You're broken, so am I (4/?) NC-17
You're broken, so am I
Chapter IV
Dean made his way through the half-empty strip club. It was 3.30 AM on a Tuesday night - there were hardly any clients there and the joint was probably closing up pretty soon. The demon was tired and calm after the long night, but something inside him was twitchy and nervous.
No last minute mind changes, he reminded to himself. If I’ve decided to do this I will and if he throws me out again that’s just fine too. At least I tried.
Only, no, it wouldn’t be okay if Sam drove him away. Dean was exhausted after the long torture session with Andy, and the “justice bringing” that’d followed, and there was a phantom itch at his back that told him he needed something more substantial tonight. Someone, maybe, who wouldn’t be just another slab of meat on a butcher’s hook waiting for the final slice, or an inconsequential smudge in a long trail of mud. Meaning. It was a wispy thought-feeling, too vague to voice. Father and Alistair were the only people he felt really close to, who he could trust and who… who cared about him, but they were also his teachers. Close at a distance. But with Sam he had no formal relationship; Sammy was just a hot kid who wasn’t afraid of him, so maybe…
His mind jabbed at him irately. Stop the daydreaming, Dean. You’re not a fucking girl!
The demon took a deep breath as he unlocked the back-room door with his copy of the key and entered. There were only few people left and they only spared him a quick glance before resuming their business. Dean slowed his pace as he reached Sam’s door and stopped. He blinked a few times, closed his eyes, and willed them to take back the green tone.
He pushed the key into the lock and slowly turned it. A soft click told him the door was open and he quietly slipped into the small, dimly lit room. Once through the door, Dean had to wait for a moment before his eyes adjusted to the darkness. After a few heartbeats he could make out the outlines of all the furniture, standing just as he remembered. The streetlights glowing from small barbed window were the only source of light but Dean could clearly see Sam’s form asleep on the bed, his big body curled into an incredibly small, tight ball.
The demon licked his lips, not sure what to do next. He finally just let out a soft breath and walked to the bed, leaning down to gently wake Sam. But Sam was already awake as Dean quickly found out, having a knife pressed up against his throat.
He had just about enough time to croak, “Sammy!” before his throat would have been split.
Sam instantly pulled back, his voice sounding sleepy and slurred. “Dean?”
Dean nodded. “Yeah, it’s me. I thought you were asleep.”
Sam let out a breath and ducked the knife back under his pillow.
Just like me, Dean thought with bitter amusement.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he quickly added, feeling like a complete ass.
Of course a hunter feels threatened when some stranger creeps to his room in the middle of the night!
“Nah, it’s okay. I’m just used to people knocking before entering, but I guess that doesn’t apply to demons,” Sam said with a cold tone, but his lips twitched to a smile, making small dimples appear in his cheeks. His dark eyes looked more awake and alive, a mischievous spark backlighting them.
Dean couldn’t help but to smile back at him. God, how he wanted to touch Sam, run his thumb over those dimples and kiss those soft full lips. He wanted to cover him up in his embrace and never let him go if it meant keeping him happy and safe. But being curled up in demon’s embrace wasn’t exactly safe. Dean didn’t know if he could control himself enough to not make this about games or a fucked up show of this is what a demon is that would just end with Sam hurt.
Some part of this inner struggle must have shown on his face because Sam’s expression got more serious and he asked, “Why did you come?”
He pursed his lips and ran a hand over the back of his neck, finally giving up and admitting: “Honestly - I don’t know. I mean - you did throw me out but some off the stuff you said… I mean about the connection part. I guess… I…” He was having trouble finding the right words, a jumble of lines rushing through his head, each discarded because they were too whiny, or soft. How about the truth? How about - “I can’t get you out of my fucking head.”
Sam made a small “hmm” sound under his breath but then moved up the bed a bit to prop himself up against the backboard. “Sit down.”
Dean hesitated for a slightest moment before taking a seat on the edge Sam’s bed, the musky smell of the younger man making his heart beat faster and his body sweat.
God, what’s up with this kid making me lose it like this?
“Take of your shoes off, bitch, and come closer to me, I won’t bite.” He said this with a sigh and a small eye roll that were completely at home on any kid’s - teenager! - face.
“I’m not a bitch, jerk.” Dean mumbled with an annoyed huff but peeled off his boots and crawled closer to Sam anyway. He still stayed as away from the guy as he considered safe cause he was honestly just two seconds away from humping his bones.
Sam smiled knowingly, and for a second he looked all but innocent as he stared at Dean with dark hungry eyes and slowly licked his lips.
But then he smiled again, something so sweet that all the muscles in Dean’s arms twitched with the force of restraining his desire to hurt this creature, to bruise his skin, to force him still, to fuck him. Dean thought he was finally beginning to understand why he was so attracted to Sam, the young stripper was a complete opposite to him. He had all this sweetness and humanity intact that had been burnt away from Dean in Hell. He was everything Dean couldn’t ever have again.
“What’s wrong?” Sam’s voice was close to his ear, and Dean realized he had leaned forward and wrapped his long hands around the demon’s shoulders.
Dean closed his eyes to block out the outside world and get himself back under control.
“Nothing,” he whispered with a hoarse voice. What the fuck am I even doing here? Who am I kidding? I can’t resist who I am.
“Dean?” Sam pressed on.
“I… I can’t do this. Fuck.”
“I’ll do anything you want,” Sam promised, hesitating for a moment before softly adding, “And maybe you could give me some information I need.”
Dean opened his eyes again, staring back into Sam’s green eyes just inches away from his own. Guh, how he wanted this and if he gave something back to Sam maybe it wouldn’t even be too bad… Maybe he wouldn’t feel guilty over using him. God, was he really still even able to feel guilt?
“What do you want to know?” The demon carefully asked, Alistair’s voice still clear in his head: “Be very careful with who you trust Deano. You have many enemies and there will always be traitors around you.”
The kid seemed hesitant for a moment before the words left his lips in a rush. “I wouldn’t be asking you this but I have no-one else to turn to.” He swallowed, fixing his gaze with Dean’s. “I need to know what happened to my brother. I need to know if your kind killed him or if he’s still alive. Please. That’s all I want.”
Dean stared incredulously back at him. That was what Sam wanted to know? What he wanted in return?
“And that’s all?” the young demon repeated in disbelief.
Sam firmly nodded. “Yes. I guess you don’t have any brothers, otherwise you would know that you don’t give up on each other. Never.”
The demon stared at Sam for the longest moment, something cold twitching in his stomach. He had thought about it so many times. Thought about his real family, parents; wondered if he had had any siblings. His Father hadn’t really ever spoken about it, only told him he had been in a bad place and that he was better here with them. Dean had always believed that, but… He had always wished he had a brother, maybe the boy in his dreams…
Sam’s soft lips suddenly against his made Dean start out of his thoughts and even slightly smile. Sam was so goddamn eager, so willing…
What are you doing Dean? The friggin’ kid deserves better than a fucked up demon. Much better and you know it.
“I’m not sure that this is right.” Dean whispered roughly, pulling away from the young stripper again.
“You can’t give me the information?” Sam didn’t even sound too disappointed, more like… Scared? He was afraid Dean wouldn’t help him and that he would never find out what happened to his brother? God, he must have loved him.
“No, it’s not that. I can. It’s just that… You’re different. I’m not used to someone acting like this with me.” Dean almost closed his eyes, peeking at Sam’s bare chest through his eyelids as he explained himself.
How the hell am I supposed to explain it to him? Well see Sammy, I’m not used to fucking with anyone other than demons and people who are scared shitless of me?
Sam gathered his head in his hands, forcing Dean to look at him. “You don’t like me?”
“No, it’s not that…”
“You don’t like it when I push you down, like this,” Sam shoved him down onto the mattress, climbing on top of him with a grace that belied his size and a knowing grin stretched across his face. “You don’t like it when I kiss you?” An open mouthed sloppy kiss on Dean’s rapidly beating pulse. God, what is this kid doing to me?
“I don’t see you fighting when I reach down…” Sam’s skilled hand slipped down to the fly of his jeans, opening it and pushing inside, feeling so god-damn good around Dean’s burning hot dick.
The older man couldn’t suppress the groan that left his lips and he panted under the feel of the big hand slowly stroking him.
This stripper boy was a fucking tease. Just sitting on his thighs like that, with that smug grin on his face and jerking Dean’s cock oh so agonizingly slowly.
“I… I hurt people.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m gonna hurt you too.”
“You’ll try.”
“You can’t stop me.”
“I won’t stop you if I want it too.”
Dean’s sensation overloaded brain caught up with the words: “You want me to hurt you?”
Sam turned his head away and went silent.
Using the other’s moment of confusion, Dean pushed him off and switched their positions, sadly enough losing the warm from the hand around his prick.
“Sammy?” Dean asked in a bit harsh voice, hoping to intimidate Sam enough to get an answer.
Sam swallowed. “I guess… I mean… I think I like it when someone else takes control. I usually top but that’s only because… Because I don’t trust anyone.”
Dean took a deep breath. “You know there’s a big difference between some sex games and fucking with the most dangerous predator ever.
“I would do things do you… awful things… and you would enjoy it.”
Sam nodded.
He drew in a sharp breath and tried to force his brain to work. God - the mere idea of having Sam at his mercy and enjoying everything he did… The concept pushed some deep buttons Dean wasn’t even sure he had. He had always thought fucking humans needed to be unpleasant to the other side and with him on top because he was stronger, but now…
Dean tried to keep his voice steady and even as he said, “First of all, I suggest you get your hand back on my cock where it belongs.”
“Yes.” Sam answered, a half-moan, his voice layered under way too many emotions as he continued to jerk Dean’s cock.
“Sammy,” Dean whispered and took the stripper’s neck in his grip, turning his head slowly from side to side and enjoying how the muscles strained under his fingers, the rabbit-like pulse fluttering under the fair skin.
“Do you bring many guys here?” Dean couldn’t help but to ask the question, though he knew there was no rational reasoning behind it, but a part of him suddenly felt jealous. The mere idea of somebody else touching his Sammy...
Sam quickly shook his head, looking both a bit annoyed and guilty as he explained, “I’m not like that. I don’t. I don’t fuck for money. I… I’ve had this one guy but he’s just a friend who helped me get off.”
Dean managed to smile on the outside, though he did put a little more pressure on Sam’s neck, ignoring the slight flutter in the rhythm of his strokes it caused.
“Did you enjoy it?”
A part of him still jealous, Dean was actually also worried. He really hadn’t asked anything about it before but the way Sam slept, all curled up… Dean had seen enough fear in his life to recognize it when he saw it somewhere.
Sam debated for a minute, before admitting to liking the sex. “Yeah. It was fast and I don’t really know him but yes - I was nice to be close to someone again.”
Dean pursed his lips, thrusting his hips forth into Sam’s fist and removing his hands from Sam’s neck, only to lean down and lick it instead.
“So why don’t you feel safe here?”
Surprise flitted across Sam’s face before he gathered himself enough to ask, “Where did you get that?”
Dean let out a snort. “Come on, kid. I know a thing or two about psychology and I sure as hell know an awful lot about fear and its manifestations.”
Sam bit down on his lip, looking suddenly very stubborn and defensive and making Dean almost lose his grip with it, instincts pressing to break Sam, wanting to destroy his defenses until he was sobbing and begging and telling Dean everything he wanted to know.
“The way you sleep - all curled up and with a half-empty Vicodin bottle next to you - it makes me assume that you don’t wanna be here.”
A sound that was both pissed and extremely sad came from Sam as he struggled to get up and away from Dean. Well, Sam might have had his hunter training but Dean had his own training, not to mention a few demonic tricks Sam didn’t.
Sam froze as Dean’s powers wrapped itself around his body and he found himself paralyzed.
“No, Sam,” Dean said in a firm voice and took a side of Sam’s face in his grip, forcing the kid to face him.
“You can’t escape me. I’m not letting you, Sammy.”
Dean leant down to softly lick Sam’s full lips.
Sam finally went limp under the demon, not struggling anymore and Dean eased his powers off him.
The younger man shook his head, looking both disappointed and relieved at the same time.
“You’re… I’ve never told anyone about this before. I shouldn’t even trust you, but I guess there’s no point running anymore. I’ve lost everything I’ve ever had and even Adam hates me. You’re the only one…” Sam just shook his head again, his throat closing up under all the emotion.
Part of Dean was again taken back by how open the kid was, how deeply hurt, and it provoked a powerful and old need in Dean that made him wanna protect him, carry him out of the burning building and hide him.
He almost flinched when he realized what he was thinking. The stray thought left him feeling awkward and uneasy. You’re fucking losing it man. Not telling dreams and reality apart?
“I’m crazy. I have… My mind is really weird and it makes me have these terrible nightmares. The doctors say I have them cause my mother died when I was so young and I lost my brother but… they feel so fucking real sometimes, Dean. Like there’s this other person inside of me. I’ve done everything I could to make them stop but they never do and I get so dizzy and weak sometimes.”
Dean just stared at Sam, letting the kid babble and trying to make sense of it.
“Just tonight I saw… Oh god, I saw how I, well not me, but this guy I dream about, he… He killed. He killed the men I was talking about the other day, the ones from the bar where I used to work, the ones who always put me down and said bad things to me? I just dreamed about how he killed them bloody and slow and he, I, I enjoyed it… I thought it was just - I thought it was great to have my revenge.”
Sam looked pale and about two seconds away from throwing up.
Dean was feeling no better himself as his mind was slowly beginning to realize that Sam had just described his “justice bringing” from a few hours ago that very same night. He’d gone and haunted down the bastards who had been so shitty to Sam and brought justice upon them. But how the hell had Sam known that? Had he really seen it? Had he had a fucking vision about Dean?
“I know I’m fucked up,” Sam whispered, probably taking Dean’s lack of response as a bad sign. He continued before Dean could gather himself to respond: “I mean - I have this whole fucking other personality in my fucking dreams and he has a whole life full of… evil. He is evil.”
Dean bit down on his cheek not to answer or ask anything rush. This was serious. If Sam was having visions… if he’d had a vision about him…
“So it’s just this one guy you see all the time?”
Maybe he was asking too much, but he needed to fucking know.
He is evil.
What’s he gonna do if he hears it was me killing those men? I thought he’d be happy, and maybe he is, but he’s just so fucked up with his Christian morals he can’t bring himself to admit it.
“Yeah - it seems my mind made up only one guy. He’s older than me. His birthday’s the 24th January, and he drives the kind of car I remember my dad used to have - a ‘67 Chevy Impala. He hurts people. And he likes it. He…something happened to him. When he was thirteen he… I’m crazy.”
Dean felt a big lump rise in his throat as he listened to Sam’s words. Shit.
He knows my birthday.
He knows what car I drive.
He knows when I was in Hell.
He’s either spied it all out somehow or… Or he really is dreaming about me? Has he dreamed before I even met him?
Have I missed something?
Dean’s eyes turned into dark black pools of nothingness as he searched Sam again.
And then Dean saw it, realized what he had been staring at this whole time. Guess it was just hiding so deep in his being and Dean was so used to seeing it in people close to him that he just hadn’t noticed.
No fucking way! How could I have missed it?
“You have demon blood in you.”
Now that Dean focused his attention on it was clear to him that Sam was one of the damned ones, just not completely there. Not yet Hell’s. Somewhere in between.
“No.” Sam instantly protested, even managing to let out a shaky laughter.
Dean wasn’t sure what he should say or do as it was obvious to him that the kid was part demon and how could he not fucking knew what he had inside him? This explained why he was able to have visions - the blood might have been less but it was still there, making him more than just ordinary human.
How the fuck could I have missed something like that?! Dean chided himself. Sam has distracted me way too much, even made me overlook something as important as the fact that my new love interest is part demon and an ex-hunter!?
I should probably just get up and run while I still can, while I haven’t tied him any further to me.
I should…
Dean looked at Sam’s confused and scared face, the kid looking both like something out of his wildest wet dreams and a kid brother he never had.
I’m so screwed.
Yes - you are.
TBC.
Next Chapter here.