The Price to Pay
Title: The Price to Pay
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Wincest, graphic sex and language
Disclaimer: Sadly, I still don’t own them
Summary: While hunting what they think is a spirit, things start to go wrong. After Dean is injured, things come to a head as Sam reveals his feelings and Dean makes a desperate choice to save his brother’s life.
Author’s note: This story is offered for and dedicated to DeansBabyBird. It’s her birthday and she was the one who encouraged me to post my first story here. I had intended a quick one shot with all the things she likes-a little hurt/vulnerable Dean, a little tenderness and oh, yeah, other yumminess. The story grew into something more. I hope it doesn’t disappoint.
Chapter One
“This is so not a good idea.” Dean said, looking up at the house. Dark, broken windows stared down at them. He thought he saw something move past one of them, drifting like a hazy glowing fog. Dean glanced over at his brother, Sam was keyed up, nearly bouncing on his toes as they approached the porch.
“When are you Mr. Cautious?” Sam asked as they walked up the steps.
“When are you Mr. Gung Ho?” Dean shot back. Sam’s new found obsession with hunting was beginning to get on his nerves. His brother glared at him and bent down to pick the lock. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“You and Han Solo,” Sam said as the lock gave way. He opened the door.
“Dude, did you just make a ‘Star Wars’ reference?” Dean followed his brother in. You’re supposed to let me go first, Sammy. That’s the rules.
“No.” Sam looked at him. “Which way?”
It had once been a grand house. The entryway was huge, Dean had stayed in motels that were smaller then the room they were in. The whole motel. A staircase was to the left of the door, turning twice before reaching the second story. The entry had a large room to either side, Dean guessed the whole sweep at the front of the house was more than seventy-five feet. There was a small door to the right of the staircase, Dean was sure it went into the basement.
“Let’s head upstairs, I thought I saw something moving.” Dean walked towards the staircase, ignoring Sam’s sigh. “We go together or not at all, Sammy.”
“Whatever,” Sam said, taking the stairs two at a time and passing Dean on the way up.
“Sam,” Dean growled. “Wait. It’s stupid to split up. We’re not even sure what we’re hunting.” He grabbed Sam’s arm. “Wait.” Dean pointed at the hole in the floor Sam had nearly stepped in. “Maybe watching where you put your big feet is a good idea.”
“Fine.” Sam stepped around the hole and walked down the hallway.
“Fine,” Dean said to his back. Sam was beginning to worry him-more than a little. The last few hunts had been pursued with a single mindedness that Dean was used to seeing only when research was in progress. Lately, though, his brother had focused on the hunts themselves. And for some reason Dean couldn’t shake the feeling that Sam hadn’t been as thorough as he usually was before the hunt on this one. That’s Sammy, when I get him figured out, he decides to change the rules on me. He’s been doing it for years. Dean followed his brother all senses alert, listening for every sound in the huge house.
SNSNSNSN
Sam was aware of his brother behind him. He also knew that Dean was itching to step into the lead, willing to take the danger head on. That was the problem. Dean jumped into things, ran head on into things, and it was starting to worry Sam. He’d very nearly lost Dean three hunts and a little more than a month before. Every time Sam thought about it, his hands would start shaking. He’d thought it would change after Dean let down in those few moments while they sat on the hood of the Impala, but in some ways things got worse. Dean had shut down. Not that anyone but Sam would notice, but Dean had withdrawn from Sam even further than he had right after their father’s death.
And Sam missed his brother. Oh, Dean was there, even talked to him about more than trivia occasionally, but he had pulled away from all physical contact. Sam had noticed it first after their father died, then gradually, head slap by shoulder nudge it had begun creeping back, and then-then it was withdrawn again. He never realized how much those moments of contact meant until they were gone.
A rough hand grabbed his arm, yanking his attention back to the house.
“What the hell, Sam? You need to focus.” Dean gave him a little shake and pointed to the huge hold in the floor Sam had negotiated without even seeing it. “What’s wrong with you? First you can’t wait to get in here and now you can’t focus? Dude, seriously.”
“Sorry, I was thinking about the last death in the house,” Sam lied. A couple of frat boys from the local college had been in the house on a dare. One had made it out alive, the other in a body bag. Well, parts of him at least.
“Let’s not add you to the list, okay, Tiger?” Dean slapped his face gently and turned to lead the way down the hall.
“Out, out, out,” A voice screamed from a room a little further down the hall. “Mine, mine, mine.”
“Oh, this is fun,” Dean said with a backwards glance at Sam. He raised his shotgun as something drifted into the corridor. “Isn’t she lovely?” He took off down the hall before Sam could react.
“Dean!” Sam shouted, following his brother. Dean shot at the misty woman hanging in the hall, she dissipated and then coalesced again. “I don’t think that’s working,” Sam said, coming up beside Dean.
“Yeah, you think? Where’d she go?” Dean looked at him. The woman had disappeared.
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll go this way, you stay here in case she comes back.”
“You stay here, I’ll go,” Sam snapped.
“Nope, no chance, Sam.” Dean turned to go, Sam grabbed his arm. “What?” Dean said, yanking his arm away.
Sam took a deep breath, ready to demand that Dean let him take the lead, ready to shout his brother out of the house if needed, but he changed his mind mid-breath. “Together.”
Dean looked at him for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right.” He turned to step down the hall.
And disappeared.
“Mine, mine, mine,” the voice was below Sam. He looked frantically around, a hole had opened in the floor where Dean had been standing. Sam looked down.
“Dean!”
“Mine, mine, mine,” she said. Sam felt the floor beneath him ripple. He turned and ran down the hall and down the stairs to where Dean was lying, unmoving, on the floor.
“Dean!” Sam was nearly to his brother when the floor gave way again. Dean disappeared. “NO!” Sam skidded to a halt and looked through the hole in the floor. He couldn’t see his brother, there was a soft glow of candles, but Dean was hidden in a shadow. Looking up, Sam saw the door to the basement.
“SAM!” Dean’s voice, in pain.
“Hang on!” Sam shouted, trying to open the door. It didn’t give. They found the body in the basement. Something about the basement. We should have headed there first. Another cry from Dean and Sam raised his foot and kicked the door in, the wood shattered beneath the blow. “Dean!”
“Sam!”
Sam ran down the stairs, stopping at the bottom long enough to get his bearings. The candles were on what looked like an altar across the room from him. She was there, floating before the altar, as Sam watched, she drifted away and returned, dragging his brother with her. She picked something up and stabbed downwards with it.
“You bitch,” Dean growled.
“Dean?” Sam called, carefully edge along the wall.
“She seems to think…ah…I’m a…damn that hurts…fucking voodoo doll.”
“Right. Hang on.”
“You might want to hurry, Sam,” Dean said calmly, so calmly Sam nearly panicked. He eased along the wall, staying in the shadows, hoping she couldn’t see him.
“Stop,” she said. “Mine, mine, mine.” Sam saw her stab down again, Dean shouted in pain.
“No,” Sam stepped out of the shadows, aiming his shotgun at the altar. “Mine.”
Sam fired, the candles shattered. He fired again, part of the altar disappeared in a spray of rock salt. “Stay down,” he shouted to Dean, catching his brother’s movement out of the corner of his eye. Sam reached the altar and grabbed it, flipping it over, spilling the contents of several foul smelling containers on the floor. She screamed, Sam fired one more shot, through the piece attached to the wall behind where the altar had stood. It was a collection of bones, tied together to form a shield. It shattered. She clawed at the air around her, then with a final scream disappeared. “Told you adding holy water to the salt was a good idea,” Sam said, as he turned on his flashlight.
“Yeah,” Dean groaned. Sam zeroed in on the sound and headed to where his brother was, quite literally, pinned to the floor.
“Hold still,” Sam said quietly. He dropped to his knees beside his brother and started pulling out the pins. Dean sighed as each came out. Finally, Sam turned to the last one, a large pin-he thought it looked like the hat pins he’d seen in antique stores. It was buried in Dean’s shoulder. “This might sting.”
“Shit!” Dean ground his teeth together as the pin came out. “That one stung.”
“I told you.” Sam pulled Dean to his feet and dragged Dean’s arm over his shoulders.
“Thanks,” Dean grumbled. “The bitch put a pin in my leg.”
“Yeah, I know. Your clothes stink,” Sam said as he helped Dean up the stairs.
“You’re the one who spilled that shit on me.”
“Sorry.” They reached the top of the stairs and Dean’s knees gave way. “Dean?”
“Might have been something on the pins,” Dean mumbled, his head dropping forward. He collapsed against Sam. “S’mm?”
“Hang on.” Sam carried Dean out of the house and dropped him into the passenger seat of the Impala. “Dean?” He shook him. No response. “Dean!” He slapped his brother’s face. When Dean didn’t respond, Sam ran to the trunk and pulled out a bottle of holy water, racing back to Dean he poured a little onto Dean’s shoulder. It fizzed and Dean groaned a little. Sam poured nearly all of it onto Dean, saving a little to tip into his brother’s mouth. Dean muttered. Sam patted his brother’s chest and got into the car. He grabbed Dean’s wrist, settling his thumb over the pulse point as he drove.
Sam realized his hands were shaking. He’d come very close to losing his brother again. Once Dean was patched up, they had to talk.
SNSNSNSN
“You’re a mess,” Sam’s voice was exasperated. It reached down to Dean where he was floating on a comfortable cloud, surrounded by night.
Dean had a vague memory of Sam carrying him up the stairs at the house, things got hazy after that. He remembered something fizzing against his shoulder like hydrogen peroxide and then something bubbling down his throat, the throaty rumble of the Impala’s engine and Sam’s hand around his arm, the thumb gently stroking the inside of his wrist. After that, it was dark.
“I actually considered the ER for this one, you know,” Sam continued. “But they wouldn’t have been able to figure out the poison.” A gentle hand dabbed at Dean’s shoulder. “Most of the wounds aren’t that bad. A lot of bruises, falling through the floor can do that.” Sam stuck a band-aid down on his shoulder. The gentle brush of a washcloth moved across Dean’s chest. “You had twelve pins in you. I have no idea what she was planning.” Sam got up, Dean felt the bed dip, and then the water in the bathroom came on. Whatever was holding him on the cloud still had him in its grip, even though it was slowly letting him drift towards awareness, he couldn’t open his eyes.
Sam was back on the edge of the bed. “Your knee might hurt for awhile. I think you fell on it, then she put a pin in it.” Sam’s hand cupped his chin and turned Dean’s face to the side. “I don’t think your head needs stitches, it’s just trickling now.” The washcloth was cool as it swept across Dean’s forehead. The sting of alcohol followed the touch of the cloth. Sam closed the wound with a butterfly, Dean felt the tug as his brother pulled the edges together.
The cloth was back, gently wiping his face, then it was gone, Sam’s hand lingering on his cheek. Dean’s heart sped up, slamming against his ribcage, so hard he was sure his brother would have to hear it. There was something in that touch, in that strong callused hand resting on his face, something in the way the thumb was tracing the line of his nose, his eyebrows, his lips. Something in the way it was exploring, as if something more could be transferred through that touch.
The hand was trembling. Sam sighed, it had a sad sound to it, then he leaned forward. Sam’s lips brushed Dean’s forehead, resting there for a moment before moving away. Dean could feel Sam’s breath as it whispered across his cheek, he could feel the touch of Sam’s hair, where it hung down and tickled his nose. Sam’s hand was still gently tracing the lines of his face. The thumb stopped, resting just at the edge of Dean’s lips. If Dean could have held his breath, he would have. Every nerve was waiting, for what, he wasn’t sure, but the soft tremors in Sam’s hand were mirrored in Dean’s chest.
Sam’s lips touched Dean’s. The kiss was soft, hesitant, unsure. And it ended far too soon.
The bed dipped as Sam moved away. Dean heard noise in the bathroom and then Sam was back. “Until I’m sure you’re okay, Dean, I’m staying here.” Sam settled beside him on the bed, resting his hand-still trembling-on Dean’s chest. The TV came on, Dean listened to it for awhile before drifting off to sleep. Sam’s hand still warm and comforting on his chest.
The room was quiet when Dean woke. He drifted, still not all the way awake, thinking about what had happened. He’d let himself get distracted and it was only luck that had led to him-rather than Sam-falling through the floor. A harsh exhalation of breath followed by the angry tapping of computer keys broke into his thoughts. Dean opened his eyes. Sam was sitting at the small table, bent over the computer.
“Sam?” Dean said softly. Sam froze, hands on the keyboard. “Sam? What is it?” Dean pushed himself up, and turned on the bedside lamp. Something in his brother’s posture spelled utter disaster. Dean noticed a small spot of blood on Sam’s t-shirt. “Sammy?” His brother remained silent. Dean sighed and got out of bed, padding over to his brother. He managed to look at the computer before Sam slammed it closed. “What was that?”
“Dean…” Sam looked at him, eyes bright with unshed tears. “I screwed up.” Another spot of blood suddenly appeared on Sam’s shoulder.
“What’s going on?” Dean grabbed Sam’s shirt and pulled it up. Several spots were dripping blood. “It’s that bitch. What’s she doing to you?”
“It’s not bad,” Sam said, looking away. “Dean…” Sam’s voice broke. “I… It’s my fault.”
“Maybe you should let me in on this, Sam,” Dean said gently. Something was definitely wrong.
“I didn’t… I wasn’t thorough.” Sam out his head in his hands. “My fault and now…”
“What is it? Sammy?”
“When I went back to research more about the house. I don’t think it was a spirit.”
“Looked like one.”
“I know, but I don’t think it was-at least not in the traditional sense.”
“There’s more, isn’t there?”
“The pattern of the pins, the loss of consciousness.” Sam sighed.
“The pins she stuck in me?” Dean asked. Sam nodded, as he did so another spot of blood welled up on his chest. “What’s going on?”
“I’m pretty sure you’re dying, Dean.”
“Are you?” Dean growled. “Sam?” Dean stopped when he phone started ringing. He glanced at the number, wondering who would be calling at three in the morning. “What?”
“Dean?” a female voice asked.
“Who is this?” Dean demanded. Sam looked up at him with a frown.
“Your brother destroyed my altar this evening.”
“How did you get this number?”
“You dropped your phone when you fell,” she said.
“What do you want?”
“You.”
“Me?” Dean asked. Sam started shaking his head, silently mouthing “no.”
“I’m willing to make a trade,” she said.
“No, Dean,” Sam whispered desperately.
“What?”
“You come to me and I’ll let your brother live.”
Dean looked at Sam. Another spot of blood appeared. “Are you doing that to him?”
“Yes and I can do more.” Sam started gasping for air, his hand going to his throat, grasping at an unseen enemy. Sam’s face was turning red as he fought for air.
“Sammy!” Dean pulled Sam’s hand away from his throat, trying to see what was going on. “Stop! Stop!” Dean shouted into the phone. Sam dropped forwards, dragging air into his lungs in harsh breaths. “When?” Dean asked quietly, resting his hand on Sam’s back.
“Sunrise. I’ll come for you.”
“You promise you’ll leave Sam alone?”
“Yes. I want you-what you have.” She laughed and told Dean-in detail-what was coming.
“Okay,” Dean said, breaking the connection. “Sam?”
“What did she want?” Sam sat up, still rubbing his throat.
“Nothing.”
“Dean? What?”
“Me, Sammy, she wants me.”
“No, you can’t, Dean! She’ll kill you!”
“You said I was dying anyway. This way you live.”
“No, I won’t let you!” Sam stood and grabbed Dean’s arm. Dean yanked his arm away and paced away from Sam, unable to look at the fear in his brother’s eyes.
“If I can save you, Sam. I will.”
“No, not like this.” Sam was angry, Dean could feel the emotion radiating off his brother.
“So, you want us both to die?” Dean turned on Sam.
“Give me time to figure this out, Dean. Let me research a little more.”
“Maybe you should have done a more of that earlier.” As soon as the words were out, he wanted to pull them back. Sam stepped back as if Dean had hit him, his hands clenched at his sides. Dean could see his brother trembling. “I’m sorry, Sammy.”
“Give me time.”
“I’m not going to let you die if I can stop it.”
“I’m tired of this from you, Dean. In case you missed it, I’m an adult these days and I can take care of myself. I don’t need you running after me, wiping my runny nose.”
“Fine. You just want to die together? Is that it? Some fucking idiotic death pact?”
“What?” Sam’s voice was shocked. He walked over and gabbed Dean’s shirt, pushing him against the wall. “What did you just say?” he growled, his face inches from Dean. The anger, fueled by panic, that had been simmering in Dean’s chest drained away. He leaned his head against the wall.
“Okay, time. We die together. Whatever you want.” Dean sighed and closed his eyes so he didn’t have to look at the pain in Sam’s. “What do you want, Sam?”
Sam’s hands tightened on his shirt. The next moment Sam’s mouth was crushed against his. Sam forced Dean’s mouth open, thrusting in with his tongue. Dean tried to push him away, but Sam held him pinned against the wall. Finally, Dean wrenched his mouth from Sam’s, gasping for air, trying to ignore the heat rising in his body.
“Sammy?” Dean asked softly. Knowing he wanted this, knowing he shouldn’t.
“You.” Sam whispered his lips against Dean’s. “I want you. I have for so long, Dean.” The bare emotion-the longing in Sam’s voice-nearly killed him. Dean raised a hand and laid it against Sam’s face. Sam pulled away to look in his eyes. “Please.”
“Sam.” He wasn’t sure if it were denial or invitation or a mixture of both. Dean could see Sam’s heart hammering in his chest. The hands holding him pinned to the wall were trembling.
“Dean.” Sam leaned in and his lips were against Dean’s again, his tongue running over the sensitive surface. Dean opened his mouth, letting Sam kiss him. Sam reached up and ran his hand through Dean’s hair. The kiss deepened, Dean couldn’t refuse it any longer, he let his tongue slide into Sam’s mouth, tasting him. Coffee, toothpaste and something that was indefinably Sam. Dean groaned.
Sam pulled him from the wall, his mouth never leaving Dean’s, demanding everything in that kiss. Dean felt the bed against the back of his knees and Sam lowered him down, pinning him with his long body. Sam ran his hand down Dean’s chest and caught the hem of Dean’s shirt and pulled it up. Sam took his mouth away long enough to take Dean’s shirt off, then dropped his mouth to the hollow at the base of Dean’s throat.
“Sam, are you sure?” Dean said softly as his brother’s hands explored his body.
“Want you,” Sam whispered, his breath warm on Dean’s chest. Sam’s mouth traced a path of exquisite torture along Dean’s neck and across his face before taking his mouth again. Sam could kiss and Dean gave himself over to it, letting his tongue dance with Sam’s as pleasure began sparking through his body. He could feel Sam hard against his thigh. Dean ran his hand through Sam’s hair, letting the silky softness play over his fingers as he kissed Sam. Gentle nibbling on Sam’s lower lips. Sam groaned softly and the sound sent a shiver down Dean’s spine. Sam’s hand brushed Dean’s growing erection. Dean arched his back into the touch. Sam pulled his mouth away from Dean’s and gently nipped at Dean’s neck before kissing a path down Dean’s body, stopping to roll Dean’s nipple between his teeth.
“Sam,” Dean groaned, his hands buried in Sam’s hair.
Sam pulled away and slipped his hands down Dean’s body, tugging Dean’s boxers away. Sam’s sweats joined Dean’s on the floor. Then his mouth slipped down Dean’s body, his breath warm and damp against Dean’s stomach. Dean’s heart was pounding frantically as Sam’s mouth worked its way back up his body. Dean pulled Sam’s mouth against his when Sam lifted his head. Kissing Sam with all the passion long years of desire, of want and need had created. He tore his mouth away, gasping for breath as Sam’s hand closed around his cock, his thumb circling the sensitive head.
“Touch me,” Sam said hoarsely.
Dean ran a trembling hand along Sam’s chest, over the hard planes of his back, aware of the strength in the body pressing his into the bed. He let his hand drift down Sam’s abdomen. Sam started stroking him, his hand moving up and down the shaft of his cock, Dean moaned, unable to stop his hips thrusting into Sam. Dean ran his hands over Sam’s hips. Sam took his mouth again, moving his hand away and beginning to thrust against him, their cocks sliding together, Sam’s body moving against his. Dean ran his hands through Sam’s hair, matching Sam’s rhythm, hips thrusting, his back arching trying to take everything in, trying to make it last, knowing it wouldn’t. Sam moaned into his mouth, his breath pulling the air from Dean’s lungs. Sam pulled his mouth away as Dean’s hips started to lose their rhythm.
“Dean,” he cried out, his thrusts becoming shorter. The pressure that had been building in Dean’s groin exploded and he was coming, thrusting against Sam as the world exploded in pleasure. He heard Sam cry out and then the hot spurt against his stomach as Sam climaxed. Sam lay against him for a long moment before lifting himself off Dean and planting a gentle kiss over Dean’s heart. “Hang on,” Sam said, his voice nearly unrecognizable to Dean. Sam was back a moment later, Dean felt the soft brush of damp towel on his body before Sam moved away again. Dean opened his eyes to spent ot do more.
“Thanks,” he said, watching Sam.
“Didn’t want to mess up the bed,” Sam said, flipping the covers back and sliding under them. “You planning on sleeping there?” Sam asked with a raise of his eyebrows.
Dean chuckled and shifted so he was under the covers. Sam pulled him into his arms, resting one large hand on Dean’s chest. Dean was quiet listening to the sound of his heart-to the sound of Sam’s breathing as it normalized.
“Whatever happens, we go together, Dean,” Sam whispered.
“Yeah.”
Sam sighed and shifted a little and was quiet. Dean waited as his brother’s breathing evened off into sleep. Dean rested his head on Sam’s shoulder, aware of the comforting warmth and safety of the arms holding him and he knew he would give anything to keep Sam safe. He’s always known it, he’d often wondered if their father had understood how far Dean would go to protect Sam. Of the depth of the love he had for his brother. Dean sighed, wanting a few more minutes. He hoped Sam wouldn’t hate him for long. Regret blossomed in his chest, but he’d made the decision. It was done.
It seemed only seconds had passed when he heard a car in the motel lot. Lifting his head, he saw the first light of predawn touching the window. Dean slipped out from under Sam’s arms, away from the warmth and safety of Sam. He quietly dressed and the paused for a long moment, looking at Sam, memorizing every line of his brother’s body, every lines of Sam’s face.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered silently, letting his hand rest on Sam’s chest and kissing him gently-so gently Sam didn’t even stir-before turning away. With one last look he walked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. “Sorry,” he said again as he walked to the waiting car.
TBC