Worth It Chapter 8/14
Title: Worth It - Chapter 8
Author: deansdirtybb
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Words: 5695
Warnings: Wincest, mentions of torture, talk of blood drinking, repeated death of main character, barebacking, rimming
Disclaimer: I’m just borrowing these characters (if only these pretty, pretty boys were actually mine). I make no money here, my only profit is the joy and ruined panties of my readers.
Spoilers: Specifically Season 3, although some themes from Season 4 might slip in.
Summary: The latest part of my WIP. We’re following Season 3, with an AU twist of Sam using his powers before Dean’s deal is up to try to save him.
AN #1: I have borrowed dialogue from 3.11 “Mystery Spot.” Of course I can never resist twisting Show’s words for my own amusement.
AN#2: Thanks to my LJ BFF and adorably amazing beta sammichgirl. (The first half of this one was actually written on her couch during our visit :D) Peach, you are the best, love you tons!
I am a total comment-whore and NEED the feedback. Please be kind enough to scratch my itch and let me know what you think, I promise to scratch back J
Masterpost
Worth It - Chapter 8
“No Ruby. Just. No.” Sam’s voice was both angry and weary. It was the same argument they’d had a hundred times by now. The same argument they would keep having.
“Just do it already, Sam. You want to save Dean? Really want to save your brother from the pit? This is the way. This is the only way you will ever be strong enough to fight the demon that owns Dean’s soul.” Ruby had once again sliced through her arm and was holding it in front of Sam’s face.
A part of him now understood she was most likely right. A part of him didn’t object, would actually, literally, do anything to save Dean. That part didn’t even care what it would do to him to drink the demon’s blood. The part that objected was the part that knew Dean would be disgusted by Sam turning into a bloodsucking monster. He knew, just knew without doubt that Dean would never be able to love him once he knew. And though Sam was terrified by the thought of losing Dean, he was just as terrified of losing Dean’s love now that he finally had it.
Sam grasped Ruby’s wrist and stared at the crimson stream rippling down the pale skin. Ruby smiled, “That’s it Sam, just a taste.” His head bent toward her arm, his tongue darted out across his lips, and for a moment Ruby thought she’d won. Sam’s lip curled and he threw her arm down and left without a word.
He just could not do it.
* * * * *
Dean woke suddenly, sweat on his forehead, his chest heaving. The nightmares had been increasing, in both frequency and intensity. It was always a variation on the same disturbing vision. His own face, with black eyes staring back at him. Sometimes he would be tied, suspended, surrounded by heat and stench, the air vibrating with screams that Dean would only later realize were his own. Sometimes he was the one holding a blade, sneering down at the black eyes. The familiar but distorted face twisted in a sick grimace of a laugh, choking out the words he couldn’t stand to hear yet again.
Sam was always there when Dean awakened them both with the screaming or thrashing. Always with patience, silently offering the strength and support that Dean resented needing. During the day Dean was still the strong, dangerous hunter. But at night he needed his little brother and the whole thing ate at Dean in a way he would never talk about. But Sam understood everything; that Dean needed Sam to hold him, but hated that he needed it. That Dean still needed to be strong in the light of day to live with how weak he perceived himself to be in the dark as he shot from the depths of another nightmare.
But now, as Dean sat panting and shaking, he was alone. No strong arms wrapped around him, no warm hazel eyes watching him, no little brother murmuring into his ear that he was awake now, safe, just a dream.
Dean forced his lungs to pull in steady deep breaths and slowly stood on quaking legs to make his way to the bathroom. He leaned over the sink, pointedly avoiding the mirror, and splashed water on his face. Then filled one of the plastic-wrapped cups and sipped at it. Eventually he began to calm and when his head cleared from the sulfur tinted fog of his dream, it hit him again. Sam was gone. Glancing at the clock he saw it was 3:42am. Too late for research, too early for breakfast. Where the hell was he?
* * * * *
When they pulled into the motel in Broward County it was too late to get started with the case, so Dean got them a room and they trudged in half asleep. They hadn’t spoken much since the night before, when Sam came back to find Dean sitting up in bed, flicking through infomercials. Dean never asked Sam where he’d been and he hadn’t even looked up when Sam stuttered out some half-ass cover story. They both knew it was a lie, and neither really wanted to actually discuss it.
Sam wasn’t really surprised to open the door and find two beds. Sometimes Dean just didn’t feel like dealing with the looks that came from asking for a single king. He was pretty surprised when Dean came out of the shower and pulled back the covers on the bed Sam was not in. They hadn’t slept in separate beds in months, and with his nightmares Dean had been less likely than ever to be more than an arm’s length away from his brother at night. Sam didn’t say anything, just rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.
* * * * *
Sam’s eyes snapped open and he sat up as “Heat of the Moment” blared from the crappy clock radio by the bed.
“Rise and shine, Sammy!” Dean called from the other bed, looking away from Sam and tying his boot
“Dude. Asia?”
“Come on, you love this song and you know it.”
“Yeah, and if I ever hear it again I'm gonna kill myself.”
Dean reached over and turned the volume up, “What? Sorry, couldn't hear you.” Dean bobbed his head to the music lips mouthing the words. It was somewhere between just classic Dean and Dean being purposely annoying and Sam just shook his head and laughed at his brother as Dean danced his way to the bathroom.
Sam got out of bed, dressed and followed Dean into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He picked up the toothpaste and made a face at the crust of dried paste Dean had left around most of the outside of the tube. Dean ignored the face in favor of spending extra time gargling. Sam’s lip curled and Dean just wagged his eyebrows, grin hinting at his lips.
Sam knew this game. Dean was definitely trying to irritate him. It was working. He stood in the doorway of the room waiting to leave as Dean rifled through his duffle. “Whenever you're ready, Dean,” Sam said, trying to maintain his calm.
“This yours?” Dean said holding up a black lace bra. Sam’s eyes narrowed as he bit back the anger. He had no idea where Dean had come up with that bra, but was absolutely certain now that Dean was pissed and trying everything to push all of Sam’s buttons. Sam shook his head and walked away.
They discussed the case over breakfast. Both of them focusing on business and ignoring the tension. The two were able to agree that checking out the Broward County Mystery Spot after hours was the best start.
* * * * *
“Find anything?” Dean asked, his flashlight beam bouncing off the walls around Sam.
Sam held the EMF meter out with no result, “No.”
“You have any idea what you're looking for?” Dean was still feeling the unignorable urge to irk his brother. He knew Sam was hiding something and since he couldn’t get Sam to talk, he’d settle for getting Sam as pissed as he was.
“Uh, yeah.” Sam’s voice lacked any real confidence and Dean just raised his eyebrows.
“No,” Sam relented.
Dean shook his head as his brother and they returned to searching the room with the sweeping beams of their flashlights.
“What the hell are you doing here?” came a shout from near the door. Sam turned to look for the source as Dean whipped around, flashlight and gun directed at the owner of the voice. Dean saw the owner of the shop aiming a gun at him and lowered his own. “Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa, we can explain,” Dean said.
The man turned to point his gun at Sam, “You robbing me?”
“Look, nobody's robbing you, calm down,” Sam tried.
Dean began to slowly move to put down his gun, hoping to calm the guy down, but the owner pointed his gun back at Dean, “Don't move!”
“Just putting the gun down.” Dean said. But it was too late, the owner fired his gun and Dean fell to the floor.
Sam’s heart lurched, “Dean!” he screamed, running to his brother’s side. He cradled Dean in his arms, and it was clear that Dean was struggling to breathe. It was worse than Sam thought. “Hey,” he said to Dean, trying to keep his focus, and then he turned to the owner, “Call 911!”
The guy’s eyes were wide as he stared at Sam and Dean, “I-I didn't mean to-” he stammered out, frozen in place.
“Now!” Sam shouted. The owner ran off and he turned back to his brother. Dean’s breaths were shallower and he was looking worse by the second. Sam gripped him tighter, he was supposed to have more time, he couldn’t lose Dean now, “Hey, hey, oh, no, no, no, not like this...” Sam’s eyes were full of tears and his own chest felt incredibly tight. Dean looked up at him, then Sam felt the last of Dean’s breath leave him and his heart splintered. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. He closed his eyes against the pain.
Suddenly, “Heat of the Moment” assaulted his ears. Sam opened his eyes to find himself back in bed at the motel, the crappy clock radio blaring out the same crappy song again. He sat up and looked around the room in disbelief.
“Rise and shine, Sammy!” Dean called from the opposite bed. What the hell? This was not possible. He’d just watched Dean die.
“Dude. Asia,” Dean said, breaking Sam out of his thoughts. Sam just stared at him, still trying to figure it out.
“Dean,” Sam said, both reverence and disbelief coloring his tone.
“Oh, come on, you love this song and you know it.” Dean stood up and danced his way into the bathroom, exactly the same as before. Sam followed and watched in astonishment as Dean gargled annoyingly loudly again. Then Dean turned to him, “What?”
“I don’t know.”
“You alright?” Dean asked, nearly dropping his quest to irritate Sam in his ever-present concern for his little brother.
“I think I…” Sam paused, searching for the words to explain, or the actual explanation itself. It just wasn’t possible. The same day, all over again? Maybe the psychic dreams were back, he must have triggered something during his practice with Ruby, knocked some other dark piece of his brain back into action when he was poking around. He looked back up at Dean, “Man, I had a weird dream.”
And that explanation would have held up, had the morning not continued to be eerily identical to his “dream,” but with a feeling that was decidedly different from his usual psychic vision dreams. As they left the diner, Sam was trying to explain to Dean what he was going through without being able to understand it himself. It couldn’t be just a vision, that didn’t fit. He honestly wasn’t sure what was happening, but thought maybe the mystery spot was best place to start looking for answers.
“We gotta check that place out, man. Look, just, go with me on this, okay?” Sam pleaded.
“All right, all right, we'll go tonight, after it closes, get ourselves a nice long look,” Dean agreed. Sam nodded, then realized what Dean had suggested and what that suggestion would lead to, “Wait, what? No.”
“Why not?” Dean asked.
“Uh. Let's just go now. Right now. Business hours, nice and crowded,” Sam knew the explanation would make no sense to his brother, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell Dean he didn’t want to go after closing because there was a good chance Dean would die.
“My God, you're a freak,” Dean said frowning at his little brother who was making less and less sense every minute.
“Dean.”
“Okay. Whatever. We'll go now.” Dean stepped off the curb ahead of Sam. Sam took a step forward to follow his brother when a car came from nowhere, speeding through the crosswalk and sending his brother flying up into the air and over the hood. Dean’s body crashed to the ground and Sam sprinted to his brother, gathering him in his arms, “Dean, no, no, no.” Dean wasn’t responding, was barely moving even to breathe, “Come on, Dean.”
Sam could not wrap his brain around this. It could not be happening again. He could not be holding his brother as the life seeped from his body for a second time. He just couldn’t take that. “Hey. Dean.” But Dean didn’t answer, didn’t move, didn’t breathe. “Dean. Dean.” Sam’s heart burst into a million burning pieces. Tears burned his eyes as he let them fall shut.
The blaring of Asia woke him again. He watched Dean dance to the bathroom and gargle loudly. Again.
They walked to the diner, and as soon as the waitress approached the table Sam spat out, “He'll take the special, side of bacon, coffee, black, nothing for me, thanks.”
“Sammy, I get all tingly when you take control like that,” Dean said with a wink and a smirk.
“Quit screwing around, Dean,” Sam needed to figure this out, because psychic dream or time loop, Dean was going to die in his arms in a matter of hours unless he found a way to stop it.
Dean’s face softened to concern at the tone of his brother’s voice, “Okay, okay, I'm listening. So, so you think that you're in some kind of a what again?”
“Time loop.”
“Like Groundhog Day?” Dean asked.
“Yes, exactly. Like Groundhog Day.”
Dean nodded, “Uh-huh.”
“So you don't believe me.”
Dean snorted out an aborted chuckle, “It's just a little crazy, I mean even for us crazy, you know, like, uh-”
“Dingo ate my baby crazy?” Sam asked, one eyebrow raised.
Dean frowned at Sam, “How'd you know I was going to say that?”
“Because you said it before, Dean,” Sam said, voice clipped and stressed, “that's my whole point.”
The waitress came to the table, “Coffee, black, and some hot sauce for the-whoops! Crap,” she said as the hot sauce began to tumble from her tray. Sam caught it and handed it back to her, eyes never leaving Dean.
“Thanks,” she said, putting down the hot sauce and leaving.
“Nice reflexes,” Dean said.
“No. I knew it was going to happen.”
Dean took a breath and gathered his patience, “Okay, look, I'm sure there's some sort of an explanation-”
“You're just going to have to go with me on this, Dean, you just have to, you owe me that much,” Sam’s voice grew increasingly strained and intense.
“Calm down.”
“Don't tell me to calm down. I can't calm down. I can't. Because-” Sam stopped and looked away.
“Because what?” Dean asked, concern filling his voice.
Tears welled in Sam’s hazel eyes, “Because you die today, Dean.”
“I'm not gonna die,” Dean said, “Not today.”
“Twice now I've watched you die, and I can't.” Sam drew in a shaky breath, “I won't do it again, okay? You're just going to have to believe me. Please.” A tear slid down Sam’s cheek. Dean leaned across the table to take Sam’s hand in his. He wasn’t prone to PDA, but no one here knew them as brothers, and if Sam needed his comfort he’d just have to deal with the looks a gay couple would be bound to get in a small southern town.
“All right. I still think you're nuts, but okay, whatever this is, we'll figure it out.” He squeezed Sam’s hand in his. Sam swiped the back of his free hand across his eyes and nodded, wanting more than anything to believe his brother.
* * * * *
But they didn’t figure it out. 100 Tuesdays passed, and Sam watched Dean die 100 different ways. And it hurt, ached, burned a hole through him every single one of those hundred times.
Around Tuesday number 30 Sam tried to call Ruby, but got her voicemail. He tried again, and again, and every Tuesday until about 64, when he realized it was still the same day for her and she was just going to stay unreachable until he got out of this god-awful day.
When he finally put the pieces together and stood face to face with the Trickster, stake to his throat, Sam thought the pain was finally over.
“So this is fun for you?” Sam asked, “Killing Dean over and over again?”
The Trickster sneered, “One, yes. It is fun. And two? This is so not about killing Dean. This joke is on you, Sam. Watching your brother die, every day? Forever?”
“You son of a bitch,” Sam snarled out, pressing the stake into the skin of Loki’s neck.
“How long will it take you to realize? You can't save your brother. No matter what.”
“Oh yeah?” Sam asked, “I kill you, this all ends now.” He moved to follow through on his threat, but the Trickster interrupted him.
“Oh-oh, hey, whoa! Okay. Look. I was just playing around. You can't take a joke, fine. You're out of it. Tomorrow, you'll wake up and it'll be Wednesday. I swear.”
“You're lying,” Sam said, “Easier to just kill you.”
“Sorry, kiddo. Can't have that,” he said and snapped his fingers.
Sam found himself lying in bed in the hotel room, waking up to “Back In Time.” He glanced over to the clock to see that it said Wednesday. Tuesday was over. Finally, finally over. Sam was elated. He stood from the bed and walked right up to Dean in the bathroom, grabbed his face in his hands and kissed him.
“How many Tuesdays did you have?” Dean asked.
“I don’t know. I lost count,” Sam said, throwing a shirt on. He needed to get as much space between himself and Broward County as he could. “Pack your stuff, let’s get the hell out of town. Now.”
“No breakfast?” Dean asked.
“No breakfast.”
Sam felt completely relieved, no more watching Dean die. He knew now he could never survive that, and once they put this godforsaken town in the rearview mirror, his first call was going to be to Ruby. Risking Dean’s anger, judgment or disappointment was no longer the scariest thing Sam could imagine. He zipped his duffel and threw it over his shoulder and was about to head out the door when the sound of a gunshot rang in his ears.
No! This could not be happening. Not again. Not now. He was supposed to be done with the torture of his soul mate being ripped from his life in front of him.
“Dean!” he shouted as he sprinted from the room toward where the Impala was parked. He found his brother on the ground, a bullet hole spurting blood from his heart. Oh God, no. No! This. Was. Not. Happening. He fell to his knees next to his brother and pulled him into his arms.
“No, no, no no no, hey, hey, come on, not today, not today, this isn't supposed to happen today, come on-” And having seen it 100 times or 1000 times, it didn’t matter. This, the sight of Dean bleeding, his fair skin going ashen grey and the life draining from his green eyes, it crushed Sam’s soul. Tore his heart into jagged pieces that ripped through him like shrapnel. He couldn’t breathe through the tightness in his chest. His eyes burned with tears he could never hope to stop. His limbs felt heavy. His brain struggled to make sense of what was before it, but his mind would not move.
Desperate for anything to make this be not happening, even one of the Trickster’s cruel pranks, Sam closed his eyes and waited for Asia or Huey Lewis to wake him. When only silence rang in his ears, he opened his eyes to see Dean, lifeless in his arms. “I'm supposed to wake up.”
The tears broke free, Sam fell back on his ass on the pavement, pulling Dean’s body to his chest. He threw his head back and screamed, then let it fall forward into the spikey hair on the crown of Dean’s head and sobbed. He clutched tight to Dean and drew in deep breaths of Dean’s scent, and the tears spilled faster, his chest heaved harder. He was sure his body would shake apart with this anguish. And he didn’t care. If he had lost Dean, really lost him this time, nothing was worth it anymore.
And that is where Ruby found him. Sam Winchester, six feet five inches of powerful hunter, completely broken, empty. Near catatonic.
* * * * *
Sam could never be sure what exactly happened those first couple of months. He truly had no memory. He slowly climbed from his fog when Ruby announced she’d found a lead on the Trickster.
Before that he had a few vague memories of her trying to convince him to train again. That the best way to get revenge for Dean’s death was to tap into his powers and really make the Trickster feel it. But Sam hadn’t had the strength. His powers all came from his mind…and his mind was shut down. Opening his thoughts up meant processing the fact that Dean was actually, really gone. That just couldn’t be true. So, no, he’d said. No training. No Demon blood. No thinking.
But it was a lead on the Trickster that woke him up. Suddenly he could feel the blind rush of rage searing through him. He wanted the Trickster. Wanted him impaled and bleeding. And he hoped that Loki’s death would bring his brother back. Ruby raised a doubting eyebrow to that, but at least Sam was moving again.
They found Loki and when Sam stood in front of him, the anger drained away and all he wanted was his brother. “Bring him back,” Sam said, eyes tired and sad.
“Who, Dean? Didn't my girl send you flowers? Dean's dead. He ain't coming back. His soul's downstairs doing the hellfire rumba as we speak.”
Sam closed his eyes against the pain from that image. “Just take us back to that Tuesday-er, Wednesday-when it all started. Please. We won't come after you, I swear.”
“You swear,” Loki said, disbelievingly.
“Yes,” Sam answered, earnestly.
“I don't know. Even if I could-”
“You can.”
“True. But that don't mean I should. Sam, there's a lesson here that I've been trying to drill into that freakish Cro-Magnon skull of yours.”
“Lesson? What lesson?” Sam asked, both confused and irritated.
“This obsession to save Dean? The way you two keep sacrificing yourselves for each other? Nothing good comes out of it. Just blood and pain. Dean's your weakness. And the bad guys know it, too. It's gonna be the death of you, Sam. Sometimes you just gotta let people go.”
That was just not going to happen. Sam would never let Dean go. “He's my brother.”
“Yup. And like it or not, this is what life's gonna be like without him.”
His voice threatened to break as he simply pleaded with Loki, “Please. Just-please.”
“I swear, it's like talking to a brick wall.” Sam aimed tear-filled puppy eyes at the Trickster, who just rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. “Okay, look. This all stopped being fun months ago. You're Travis Bickle in a skirt, pal. I'm over it.”
“Meaning what?” Sam asked.
“Meaning that's for me to know and you to find out,” Loki said, finishing with a snap of his fingers.
“Back In Time” played from the crap clock radio. Sam’s eyes popped open and he sat straight up in bed. He was back in the room in Broward County. He turned his head toward the sound of running water, and felt a lump in his throat. There stood Dean at the sink. Dean, who he’d held in his arms as he died, Dean that he’d been unable to hold or touch or kiss for months. He stared as his brother finished brushing his teeth and turned to say, “What, you gonna sleep all day?”
Sam still just stared, mouth slightly open. It was all he wanted for every second of every minute for the last six months and now, his beautiful, beautiful brother was right there.
“I know, no Asia. This station sucks,” Dean said, oblivious to anything going on in Sam’s mind. Sam looked at the dial on the clock displaying “WED.”
“It's Wednesday,” he said, voice quiet and awed.
“Yeah, usually comes after Tuesday. Turn that thing off.” Sam threw back the covers from his bed, stood and moved to his brother. He wrapped a large hand around Dean’s neck and the other long arm around his waist and drew him into a deep kiss. His mouth worked over the full lips of his brother with equal parts love and desperation. He needed to feel Dean, needed to know he was real and here and alive.
Dean, who hadn’t been through the last six months with him, put a hand in the center of Sam’s chest and pushed him back slightly.
Dean searched Sam’s eyes and instantly recognized the look in them. Sam needed to feel Dean, to reaffirm the life flowing through his brother’s veins. Dean hadn’t been through every Tuesday the way Sam had, and his anger and frustration about Sam hiding things from him was still fresh. But that look, in those beautiful hazel eyes, Dean had no defense for that. He leaned forward again and met his brother’s lips in a deep tenderhot kiss.
Sam turned them and pushed Dean back toward the bed. He stopped long enough to pull the clothes from Dean’s body and rip his own off. He pressed their bodies together; every inch of bare skin lined up as he sucked Dean’s full lip into his mouth, nipped at it, plunging his tongue into Dean’s mouth.
Dean moaned at the feeling of Sam’s hot skin against his and his brother’s tongue pushing into his mouth. His hands skimmed down Sam’s muscled back, landing on the firm globes of his ass. Sam moaned as Dean squeezed his ass and pushed their leaking cocks together. They rutted against each other frantically before Sam broke the kiss, breathing hard. He wanted more than this and he gently pushed Dean down onto the bed.
Dean lay on his back, and Sam balanced over him on hands and knees. He kissed Dean again, moving to the sensitive skin of his neck. He nipped and sucked over the beating pulse, nuzzled Dean’s ear, “God, Dean. So beautiful. Need you.” His tongue darted out, tracing the shell, then pulling the lobe into his mouth as he sucked on it. Dean moaned his name, running his hands up Sam’s flanks.
Sam worked his way to the base of Dean’s throat, kissing freckles in a path to the tattoo that lay over his brother’s beating heart. He kissed it, traced the lines with his tongue, and nipped the skin. He wasted no time moving to Dean’s nipples, teasing his brother with tongue and teeth.
He nosed down Dean’s stomach, dipping his tongue into his navel, and tracing the path of dark blonde hair until it reached the base of Dean’s flushed, blood heavy cock. He looked up at Dean through his bangs as he took the tip into his mouth. He moaned at the taste of his brother, the weight of his cock on his tongue. He’d been without this for months, and now he was in total bliss to have it again.
Dean keened and writhed as Sam sucked and licked his cock. He nearly lost his mind when Sam worked him deep and swallowed around the head. “Fuck, Sammy!”
Sam moaned, and pulled off, a satisfying, dirty wet pop coming with the action. Dean whimpered and Sam grinned up at him. “Turn over, Dean.”
Dean groaned as he complied. Sam balanced over his brother for a moment, appreciating the perfect landscape of Dean’s back and gorgeous ass. His brother was beautiful from every angle, but he truly had never seen anyone more stunning from this angle than Dean.
Sam licked a stripe up Dean’s spine, then back down. When he came to Dean’s ass, he bit into one defined cheek, big hand squeezing the other. Dean reflexively bucked up into the feeling, moaning a plea. Sam placed a hand on each cheek and spread them, licking over Dean’s hole, earning a curse from his brother.
“You like that, Dean?”
“Mm-hm, fuck Sammy, yeah.” Sam traced around the ring of muscle, teased the entrance with the tip of his tongue. Dean moaned and pressed back and was rewarded with a full press of Sam’s tongue. Sam fucked his tongue in and out, teasing the rim and swirling around trembling walls.
Dean quickly turned into a wreck above him. Moaning, keening, wiggling, writhing, begging. Everything punctuated with “Sammy” and Sam loved every second of it. When he pushed two long fingers in beside his tongue, Dean shouted a curse, and was soon pleading with Sam for more, for his cock.
Sam turned Dean back over; he needed to watch Dean’s face. He reached into the nightstand and popped open the cap on the lube, He slicked his aching cock slowly as Dean watched. Sam pulled Dean’s leg over his shoulder, lined himself up with Dean’s wet open hole and slowly, pushed in. He felt every inch of his brother’s tight hole and he watched the feeling of being stretched register in Dean’s eyes.
Once he was fully seated, he paused and leaned down to kiss his brother. He deepened that kiss just as he began to move his hips and Dean reached up to grasp Sam’s biceps. It was intense, the physicality of it, the deep, raw emotion bubbling up. Sam knew he was going to come fast and hard, and he wanted, needed to feel Dean do the same.
He pulled back from the kiss and pulled Dean’s other leg over his shoulder, adjusting his angle until he saw the electric shock of having his prostate hit register on Dean’s face. Then he wrapped his long fingers around his brother’s dick and pumped in time with his thrusts into Dean’s prostate.
“Oh, God. Fuck. Sammy. God…gonna…so good, baby boy. So close.”
“Do it, Dean. Please, De, please come for me.”
And Dean did. Arched his back, threw his head back and screamed Sam’s name as he came so hard his vision went white.
Dean’s muscles contracted around Sam and the sound and sight of his brother coming, the feeling of Dean so alive around him, sent Sam careening over the edge. He yelled Dean’s name and then collapsed on top of him.
They lay like that for a few minutes, catching their breath.
“Dude, how many Tuesdays did you have?” Dean asked, breathless.
“Enough,” Sam said with a huff and a chuckle. “What, uh, what do you remember?”
“I remember you were pretty whacked out of it yesterday. I remember catching up with the Trickster. That's about it,” Dean said with a small shake of his head. Sam nodded, “Let's go.”
“No breakfast?” Dean asked.
“No breakfast.”
Dean shrugged, “All right, I'll pack the car.” He started to stand from the bed, when Sam’s hand around his wrist stopped him, “Wait, you're not going anywhere alone.”
Dean rolled his eyes, “It's the parking lot, Sam.”
“Just-just trust me.” Dean saw the look in Sam’s eyes and knew not to question it any further. They packed up the room and as they stood in the door to go, Dean turned to him and asked, “Hey, you don't look so good. Something else happen?”
Sam was quiet, weighing the options of explaining everything to his brother, or sparing him the details of how hard Sam had crashed without him. Of telling him it was a demon that pushed him to survive after his reason to exist had been torn from him. “I just had a really weird dream.”
Dean nodded, he could see the pain in Sam’s eyes, and he knew there was something more going on. But he knew watching Sam die once had been more than he could bear. He couldn’t begin to imagine what watching his older brother die 100 times had done to Sammy. “Clowns or midgets?” he asked.
Sam looked up at him, a little surprised at first. He decided to take the out being offered to him and as Dean grinned at him, Sam tried to smile back. His lips curled into the right shape, but his eyes remained clouded and teary. He looked away from Dean and picked up his bag. Dean grabbed his own duffel and they headed out to the car.
* * * * *
They drove through 3 states before Sam would let them stop. Dean picked the first motel he found after that. He was willing to go along with whatever Sammy needed right now, but he was exhausted after umpteen uninterrupted hours of driving.
They showered together; partly to save time, but mostly because Sam couldn’t seem to let Dean out of his sight. After, they climbed into the same bed and Dean let Sam pull him back against his broad chest, never once making a complaint about being the little spoon. He understood Sam’s need for constant touch; and really, being touched by Sam was not exactly a hardship.
* * * * *
Once Dean was sound asleep, chest rising and falling evenly, Sam carefully slipped out from behind him. He pulled on jeans and silently went outside, pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he dialed without hesitation and got the address he needed.
Ruby smirked as he walked up to her. “Nice to see you walking and talking again, Sammy.”
“It’s Sam,” he said, voice deep and even. He reached forward, drew his switchblade across her arm and brought the parted flesh to his lips. Without a second thought, he sucked the demon’s blood into his mouth.
Chapter 9
Author: deansdirtybb
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Words: 5695
Warnings: Wincest, mentions of torture, talk of blood drinking, repeated death of main character, barebacking, rimming
Disclaimer: I’m just borrowing these characters (if only these pretty, pretty boys were actually mine). I make no money here, my only profit is the joy and ruined panties of my readers.
Spoilers: Specifically Season 3, although some themes from Season 4 might slip in.
Summary: The latest part of my WIP. We’re following Season 3, with an AU twist of Sam using his powers before Dean’s deal is up to try to save him.
AN #1: I have borrowed dialogue from 3.11 “Mystery Spot.” Of course I can never resist twisting Show’s words for my own amusement.
AN#2: Thanks to my LJ BFF and adorably amazing beta sammichgirl. (The first half of this one was actually written on her couch during our visit :D) Peach, you are the best, love you tons!
I am a total comment-whore and NEED the feedback. Please be kind enough to scratch my itch and let me know what you think, I promise to scratch back J
Masterpost
Worth It - Chapter 8
“No Ruby. Just. No.” Sam’s voice was both angry and weary. It was the same argument they’d had a hundred times by now. The same argument they would keep having.
“Just do it already, Sam. You want to save Dean? Really want to save your brother from the pit? This is the way. This is the only way you will ever be strong enough to fight the demon that owns Dean’s soul.” Ruby had once again sliced through her arm and was holding it in front of Sam’s face.
A part of him now understood she was most likely right. A part of him didn’t object, would actually, literally, do anything to save Dean. That part didn’t even care what it would do to him to drink the demon’s blood. The part that objected was the part that knew Dean would be disgusted by Sam turning into a bloodsucking monster. He knew, just knew without doubt that Dean would never be able to love him once he knew. And though Sam was terrified by the thought of losing Dean, he was just as terrified of losing Dean’s love now that he finally had it.
Sam grasped Ruby’s wrist and stared at the crimson stream rippling down the pale skin. Ruby smiled, “That’s it Sam, just a taste.” His head bent toward her arm, his tongue darted out across his lips, and for a moment Ruby thought she’d won. Sam’s lip curled and he threw her arm down and left without a word.
He just could not do it.
* * * * *
Dean woke suddenly, sweat on his forehead, his chest heaving. The nightmares had been increasing, in both frequency and intensity. It was always a variation on the same disturbing vision. His own face, with black eyes staring back at him. Sometimes he would be tied, suspended, surrounded by heat and stench, the air vibrating with screams that Dean would only later realize were his own. Sometimes he was the one holding a blade, sneering down at the black eyes. The familiar but distorted face twisted in a sick grimace of a laugh, choking out the words he couldn’t stand to hear yet again.
Sam was always there when Dean awakened them both with the screaming or thrashing. Always with patience, silently offering the strength and support that Dean resented needing. During the day Dean was still the strong, dangerous hunter. But at night he needed his little brother and the whole thing ate at Dean in a way he would never talk about. But Sam understood everything; that Dean needed Sam to hold him, but hated that he needed it. That Dean still needed to be strong in the light of day to live with how weak he perceived himself to be in the dark as he shot from the depths of another nightmare.
But now, as Dean sat panting and shaking, he was alone. No strong arms wrapped around him, no warm hazel eyes watching him, no little brother murmuring into his ear that he was awake now, safe, just a dream.
Dean forced his lungs to pull in steady deep breaths and slowly stood on quaking legs to make his way to the bathroom. He leaned over the sink, pointedly avoiding the mirror, and splashed water on his face. Then filled one of the plastic-wrapped cups and sipped at it. Eventually he began to calm and when his head cleared from the sulfur tinted fog of his dream, it hit him again. Sam was gone. Glancing at the clock he saw it was 3:42am. Too late for research, too early for breakfast. Where the hell was he?
* * * * *
When they pulled into the motel in Broward County it was too late to get started with the case, so Dean got them a room and they trudged in half asleep. They hadn’t spoken much since the night before, when Sam came back to find Dean sitting up in bed, flicking through infomercials. Dean never asked Sam where he’d been and he hadn’t even looked up when Sam stuttered out some half-ass cover story. They both knew it was a lie, and neither really wanted to actually discuss it.
Sam wasn’t really surprised to open the door and find two beds. Sometimes Dean just didn’t feel like dealing with the looks that came from asking for a single king. He was pretty surprised when Dean came out of the shower and pulled back the covers on the bed Sam was not in. They hadn’t slept in separate beds in months, and with his nightmares Dean had been less likely than ever to be more than an arm’s length away from his brother at night. Sam didn’t say anything, just rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.
* * * * *
Sam’s eyes snapped open and he sat up as “Heat of the Moment” blared from the crappy clock radio by the bed.
“Rise and shine, Sammy!” Dean called from the other bed, looking away from Sam and tying his boot
“Dude. Asia?”
“Come on, you love this song and you know it.”
“Yeah, and if I ever hear it again I'm gonna kill myself.”
Dean reached over and turned the volume up, “What? Sorry, couldn't hear you.” Dean bobbed his head to the music lips mouthing the words. It was somewhere between just classic Dean and Dean being purposely annoying and Sam just shook his head and laughed at his brother as Dean danced his way to the bathroom.
Sam got out of bed, dressed and followed Dean into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He picked up the toothpaste and made a face at the crust of dried paste Dean had left around most of the outside of the tube. Dean ignored the face in favor of spending extra time gargling. Sam’s lip curled and Dean just wagged his eyebrows, grin hinting at his lips.
Sam knew this game. Dean was definitely trying to irritate him. It was working. He stood in the doorway of the room waiting to leave as Dean rifled through his duffle. “Whenever you're ready, Dean,” Sam said, trying to maintain his calm.
“This yours?” Dean said holding up a black lace bra. Sam’s eyes narrowed as he bit back the anger. He had no idea where Dean had come up with that bra, but was absolutely certain now that Dean was pissed and trying everything to push all of Sam’s buttons. Sam shook his head and walked away.
They discussed the case over breakfast. Both of them focusing on business and ignoring the tension. The two were able to agree that checking out the Broward County Mystery Spot after hours was the best start.
* * * * *
“Find anything?” Dean asked, his flashlight beam bouncing off the walls around Sam.
Sam held the EMF meter out with no result, “No.”
“You have any idea what you're looking for?” Dean was still feeling the unignorable urge to irk his brother. He knew Sam was hiding something and since he couldn’t get Sam to talk, he’d settle for getting Sam as pissed as he was.
“Uh, yeah.” Sam’s voice lacked any real confidence and Dean just raised his eyebrows.
“No,” Sam relented.
Dean shook his head as his brother and they returned to searching the room with the sweeping beams of their flashlights.
“What the hell are you doing here?” came a shout from near the door. Sam turned to look for the source as Dean whipped around, flashlight and gun directed at the owner of the voice. Dean saw the owner of the shop aiming a gun at him and lowered his own. “Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa, we can explain,” Dean said.
The man turned to point his gun at Sam, “You robbing me?”
“Look, nobody's robbing you, calm down,” Sam tried.
Dean began to slowly move to put down his gun, hoping to calm the guy down, but the owner pointed his gun back at Dean, “Don't move!”
“Just putting the gun down.” Dean said. But it was too late, the owner fired his gun and Dean fell to the floor.
Sam’s heart lurched, “Dean!” he screamed, running to his brother’s side. He cradled Dean in his arms, and it was clear that Dean was struggling to breathe. It was worse than Sam thought. “Hey,” he said to Dean, trying to keep his focus, and then he turned to the owner, “Call 911!”
The guy’s eyes were wide as he stared at Sam and Dean, “I-I didn't mean to-” he stammered out, frozen in place.
“Now!” Sam shouted. The owner ran off and he turned back to his brother. Dean’s breaths were shallower and he was looking worse by the second. Sam gripped him tighter, he was supposed to have more time, he couldn’t lose Dean now, “Hey, hey, oh, no, no, no, not like this...” Sam’s eyes were full of tears and his own chest felt incredibly tight. Dean looked up at him, then Sam felt the last of Dean’s breath leave him and his heart splintered. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. He closed his eyes against the pain.
Suddenly, “Heat of the Moment” assaulted his ears. Sam opened his eyes to find himself back in bed at the motel, the crappy clock radio blaring out the same crappy song again. He sat up and looked around the room in disbelief.
“Rise and shine, Sammy!” Dean called from the opposite bed. What the hell? This was not possible. He’d just watched Dean die.
“Dude. Asia,” Dean said, breaking Sam out of his thoughts. Sam just stared at him, still trying to figure it out.
“Dean,” Sam said, both reverence and disbelief coloring his tone.
“Oh, come on, you love this song and you know it.” Dean stood up and danced his way into the bathroom, exactly the same as before. Sam followed and watched in astonishment as Dean gargled annoyingly loudly again. Then Dean turned to him, “What?”
“I don’t know.”
“You alright?” Dean asked, nearly dropping his quest to irritate Sam in his ever-present concern for his little brother.
“I think I…” Sam paused, searching for the words to explain, or the actual explanation itself. It just wasn’t possible. The same day, all over again? Maybe the psychic dreams were back, he must have triggered something during his practice with Ruby, knocked some other dark piece of his brain back into action when he was poking around. He looked back up at Dean, “Man, I had a weird dream.”
And that explanation would have held up, had the morning not continued to be eerily identical to his “dream,” but with a feeling that was decidedly different from his usual psychic vision dreams. As they left the diner, Sam was trying to explain to Dean what he was going through without being able to understand it himself. It couldn’t be just a vision, that didn’t fit. He honestly wasn’t sure what was happening, but thought maybe the mystery spot was best place to start looking for answers.
“We gotta check that place out, man. Look, just, go with me on this, okay?” Sam pleaded.
“All right, all right, we'll go tonight, after it closes, get ourselves a nice long look,” Dean agreed. Sam nodded, then realized what Dean had suggested and what that suggestion would lead to, “Wait, what? No.”
“Why not?” Dean asked.
“Uh. Let's just go now. Right now. Business hours, nice and crowded,” Sam knew the explanation would make no sense to his brother, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell Dean he didn’t want to go after closing because there was a good chance Dean would die.
“My God, you're a freak,” Dean said frowning at his little brother who was making less and less sense every minute.
“Dean.”
“Okay. Whatever. We'll go now.” Dean stepped off the curb ahead of Sam. Sam took a step forward to follow his brother when a car came from nowhere, speeding through the crosswalk and sending his brother flying up into the air and over the hood. Dean’s body crashed to the ground and Sam sprinted to his brother, gathering him in his arms, “Dean, no, no, no.” Dean wasn’t responding, was barely moving even to breathe, “Come on, Dean.”
Sam could not wrap his brain around this. It could not be happening again. He could not be holding his brother as the life seeped from his body for a second time. He just couldn’t take that. “Hey. Dean.” But Dean didn’t answer, didn’t move, didn’t breathe. “Dean. Dean.” Sam’s heart burst into a million burning pieces. Tears burned his eyes as he let them fall shut.
The blaring of Asia woke him again. He watched Dean dance to the bathroom and gargle loudly. Again.
They walked to the diner, and as soon as the waitress approached the table Sam spat out, “He'll take the special, side of bacon, coffee, black, nothing for me, thanks.”
“Sammy, I get all tingly when you take control like that,” Dean said with a wink and a smirk.
“Quit screwing around, Dean,” Sam needed to figure this out, because psychic dream or time loop, Dean was going to die in his arms in a matter of hours unless he found a way to stop it.
Dean’s face softened to concern at the tone of his brother’s voice, “Okay, okay, I'm listening. So, so you think that you're in some kind of a what again?”
“Time loop.”
“Like Groundhog Day?” Dean asked.
“Yes, exactly. Like Groundhog Day.”
Dean nodded, “Uh-huh.”
“So you don't believe me.”
Dean snorted out an aborted chuckle, “It's just a little crazy, I mean even for us crazy, you know, like, uh-”
“Dingo ate my baby crazy?” Sam asked, one eyebrow raised.
Dean frowned at Sam, “How'd you know I was going to say that?”
“Because you said it before, Dean,” Sam said, voice clipped and stressed, “that's my whole point.”
The waitress came to the table, “Coffee, black, and some hot sauce for the-whoops! Crap,” she said as the hot sauce began to tumble from her tray. Sam caught it and handed it back to her, eyes never leaving Dean.
“Thanks,” she said, putting down the hot sauce and leaving.
“Nice reflexes,” Dean said.
“No. I knew it was going to happen.”
Dean took a breath and gathered his patience, “Okay, look, I'm sure there's some sort of an explanation-”
“You're just going to have to go with me on this, Dean, you just have to, you owe me that much,” Sam’s voice grew increasingly strained and intense.
“Calm down.”
“Don't tell me to calm down. I can't calm down. I can't. Because-” Sam stopped and looked away.
“Because what?” Dean asked, concern filling his voice.
Tears welled in Sam’s hazel eyes, “Because you die today, Dean.”
“I'm not gonna die,” Dean said, “Not today.”
“Twice now I've watched you die, and I can't.” Sam drew in a shaky breath, “I won't do it again, okay? You're just going to have to believe me. Please.” A tear slid down Sam’s cheek. Dean leaned across the table to take Sam’s hand in his. He wasn’t prone to PDA, but no one here knew them as brothers, and if Sam needed his comfort he’d just have to deal with the looks a gay couple would be bound to get in a small southern town.
“All right. I still think you're nuts, but okay, whatever this is, we'll figure it out.” He squeezed Sam’s hand in his. Sam swiped the back of his free hand across his eyes and nodded, wanting more than anything to believe his brother.
* * * * *
But they didn’t figure it out. 100 Tuesdays passed, and Sam watched Dean die 100 different ways. And it hurt, ached, burned a hole through him every single one of those hundred times.
Around Tuesday number 30 Sam tried to call Ruby, but got her voicemail. He tried again, and again, and every Tuesday until about 64, when he realized it was still the same day for her and she was just going to stay unreachable until he got out of this god-awful day.
When he finally put the pieces together and stood face to face with the Trickster, stake to his throat, Sam thought the pain was finally over.
“So this is fun for you?” Sam asked, “Killing Dean over and over again?”
The Trickster sneered, “One, yes. It is fun. And two? This is so not about killing Dean. This joke is on you, Sam. Watching your brother die, every day? Forever?”
“You son of a bitch,” Sam snarled out, pressing the stake into the skin of Loki’s neck.
“How long will it take you to realize? You can't save your brother. No matter what.”
“Oh yeah?” Sam asked, “I kill you, this all ends now.” He moved to follow through on his threat, but the Trickster interrupted him.
“Oh-oh, hey, whoa! Okay. Look. I was just playing around. You can't take a joke, fine. You're out of it. Tomorrow, you'll wake up and it'll be Wednesday. I swear.”
“You're lying,” Sam said, “Easier to just kill you.”
“Sorry, kiddo. Can't have that,” he said and snapped his fingers.
Sam found himself lying in bed in the hotel room, waking up to “Back In Time.” He glanced over to the clock to see that it said Wednesday. Tuesday was over. Finally, finally over. Sam was elated. He stood from the bed and walked right up to Dean in the bathroom, grabbed his face in his hands and kissed him.
“How many Tuesdays did you have?” Dean asked.
“I don’t know. I lost count,” Sam said, throwing a shirt on. He needed to get as much space between himself and Broward County as he could. “Pack your stuff, let’s get the hell out of town. Now.”
“No breakfast?” Dean asked.
“No breakfast.”
Sam felt completely relieved, no more watching Dean die. He knew now he could never survive that, and once they put this godforsaken town in the rearview mirror, his first call was going to be to Ruby. Risking Dean’s anger, judgment or disappointment was no longer the scariest thing Sam could imagine. He zipped his duffel and threw it over his shoulder and was about to head out the door when the sound of a gunshot rang in his ears.
No! This could not be happening. Not again. Not now. He was supposed to be done with the torture of his soul mate being ripped from his life in front of him.
“Dean!” he shouted as he sprinted from the room toward where the Impala was parked. He found his brother on the ground, a bullet hole spurting blood from his heart. Oh God, no. No! This. Was. Not. Happening. He fell to his knees next to his brother and pulled him into his arms.
“No, no, no no no, hey, hey, come on, not today, not today, this isn't supposed to happen today, come on-” And having seen it 100 times or 1000 times, it didn’t matter. This, the sight of Dean bleeding, his fair skin going ashen grey and the life draining from his green eyes, it crushed Sam’s soul. Tore his heart into jagged pieces that ripped through him like shrapnel. He couldn’t breathe through the tightness in his chest. His eyes burned with tears he could never hope to stop. His limbs felt heavy. His brain struggled to make sense of what was before it, but his mind would not move.
Desperate for anything to make this be not happening, even one of the Trickster’s cruel pranks, Sam closed his eyes and waited for Asia or Huey Lewis to wake him. When only silence rang in his ears, he opened his eyes to see Dean, lifeless in his arms. “I'm supposed to wake up.”
The tears broke free, Sam fell back on his ass on the pavement, pulling Dean’s body to his chest. He threw his head back and screamed, then let it fall forward into the spikey hair on the crown of Dean’s head and sobbed. He clutched tight to Dean and drew in deep breaths of Dean’s scent, and the tears spilled faster, his chest heaved harder. He was sure his body would shake apart with this anguish. And he didn’t care. If he had lost Dean, really lost him this time, nothing was worth it anymore.
And that is where Ruby found him. Sam Winchester, six feet five inches of powerful hunter, completely broken, empty. Near catatonic.
* * * * *
Sam could never be sure what exactly happened those first couple of months. He truly had no memory. He slowly climbed from his fog when Ruby announced she’d found a lead on the Trickster.
Before that he had a few vague memories of her trying to convince him to train again. That the best way to get revenge for Dean’s death was to tap into his powers and really make the Trickster feel it. But Sam hadn’t had the strength. His powers all came from his mind…and his mind was shut down. Opening his thoughts up meant processing the fact that Dean was actually, really gone. That just couldn’t be true. So, no, he’d said. No training. No Demon blood. No thinking.
But it was a lead on the Trickster that woke him up. Suddenly he could feel the blind rush of rage searing through him. He wanted the Trickster. Wanted him impaled and bleeding. And he hoped that Loki’s death would bring his brother back. Ruby raised a doubting eyebrow to that, but at least Sam was moving again.
They found Loki and when Sam stood in front of him, the anger drained away and all he wanted was his brother. “Bring him back,” Sam said, eyes tired and sad.
“Who, Dean? Didn't my girl send you flowers? Dean's dead. He ain't coming back. His soul's downstairs doing the hellfire rumba as we speak.”
Sam closed his eyes against the pain from that image. “Just take us back to that Tuesday-er, Wednesday-when it all started. Please. We won't come after you, I swear.”
“You swear,” Loki said, disbelievingly.
“Yes,” Sam answered, earnestly.
“I don't know. Even if I could-”
“You can.”
“True. But that don't mean I should. Sam, there's a lesson here that I've been trying to drill into that freakish Cro-Magnon skull of yours.”
“Lesson? What lesson?” Sam asked, both confused and irritated.
“This obsession to save Dean? The way you two keep sacrificing yourselves for each other? Nothing good comes out of it. Just blood and pain. Dean's your weakness. And the bad guys know it, too. It's gonna be the death of you, Sam. Sometimes you just gotta let people go.”
That was just not going to happen. Sam would never let Dean go. “He's my brother.”
“Yup. And like it or not, this is what life's gonna be like without him.”
His voice threatened to break as he simply pleaded with Loki, “Please. Just-please.”
“I swear, it's like talking to a brick wall.” Sam aimed tear-filled puppy eyes at the Trickster, who just rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. “Okay, look. This all stopped being fun months ago. You're Travis Bickle in a skirt, pal. I'm over it.”
“Meaning what?” Sam asked.
“Meaning that's for me to know and you to find out,” Loki said, finishing with a snap of his fingers.
“Back In Time” played from the crap clock radio. Sam’s eyes popped open and he sat straight up in bed. He was back in the room in Broward County. He turned his head toward the sound of running water, and felt a lump in his throat. There stood Dean at the sink. Dean, who he’d held in his arms as he died, Dean that he’d been unable to hold or touch or kiss for months. He stared as his brother finished brushing his teeth and turned to say, “What, you gonna sleep all day?”
Sam still just stared, mouth slightly open. It was all he wanted for every second of every minute for the last six months and now, his beautiful, beautiful brother was right there.
“I know, no Asia. This station sucks,” Dean said, oblivious to anything going on in Sam’s mind. Sam looked at the dial on the clock displaying “WED.”
“It's Wednesday,” he said, voice quiet and awed.
“Yeah, usually comes after Tuesday. Turn that thing off.” Sam threw back the covers from his bed, stood and moved to his brother. He wrapped a large hand around Dean’s neck and the other long arm around his waist and drew him into a deep kiss. His mouth worked over the full lips of his brother with equal parts love and desperation. He needed to feel Dean, needed to know he was real and here and alive.
Dean, who hadn’t been through the last six months with him, put a hand in the center of Sam’s chest and pushed him back slightly.
Dean searched Sam’s eyes and instantly recognized the look in them. Sam needed to feel Dean, to reaffirm the life flowing through his brother’s veins. Dean hadn’t been through every Tuesday the way Sam had, and his anger and frustration about Sam hiding things from him was still fresh. But that look, in those beautiful hazel eyes, Dean had no defense for that. He leaned forward again and met his brother’s lips in a deep tenderhot kiss.
Sam turned them and pushed Dean back toward the bed. He stopped long enough to pull the clothes from Dean’s body and rip his own off. He pressed their bodies together; every inch of bare skin lined up as he sucked Dean’s full lip into his mouth, nipped at it, plunging his tongue into Dean’s mouth.
Dean moaned at the feeling of Sam’s hot skin against his and his brother’s tongue pushing into his mouth. His hands skimmed down Sam’s muscled back, landing on the firm globes of his ass. Sam moaned as Dean squeezed his ass and pushed their leaking cocks together. They rutted against each other frantically before Sam broke the kiss, breathing hard. He wanted more than this and he gently pushed Dean down onto the bed.
Dean lay on his back, and Sam balanced over him on hands and knees. He kissed Dean again, moving to the sensitive skin of his neck. He nipped and sucked over the beating pulse, nuzzled Dean’s ear, “God, Dean. So beautiful. Need you.” His tongue darted out, tracing the shell, then pulling the lobe into his mouth as he sucked on it. Dean moaned his name, running his hands up Sam’s flanks.
Sam worked his way to the base of Dean’s throat, kissing freckles in a path to the tattoo that lay over his brother’s beating heart. He kissed it, traced the lines with his tongue, and nipped the skin. He wasted no time moving to Dean’s nipples, teasing his brother with tongue and teeth.
He nosed down Dean’s stomach, dipping his tongue into his navel, and tracing the path of dark blonde hair until it reached the base of Dean’s flushed, blood heavy cock. He looked up at Dean through his bangs as he took the tip into his mouth. He moaned at the taste of his brother, the weight of his cock on his tongue. He’d been without this for months, and now he was in total bliss to have it again.
Dean keened and writhed as Sam sucked and licked his cock. He nearly lost his mind when Sam worked him deep and swallowed around the head. “Fuck, Sammy!”
Sam moaned, and pulled off, a satisfying, dirty wet pop coming with the action. Dean whimpered and Sam grinned up at him. “Turn over, Dean.”
Dean groaned as he complied. Sam balanced over his brother for a moment, appreciating the perfect landscape of Dean’s back and gorgeous ass. His brother was beautiful from every angle, but he truly had never seen anyone more stunning from this angle than Dean.
Sam licked a stripe up Dean’s spine, then back down. When he came to Dean’s ass, he bit into one defined cheek, big hand squeezing the other. Dean reflexively bucked up into the feeling, moaning a plea. Sam placed a hand on each cheek and spread them, licking over Dean’s hole, earning a curse from his brother.
“You like that, Dean?”
“Mm-hm, fuck Sammy, yeah.” Sam traced around the ring of muscle, teased the entrance with the tip of his tongue. Dean moaned and pressed back and was rewarded with a full press of Sam’s tongue. Sam fucked his tongue in and out, teasing the rim and swirling around trembling walls.
Dean quickly turned into a wreck above him. Moaning, keening, wiggling, writhing, begging. Everything punctuated with “Sammy” and Sam loved every second of it. When he pushed two long fingers in beside his tongue, Dean shouted a curse, and was soon pleading with Sam for more, for his cock.
Sam turned Dean back over; he needed to watch Dean’s face. He reached into the nightstand and popped open the cap on the lube, He slicked his aching cock slowly as Dean watched. Sam pulled Dean’s leg over his shoulder, lined himself up with Dean’s wet open hole and slowly, pushed in. He felt every inch of his brother’s tight hole and he watched the feeling of being stretched register in Dean’s eyes.
Once he was fully seated, he paused and leaned down to kiss his brother. He deepened that kiss just as he began to move his hips and Dean reached up to grasp Sam’s biceps. It was intense, the physicality of it, the deep, raw emotion bubbling up. Sam knew he was going to come fast and hard, and he wanted, needed to feel Dean do the same.
He pulled back from the kiss and pulled Dean’s other leg over his shoulder, adjusting his angle until he saw the electric shock of having his prostate hit register on Dean’s face. Then he wrapped his long fingers around his brother’s dick and pumped in time with his thrusts into Dean’s prostate.
“Oh, God. Fuck. Sammy. God…gonna…so good, baby boy. So close.”
“Do it, Dean. Please, De, please come for me.”
And Dean did. Arched his back, threw his head back and screamed Sam’s name as he came so hard his vision went white.
Dean’s muscles contracted around Sam and the sound and sight of his brother coming, the feeling of Dean so alive around him, sent Sam careening over the edge. He yelled Dean’s name and then collapsed on top of him.
They lay like that for a few minutes, catching their breath.
“Dude, how many Tuesdays did you have?” Dean asked, breathless.
“Enough,” Sam said with a huff and a chuckle. “What, uh, what do you remember?”
“I remember you were pretty whacked out of it yesterday. I remember catching up with the Trickster. That's about it,” Dean said with a small shake of his head. Sam nodded, “Let's go.”
“No breakfast?” Dean asked.
“No breakfast.”
Dean shrugged, “All right, I'll pack the car.” He started to stand from the bed, when Sam’s hand around his wrist stopped him, “Wait, you're not going anywhere alone.”
Dean rolled his eyes, “It's the parking lot, Sam.”
“Just-just trust me.” Dean saw the look in Sam’s eyes and knew not to question it any further. They packed up the room and as they stood in the door to go, Dean turned to him and asked, “Hey, you don't look so good. Something else happen?”
Sam was quiet, weighing the options of explaining everything to his brother, or sparing him the details of how hard Sam had crashed without him. Of telling him it was a demon that pushed him to survive after his reason to exist had been torn from him. “I just had a really weird dream.”
Dean nodded, he could see the pain in Sam’s eyes, and he knew there was something more going on. But he knew watching Sam die once had been more than he could bear. He couldn’t begin to imagine what watching his older brother die 100 times had done to Sammy. “Clowns or midgets?” he asked.
Sam looked up at him, a little surprised at first. He decided to take the out being offered to him and as Dean grinned at him, Sam tried to smile back. His lips curled into the right shape, but his eyes remained clouded and teary. He looked away from Dean and picked up his bag. Dean grabbed his own duffel and they headed out to the car.
* * * * *
They drove through 3 states before Sam would let them stop. Dean picked the first motel he found after that. He was willing to go along with whatever Sammy needed right now, but he was exhausted after umpteen uninterrupted hours of driving.
They showered together; partly to save time, but mostly because Sam couldn’t seem to let Dean out of his sight. After, they climbed into the same bed and Dean let Sam pull him back against his broad chest, never once making a complaint about being the little spoon. He understood Sam’s need for constant touch; and really, being touched by Sam was not exactly a hardship.
* * * * *
Once Dean was sound asleep, chest rising and falling evenly, Sam carefully slipped out from behind him. He pulled on jeans and silently went outside, pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he dialed without hesitation and got the address he needed.
Ruby smirked as he walked up to her. “Nice to see you walking and talking again, Sammy.”
“It’s Sam,” he said, voice deep and even. He reached forward, drew his switchblade across her arm and brought the parted flesh to his lips. Without a second thought, he sucked the demon’s blood into his mouth.
Chapter 9