More than the dirt it takes to bury them (part three) - Supernatural, Sam/Dean.
two | master post
They jump to Bobby's scrap yard. Bobby looks happy to be home, even if he keeps shooting Sam guilty looks. Sam and Bobby get food, and Cas grills him Bobby in...well, his own way.
"I understand the date all this happened," Cas says. "But I need the exact time."
"You think I stopped to check my cell phone the second I thought my ass was grass?" Bobby takes an indignant bite of sandwich and a swig of beer.
"I'm not asking on a whim," Cas says in the slightly deeper, more dangerous version of his voice. "I'm asking because it's important."
"You think?"
Cas leans in. "This could be vital to the survival of your species' entire existence. So think."
Bobby raises an eyebrow and chews slowly. When he finally swallows, he says, "Ten? Ten-thirty, maybe?"
Sam nods at Bobby's wrist. "Didn't your watch stop?"
Before Bobby can look, Cas grabs his wrist and says, "Nine thirty-seven."
He turns and leaves the kitchen immediately. Sam pushes back his chair quickly enough that it squeaks and falls back against Bobby's counter, but Cas and Anna are already talking in the living room by the time he makes it into hearing range.
"-can't be sure," Anna's saying. "He hasn't made any other moves."
Cas looks over his shoulder at Sam. When Sam waves his hands, he sighs and says, "Of course he hasn't. He's waiting for Sam to free Lucifer, like Zachariah is."
"What?"
"Lilith's the final seal," Anna says, her voice gentle.
Bobby's chair clatters over in the other room. Sam glances over her shoulder, and Bobby shoots him a what-the-hell look, but Sam shrugs and turns around when Anna starts talking to Cas again.
"If you're so sure," she says, "then you need to move on this."
"You don't know what you're saying," Cas sounds...scared. Actually scared.
"I do." Anna stands straighter. "But I'll go, if you won't."
"Even if it means you won't return?"
"I'm no threat. I won't provoke him."
"Your existence will-"
"Hold it." Sam's head's spinning. "What does Lucifer have to do with Dean? Or me?"
"There's no time to explain," Cas says.
"But you know where Dean is?"
Anna shakes her head. "Not exactly. But there's an easy way to check, and-"
"It isn't exactly easy-"
"I'm coming with you," Sam says, looking between them. "Someone's taking me."
Cas frowns. Or his usual frown darkens. "You can't be at risk."
"But he thinks it's his destiny to fight Lucifer," Anna says. "If Sam goes-"
"What do you think will happen when he sees him? What do you think he'll do?"
"Nothing. Gloat, maybe."
It's all Sam can do to keep from punching something. "If there isn't time to explain, then there isn't time to fight. Let's just go."
Anna and Cas exchange yet another look. Sam swallows hard. "Please," he says quietly. "I have to find him."
That does it; Cas nods. "I will take you, Sam. And if it doesn't work, Anna, you must jump backward."
Anna frowns. "And get the Fates on my ass?"
"Zachariah has interfered with the usual state of affairs. You would correct them."
"Whatever you tell yourself," Anna says. But when Cas continues to stare, she says, "I guess I'll just hope they're feeling generous."
"They will be." Cas turns to Sam. "We must speak."
"Can't we just go?"
Cas is already walking toward the stairwell, and Anna pats Sam's arm reassuringly and walks into the kitchen, picking up Sam's discarded chair and sitting down. Sam answers Bobby's baffled expression with a shrug and leaves the room.
"We will be seeing a version of Dean unfamiliar to you," Cas says in a low tone when Sam rounds the corner and Anna's small talk about sandwiches fades. "You must be prepared."
"Sorry?"
"Your relationship has been...fraught. That will make things even more difficult."
"I am officially tired of you talking to me like a child," Sam hisses. "Get to the point."
Cas blinks once. "You had sexual relations with your brother. With neither of you in the proper place to consent."
Sam frowns. Until images of Dean's pale skin and the freckles on his nose and the way he tasted on Sam's tongue appear in his head, and... "Oh."
"It's likely this will be used against you," Cas says.
Sam leans against the wall. It had been so right.
"Can you do this?"
It takes a couple tries, but he says, "Yeah." Just because...whatever happened, it doesn't mean he could ever leave Dean behind. "What do I need to bring?"
"There's nothing you can bring beside yourself."
Great.
"Are you ready?"
Sam should say goodbye to Bobby, but hell, he'd be lucky if he could look the man in the eye at this point. No, it's just better to go. No more wasting time.
He closes his eyes and nods.
-
Whatever journey they take isn't instantaneous. Sam feels some kind of sensation similar to movement - like flying, but in all directions at once - and hears the sound of flapping wings, slow at first, then faster and faster, like it's building up to something.
Then, just as suddenly, it's over, and sunlight shines on the other side of Sam's eyelids.
"Whoa," Sam says, opening his eyes. The field that he and Cas are standing in doesn't look familiar. But it's green and lush, the grass pungent with a freshly-clipped aroma. It's warmer than the places they'd been before, and Sam spots some cars parked in the distance, like they're in a park or something. "Where are we? When are we?"
Judging by the way Cas sways and his eyes roll up into his head beside him, it's not super recent. Sam just manages to catch him before he falls.
"Cas?" Sam shakes him. "Can you hear me?"
He doesn't stir, but he's still breathing. That has to be good enough.
Sam drags Cas toward the cars; they can't get anywhere if he can't jump them around, after all. Luckily, no one's sitting in the cars or lingering around on the streets. Which means the lock picks Sam tucked into his jacket at Bobby's right after their arrival come in handy.
"Don't need anything but yourself," Sam says in an undertone as he jimmies an older sedan open. "Sure, Cas. Whatever you say."
He tosses Cas in the back and leans under the dash. It only takes a couple minutes to get the car running and to see that it has a half-tank. It should be enough to see where Cas took him, at least. He takes the car out of park and gives it gas, checking over his shoulder for any other cars.
A few minutes later, he stops checking for more traffic.
A few minutes after that, he turns on the radio. There isn't even static..
And It's not just the street by the park that's empty; it's all the streets. There's cars and buildings and crosswalks, but no one using them. But it's not like a zombie movie, either. It's more like the town with the Croatoan virus after the fact: empty and untouched.
"What happened here?" Sam asks. He's pretty sure Cas is still out, and when Sam looks back in the rearview mirror, he's proven right. Cas lies on his stomach with his arm dangling over the seat, swinging in time with the movements of the car. It doesn't stop Sam from wanting an answer.
Something changes at the corner of his eye, and Sam hits the brakes even before turning his head back around. The tires screech, and there's a thump against his seat as Cas falls out of the seat, but the car stops just when Sam wants it to.
Which is just a few feet clear of the biggest crater Sam's ever seen.
Even though he can see it just fine from inside the car, Sam unbuckles and climbs out. It's huge. Grand Canyon huge, in terms of both width and depth. The road's even sloped up a little where the car stopped, like a shock wave of force pushed it up.
"God," Sam breathes.
"Not exactly."
Sam whirls and grabs for his gun. He nearly drops it when he sees who's standing in front of him. "Dean?”
Dean's dressed exactly the way he did in Sam's fevered memory: pristine sweater and khakis. He's holding up his hands, but he doesn't looked nervous. It's more like he's trying to soothe Sam.
"Sorry," he says. "I could've appeared when you first showed up, but I couldn't resist the dramatic gesture."
“Appeared?” Sam asks.
Dean smiles, and the sunlight hit his hair. Like a halo.
Sam points his gun at Dean's heart.
"You're not Dean," he says.
"Not entirely," Dean says. Not-Dean. "But I can only be corporeal here with a vessel, and he's the only one left on Earth, if you can believe it."
Sam can. He really, really can. "Tell me why I don't shoot you right now."
"Because you know that won't do a thing, or because you came here to talk to me. Take your pick."
"I did?"
Dean comes up against the back of the sedan. He pats the trunk. "Castiel didn't warn you?"
There's nothing you can bring beside yourself. It makes sense now. And as the smile on Dean's face grows knowing and patient, so does the rest.
Sam lowers the gun. "Who are you?"
"Michael." When Sam doesn't answer, he tips Dean's head. "Commander of God's armies? No?"
"I went to college. I know my angels."
"Archangel, if you're being technical." Michael shrugs Dean's shoulders and glances in the car. "You didn't even know about our existence until my brother appeared to yours."
"He's not your brother."
"He is, just as much as Dean's yours." Dean's smile doesn't look like him at all. It's full of pity and serenity and everything Dean's never felt in his life.
"What did you do to Dean?"
"Nothing he didn't ask for." The smile shifts into a smirk, and that's completely familiar.
"Stop it," Sam snaps.
"Stop what?"
"Looking like him."
Michael shakes his head, and the smirk grows. "It's either this or enough divine presence to burn out your eyeballs. You don't want that."
"You don't know what I want." God, what Sam wouldn't give for that sword of Anna's. Even if it didn't do a thing.
Michael straightens out Dean's clothes. "He does. And let me tell you, him seeing you here? It makes him very...sad."
Sam flinches.
"He gave up years ago. No point fighting when everyone's..." Michael gestures upward. "But one glimpse of you...he's defeated, and he knows it, but just for a second, he forgot."
Dean's watching. Michael might be running the show, but Dean's there, just behind his own eyes.
"This hasn't happened yet," Sam says. "I'll stop you."
Michael laughs. "Unfortunately, Sam, there's nothing about this world that isn't inevitable. And I had to show Dean that. We watched what you did without Dean, how you turned back to the demon blood, how you killed Lilith even knowing what it would do. And then, when I faced Lucifer, Dean helped me kill the both of you. And he'd do it again."
Of course Dean would. Sam can see it like it's happening in front of him.
Dean's desperate yes in the cabin, and the glow, warm and inviting at first, then more and more powerful as it takes him over completely, repairing lost memory, adding new knowledge, fear of Sam's power on top of fear of Lucifer on top of regret for what Dean's done and what he will do...
Sam crouched in the middle of a room of dead demons, tearing wounds in their wrists and throats with a knife, eyes growing black as his mouth sucks greedily...
Two brothers standing across from each other in a cemetery in Lawrence, carrying two more brothers with them, and they only have time to apologize to one another before their powers peak, and they clash, destroying the earth for miles around...
Sam's burned-out body in Michael's - Dean's - arms, as the legions of angels stand behind, ready to finish it for good...
It breaks when Sam laughs, grim and loud. Michael's smile freezes on his face.
"I get it," Sam says. "You wanted to win Dean fair and square, didn't you? You wanted him to know what was happening and say yes anyway. But when Zachariah did his thing, you just couldn't resist swooping in. And now that you've Raptured the world or whatever, you're alone with that idea that you cheated to win."
Michael raises an eyebrow, but he doesn't answer.
"You're alone," Sam says, gesturing all around. "And the one guy who'd understand is the guy you killed."
"Lucifer wasn't my only brother." Michael's voice is steady. It's the closest thing to rage Sam's heard from him yet.
"No, but he's the one who counted, wasn't he? And he screwed up big time." Sam walks forward, closing the gap between him and Michael. Michael watches but doesn't move. "I screw up, too. But you know what the difference is?"
"What's that?" A little amusement's back in Michael's voice, but there's something in his eyes that seems...off.
Sam crosses his arms. "Destiny doesn't mean a damn thing to me."
The smirk appears again. "Guess you'll see, Sammy."
"Don't...” Michael's expression disappears. Sam's jaw drops, and then he grins. "...call me Sammy.”
Maybe it's Sam's imagination, but Michael's eye twitches. Almost like he's winking.
And then he - and Dean - are gone.
-
Sam sleeps the night in the car in what remains of Lawrence, and it's the weirdest fucking thing in the world, but he actually sleeps well. The angels can't touch him because they need him back in his past where he belongs, and since they won, there's nothing else left. And it's not like he's failing with every passing second. He'll get these seconds back. All Sam can do is wait for Cas to wake up.
And Sam can wait. He knows the end game now, and he's going to win.
Cas stirs before sunlight and hits his head on the ceiling. It's loud enough that Sam jerks awake.
"What happened?" Cas says. "I feel...his presence."
Sam yawns, rubs his face a little, and says, "We talked."
"And?"
"And we need to go save Dean."
The reflection of Cas, a faint outline in the darkness, nods in the rearview mirror, and a hand makes it onto Sam's shoulder.
Sam doesn't get the chance to close his eyes. He doesn't need to; they're back at Bobby's almost immediately, standing right in front of Bobby's couch. Cas sways, but Anna's by his side immediately, and they disappear.
"Well?" Bobby's behind his desk, and Sam sits on the couch, rubbing his eyes. It's bright outside.
Anna reappears in the middle of the room. "Cas is out for the count. Hope what you got was worth it."
Sam nods. "I've got a plan."
-
Anna basically forces Sam to eat before they leave. Sam wouldn't agree, but Bobby looks like he really wants to understand what's going on, and the logistics are tricky.
"No," Bobby says after Sam explains. "They're damned impossible. You saw the future."
Anna shakes her head. "Sam saw a potential future based on the progression of events as they are now. That future is now part of his past. And this would make part of the past his future."
Bobby takes off his hat and scratches his hair. "That make any sense to you?” he asks Sam.
"Enough."
Anna sighs. "Sometimes, I really don't miss being mortal."
When they finally jump, Anna very neatly takes Sam from Bobby's dining room chair and sets the both of them in the backseat of the Impala. It's probably the crappiest part of the plan, considering it could end in death by car accident, but, as Anna says, "Angel. I can fix most anything."
Still, Sam holds his breath when Dean's eyes meet his in the rearview mirror. And he's not wrong; the tires screech as Dean jerks the wheel in surprise, and Sam slams against the passenger's side door when Dean overcorrects. But Dean manages not to run into trees or oncoming traffic and pulls to the side of the road, which is really what counts.
"Sam?"
"Hey, Dean," Sam says, rubbing his side.
Dean turns and scowls at Anna. "Who the hell are you?"
"Someone you know," Anna says lightly. She doesn't make the statement loaded, but she's blushing just a little when she looks around at the backseat. Sam raises an eyebrow, but she ignores him. "Usually know, anyway."
"Uh-huh. Sam?"
"She's right."
Dean pinches his nose a little. "You got your memories back?"
"We should probably talk." Anna nods when Sam looks her way. "Outside."
Dean eyes Anna warily again. "Good idea."
"I'll be here," Anna says, waving at Dean as he climbs out of the car, and she shrugs sheepishly when Sam rolls his eyes and follows.
Clearly, the remnants of the spring snowstorm Sam and Dean had been caught in earlier are still around; half-melted snow and slushy ice cover the dirt that keeps them from the occasional passing car. Light flakes slowly flutter down from the sky and catch on Sam's bangs and Dean's nose.
Sam knows this because Dean grabs Sam into a big hug and clings. And then they kiss.
"Mmf," Sam says, surprised, but he relaxes into it. For a split second. Then he pushes back just enough to separate their mouths and say, "Uh, Dean?"
"You're okay," Dean says quietly, pushing a hand into Sam's hair. "You scared the hell out of me, you know that?"
"Yeah." Sam didn't see him scared this time, but he knows what it looks like. "And I'm sorry, but I kind of have to do it again."
"Excuse me?"
"You need to go meet with Bobby Singer. And you can't tell anyone I talked to you first."
"But..." Dean tilts his head a little. It reminds Sam of Castiel, oddly enough. "You're okay."
"Yeah."
"You know what's wrong."
"Yep."
"And your head's fixed."
"As much as it ever can be," Sam says wryly.
Dean laughs, and it's the kind of sound where he's letting go of some of his worry. That, at least, is a good thing. "God, you're exactly the same asshole you were before."
"Thanks, I guess."
"So what's going on?"
"I'm...actually from the future." When Dean's eyes go wide, Sam holds up his hands. "Not far! Just a day or two. I know enough to know what happens to you, and we can't screw up the timeline."
"Or what?"
"Or..." Sam glances back at Anna in the car. She's carefully watching traffic and not them. "Bad things."
"You trust her?"
"As much as I trust anyone who..." Isn't you. "As much as I can, really."
"Okay." Dean exhales hard, and his breath comes out in front of him in a cloud. "So what do I need to know?"
"The word 'no', mostly."
Dean rolls his eyes. "Cryptic much?"
"An angel's going to talk to you."
"An..." Dean snorts so hard it sounds like it hurts. "Like, halo, wings, harp?"
"No, like 'a ball of light that'll burn you to a crisp if you piss him off'."
"So like demons if they were Tinkerbell?"
When the archangel protecting Chuck had filled Lilith's motel room, there hadn't been anything particularly small and fairy-like about it. "If Tinkerbell could take out entire towns."
"Huh. The Bible didn't make up that fire and brimstone crap?"
"Really not."
Dean swallows. "And I have to talk to this guy?"
"I'm thinking he'll do most of the talking."
"What'll he say?"
Sam laughs. Or he think he does; it doesn't feel very funny. "Things that'll probably make you hate me."
Dean narrows his eyes. "Sam..."
"Don't worry about it right now." Sam waves a hand. "It'll be better if your reactions are genuine, and...we'll figure out the rest after we both make sure there's a later. Okay?"
"So what am I saying no to?"
Here's the hard part. Especially because Sam's still not sure he understands. "To being his vessel."
"Vessel? Like..."
"Yeah, like what demons do. Except I guess angels ask first."
Dean snorts. "So that's this dick's play? Ask me nicely?"
"He, um." Sam clears his throat. "Says he can help me. Me in the present, anyway."
"Seriously?"
"Well, what would you have said? If you didn't know?"
Dean bites his lower lip and looks at the ground.
"So you have to go with it. Pretend I'm on that bed in the motel room because guess what? I am."
Dean's eyes widen. "Wait, does me doing this talking thing...is that how you get better?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Sam..."
Sam holds up a hand. "I know. But you trust me, right?"
Dean's quiet for a minute. "How do I know you're you?"
Sam snorts and takes a couple steps back. "I expected you to ask five minutes ago."
He pulls out holy water and takes a swig. He rubs salt in his bare skin. He even draws a silver knife against his arm until it bleeds - away from the remnants of salt, of course - even though Dean won't know right now what that means.
But when Sam's done, Dean nods like he's satisfied. "So what, I say no and hope he doesn't squish me like a bug?"
"Pretty much."
Dean puts his head in his hands. "Fuck."
And then he straightens and kisses Sam again. Sam doesn't push him back, but his stomach churns. Not because it's Dean, necessarily, but because it's not his Dean. Or a Dean who knows what's going on, at least.
Still, if Dean wonders why Sam isn't kissing back, he doesn't show it. Dean's eyes are still closed when he pulls back, but he pushes two small kisses against Sam's lips. Sam can't stop from shivering a little.
"It's okay, Dean," Sam whispers. "It's gonna be okay. I promise."
When they walk back to the car and Anna climbs out, Sam prays to no one in particular that he's not wrong.
-
"You doing okay?" Anna asks when they appear in the woods behind the house. They're close enough to see what's going on - Bobby's already there, leaning against his car in front - but Anna said Michael shouldn't be able to sense them..
Sam nods.
"You won't run over? No matter how it looks?"
"How will it look?" Sam asks, eyes narrowing.
"Blinding," Anna says. "But Dean will be protected. Michael needs him."
Sam shifts from foot to foot. "Why?"
"Your family's got Michael's vessel bloodline," Anna says. "Just like the vessel Castiel uses has relatives that would work."
"Cas...he's using a person?"
Anna nods.
Sam exhales hard. "That's really screwed up."
"That's the nice thing about losing your grace, I guess. I got a human body all my own."
Before Sam can think of anything else to say, he's saved by the bell. If a bell was a big white light and a high-pitched whine.
Except...it almost sounds like words. Like someone's got the TV on in the next room in some crap hotel, and Sam can't really get the dialogue, but he gets what kind of show it is, generally. He tilts his head a little.
"Sam?" Anna asks.
The whining's getting louder, and god, it hurts. Sam grabs at his ears, but covering does nothing.. "He's pissed!"
"Just wait," Anna says, half-yelling. The ground's shaking, and Sam falls to his knees, squeezing his eyes shut. It doesn't help anymore than the hands still over his ears. If he's not wrong, they're bleeding. And this is with hundreds of feet between them. God, if Michael finds out they're there...
But just when Sam feels like his eyes'll burn out of his skull, it vanishes, and Sam collapses on the ground, chest heaving. Or so he thinks. He can't hear anything, but at this point, it's a blessing.
Anna's hand touches his forehead, and just like that, he's fine again. She offers a hand, and Sam takes it, shaking as she pulls him to his feet.
"You okay?" Anna asks.
Sam doesn't answer or give his feet a chance to recover. He starts to run toward the house, stumbling over his feet. If Michael laid Sam out flat when he wasn't that far away...if Dean wasn't seen as useful...
"Sam?"
Dean steps out the front door, wearing a leather jacket over the sweater, and Sam's heart basically stops. Until Dean grins at him, and Sam's running forward, wrapping his arms around Dean.
"Shouldn't I prove I'm me?" Dean says in his ear, and Sam laughs, gasping quietly.
Anna appears next to them. "Don't worry, I can see just fine. None of that angel crap in your system."
"Thanks," Dean says dryly.
Sam forces himself to let go, even though he doesn't really want to. Judging by the way Dean's hand clings to Sam's arm, he doesn't, either. "How's Bobby?"
"Fine," Anna says, peeking inside the house. "Just like how we found him later, minus a little extra snow."
Sam scuffs his foot on the porch. He should be asking Anna to fix Dean's head, to put them back where they were, something.. But it seems...wrong somehow. Like he should say good-bye to Dean Smith before Dean Winchester's back in full force. Never mind that they're the same guy. Technically.
"Can we talk somewhere else?" Sam asks Anna. "Before we fix everything?"
Anna frowns, but she shrugs. "Probably a good idea. Michael could still be watching."
She grabs their arms, and they reappear not too far away. Sam doesn't recognize it, of course, but the light and trees are similar.
"Give us a minute?" he asks Anna.
"Sure." She starts to step away, but she pauses. "Where did you say you woke up again, Sam?"
"Oh. Um..." Sam can't remember. But he has the address in his pocket, so he pulls it out and hands it over.
Anna nods. "Thanks."
She wanders off, but she's still in visual range, her red hair standing out amongst all the cloudy gloom. Probably for the best.
Dean lets out a breath. "Gotta say, I nearly wet myself when the light started talking."
"What did he say?"
"Basically what you said he would. Sam's sick, he needs your help, blah blah." Dean shifts. "It was hard to hear."
Dean slides a hand on Sam's arm, and Sam lets him. But he doesn't step closer, and judging by the way Dean's eyes narrow, he notices
"Anna'll give you your memories back," Sam says. "And then you should spend a couple days keeping your head low."
"Seriously?"
"We should make sure the timeline's somewhat fixed, you know? You...you already don't get a lot of time." And he'll need the time to process what he and Sam actually did while they didn't have their memories. Hell, forget the sex; Dean hadn't seen him drinking demon blood before. He might not want to see Sam again when it's all over.
Dean's forehead creases. "I don't know."
"Just...think about it?"
Dean nods, and then Sam really does hug him, definitely more in a brotherly way, complete with claps on the shoulder. It doesn't stop Dean from leaning in like he wants something more. Sam does his best to pull back in a somewhat smooth manner, but it doesn't really work. He can feel Dean's eyes on him as he walks back over to Anna, but whatever. That's over. It has to be.
"Can you drop me at Bobby's before you give him his memories?" he asks Anna quietly.
She frowns. "Why? Is something wrong?"
"No, just...he should get some space. Process everything that went down."
Anna's face blanks, and she looks oddly like Cas for a moment. But soon, she shrugs and nods. "Hold on."
She raises her hand slowly, giving Sam a last chance to lock eyes with Dean. Dean swallows a little and nods, looking for all the world just like he always does.
When her fingertips hit his forehead, he's gone, and Bobby's standing next to him in his kitchen.
"Well?" Bobby asks.
Sam says, "Yeah," and drops in the chair he'd left behind so many hours before. It's still warm.
-
When Anna reappears a half-hour later, she has rings under her eyes. She waves Bobby off and sits on the couch by herself.
"I'm just out of practice," she says. "Sam, I made sure the past version of you had the right protections. I figure that's how Cas found you and Michael didn't."
"Oh." Sam hadn't thought about that. "Thanks?"
Anna nods. "Dean should be here any minute. You still have the bed in the panic room, Bobby?"
"Sure. Be my guest."
She doesn't bother disappearing; instead, she walks out of the room, slumped a little.
"What's their deal?" Bobby asks Sam..
"Time travel, I guess." Sam doesn't really care. He's staring in the direction of the door, waiting...
One of Bobby's kitchen phones rings. Bobby picks up, and judging by Bobby's regular, "Yeah?", it's a personal call. Sam waves a hand, but Bobby hold ones up and says, "Sure. See you when you can."
"Well?" Sam asks when he hangs up.
"That was Dean. He's on his way, but he got caught in a hunt in Topeka. You think you'll climb the walls if you stay here a night?"
Sam smiles a little, but it's forced. "Someone should angel-sit, I guess."
-
It's an interesting sleepover. Cas wakes up long enough to make sure the world hasn't ended, and he passes out again on the couch. Bobby's takes his room back, which is a little surreal; it's not something that usually happens when Sam and Dean are there and down to the wire on some big hunt. And while Cas could probably sleep like the dead on the floor just as well as on the couch, it seems rude to move him when he betrayed Heaven to help Sam and Dean.
At least Anna took off after her nap to give them a little more space. "Besides," she'd said after she'd hugged Sam and given him one last angelic energy boost, grinning. "Something tells me everyone'll be on your back before long. You won't leave me out?"
"Promise." It was nice knowing they still had a couple of allies, at least.
After she'd cleared out, Sam had taken the panic room bed. It wasn't the homiest place, but at the same time, at least he knew demons wouldn't sneak in and screw with him.
He stirred to the sound of footsteps on the stairs, but by the time he opened his eyes, Dean was full-on standing over him. Sam stared up at him through narrow, puffy lids until his eyes adjusted to the light.
"Hey," Sam says, voice a little hoarse.
Dean nods. "Did you like leaving my ass in the cold snow?"
"Anna didn't drop you somewhere?"
"Of course she did, but..." Sam sits up, and Dean sits on the bed next to him. "Jesus, Sam. My head had been scrambled for weeks, and you just walked away?"
"I..." Didn't want to risk being around. "Sorry. That was kind of crappy."
"Damn right it was." Dean looks stern, and Sam's stomach churns. Until Dean breaks and smirks. "But I'm a nice guy who might've spent a few days getting wasted, so I can forgive you."
Sam snorts. If Dean had really been getting wasted, he probably wouldn't look as well-groomed or even washed as he does. But then, he had to drive, and he even had a little while to sober up. So maybe. "What about Topeka?"
Dean waves a hand. "Just a ghost that practically tripped over the car. God, it would've kicked my ass a couple weeks ago."
"No kidding," Sam says. He definitely won't miss that. "So what now?"
"So now we sleep, grill Cas, and hit the road again. Sound good?"
Sam stares at him for a second. Dean is being exactly Dean...the one before all this went down. Which said he was well on his way to pretending none of this ever happened.
Good. Sam can go right there with him.
"Absolutely," he says.
-
And it should've ended there.
Not the job or anything. No, there was a lot left, even if Cas didn't have anything useful to add beyond promising he was well and truly on their side. Everyone knew things would come to a head, whether Sam and Dean tripped over Lilith or Michael first, but Sam was good at ignoring things when they weren't an immediate threat, so it wasn't even in the back of his mind, really.
Sam and Dean Winchester were back. They were in their usual positions in the car, Sam knew what the little rattles and quirky noises meant, he wasn't bumping his elbows like he did in the too-tiny Prius, and they both knew how to use everything in the trunk. Sam knew to look in the journal if his brain was still a little weird - it wasn't for the most part, but he liked to be sure - and he knew that Dean trusted him at his back.
The little jobs they took were the same as ever, too. Just better than it had been when they couldn't remember. They got their asses kicked less, took less time, and moved around like they always did. Sam was himself again, and everything should've been perfect.
But.
No, Sam can't even think like something's wrong. Dean's not acting weird around him. He makes the occasional snide comment about Ruby or demon blood, but that's nothing he wouldn't do anyway.
Which is why Sam can't explain why he keeps looking over his shoulder for something that isn't there. Or why his hand gets sweaty and hot when Dean's is near his on a restaurant table or if they're cleaning their guns or whatever.
He expected Dean to be weird. He has no idea what to do when it comes from him.
-
About a month after Dean gets his memories back, they're in a dump - and Dean's still a little lip-curling whenever he walks in, which never fails to make Sam laugh - but they've got two beds, and Sam's out like a light pretty much as soon as Dean clicks off his lamp. They'd spent the day exorcising demons the old-school way, with chants and books, and it's tiring. No exhilaration anymore. It's really the opposite.
It probably takes Sam a few minutes to wake up, judging by how fuzzy his brain is and how loud Dean's whimpering is. But he should've woken up sooner. Because the noises coming out of Dean's mouth all sound like his name.
"Dean?" he says, tongue dry. He can see Dean gripping his blankets in the dark, his eyes closed tight.
Dean shakes his head a couple times and says, "Sam" so plaintively that Sam's heart just about breaks in half. He climbs out of bed and crouches, shaking Dean's shoulder.
"Hey, hey."
Dean wakes with a gasp and grabs onto Sam's arm hard.
"It's okay," Sam says. "I'm here."
Dean's fingers grip Sam's sleeve, and their eyes meet. Sam can't seem to breathe. But Dean pushes back, and Sam inhales deeply.
"You okay?"
Dean nods. "Just a dream."
Sam sighs. "Dean-"
"I said I'm fine." Dean turns away from Sam and grabs a pillow.
It takes Sam a minute to slip back into his own bed. But he stares across at Dean for at least another hour before Sam falls back asleep, and Dean's breath doesn't deepen, and he doesn't move like he's asleep.
Maybe Sam's not the only weird one after all.
-
Sam gets Dean coffee the next morning, and Dean's groaning as soon as he sets the carrier down.
"Come on," Dean says. "We don't have to play head shrinker or whatever, okay? It was just a nightmare."
"One where you were saying my name?"
Dean freezes with a hand extended toward his coffee. But he moves again a second later. "It happens."
"It's okay, whatever it is," Sam says. "We can talk about it."
"Except we're not."
Sam sighs. "I've been having dreams, too."
Dean goes pale. "Visions?"
"What? No. Are you?"
Dean snorts, and Sam relaxes into his chair.
"We had our memories screwed with," Sam opens the cap on his coffee to make sure he has the right one. The amount of times he accidentally took Dean's cup after Dean made it Irish was too high to count. "That's gotta take its toll, right?"
There's a clatter, and Sam's head snaps up. Dean's on his feet, and the chair's tipped on the floor next to him.
"I didn't say I was dreaming memories," Dean says in a low voice.
"Dude, it's okay."
"Are you? Dreaming about...the past?"
Sam shrugs a little. "Yeah? I mean, it's not like I don't usually..."
But he trails off when he sees, just for a second, the fear in Dean's eyes.
"We're not discussing this," Dean finally says, and he stomps off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
"Fine!" Sam yells back. When Dean doesn't come out and the shower turns on, Sam grabs his coffee again and mutters, "Just stay in there. Whatever."
-
It takes Sam a couple days to figure out why Dean isn't crying out in his sleep.
At first, Sam thinks he caught Dean on a bad night and that Dean's working it out when he's awake. Dean's showers often get longer when things suck, and not because he's jerking off. Sam's not really the crying in the shower type, but after Dad died, Dean's increased bathroom time could only be for one reason. It's probably true this time, too.
But on the third night, Sam finds an empty whiskey bottle behind the toilet, and he goes up behind Dean while he rummages through his clothes and takes a careful sniff.
He smells like mouthwash. Dean never uses mouthwash.
"You mind giving me some space?" Dean says, and his words are careful. Hell, he's probably been talking like this for the past few night. How did Sam miss it?
"Dean," Sam says. When Dean turns, he holds up the empty bottle.
"So?" Dean snatches it out of his hand and throws it in the trash. "I needed to unwind."
"Unwind." Sam should be getting pissed. He would've gotten pissed before. But now, he lowers onto his bed and has to remember how to breathe. Much less talk.
"Did I hurt you?" he finally asks. "Was it...god, after I got my memories back, I shouldn't..."
When he manages to make himself look at Dean, Dean's staring at the wall behind the bed, one of his plaid shirts in his hands. Sam hasn't seen any of the Dean Smith attire since the day Dean confronted Michael. He'll probably never see it again.
"Dad's journal," Dean mutters.
Sam frowns. "What?"
"I...when we got the car back, before we had our memories, but before. Before we." Dean laughs a little, harsh and quick. "I flipped through a couple pages, and I saw our names...I figured the answers were there."
"Dean." Sam's eyes sting.
"But I didn't want to know." Dean rubs at his own eyes a little. "Because I thought...I thought it didn't matter."
"You couldn't know," Sam says quietly.
Dean's chin shakes a little. "But I know now. And it hasn't gone away. What do you think of that?"
"I..." Sam's breath hitches. "What?"
"I still want you. I shouldn't, but I do. I should've put five states between us when I realized...but I'm too selfish. No matter what kind of memories are in my head."
Dean drops the shirt, and this is it. If Sam says the wrong thing, or does the wrong thing, or even waits too long to answer, Dean's gone. He might stay, or he might leave, but this is the last time he'll lay himself open like this. And the moment passes in the blink of an eye because Sam, for all his waffling and uncertainty, does actually know what he needs.
So Sam stands up from the bed, and Dean finally looks at him, eyes wide as saucers. For the briefest of instants, Sam's convinced Dean'll bolt. But he doesn't, not even when Sam grabs his hips, and Sam knows Dean wasn't kidding. He needs Sam just as much as Sam needs him.
Words just aren't going to work. Dean won't hear them, and it's not like Sam knows what to say. So he kisses Dean to tell him everything he can't say, and immediately, Dean arches closer to Sam, wraps his arms around Sam's back, whimpers into his mouth just the littlest bit when Sam's tongue slides in Dean's mouth.
They always sucked at talking anyway.
This time, Dean's body is even more familiar. Sam's known it his whole life instead of just for weeks - not that he'd lost that lingering knowledge, not fully - and now he has the fresh memories of the way Dean's face looks when he comes, the spots that make him writhe and leave him breathless. A drag of teeth on his earlobe, rough fingertips over sensitive nipples, the brush of Sam's clothes over the skin on Dean's upper thigh. He strips Dean fast to get to him, and when Dean starts shaking from the stimulation, Sam takes his own clothes off. It's only fair.
Not that being naked makes Sam feel any more exposed than he already is. Just because Dean is letting Sam take care of him and clinging desperately doesn't mean Sam's not holding on just as much, that the touch of Dean's hands on his bare skin doesn't make him flushed and hard, that he isn't alternating between whispers that sound like "Dean" and "you" between kisses.
After Dean's dick leaks from the attention, Sam drops his head and licks, dragging his tongue over a vein on the side of Dean's cock. Dean doesn't grab onto Sam's hair when Sam takes the head into his mouth, working the base with his hand. No, he keeps pushing his fingers through Sam's hair, almost in the same rhythm as Sam's mouth and hand, and it's everything Sam wanted for weeks without knowing it.
The fingers only tug the littlest bit when Dean's close, and Sam figures he doesn't quite have enough experience to swallow, so he pulls off and jerks Dean through. He meets Dean's eyes after he's collapsed, sweaty and spent, on his pillow, and he obviously wipes his hand on the motel bedspread. Dean laughs a little.
"This is why these go on the floor, huh?"
"Yep," Sam says, and lays next to Dean, tucking his head on his shoulder.
That makes them cozy when Dean jerks Sam off. Dean had started to get up, but Sam pushed him back down, kissing his shoulder as he took himself in hand. Because yes, Dean would totally call him a girl if he knew, but being with Dean like this, feeling his breath on his neck and his warm skin against his own, is better than wacky positions or kinky crap.
But then, Dean tangles his fingers in Sam's and won't look away from his eyes, so at least he's not the only one.
He comes, and of course Dean wipes his own come-covered hand on the bedspread, and then they kick it off and climb under the sheet together. There's more than enough warmth between the two of them.
-
"So what are we looking at?" Sam says as he comes up behind Dean, pressing against his back to see the map.
Dean points down. "That should be the vampires' nest. If what the cop was saying was right, they're luring teens out there with booze and sucking them dry."
"Nice." Sam kisses Dean's neck. "You think we can do this without getting covered in dead man's blood?"
"That was one time. One. And let me remind you, you were the one who didn't screw the cap on right."
"Uh-huh." Sam rolls his eyes, but he lets Dean kiss him when he straightens up. "You keep that up, and I won't rub your shoulders when we get back."
"Whatever. You love me."
Sam grins as he grabs for his machete. He really kind of does.
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