Gift for Lady_Fetish
Title: Bitter Taste of Forgiveness
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: Wincest version of the scene in "I Know What You Did Last Summer" season four.
Summary: When Sam and Dean narrowly escape the demon who was pursuing Anna, they talk about the four months Sam was by himself while Dean was in hell. And Dean gets more than he bargined for when he asks about Ruby...
This is part one, I'm not sure I'll get it done by christmas, but it's not finished yet! (Yep, it's a lot longer than I expected it to be when I started...I love it when my muse does that to me!)
Hope you like it, Fetish!
Sam was sewing up his arm in the other room. The strangled noises that escaped from between his clenched teeth had Dean on edge, thinking of all the ways he had tortured some anonymous soul from holding back their cries to screaming at the top of their lungs. He grasped his injured shoulder tightly and welcomed the sharp pain that skittered across his nerves, forcing his mind back to their present situation.
He swished some water around in his mouth before spitting it into the sink, watching the pink-tinged liquid stain the porcelain before washing it down the drain. “Are you almost done?” Dean asked loudly.
“I’m going as fast as I can.” Sam grunted as he pushed the curved needle through his skin a final time. Dean walked in from the bathroom and watched his brother, considering him for a moment.
“Good, ‘cause you know, I got a dislocated shoulder over here,” He reminded Sam, trying not to grow impatient.
“Yeah- I’ll pop it back when I’m finished,” Sam huffed back at him.
He didn’t even know why he was pushing Sam to hurry up - the pain was no big deal at all. That was, until he started thinking about how much he liked it… And that got him thinking about hell again.
Great. Couldn’t even go two fucking seconds without his head turning back to the Pit. It was a wonder he got any sleep at all.
Sam finished up with his mending and carefully removed his stained and ruined shirt. He considered throwing it in the trash, smirking at the predictable reaction it would get from the cleaning lady before balling it up and throwing it back at his open duffle.
“Who the hell was that demon?” Sam asked, moving toward Dean and finding the silence stifling. There were way too many unanswered questions between them, and it was making Dean tense and stressed. That had never been a good sign.
“No one good,” Dean brushed off the question, not wanting to throw his already dark mood into a bitchy fit. He could admit to himself that he could be petty on some of his angrier days. “We got to find Anna,”
“Ruby’s got her - I’m sure she’s okay,” Sam promised, not even bothering to mention that he could see through Dean’s evasion tactics on any given day. He came up behind Dean, grasping his shoulder and pressing his other hand on his brother’s upper back. “On three, one-”
He jerked the shoulder back into place when Dean first relaxed, knowing that Dean would have tensed up if he had actually counted all the way to three. Sam would have smirked at his brother’s low cursing, but he was tired and knew that dislocated shoulders hurt like a bitch from experience.
“Are you sure about Ruby?” Dean continued their conversation without even waiting for the pain in his arm and shoulder to pass, “’Cause I think it’s just as likely, she used us to find radio girl and then brought that demon in to kill us.”
Sam sighed, sick of the constant ribbing towards Ruby. “She had to keep Anna safe, and if she brought Anna to us, then that demon would just take her again. The only reason we’re still alive is because he’s waiting for us to meet up with Anna again.”
“You think he let us off easy?” Dean scoffed, even though he already knew the answer.
“Yeah, Dean, I know he did,” Sam frowned.
“I just don’t see why you trust this demon so much,” Dean pushed. He was good at that, especially with his own brother.
“Look, I already told you, she saved my life-”
“Yeah, you said that, but Sam, I’m not really getting how or why?” Dean sat down heavily.
“Look, after you died…” Sam started off strong, but immediately lost his nerve after that simple beginning. Sometimes it was like Dean was still gone, still dead and suffering in hell. It was hard to get past on the best of days. He cleared his throat, “I was going nowhere fast. I hit up every demon I could for information, threatened them, bullied them, begged them, and nothing was working. Half the time, I was so drunk I couldn’t see straight. Nothing was getting through to me. Didn’t matter if it was Bobby or any other hunter, I wouldn’t answer my cell. Ruby just…She gave me a purpose again, Dean.” Sam said simply. There was no other way to put it.
“And that was… To kill Lilith?” Dean encouraged.
“Yeah.” Sam nodded.
“And… She just dropped that name and you followed her lead blindly? I’m not seein’ the connection here.”
Sam knew it was never that easy with Dean. “No, Dean. Lilith had a kill order on my ass. Still does. Ruby was the one to point in her direction and help me get a hold of myself. I wasn’t really worth much without you Dean. I couldn’t see past the fact that you were dead, and… Fuck, I missed you so much.” Sam’s eyes clouded with the memories, the days and nights that would blur together under that rage and alcohol induced haze. It made it hard to breathe for a few moments.
“So, you just decided that since I was gone, a demon was a suitable replacement?” He finally spat out the thought that had been plaguing him the second he had first seen Sam and Ruby together, even before he knew who she was. The iron weight that dropped in his stomach when he looked through that motel door that Ruby opened playing the charade of one-night-stand-girl. Only four months, was he really all that forgettable?
“What? No, Dean-” Sam looked shocked and hurt at the suggestion.
“Don’t lie to me Sam, I’ve seen the way she looks at you - the way you act around each other,” Dean warned, he really was at the end of his rope. They had been dancing around this topic from the moment Bobby left them to get reacquainted.
“I’m not Dean.” Sam said firmly, but his eyes were wet and it was obvious he was ready to break, still holding something back from his brother.
Dean wouldn’t stand for that any longer.
“Then why the hell does it feel like that, Sam?” Dean pushed again, getting right into Sam’s space, not letting Sam look away from him. “Stop it. Just tell me what happened,”
Sam opened his mouth, but didn’t emit a sound. Dean moved in closer, placing his hands on Sam’s shoulders, “You’ve never been able to lie to me Sam.”
Sam finally told him what he had been hiding. He breathed in shakily, and gripped Dean’s forearms before closing his eyes and just letting it go.
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Six Months Ago…
Sam sat at the worn bar, downing another shot of whiskey and adding the empty stout glass to the growing collection by his elbow. He wasn’t even through his second bottle of beer and the Vodka behind the counter looked like temptation personified, but he had warned the bartender to cut him off after his fifth shot of whiskey. He needed to be sober in the morning, otherwise he’d never get anywhere in his training with Ruby.
After the demon intruded on his diminishing life a second time (with a ‘socially conscious’ body) he had agreed to let her train him. And it would only be training, Sam knew, even with the extra lengths she had obviously went to to find a hot spiritless body and the way she constantly threw it in his face all the time. Ruby was easy to resist when Sam had Dean’s final screams and the image of his shredded corpse burned into the back of his skull.
One month into the training and Sam could move objects with relative ease, as long as they weren’t heavier than fifty pound or so. He could shove people out of his way and steal guns from even demon’s grasps. The latest attempt in increasing his mental strength was to expel a demon from a vessel forcefully, and with out a ritual. So far, that learning curve was utterly non-existent, only making the demons laugh at the ‘tickle’ they felt on their essence.
Hence, the break (sulking) at the bar. Sam knew there wasn’t much point in it, but he needed the distraction, craved the numbness like he constantly shied away from memories of Dean. He was so lost in his own thoughts, staring at the brown bottle in his hand like it had all the answers he was missing that he didn’t even notice the man approach him.
“Buy you a beer?” a low, gravel sounding voice asks from the seat next to his.
Sam tensed minutely, so small that the untrained eye would have seen nothing. He turned on his stool and saw a man with brown eyes and spiky dirty-blond hair. The man was in his late twenties at best with medium build, though it was obvious he worked out a lot from the way his tight black tee and jeans clung to him without digging into any forgiving muscled skin. His posture was relaxed but his gaze filthy hot as he looked Sam up and down appreciatively.
“Was just leaving, thanks,” Sam replied curtly, not even throwing back the rest of his beer before slapping some bills on the counter and moving to get up.
“What’s the rush?” The man asked, amused and unconcerned, as if Sam’s rejection really had no bearing on his night out. Sam admitted grudgingly, to himself, though, that the man was hot enough that he could have taken anyone in the bar home with him in no time.
“Already had more than enough,” Sam frowned and continued to move away. There was something not right here…
“Come on, Sammy,” The man said, grinning devilishly and shaking his head in mock disappointment, “Why not have a little fun once in a while?”
It was the tone of voice that cinched it for Sam. No one else who knew who he was spoke that way to him, not even Meg.
“Ruby,” He growled out menacingly, stalking back to the possessed man, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“What?” She pouted, “Don’t like the new body?”
Sam was about to answer before he remembered where they were. “Get in the car,” he ordered, not even checking to see if she followed when he practically bolted out of the bar.
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“I’ll say it one more time Ruby, what the fuck?!” Sam thundered after they got back to the house where they were currently holed up.
“Get your thong out of bunch, Sam.” Ruby rolled her eyes, “Honestly. You haven’t given my other meat-suit so much as a glance. I thought you’d like this one… And by the way you’re avoiding me, I’d say you do.”
Sam paused in his pacing, his back turned to Ruby, unable to stop the shudder rolling through his body like a lava wave when she purred into his ear, “A little too much, hmm?” And her hot hand burned his skin and melted his bones through his clothes when she gripped his waist with a much bigger, calloused hand than her usual feminine self. Not only the hand itself, but all the sense memory he associated with Dean and comfort; it felt like the only thing to really touch him in a long, long eternity of pain and nightmares.
He pushed the hand away with a wounded noise and went to sit at the beat up old couch on the other side of the room. With his head in his hands, he demanded, beseeched her, “Get out of him, Ruby,”
“No, Sam,” She smirked deviously, aware that he couldn’t see her, finally seeing the cracks in his stonewall defenses. She needed to get closer to him, and she found the way in.
Ruby sauntered forward, knowing that he was on his last reserve. Loneliness, guilt, and alcohol combined with the craving of any pleasurable touch made potent weapons against any stronghold Sam had on his mind and body. She maneuvered herself sensually into his space, straddling his lap. She smiled lazily when Sam’s hands automatically slid over her thighs.
“I get it Sam. I really do.” Ruby said sympathetically, pushing him harder. “I used to be human; I remember what it feels like to lose someone…” She ran her hands up his arms and leaned closer to speak into his ear, “You don’t have to face it alone…”
She kissed his skin, suckled and bit gently on his neck and he closed his eyes. Feeling her mouth move slowly, but deliberately up over his chin to his lips, pausing after chastely pecking him once. When he opened his eyes the second time, all he could see was the similarities, the lustful heat in those eyes that made the one in front of him so familiar, so siren-calling irresistible.
All he could see was Dean.
He kept his eyes half-lidded and as he wrapped his arms around Dean in a vise and seized his mouth with hungry lips and questing tongue. Sam’s hands smoothed over the muscles and absorbed the heat emanating from Dean as if he were a sponge. He tore the shirt off of Dean and luxuriated in the feel of his hot-satin skin. He felt his own shirt bunched up under his arms and lifted his hands in the air for a split second before claiming the body before him again.
Sam’s blood pumped furiously through him, adrenalin rushing in his veins as feelings of freedom and relief enveloped his heavy conscious and purged all the bad thoughts plaguing him. For a few moments, Sam felt forgiven, and a had taste of what could only be home. It was exhilarating, it was intoxicating, and it was…was…
It was all false.
Everything about it was a lie. He fixated on the muddy brown eyes and the obviously dyed-blond hair and the too-soft skin that had none of the scars his hands knew so well and the thin, thin lips and how everything, absolutely everything about the man in front of him was wrong, was not Dean.
And the worst thing about it all was that Sam was too weak, too broken, too fucking needy to stop himself. He hadn’t been with another person in so long and this man was just too convenient and too much like Dean to say no.
Sam had never hated himself more, and yet he didn’t push the man away, kept kissing and touching and biting and clutching…
Dean’s dead, The horrible thought slammed into him as he pushed the man roughly to the bed, What the fuck does anything matter anymore?
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Rating: NC-17
Prompt: Wincest version of the scene in "I Know What You Did Last Summer" season four.
Summary: When Sam and Dean narrowly escape the demon who was pursuing Anna, they talk about the four months Sam was by himself while Dean was in hell. And Dean gets more than he bargined for when he asks about Ruby...
This is part one, I'm not sure I'll get it done by christmas, but it's not finished yet! (Yep, it's a lot longer than I expected it to be when I started...I love it when my muse does that to me!)
Hope you like it, Fetish!
Sam was sewing up his arm in the other room. The strangled noises that escaped from between his clenched teeth had Dean on edge, thinking of all the ways he had tortured some anonymous soul from holding back their cries to screaming at the top of their lungs. He grasped his injured shoulder tightly and welcomed the sharp pain that skittered across his nerves, forcing his mind back to their present situation.
He swished some water around in his mouth before spitting it into the sink, watching the pink-tinged liquid stain the porcelain before washing it down the drain. “Are you almost done?” Dean asked loudly.
“I’m going as fast as I can.” Sam grunted as he pushed the curved needle through his skin a final time. Dean walked in from the bathroom and watched his brother, considering him for a moment.
“Good, ‘cause you know, I got a dislocated shoulder over here,” He reminded Sam, trying not to grow impatient.
“Yeah- I’ll pop it back when I’m finished,” Sam huffed back at him.
He didn’t even know why he was pushing Sam to hurry up - the pain was no big deal at all. That was, until he started thinking about how much he liked it… And that got him thinking about hell again.
Great. Couldn’t even go two fucking seconds without his head turning back to the Pit. It was a wonder he got any sleep at all.
Sam finished up with his mending and carefully removed his stained and ruined shirt. He considered throwing it in the trash, smirking at the predictable reaction it would get from the cleaning lady before balling it up and throwing it back at his open duffle.
“Who the hell was that demon?” Sam asked, moving toward Dean and finding the silence stifling. There were way too many unanswered questions between them, and it was making Dean tense and stressed. That had never been a good sign.
“No one good,” Dean brushed off the question, not wanting to throw his already dark mood into a bitchy fit. He could admit to himself that he could be petty on some of his angrier days. “We got to find Anna,”
“Ruby’s got her - I’m sure she’s okay,” Sam promised, not even bothering to mention that he could see through Dean’s evasion tactics on any given day. He came up behind Dean, grasping his shoulder and pressing his other hand on his brother’s upper back. “On three, one-”
He jerked the shoulder back into place when Dean first relaxed, knowing that Dean would have tensed up if he had actually counted all the way to three. Sam would have smirked at his brother’s low cursing, but he was tired and knew that dislocated shoulders hurt like a bitch from experience.
“Are you sure about Ruby?” Dean continued their conversation without even waiting for the pain in his arm and shoulder to pass, “’Cause I think it’s just as likely, she used us to find radio girl and then brought that demon in to kill us.”
Sam sighed, sick of the constant ribbing towards Ruby. “She had to keep Anna safe, and if she brought Anna to us, then that demon would just take her again. The only reason we’re still alive is because he’s waiting for us to meet up with Anna again.”
“You think he let us off easy?” Dean scoffed, even though he already knew the answer.
“Yeah, Dean, I know he did,” Sam frowned.
“I just don’t see why you trust this demon so much,” Dean pushed. He was good at that, especially with his own brother.
“Look, I already told you, she saved my life-”
“Yeah, you said that, but Sam, I’m not really getting how or why?” Dean sat down heavily.
“Look, after you died…” Sam started off strong, but immediately lost his nerve after that simple beginning. Sometimes it was like Dean was still gone, still dead and suffering in hell. It was hard to get past on the best of days. He cleared his throat, “I was going nowhere fast. I hit up every demon I could for information, threatened them, bullied them, begged them, and nothing was working. Half the time, I was so drunk I couldn’t see straight. Nothing was getting through to me. Didn’t matter if it was Bobby or any other hunter, I wouldn’t answer my cell. Ruby just…She gave me a purpose again, Dean.” Sam said simply. There was no other way to put it.
“And that was… To kill Lilith?” Dean encouraged.
“Yeah.” Sam nodded.
“And… She just dropped that name and you followed her lead blindly? I’m not seein’ the connection here.”
Sam knew it was never that easy with Dean. “No, Dean. Lilith had a kill order on my ass. Still does. Ruby was the one to point in her direction and help me get a hold of myself. I wasn’t really worth much without you Dean. I couldn’t see past the fact that you were dead, and… Fuck, I missed you so much.” Sam’s eyes clouded with the memories, the days and nights that would blur together under that rage and alcohol induced haze. It made it hard to breathe for a few moments.
“So, you just decided that since I was gone, a demon was a suitable replacement?” He finally spat out the thought that had been plaguing him the second he had first seen Sam and Ruby together, even before he knew who she was. The iron weight that dropped in his stomach when he looked through that motel door that Ruby opened playing the charade of one-night-stand-girl. Only four months, was he really all that forgettable?
“What? No, Dean-” Sam looked shocked and hurt at the suggestion.
“Don’t lie to me Sam, I’ve seen the way she looks at you - the way you act around each other,” Dean warned, he really was at the end of his rope. They had been dancing around this topic from the moment Bobby left them to get reacquainted.
“I’m not Dean.” Sam said firmly, but his eyes were wet and it was obvious he was ready to break, still holding something back from his brother.
Dean wouldn’t stand for that any longer.
“Then why the hell does it feel like that, Sam?” Dean pushed again, getting right into Sam’s space, not letting Sam look away from him. “Stop it. Just tell me what happened,”
Sam opened his mouth, but didn’t emit a sound. Dean moved in closer, placing his hands on Sam’s shoulders, “You’ve never been able to lie to me Sam.”
Sam finally told him what he had been hiding. He breathed in shakily, and gripped Dean’s forearms before closing his eyes and just letting it go.
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Six Months Ago…
Sam sat at the worn bar, downing another shot of whiskey and adding the empty stout glass to the growing collection by his elbow. He wasn’t even through his second bottle of beer and the Vodka behind the counter looked like temptation personified, but he had warned the bartender to cut him off after his fifth shot of whiskey. He needed to be sober in the morning, otherwise he’d never get anywhere in his training with Ruby.
After the demon intruded on his diminishing life a second time (with a ‘socially conscious’ body) he had agreed to let her train him. And it would only be training, Sam knew, even with the extra lengths she had obviously went to to find a hot spiritless body and the way she constantly threw it in his face all the time. Ruby was easy to resist when Sam had Dean’s final screams and the image of his shredded corpse burned into the back of his skull.
One month into the training and Sam could move objects with relative ease, as long as they weren’t heavier than fifty pound or so. He could shove people out of his way and steal guns from even demon’s grasps. The latest attempt in increasing his mental strength was to expel a demon from a vessel forcefully, and with out a ritual. So far, that learning curve was utterly non-existent, only making the demons laugh at the ‘tickle’ they felt on their essence.
Hence, the break (sulking) at the bar. Sam knew there wasn’t much point in it, but he needed the distraction, craved the numbness like he constantly shied away from memories of Dean. He was so lost in his own thoughts, staring at the brown bottle in his hand like it had all the answers he was missing that he didn’t even notice the man approach him.
“Buy you a beer?” a low, gravel sounding voice asks from the seat next to his.
Sam tensed minutely, so small that the untrained eye would have seen nothing. He turned on his stool and saw a man with brown eyes and spiky dirty-blond hair. The man was in his late twenties at best with medium build, though it was obvious he worked out a lot from the way his tight black tee and jeans clung to him without digging into any forgiving muscled skin. His posture was relaxed but his gaze filthy hot as he looked Sam up and down appreciatively.
“Was just leaving, thanks,” Sam replied curtly, not even throwing back the rest of his beer before slapping some bills on the counter and moving to get up.
“What’s the rush?” The man asked, amused and unconcerned, as if Sam’s rejection really had no bearing on his night out. Sam admitted grudgingly, to himself, though, that the man was hot enough that he could have taken anyone in the bar home with him in no time.
“Already had more than enough,” Sam frowned and continued to move away. There was something not right here…
“Come on, Sammy,” The man said, grinning devilishly and shaking his head in mock disappointment, “Why not have a little fun once in a while?”
It was the tone of voice that cinched it for Sam. No one else who knew who he was spoke that way to him, not even Meg.
“Ruby,” He growled out menacingly, stalking back to the possessed man, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“What?” She pouted, “Don’t like the new body?”
Sam was about to answer before he remembered where they were. “Get in the car,” he ordered, not even checking to see if she followed when he practically bolted out of the bar.
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“I’ll say it one more time Ruby, what the fuck?!” Sam thundered after they got back to the house where they were currently holed up.
“Get your thong out of bunch, Sam.” Ruby rolled her eyes, “Honestly. You haven’t given my other meat-suit so much as a glance. I thought you’d like this one… And by the way you’re avoiding me, I’d say you do.”
Sam paused in his pacing, his back turned to Ruby, unable to stop the shudder rolling through his body like a lava wave when she purred into his ear, “A little too much, hmm?” And her hot hand burned his skin and melted his bones through his clothes when she gripped his waist with a much bigger, calloused hand than her usual feminine self. Not only the hand itself, but all the sense memory he associated with Dean and comfort; it felt like the only thing to really touch him in a long, long eternity of pain and nightmares.
He pushed the hand away with a wounded noise and went to sit at the beat up old couch on the other side of the room. With his head in his hands, he demanded, beseeched her, “Get out of him, Ruby,”
“No, Sam,” She smirked deviously, aware that he couldn’t see her, finally seeing the cracks in his stonewall defenses. She needed to get closer to him, and she found the way in.
Ruby sauntered forward, knowing that he was on his last reserve. Loneliness, guilt, and alcohol combined with the craving of any pleasurable touch made potent weapons against any stronghold Sam had on his mind and body. She maneuvered herself sensually into his space, straddling his lap. She smiled lazily when Sam’s hands automatically slid over her thighs.
“I get it Sam. I really do.” Ruby said sympathetically, pushing him harder. “I used to be human; I remember what it feels like to lose someone…” She ran her hands up his arms and leaned closer to speak into his ear, “You don’t have to face it alone…”
She kissed his skin, suckled and bit gently on his neck and he closed his eyes. Feeling her mouth move slowly, but deliberately up over his chin to his lips, pausing after chastely pecking him once. When he opened his eyes the second time, all he could see was the similarities, the lustful heat in those eyes that made the one in front of him so familiar, so siren-calling irresistible.
All he could see was Dean.
He kept his eyes half-lidded and as he wrapped his arms around Dean in a vise and seized his mouth with hungry lips and questing tongue. Sam’s hands smoothed over the muscles and absorbed the heat emanating from Dean as if he were a sponge. He tore the shirt off of Dean and luxuriated in the feel of his hot-satin skin. He felt his own shirt bunched up under his arms and lifted his hands in the air for a split second before claiming the body before him again.
Sam’s blood pumped furiously through him, adrenalin rushing in his veins as feelings of freedom and relief enveloped his heavy conscious and purged all the bad thoughts plaguing him. For a few moments, Sam felt forgiven, and a had taste of what could only be home. It was exhilarating, it was intoxicating, and it was…was…
It was all false.
Everything about it was a lie. He fixated on the muddy brown eyes and the obviously dyed-blond hair and the too-soft skin that had none of the scars his hands knew so well and the thin, thin lips and how everything, absolutely everything about the man in front of him was wrong, was not Dean.
And the worst thing about it all was that Sam was too weak, too broken, too fucking needy to stop himself. He hadn’t been with another person in so long and this man was just too convenient and too much like Dean to say no.
Sam had never hated himself more, and yet he didn’t push the man away, kept kissing and touching and biting and clutching…
Dean’s dead, The horrible thought slammed into him as he pushed the man roughly to the bed, What the fuck does anything matter anymore?
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