Fix You
Title: Fix You (Chapter 7)
Author: beatlemaniac9
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Sam/Dean
Warnings: Drug use, Suicide Attempt, Wincest
Summary: Based on the song "Fix You" by Coldplay. At sixteen years old, Sam Winchester is turning to heroin to cope with his unrequitted love for his brother. Can Dean stop him before it's too late?
Masterpost
Dean winced as the cold needle pressed into the crease of his arm, and Bobby’s cold fingers brushed against him. He always did hate drawing blood, but it was necessary. The tube attached to the obscenely large needle had another needle on the other end, which was already pressed into Sam’s uninjured arm. Bobby had silently stitched the boy’s self-inflicted wound just after Dean cocooned him in blankets, so he wouldn’t loose anymore of his dwindling blood. But, he still needed more.
Dean, despite his distinct distaste for needles, jumped at the chance to help Sammy. He had already given himself over, mind, body and soul, so what was a little of his blood? It was one of only three things he could give his brother at the moment (the other two being his continued presence, and comforting words). And if this was what it would take to make Sam get better, then damn it, he’d do it without a second thought.
But, Dean knew that the physical damage wasn’t all he had to worry about. Once Sam wakes up, (which he will, Dean internally insists) there’s still the matter of the suicidal tendencies. And who knows, the drugs might be, and probably are, still problematic.
And what the hell were Bobby and Sam talking about that caused his lover to run out? Had Bobby said something about the relapse? Or maybe, it had to do with the fact that when Bobby found the two of them in the bathroom yesterday night, Sam was naked. What if he called the younger man on it?
Or what if it had to do with Dad? He was here now. What if Bobby told him that Dad was coming, and Sam became frightened? Dean knew that their father wasn’t truly angry at Sam, but it was plausible that Sam didn’t. Dean had to know.
“So Bobby,” He started.
“Yeah?” the elder hunter readjusted the needle in Sam, and turned to face him.
“What were you and Sam talking about before he ran out?” Bobby went pale.
“Maybe we should talk about it later.” He suggested.
“I’m curious, too.” John added, finally speaking again. Bobby sighed.
“If it’s okay with you, John, I’d like to talk to Dean about it first.” Suddenly, Dean felt as if his insides knotted up. John nodded, resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going to find out right away. He stepped out onto the porch, allowing the other men the room.
Dean looked up, eyes full of fear and respect, to Bobby. Something about the way he looked made the man hesitate before speaking, but he knew that he had to say it anyways. Dean had a right to know, especially since it’d probably be his hide at the end of John’s belt for this one.
“I knew that Sam wasn’t telling me everything, and when I asked ‘im about it, he said that I wouldn’t understand.” Bobby pulled up a chair, sitting directly in front of the two boys.
“I pressed him to tell me about it, and he told me ev’rything.” Dean’s eyes widened, full of shock. Was he saying what it seemed he was?
“He told me why he really took the drugs- how much he was in love with you an’ all, how much it hurt when he saw you with all of those girls the past few years. Then, he told me that you felt the same, and that the two of you were gonna be together once he was clean. I know that the two of you got hot’n’heavy in the spare room last night to try to help distract him from his cravings, and that it didn’t work. And when he finished, I just didn’t know what to say. He freaked out, probably thinkin’ I was angry or disappointed. Then, he dashed out before I could stop ‘im.”
Dean pondered the words that had just been said. Bobby knew the truth about them, and he knew pretty much everything. He could tell their father, and then, who knows what would happen. Dad hadn’t hurt him for the drugs, but he would be completely justified in beating the shit out of the both of them for this. He probably wouldn’t hesitate either.
“What are you going to tell our Dad?” He inquired.
“Well, I guess I gotta tell him the truth, but for the record, I’m not gonna tell him everything. I know it’s not strictly morally right, but you and Sam only really have each other. I don’t want to screw that up.” Dean nodded, feeling a surge of love and appreciation for his second father.
“Now, I’m gonna take the needles out, ‘cus I think Sam’s got enough for now, and then you go bring your daddy back in here. I think it would be in your best interest to make yourself sparse when I talk to ‘im.”
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Dean sat down at the top of the stairs, out of sight, but still close enough to hear everything that was being said downstairs in the living room. John waited until he heard Dean shut the door to the spare room (which he did so he could allow them to think he wasn’t listening) to start.
“So what did Sam freak out over?”
“He finally told me the truth, and I was kinda stunned by it all. Because I didn’t say anything, just sorta stared at ‘im, he panicked and ran off.”
“What did he tell you?” Bobby paused before replying, as Dean waited for the bomb to drop.
“You’re not gonna like it, John.”
“It can’t be that bad. I can take it. Just tell me.” Another pause, a bit longer than the first. Dean was sure that the next sentence or two out of Bobby’s mouth would send John into a murderous rage.
“Sam started taking the damn stuff because he was in love with Dean. At the time, he didn’t think he could have him, but after he got caught with the drugs, he owned up to it. As it turns out, Dean loved him in the same way.” The silence after that statement was maddening. His father knew, and he wasn’t there to see if he was angry, disappointed, or what. For all he knew, his dad could be contemplating the best way to murder him right now.
“What else?” He sounded so calm.
“Dean told him that they wouldn’t start datin’, or whatever it is two boys do these days, till he was off the heroin. Well, that went out the window sometime after they got here.”
“What does that mean?” Panic. Dean definitely sensed panic in his father’s voice.
“Sam was havin’ trouble with his cravings. Dean tried to help by taking his mind off of it. They…” Bobby cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with the words he was about to say. “They had sex.”
“WHAT?!?!?!” The chair he was probably sitting in scuffled against the floor in protest to what was surely him jumping up. There…there’s the anger that Dean was afraid of.
“John!” The warning in his tone was there, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. John had a good habit of listening to Bobby. “Now, I know it’s not a normal thing, and I know it isn’t exactly what most people would call right, but it’s what they need. And if you try to force ‘em apart, it’ll end badly for all of ya’. It’ll push ‘em closer together, too.”
“But what am I suppose to do!”
“Dad?” Sammy. It was Sam, and he was awake. Dean couldn’t stop himself from dashing down the steps to his little brother. He knelt down by the sofa, ignoring the two elder men in the room.
“Sammy,” Dean near pleaded, eyes watering. He pulled the younger boy into a tight hug, sensing that he was about to start crying too.
“I’m so sorry, De. I thought you’d all be better without me.” His voice high, he choked back the tears.
“Never, Sam. Don’t ever do that to me again.” With that, Dean placed a strong kiss to his lover’s cheek, taking comfort in the returning warmth of his skin. Sam used his good arm to pull Dean’s chin back to him, kissing his lips, first gently, and then deeper.
Of course, an awkward John couldn’t help but clear his throat to break up the moment.
“You two knuckleheads done?” He asked. They reluctantly pulled away from one another, momentarily staring into one another’s eyes, and then facing their father.
“Yes, sir.” Sam smiled, realizing that John hadn’t killed them yet.
“Well,” Bobby piped in. “You should probably bring Sam upstairs now that he’s awake. And then, get yourself changed into some dry clothes, boy. You’re gonna get yourself sick.”
“Yes, Bobby.” Dean replied. Without a moment’s hesitation, he swooped Sam up into his arms, bridal style, and carried him up the stairs to the spare room.
“I think,” John admitted, “that I need a drink.”
“Me too.” And with that, Bobby pulled out a bottle of the good stuff, and passed it on. It had been a long morning, but there was still a long bit of day to have to get through, and a hell of a lot to think about. Best not to do it on a clear head.
Chapter 8 --->