He’d still be allowed topside after that, still be allowed to interact with his brother - only it wouldn’t really be him.
And when the war came - Dean would fight on their side.
As long as Sam’s alive, Dean promised himself, waiting at the crossroads where he’d made his deal.
“You really shouldn’t have done this, Dean,” a voice said behind him, familiar and male - not the demon he made the deal with. Dean whirled, gun out and pointed.
“Gonna shoot me, Dean?” John Winchester asked, raising an eyebrow. “Not sure if it’ll do any good.”
***
It was getting late, the sun moving lower and lower. Dean pulled over into the next motel he saw, and claimed two rooms as far away from the reception as he could get. Michael, Asher and Rosie would stay in one, he and Sam in the other. His excuse, when Sam called him on it, was so that they could talk about what was happening and what needed to happen, without the kids getting nervous.
There was also the matter of the tattoo.
Sam had frozen, stunned. He hadn’t forgotten - it was impossible for him to forget those hands on him, touching him, checking for a tattoo that he still had no clue what it looked like.
They were inside their room, Michael, Asher and Rosie safely inside theirs, salt lines down, when Sam brought it up again.
“Hey, uh, what’s with the tattoos? You didn’t really have time to explain it before.”
Dean paused in the middle of cleaning the guns and looked at him. Then he sighed. “The Toushin has two main marks. One, a tattoo, is on everyone’s right shoulder - it’s the Toushin’s sign.”
Sam felt anger growing in him. “So why weren’t they checking my shoulder?” he demanded. Anger and confusion warred in him. Was Dean lying to him? Why? Why would he do that? Abruptly, his last thoughts, his memories after the demons had checked him came back to him in a flurry.
“Because, Sammy, the Toushin has a second mark, one he only gives to a small number of people, who fit a specific description. Tall, male, with brown hair, thin lanky build, who look over a certain age. It’s the first thing he gifts them with when he gets them, even before the shoulder tattoo, to protect them,” Dean shot Sam a look. “And in case you missed it, Sasquatch, you fit that description.”
Sam paused. “Why?” he asked finally. “What’s the difference between us and them?”
Dean knew he was referring to the men, who looked like him, who had the lower mark.
“Because if you touched them, and he found out, he’d kill you. Those with the lower mark are his and his alone.”
Sam sat down on the bed behind him, momentarily stunned. Whatever answer he’d been expecting (and he still wasn’t entirely certain on what answer he’d wanted to get), that wasn’t it.
“Sam, we need to do those tattoos,” Dean said. “There is no way around that. None of us will be safe until you have them.”
“What’s the lower one?” Sam asked.
***
Dean hid a smirk. Sam was obviously stalling. The possessiveness of the Toushin had startled him more than Sam would care to admit, which was exactly Dean’s plan.
“Teeth imprints,” Dean said simply, listening to Sam’s intake of breath. God, this was going to be fun. “Spell-enhanced, since they’d fade otherwise. On your butt-cheek.” The glee in his voice was only slightly overshadowed by the ‘protect Sammy’ tone of voice he adopted. It was, after all, what Sam expected.
“Please tell me you’re kidding,” Sam said flatly, not looking surprised when Dean shook his head.
“Sorry, kiddo,” Dean offered. “I know the spell the Toushin uses to create the imprint,” Dean revealed after a moment of silence between them. “We should just get it over and done with. The mark, and the tattoo.”
“What’s the tattoo look like?”
Dean could hear the curiosity in his voice. Rather than tell him the design of the tattoo, Dean stood up, shrugging out of his jacket and pulling his shirt over his head. He turned around, feeling Sam’s eyes follow the lines of the tattoo on his shoulder. The car, the eagle and the gun. He heard Sam get up from the bed, and then soft fingers were tracing over the tattoo. Dean shivered, lust surging into him at the slight touch.
“What do they represent?” Sam asked.
Dean shrugged, turning back to face Sam. “I’m not sure. Things that are important to him, we assume. We need to do this now, Sammy,” Dean reminded him.
Sam nodded slowly, still stalling, Dean realised. He was unsure, not wanting to make the first move. Dean smirked inwardly. This, he could work with.
“It’ll be easier if you’re naked,” Dean said, in what he hoped was a reasonable voice. “Strip and lay on the bed, on your stomach. I’ll grab the herbs from the car.”
“The herbs?”
“For the spell,” Dean said. He left Sam still standing in the middle of the room, closing the door softly behind him. He quickly went to the car, grabbing the supplies he would need, and headed back to the room. At the door though, he stopped, an idea coming to him. Sam probably wouldn’t have followed his orders immediately.
He moved over to one of the windows, hoping the curtains would be open. Only a crack, but enough for him to see through.
It was good enough for him.
Inside, Sam had stripped off his jacket, and one of his shirts. Dean watched with barely disguised glee as he pulled his other shirt over his head, folding it up and placing it on a chair nearby. His other clothes were there, folded up. Dean smirked. Sam really was stalling.
Shoes were next, followed by socks. Dean laughed as Sam placed them on the ground beside the chair, going so far as to roll up the socks, as if they were clean, and not dirty. He held his breath as the pants came down, the fabric caressing those long limbs just as Dean wanted his hands to do. No matter. It would happen sooner or later. Sooner, if he had any say in it.
Sam stood there, naked save for his underwear; dark-coloured briefs. Dean watched intently as Sam slid the last bit of covering off his body, wishing Sam would turn around so he could see his brother’s cock. It didn’t work, but Dean didn’t mind. Sam’s ass was gorgeous, firm and lush, and Dean couldn’t wait to get his hands on it again. The small touch he’d had in the clearing had only increased his hunger to have his brother.
Deciding he’d had enough - he wanted to touch, and he wanted to touch now, Dean quickly moved back to the door, and knocked on it
“Sam?” he called through. “Are you ready?” he snickered to himself, briefly considering asking if Sam was decent, but decided against it. He didn’t know if he would have been able to keep a straight face while asking that.
There was a scrambling sound from inside, obviously Sam getting on the bed, then a muffled voice called back, “I’m ready.”
Dean opened the door, and froze, taking in the sight of Sam, laying face down on the bed, like Dean had told him to, waiting for Dean to come and mark him.
He took a deep breath to calm himself down, because he didn’t want to spook Sam too quickly, and moved to the bed, kneeling next to Sam.
“Dean?”
“Shush, Sammy,” Dean murmured. Dean’s words seemed to calm him somewhat and Dean smiled. He still had it, could still make Sam feel safe, no matter what else was going on around them.
It was this skill he was counting on to get them through the marking.
“You trust me, right?” he whispered, laying down next to Sam.
Sam nodded. “Yeah, of course, man. You’re my brother.”
“This can only be done one way - It’s used to bind the markee to the marker, normally the Toushin. I’m going to have to bind you to me. It won’t make you do anything you don’t want to,” Dean was quick to reassure him, though Sam’s breathing didn’t change at all, “it just means I know where you are, if you’re hurt.”
“I trust you,” Sam muffled into the pillow, only half convincingly, “Just do it.”
Dean pressed a kiss to the base of Sam’s spine, feeling Sam go tense beneath him. He trailed his fingers over Sam’s bottom, stroking between the cleft. “Relax, Sammy,” he whispered, “don’t tense - it’ll hurt less that way.”
***
Sam gasped softly as those fingers, Dean’s fingers, touched him in places only Jess had touched him. He squirmed slightly, only to be shocked into staying in place when Dean slapped him lightly on his ass.
“Stay still, Sammy.”
Sam froze, trying to stay as still as possible.
If Sam didn’t know better, he’d swear Dean was preparing to fuck him, except, he couldn’t be, right? It was Dean. Dean wouldn’t do anything like that, Dean didn’t like him like that.
He gasped as the finger dipped lower, touching his entrance, and tried to pull away. Dean kept a hand firmly on his hip though, and Sam couldn’t move.
“D-dean? What are you doing?” Sam was proud that, except for the first word, his voice didn’t shake.
The finger disappeared as Dean whispered, “shush Sammy. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”
Sam let out a small sigh of relief, relaxing into the bed, only to tense again when Dean touched him again. Only, this time, it was two fingers, and they were slick.
Sam bolted upright, pushing Dean off. He sat facing Dean, not caring about his nakedness.
“What are you doing?” he asked, hating the tremor in his voice.
Dean almost snarled. “I’m preparing you for the mark! What do you think I’m doing?”
“It’s a bite, Dean,” Sam shot back, “you don’t need to do… that, to leave a bite mark!” Sam blushed at his own words. God, he couldn’t even say it.
“And how do you think it lasts? It’s a huge hickey, Sam! They fade!”
“But-” Sam started to say, but Dean cut him off.
“No, Sam. You are going to lie back down, and not say another word. I’m going to give you the mark, then tomorrow we’re going to get you the tattoo,” Dean said. Dean placed a finger over Sam’s lips when the younger man opened his mouth to argue, and continued, “You’re my little brother, Sam, and I’m going to protect you. And at this moment, protecting you means getting that mark on you. And I’m going to do it, even if I have to tie you down to the bed to do it. Do you understand me?”
Sam gulped, but realised he was fighting a losing battle. When Dean told him to lie down, he did so without compliant.
Sam shivered as the fingers returned, tracing around his entrance. “What are you going to do?” he asked Dean, though his words were muffled by the pillow.
“You have to come when I bite you, Sammy,” Dean said simply, like he was commenting on the weather, or stating a fact. The sky is blue, you have to come when I bite you.
Sam stifled a gasp as one finger slid inside him. God, Dean was inside him. Dean, his brother Dean, was inside him.
And it felt good, better than it should have. He could feel it, feel Dean’s finger inside him, rubbing against his walls, and against all odds it was making him hard.
“God Sammy, you’re so tight. Can’t imagine how you’d feel-” Dean cut himself off with a moan, pulling back, and quickly adding another finger, pushing them deeper, scissoring them. Sam moaned into the pillow, caught in that confusing state between pleasure and pain.
And then Dean hit something and all Sam felt was pleasure. Sam gasped.
“Oh God,” he moaned. “Again!”
“That’s your prostate, Sammy,” Dean said calmly, nudging the little bump inside him again and again. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Having something just brush against it, like my fingers are,” Sam moaned again, cock fully hard now, torn between rubbing his dick as far into the bed as he could, and pushing back onto Dean’s fingers, trying to get that spot hit.
“You’re going to come for me Sammy, aren’t you?” Dean’s breath brushed over Sam’s ear, and Sam trembled. Dean’s fingers were still inside him, and it felt like he’d added another one, stretching him, and he felt like he was about to burst. Dean kissed his way down Sam’s back, licking at Sam’s hole around his fingers, briefly darting his tongue inside, before moving left slightly, choosing a spot and sucking. Sam wailed.
“Come for me, Sammy. Come now.”
Sam came so hard his vision whited out, the moan turning into a scream, half pleasure, half pain, as Dean bit down, marking him.
The pain overrode the pleasure, and Sam passed out.
***
It took Sam a few moments to work out what was off when he woke. He was in a bed that was as unfamiliar as felt like home, something he was used to. It was a motel bed, decent but not spectacular, and Dean sat at the table, cleaning weapons, the morning light dancing shadows across his face.
“Hey, you’re awake. How are you feeling?” Dean asked, not looking up.
Sam paused, going over his memory, trying to work out what they must have been fighting for Dean to think he was injured - he didn’t feel injured.
Then his memory came back - the war, waking in the hospital, living with Zach and Asher and Michael. Then Dean and Rosie coming to get him.
And the mark. Sam blushed.
“I dressed you, in case you were wondering.” Dean said, seemingly not noticing Sam’s distraction. “Dude, next time you’re gonna pass out like a girl, can you do it in clothes? Your ass is heavy.”
Sam blushed again. After what had happened between them, Dean seeing him naked shouldn't have been a big deal, but it was.
A knock at the door pulled Sam out of his thoughts. Asher, Michael and Rosie stood outside. Rosie was grinning.
"What are we doing today?" she asked, "Are we going home?"
Dean nodded. "We should be there by the end of the day. We just have to get Sammy his tattoo first."
***
Driving in the car later that morning, the kids chatting happily in the back seat and Sam quiet and reflective beside him, Dean smiled. Everything was finally going the way he wanted. That old saying was true. If you want something done right, do it yourself.
He glanced over at his brother, just watching him, and remembering last night. He wondered if Sam was remembering it too - how he’d been so pliant in his arms, begging for more. It had been hard to not just say ‘screw it’, forget the mark and just take Sammy, sink into that body he’d been dreaming about for the past two years.
But that would have ruined his plan. He needed Sam bound to him. Besides, it’s not like he wouldn’t be fucking Sam soon, probably before the end of the week.
He hadn’t lied to Sam about how much of a chore it had been to dress him after he’d passed out, though he had omitted details. Like the reason it had taken so much time was because he couldn’t stop touching his little brother, couldn’t stop marking him. Sam’s back was covered in hickeys, and there were a few on his chest as well. Either Sam hadn’t noticed them, or he didn’t want to talk about them, and Dean was fine with either possibility.
They stopped for toilet breaks a few times, and for lunch around 1pm, but Dean was anxious to get back on the road, to get to the safety of his and Rosie’s home.
Plus, he couldn’t wait to see the look on Sam’s face when they pulled up.
Sam was asleep when they arrived, just as the sun was setting, and Dean couldn’t have planned it better if he’d tried.
Dean waited in the car, the engine rumbling softly, while the house’s staff took the kids inside. Then, when they’d all lined up outside again, he woke his brother.
“Sam? We’re here.”
Dean watched with glee as Sam yawned, rubbed his eyes, then looked around. He saw the building in front of him, in its white majestic splendour, and rubbed his eyes again, in disbelief.
“Dean. Why are we at the White House?”
“I’ll explain inside Sammy,” Dean said, getting out. Sam followed him, looking around in wonder. When Sam was younger, whenever they’d passed near Washington for a job, he’d always begged Dad to take him to the White House. Dad never had, but Dean had never forgotten.
Dean led them up the path to the front door, where they were greeted by the staff.
“Welcome back, Lord Toushin,” they said as one, turning to Sam as they straightened from their bow. “Welcome home, Brother,” they added, bowing to Sam now.
Dean turned to face Sam, a look of amused challenge on his face, as he waited to see what his brother would do.
***
Sam stood frozen on the doorstep. He couldn’t believe it. These staff, these demons, because he’d seen their eyes when they raised from their bow to Dean, had called Dean ‘the Toushin’. They were at the White House, and Dean was looking at him, amusement on every line of his face.
Dean had been playing him from the beginning.
Sam turned and ran.
“Stop him!” he heard Dean shout behind him, but all the demons were behind him, there was no one in front, just the gates, which were still open, and he’d be free, he’d go into hiding again, fake amnesia again so no one suspected who he was.
It was then that he ran into a warm, male body that felt so familiar. Startled, he looked up, expecting to see Dean’s amused face, wondering how Dean had gotten in front of him.
Instead, he saw a worn face he hadn’t seen in what seemed like ages. He gasped in shock as arms closed around him, holding him in.
“Dad?”
TBC