Fic: Pleiades. SPN. Sam/Dean. PG-13. 3/3
Title: Pleiades 3/3
Author: felisblanco
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Word count: ca. 14500 (all parts together)
Rating: PG-13, I guess
Summary: The boys perform a spell that has disastrous effects, throwing Sam into a world of darkness.
Warnings: None except the Wincest part. Mentions of Faith, Bloody Mary and Something Wicked.
A/N: Beta’d by the lovely hellziggy. Also see some explanation at the bottom.
Previous chapters here
He woke up to a silent room and would have called out in panic if he wasn't having a hard time just breathing. The air felt thick and warm, threatening to get stuck in his throat, and the drenched sheets clung to his hot and sweat-slick skin. His head was filled with various nightmares, going from feeling as if he was drowning in tar and to being pinned to the ceiling as his body burned, looking down at Dean as he screamed his name. He shuddered at the memory, and it brought out goosebumps on his whole body.
“De-ean?”
He tried to sit up but all he managed was raising his head a few inches before it fell back on his pillow, his fingers curling weakly as he tried to raise his arms.
“De-?”
The cough that shook his body filled his throat with phlegm and he panicked, wheezing in air and fighting to cough his throat clear.
“I'm here. I'm right here, Sammy.”
An arm slipped under his shoulders and raised him up and he coughed violently until his throat finally cleared, then spat into the wad of paper held against his lips. It hurt to breathe, in fact it hurt all over. “Dean?”
“It's ok.” The tone of his brother's voice was soothing but there was a shiver to it that scared Sam more than whatever it was that was happening. “Just a few more days now, Sammy. Just hang on.”
“Wha-?” His throat was filling up again, air making a wheezing sound as it forced its way through the tight windpipe. “De-ean, wha-?” He coughed again, gagging at the slimy glue on his tongue.
“It's ok, Sammy. Remember, dad said it'd take seven days for the symbols to drive the curse out.”
Sam turned his head, blind eyes staring in the direction of the voice. “Da-ad?”
Dean brushed the damp hair out if his face, then laid his hand on Sam's cheek. It trembled. “Yeah, he called. Don't you remember?”
The fever clawed at his skin and he started to shake violently. He reached out with trembling fingers to grab Dean’s t-shirt, clinging to it in fear as he tried to suck in air, but the more he struggled the harder it got and he could feel his head getting lighter as everything started to spin. “De-!”
“Sammy, just lie back and try to breathe normally. You're gonna be ok. Everything's gonna be fine.”
Sam might have believed him if Dean's voice hadn't shaken so badly. He started panicking as the lack of oxygen made his throat burn and pressure build up in the back of his head. “I ca-!” He shook with the effort of trying to breathe, the shallow gasps making him jerk against Dean until his eyes rolled back in his skull. “DE-!”
“Come on, Sammy. Come on!” He jerked forward as his back was slapped hard, again and again. “Don’t do this!! Don’t fucking do this! Not again. Sammy! No!”
His head was exploding from the pressure and he clawed at Dean’s arm as he was suddenly pushed down on the bed, one heavy hand holding the back of his head pressed down into the pillow.
“I love you, little brother. Ok? Ok?” Dean’s voice was raw, holding Sam’s head down as he struggled to free himself. “You fucking remember that, Sammy. Remember that!”
Sam tried again to cough but there was no air in his lungs and all he managed was a low rattle. His body went limp as the last bit of strength escaped him and just like that he knew he was dying. Everything went bright, the pain and fear drained away, leaving him feeling light and free and his only wish was that he could tell Dean that he loved him too. So much, Dean. More than you will ever know. More than…
Suddenly he felt a sharp sting and tiny bubbles of air burned their way into his windpipe. The pain returned tenfold and he wanted to cry with disappointment.
“Oh God. Fuck. Jesus help me. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I don’t know…” Dean’s nose pressed into Sam’s cheek, warm and wet against his fevered skin. “I love you more than anything. You and me, Sammy. You and me!” The voice broke, Dean’s chest heaving with sobs. “Don't you fucking leave me, Sam. You hear me? Don’t you dare leaving me!”
The darkness swallowed him again.
------------
It was strange how natural it seemed, despite everything, to wake up to the sun shining in through the split in the curtains covering the windows. Sam opened his eyes and blinked sleepily against the brightness in the room. For a moment he wondered if it had all been a dream but he still felt exhausted, practically drained of all energy. There wasn’t a single part of his body that didn’t feel sore and his head throbbed with a dull headache. The bed next to him was empty but when he tried to move he felt the weight of Dean's arm slung over his waist. Carefully Sam shifted until he managed to turn over and onto his other side.
He wasn't sure how long it had really been but it felt like he hadn't seen his brother's face in years and now he wanted nothing more then to watch him for hours. Dean was fast asleep, dark shadows painted on the grey skin under his eyes. Unshaven and with ruffled greasy hair, sweat clinging to his temples and dotting his upper lip. A trail of dried up saliva running down his chin. It was the most beautiful sight in the world.
The possibility that he might never have been able to see Dean’s face again suddenly hit him. His grin, his glare, his rare happy smile. That mischievous glint he got in his eye that spelled trouble. The silent look he gave Sam when he thought he wasn't looking that said 'I'm here. I'll take care of you.' The even quieter one that said 'Please don't leave me.' The way his hair stuck up, the shadow of his eyelashes on his cheeks, the soft curves of his lips.
His lips.
As through a haze Sam remembered those lips kissing him. His forehead and temple then his cheek and finally his lips. Warm and taut and tasting of salt. Desperate. Pressing against his again and again between murmured words of comfort and pleading. Then resting against his cheek as strong arms, holding him so hard he couldn’t breathe, shook with quiet weeping. And then later, much later, he remembered those lips kissing his fingers as Pater Nostri was whispered brokenly into his clutched hand, over and over until the words slurred and finally quieted when Sam drifted off.
With a shiver Sam realized he really must have been on the brink of dying, for Dean to lose it like that. Dean might be ready to give up his own life whenever Death decided to claim him but Sam dying was a whole different matter, and always had been. Sam had a feeling that if he really had died Dean would have gone through hell and high water to bring him back to life. And when that failed… Sam couldn’t finish that thought but the taste of metal and gun oil still hit the back of his tongue.
Swallowing the lump in his throat Sam leaned forward and without hesitation kissed Dean softly on the lips.
Dean didn't wake up, just mumbled something that sounded like 'yeah' before kissing Sam back, tightening his arm around his waist. Then he buried his nose into Sam’s shoulder and continued snoring. Sam lay still, watching him, memorizing every inch of Dean's face, until his eyelids started drooping and he couldn't fight the lure of sleep no more.
-----------------
“Hey.”
Sam yawned before opening his eyes, blinking against the light. Dean’s face was inches away from his own, green eyes watching him worriedly.
“Hey there.” Sam’s voice was hoarse and talking hurt his throat but none of that mattered. He blinked again and smiled softly. “I can see you.”
The smile that broke out on Dean’s face was exquisite, the corners of his eyes crinkling in happy wrinkles. “God, Sammy…” Dean’s voice shook and he stopped, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Thought you were gonna give up on me there, buddy.”
“Yeah, me too.” Sam swallowed and winced from the sharp pain. “Ow. My throat hurts.”
Dean gave a happy snort. “Yeah? That might be the hole I had to punch through it.”
Sam blinked. “What?” He moved his hand up to feel his throat. There was a thick dressing right below his Adam’s apple. “Wow. I didn’t know you knew how to do that.”
“Me neither. Good thing I watch E.R. By the way, you owe me a new pen.”
“Jesus, Dean!” Sam ran his fingers again over the bandage. “Don’t tell me it’s still in there.”
“Nah. Took it out yesterday once I managed to suck your throat clean and it stopped filling up again.” At the disgusted look on Sam’s face Dean laughed and reached out to brush his brother’s hair back. “Dude, you owe me so many beers for this.”
Sam shook his head. “Think I owe you a lot more than that, Dean.”
Dean actually blushed and looked away. “Yeah, well. No big deal.”
“No, Dean. It’s a huge deal.” Sam tried to sit up but he was still too weak and fell back on the pillow after a few seconds of hovering. “And I’ll pay you back in all ways possible as soon as I can move again. But until then…”
He reached out and cupped his brother’s cheek, ignoring the confused look in Dean’s eyes. He brushed his thumb over the cheekbones before letting his fingers run to the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him closer.
“What are you…?”
Dean’s lips felt warm against his own, hard with shock for a second before they suddenly softened and kissed him back. It was warm and soft and all the things he’d imagined. Sam could feel a tremble run through Dean’s body and then his left hand came up to clutch Sam’s arm as he ran his tongue over Sam’s lips, slipping in as they parted with a soft sigh. Just for a brief moment and then Dean pulled back, his eyes wide and black.
“We can’t… Fuck, Sam, no! Why did you-?” He shuddered and closed his eyes. “God. Oh God.”
“I remember you kissing me. When I was…” Sam swallowed. “When you thought I was dying. And… And it made me realize… You’ve been wanting to but…” He took a deep breath. “Dean, you only did it because you thought it was the last chance you had.”
Dean shook his head. “God, Sam. Christ. It’s not…” He shuddered again and the mask of denial fell away from his face as it crumbled. “Jesus, Sam, I’m so fucking sorry. I never meant to… I had no right.”
“You had every right, Dean. Every fucking right.” Sam grabbed Dean’s shoulder and shook him until he opened his eyes again, staring at Sam with such guilt and sorrow Sam thought his heart would break. “I’m the one who… I should have seen it. I should have known.”
“Known what?” Dean’s laugh was harsh and desperate. “That I’m sick? That I want to… God!” He suddenly scrambled out of bed, grasping for his clothes. “This isn’t happening. We’re not doing this. I’m going out.”
Sam struggled to sit up, failing once again despite the adrenaline rushing through his veins, and he fell back on the pillows, his breath hitching. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you fucking dare walking out that door when I can’t follow you. Dean!”
Dean stopped, hand on the doorknob. His whole body radiated tension.
“Come back here. We’re gonna talk about this.”
Dean shook his head. “I can’t.”
“I don’t care, Dean. You’re going to anyway.” His face softened. “Please.”
Dean stood still, knuckles white where they clutched the doorknob, the tendons in his neck standing out like taut rope. And then all of a sudden he slumped, his hand slipping away from the doorknob, and he turned around. His face was sickeningly grey, his eyes dull with defeat.
“Come here.”
Dean walked slowly back to the bed and at Sam’s indication sat down on the edge, eyes cast downward.
“Dean, you know I love you.” Sam sighed as his brother visibly flinched. “Will you please look at me?”
It took a moment and a few deep breaths but then Dean raised his eyes, meeting Sam’s. They gazed at each other a long time and then Sam reached for Dean’s hand where it rested beside his on the bed, lacing their fingers tight together. Dean’s hand trembled slightly and his eyes flickered like he wanted to run away as fast as he could.
“How long have you felt like this?”
Dean averted his eyes but at Sam pressing his fingers he looked back, swallowing hard. “Years. Since long before you left.”
“And you never told me.”
Dean laughed dryly. “Not exactly something you bring up at dinner, Sam. ‘Nice burgers, dad. Man, we sure showed that poltergeist today and by the way I’m in love with my brother.’” He flinched at his own words as soon as they slipped out.
Sam tightened his hold even further, rubbing his thumb along Dean’s index finger. “It’s none of dad’s business, Dean. But it’s mine, and you should have told me.”
“Why? What good could have come out of it?”
Sam watched him silently before answering. “You not having to bottle it up for so long. Me not feeling like you didn’t like me anymore when you stopped touching me.” He raised his eyebrows at Dean’s startled look. “Yeah, I noticed. I just thought you’d outgrown me, which was fucking rough because I needed you so damn much, Dean. As my brother, my friend, my… You were my whole world, Dean.”
“I couldn’t…” Dean averted his eyes again. “It was too hard, Sam. I was too close to giving in.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Why? Are you kidding me?” Dean jerked his hand free and abruptly stood up, only to sit back down again with a sigh when Sam gave him a glare, patting the bed. “Sam, I know you’ve never had a normal family life but believe me,” Dean gave a hard laugh, “that’s not something you do with your siblings. Not even when they’re as screwed up as we are.”
“Since when do you care what’s normal?”
“I care about you! I care about not… sullying you.” Dean gritted his teeth. “Fuck, Sam. Don’t you get it? I’d do anything for you not to have found out. Ever.”
Sam grabbed his hand again, rubbing his thumb soothingly over the knuckles. “I’m glad I did.”
Dean sighed and shook his head, looking more tired than Sam could remember ever seeing him. “Sam…”
“No, Dean. I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t need you to shelter me. I can make my own decisions about what I want and what road to take.”
“Sam, you don’t have to…”
“Yeah well, I want to. Do you have any idea how much I missed you while I was up in Stanford? I used to dream about you, all the time. That you died, that I’d never see you again. That I’d go back and you hated me.” Sam laced their fingers together again, squeezing tight. “That one day there’d be a knock on my door and there you’d be. And you’d push me up against the wall and kiss me until I couldn’t breathe.”
Dean’s head snapped up, his eyes big and wide with shock. “What?”
“Yeah.” Sam laughed softly. “Think you’re the only one with a twisted mind? Fuck, Dean. Do you have any idea how fucking pretty you are? I’ve been having dirty fantasies about your lips since I had my first wet dream.”
Dean just stared at him, like Sam had grown two heads. The thought made him suddenly remember something and he reached up to run his hand shakily over his face. It felt rough, covered in scabs and raw skin. Fuck.
“Smallpox, huh?”
Dean swallowed, eyes slightly glazed. “It’s not so bad. I have some ointment. It shouldn’t scar…” His voice trailed of and he looked away, shoulders slumping. “Sam, it’s the spell. Remember? It said…”
Sam rolled his eyes. “I remember. But, Dean, ‘turn’ indicates I wasn’t before and, dude, I gotta tell you…”
Sam chuckled at the shocked look on his brother’s face. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? My first wet dream, man. All you. And pretty much every one since then. Sure, there were some girls, you’re not that perfect.” He laughed as Dean sniffed indignantly but then his face turned serious. “And I loved Jess, so damn much. She was all I wished I wanted. But, Dean, it’s been this,” he lifted their joined hands, “for as long as I could remember. You and me, Dean.”
Dean bit his lip, uncertainty still lingering in his eyes. “You never said anything either.”
Sam snorted. “God, Dean! I told you, you were like my hero, my everything. Still are. You said it yourself, it’s sick and wrong. I didn’t want you to hate me. I couldn’t risk that.”
Dean closed his eyes, his free hand coming up to rub his face, his body giving a brief shudder. “I would never, never, hate you, Sam. Never! God, I…” He looked up and gave a shaky laugh. “Fuck, Sammy.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Sam winked. “I love you too, bro.”
Dean actually giggled, then put his hand to his mouth when he realized what he’d done, eyes wide, making Sam break out in helpless laughter that had him clutching his chest and wheezing for breath.
“Fuck, don’t make me laugh, Dean. My throat hurts like hell.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t say you’re sorry. Just…” Sam tried again to raise his head, to sit up, only to fall back down with a frustrated growl. “Dammit, Dean. Give me a hand here.”
“You shouldn’t be moving too much. You’re still too weak to…”
“Dean, will you stop mothering me and help me sit up. I’m not gonna do this lying down.”
Dean hesitated and then slid an arm under Sam’s shoulder, reluctantly, like he didn’t trust himself to touch Sam at all. “Do what?”
Sam kept stubbornly silent until he was propped up against the pillows, panting from the effort, and then he reached out and curled one hand behind Dean’s neck, pulling him close. “Kiss you.”
Dean’s eyes widened with panic and he jerked back so fast Sam fell forward with a curse. “Sam…” Dean put a hand on his chest and pushed him up again. “We can’t do this.”
“I almost died, Dean.” Sam grabbed Dean’s hand, clutching it as hard as he could in case Dean would try again to move away. “White fucking tunnel and everything. So don’t tell me what I can and can not do.”
He could see the emotions flickering in his brother’s eyes, shifting between fear and want, guilt and need. The look that said ‘You’re my brother and I’ll do anything for you’ and ‘You’re my brother! My brother, my Sammy, and I have done this to you. Me, all me. It’s all my fault.’
“Dean, please.”
Dean closed his eyes and bowed his head, his shoulders trembling with tension. “I can’t. I can’t do that to you.”
Sam reached out and cupped Dean’s face again, enveloping it in his long fingers. “We’ve had a shitty life, Dean. Our mom, our childhood, Jessica… our whole life has been nothing but one blow after another. Everything I’ve had has been taken from me. Everything but you. And I’m taking a stand on this one. I want this. I want you. And I’m not gonna let shame or guilt keep it from me.” Sam smiled softly. “You’re not doing anything to me. I’m asking you to do this with me. Dean, isn’t it about time we got something, just for us? Something we can have and fuck the rest of the world?”
“What if… What if it doesn’t work out like that?” Dean’s voice was rough, his lips thin. “What if it’s just some… fucking lust thing? Something I’ve wanted because I couldn’t get it. What if we do this and in a week I grow tired of you? What then?”
“Dean…”
“No. I don’t do relationships, Sam. I can’t…” Dean swallowed. “I fuck and I move on. They don’t even remember my name. I’m that guy. I’m not…”
Sam let his hand fall and sighed. “Dean, I’ve known you all my life. You’ve gotta be a pretty shitty lover if having sex with you will make me want to forget your name.”
Dean blinked. His mouth fell open and when he noticed he snapped it shut before shooting Sam a glare. “Dude, did you just call me a lousy lay?”
Sam quirked his eyebrows at him. “Did I? For all I know, all those girls? Read you poetry or something. Maybe you’re all big talk and no walk. That it, Dean? You a virgin maybe? All those stories nothing but smoke blowing out your ass?”
Dean stared at him. Then he looked away, shaking his head slightly, before raising his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. “You are questioning my manhood? That’s… Sammy boy, you are messing with the wrong man.”
“Still talking.” Sam leaned his head back against the headboard and closed his eyes. “Wake me up when you’re ready to do the walking part.”
He kept perfectly still, fighting the urge to just grab Dean and show him with kisses and touches what it was that he really wanted, and with that convince Dean to give in. Instead he kept his eyes closed and listened to his brother breathe. After all these days of darkness it was still oddly comforting to revert to it. The dark had been terrifying but it had brought him one thing, something he’d never believed in the harsh light of day that he could have.
He knew he was his brother’s weakness. If he really wanted to, he could get Dean to do pretty much whatever he set his mind to. He’d used that to his advantage quite a few times but not this time. This had to be something they both were ready to do. And if Dean couldn’t do it… Sam wasn’t sure what he would do but he had a feeling it involved more tears than he cared for and quite possibly a trip on a Greyhound Bus back to California.
He was so deep in thoughts that when he felt soft lips press against his he sucked in his breath in surprise. He hadn’t really expected… He hadn’t dared to hope.
Sam opened his eyes. Dean was watching him with a look of vulnerability Sam couldn’t remember ever seeing him express so openly before. As if he’d walked out on that tight rope and there was no going back and that left him exposed and terrified of falling down.
Sam smiled softly and reached out to pull Dean in again, holding his face between his hands as he pressed their lips together.
He could feel Dean’s pulse racing in the veins underneath his fingertips, he could smell the faint scent of sweat and salt on his skin. He tasted whiskey and pizza on Dean’s tongue, he listened to the soft hiccups of his breath change into languid moans.
His eyes were closed but it didn’t matter. He could see everything perfectly clear in the dark.
fin
A/N: The Seven Sisters or Pleiades, are a cluster of stars situated on the shoulder of Taurus, the bull. The name is based on the myth of the seven daughters of Atlas about which one story says Zeus transformed them into stars after their deaths (suicides) as a comfort to their father. There are other myths as well, one of them saying they were the doves that brought baby Zeus ambrosia.
According to astrology the Pleiades have mainly malign effects, among them blindness, disgrace and evil influence, which many have interpreted as homosexuality. *rolls eyes* I swear I didn’t look for that, I was just looking for a myth that causes blindness and the ‘turn gay’ thing was a bonus. * g*
Other effects, depending on the position of other stars and the moon and sun, include:
“…blindness from fevers, small pox, and accidents to the face.”
“Throat ailments, chronic catarrh, blindness, bad eyes, injuries to the face, sickness, disgrace…” etc.
Quotes taken from here and more info can be found here.
As with all myths and astrological interpretations those regarding the Pleiades do vary. A lot. And I did take some poetic license in making the “curse”.
Author: felisblanco
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Word count: ca. 14500 (all parts together)
Rating: PG-13, I guess
Summary: The boys perform a spell that has disastrous effects, throwing Sam into a world of darkness.
Warnings: None except the Wincest part. Mentions of Faith, Bloody Mary and Something Wicked.
A/N: Beta’d by the lovely hellziggy. Also see some explanation at the bottom.
Previous chapters here
He woke up to a silent room and would have called out in panic if he wasn't having a hard time just breathing. The air felt thick and warm, threatening to get stuck in his throat, and the drenched sheets clung to his hot and sweat-slick skin. His head was filled with various nightmares, going from feeling as if he was drowning in tar and to being pinned to the ceiling as his body burned, looking down at Dean as he screamed his name. He shuddered at the memory, and it brought out goosebumps on his whole body.
“De-ean?”
He tried to sit up but all he managed was raising his head a few inches before it fell back on his pillow, his fingers curling weakly as he tried to raise his arms.
“De-?”
The cough that shook his body filled his throat with phlegm and he panicked, wheezing in air and fighting to cough his throat clear.
“I'm here. I'm right here, Sammy.”
An arm slipped under his shoulders and raised him up and he coughed violently until his throat finally cleared, then spat into the wad of paper held against his lips. It hurt to breathe, in fact it hurt all over. “Dean?”
“It's ok.” The tone of his brother's voice was soothing but there was a shiver to it that scared Sam more than whatever it was that was happening. “Just a few more days now, Sammy. Just hang on.”
“Wha-?” His throat was filling up again, air making a wheezing sound as it forced its way through the tight windpipe. “De-ean, wha-?” He coughed again, gagging at the slimy glue on his tongue.
“It's ok, Sammy. Remember, dad said it'd take seven days for the symbols to drive the curse out.”
Sam turned his head, blind eyes staring in the direction of the voice. “Da-ad?”
Dean brushed the damp hair out if his face, then laid his hand on Sam's cheek. It trembled. “Yeah, he called. Don't you remember?”
The fever clawed at his skin and he started to shake violently. He reached out with trembling fingers to grab Dean’s t-shirt, clinging to it in fear as he tried to suck in air, but the more he struggled the harder it got and he could feel his head getting lighter as everything started to spin. “De-!”
“Sammy, just lie back and try to breathe normally. You're gonna be ok. Everything's gonna be fine.”
Sam might have believed him if Dean's voice hadn't shaken so badly. He started panicking as the lack of oxygen made his throat burn and pressure build up in the back of his head. “I ca-!” He shook with the effort of trying to breathe, the shallow gasps making him jerk against Dean until his eyes rolled back in his skull. “DE-!”
“Come on, Sammy. Come on!” He jerked forward as his back was slapped hard, again and again. “Don’t do this!! Don’t fucking do this! Not again. Sammy! No!”
His head was exploding from the pressure and he clawed at Dean’s arm as he was suddenly pushed down on the bed, one heavy hand holding the back of his head pressed down into the pillow.
“I love you, little brother. Ok? Ok?” Dean’s voice was raw, holding Sam’s head down as he struggled to free himself. “You fucking remember that, Sammy. Remember that!”
Sam tried again to cough but there was no air in his lungs and all he managed was a low rattle. His body went limp as the last bit of strength escaped him and just like that he knew he was dying. Everything went bright, the pain and fear drained away, leaving him feeling light and free and his only wish was that he could tell Dean that he loved him too. So much, Dean. More than you will ever know. More than…
Suddenly he felt a sharp sting and tiny bubbles of air burned their way into his windpipe. The pain returned tenfold and he wanted to cry with disappointment.
“Oh God. Fuck. Jesus help me. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I don’t know…” Dean’s nose pressed into Sam’s cheek, warm and wet against his fevered skin. “I love you more than anything. You and me, Sammy. You and me!” The voice broke, Dean’s chest heaving with sobs. “Don't you fucking leave me, Sam. You hear me? Don’t you dare leaving me!”
The darkness swallowed him again.
------------
It was strange how natural it seemed, despite everything, to wake up to the sun shining in through the split in the curtains covering the windows. Sam opened his eyes and blinked sleepily against the brightness in the room. For a moment he wondered if it had all been a dream but he still felt exhausted, practically drained of all energy. There wasn’t a single part of his body that didn’t feel sore and his head throbbed with a dull headache. The bed next to him was empty but when he tried to move he felt the weight of Dean's arm slung over his waist. Carefully Sam shifted until he managed to turn over and onto his other side.
He wasn't sure how long it had really been but it felt like he hadn't seen his brother's face in years and now he wanted nothing more then to watch him for hours. Dean was fast asleep, dark shadows painted on the grey skin under his eyes. Unshaven and with ruffled greasy hair, sweat clinging to his temples and dotting his upper lip. A trail of dried up saliva running down his chin. It was the most beautiful sight in the world.
The possibility that he might never have been able to see Dean’s face again suddenly hit him. His grin, his glare, his rare happy smile. That mischievous glint he got in his eye that spelled trouble. The silent look he gave Sam when he thought he wasn't looking that said 'I'm here. I'll take care of you.' The even quieter one that said 'Please don't leave me.' The way his hair stuck up, the shadow of his eyelashes on his cheeks, the soft curves of his lips.
His lips.
As through a haze Sam remembered those lips kissing him. His forehead and temple then his cheek and finally his lips. Warm and taut and tasting of salt. Desperate. Pressing against his again and again between murmured words of comfort and pleading. Then resting against his cheek as strong arms, holding him so hard he couldn’t breathe, shook with quiet weeping. And then later, much later, he remembered those lips kissing his fingers as Pater Nostri was whispered brokenly into his clutched hand, over and over until the words slurred and finally quieted when Sam drifted off.
With a shiver Sam realized he really must have been on the brink of dying, for Dean to lose it like that. Dean might be ready to give up his own life whenever Death decided to claim him but Sam dying was a whole different matter, and always had been. Sam had a feeling that if he really had died Dean would have gone through hell and high water to bring him back to life. And when that failed… Sam couldn’t finish that thought but the taste of metal and gun oil still hit the back of his tongue.
Swallowing the lump in his throat Sam leaned forward and without hesitation kissed Dean softly on the lips.
Dean didn't wake up, just mumbled something that sounded like 'yeah' before kissing Sam back, tightening his arm around his waist. Then he buried his nose into Sam’s shoulder and continued snoring. Sam lay still, watching him, memorizing every inch of Dean's face, until his eyelids started drooping and he couldn't fight the lure of sleep no more.
-----------------
“Hey.”
Sam yawned before opening his eyes, blinking against the light. Dean’s face was inches away from his own, green eyes watching him worriedly.
“Hey there.” Sam’s voice was hoarse and talking hurt his throat but none of that mattered. He blinked again and smiled softly. “I can see you.”
The smile that broke out on Dean’s face was exquisite, the corners of his eyes crinkling in happy wrinkles. “God, Sammy…” Dean’s voice shook and he stopped, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Thought you were gonna give up on me there, buddy.”
“Yeah, me too.” Sam swallowed and winced from the sharp pain. “Ow. My throat hurts.”
Dean gave a happy snort. “Yeah? That might be the hole I had to punch through it.”
Sam blinked. “What?” He moved his hand up to feel his throat. There was a thick dressing right below his Adam’s apple. “Wow. I didn’t know you knew how to do that.”
“Me neither. Good thing I watch E.R. By the way, you owe me a new pen.”
“Jesus, Dean!” Sam ran his fingers again over the bandage. “Don’t tell me it’s still in there.”
“Nah. Took it out yesterday once I managed to suck your throat clean and it stopped filling up again.” At the disgusted look on Sam’s face Dean laughed and reached out to brush his brother’s hair back. “Dude, you owe me so many beers for this.”
Sam shook his head. “Think I owe you a lot more than that, Dean.”
Dean actually blushed and looked away. “Yeah, well. No big deal.”
“No, Dean. It’s a huge deal.” Sam tried to sit up but he was still too weak and fell back on the pillow after a few seconds of hovering. “And I’ll pay you back in all ways possible as soon as I can move again. But until then…”
He reached out and cupped his brother’s cheek, ignoring the confused look in Dean’s eyes. He brushed his thumb over the cheekbones before letting his fingers run to the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him closer.
“What are you…?”
Dean’s lips felt warm against his own, hard with shock for a second before they suddenly softened and kissed him back. It was warm and soft and all the things he’d imagined. Sam could feel a tremble run through Dean’s body and then his left hand came up to clutch Sam’s arm as he ran his tongue over Sam’s lips, slipping in as they parted with a soft sigh. Just for a brief moment and then Dean pulled back, his eyes wide and black.
“We can’t… Fuck, Sam, no! Why did you-?” He shuddered and closed his eyes. “God. Oh God.”
“I remember you kissing me. When I was…” Sam swallowed. “When you thought I was dying. And… And it made me realize… You’ve been wanting to but…” He took a deep breath. “Dean, you only did it because you thought it was the last chance you had.”
Dean shook his head. “God, Sam. Christ. It’s not…” He shuddered again and the mask of denial fell away from his face as it crumbled. “Jesus, Sam, I’m so fucking sorry. I never meant to… I had no right.”
“You had every right, Dean. Every fucking right.” Sam grabbed Dean’s shoulder and shook him until he opened his eyes again, staring at Sam with such guilt and sorrow Sam thought his heart would break. “I’m the one who… I should have seen it. I should have known.”
“Known what?” Dean’s laugh was harsh and desperate. “That I’m sick? That I want to… God!” He suddenly scrambled out of bed, grasping for his clothes. “This isn’t happening. We’re not doing this. I’m going out.”
Sam struggled to sit up, failing once again despite the adrenaline rushing through his veins, and he fell back on the pillows, his breath hitching. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you fucking dare walking out that door when I can’t follow you. Dean!”
Dean stopped, hand on the doorknob. His whole body radiated tension.
“Come back here. We’re gonna talk about this.”
Dean shook his head. “I can’t.”
“I don’t care, Dean. You’re going to anyway.” His face softened. “Please.”
Dean stood still, knuckles white where they clutched the doorknob, the tendons in his neck standing out like taut rope. And then all of a sudden he slumped, his hand slipping away from the doorknob, and he turned around. His face was sickeningly grey, his eyes dull with defeat.
“Come here.”
Dean walked slowly back to the bed and at Sam’s indication sat down on the edge, eyes cast downward.
“Dean, you know I love you.” Sam sighed as his brother visibly flinched. “Will you please look at me?”
It took a moment and a few deep breaths but then Dean raised his eyes, meeting Sam’s. They gazed at each other a long time and then Sam reached for Dean’s hand where it rested beside his on the bed, lacing their fingers tight together. Dean’s hand trembled slightly and his eyes flickered like he wanted to run away as fast as he could.
“How long have you felt like this?”
Dean averted his eyes but at Sam pressing his fingers he looked back, swallowing hard. “Years. Since long before you left.”
“And you never told me.”
Dean laughed dryly. “Not exactly something you bring up at dinner, Sam. ‘Nice burgers, dad. Man, we sure showed that poltergeist today and by the way I’m in love with my brother.’” He flinched at his own words as soon as they slipped out.
Sam tightened his hold even further, rubbing his thumb along Dean’s index finger. “It’s none of dad’s business, Dean. But it’s mine, and you should have told me.”
“Why? What good could have come out of it?”
Sam watched him silently before answering. “You not having to bottle it up for so long. Me not feeling like you didn’t like me anymore when you stopped touching me.” He raised his eyebrows at Dean’s startled look. “Yeah, I noticed. I just thought you’d outgrown me, which was fucking rough because I needed you so damn much, Dean. As my brother, my friend, my… You were my whole world, Dean.”
“I couldn’t…” Dean averted his eyes again. “It was too hard, Sam. I was too close to giving in.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Why? Are you kidding me?” Dean jerked his hand free and abruptly stood up, only to sit back down again with a sigh when Sam gave him a glare, patting the bed. “Sam, I know you’ve never had a normal family life but believe me,” Dean gave a hard laugh, “that’s not something you do with your siblings. Not even when they’re as screwed up as we are.”
“Since when do you care what’s normal?”
“I care about you! I care about not… sullying you.” Dean gritted his teeth. “Fuck, Sam. Don’t you get it? I’d do anything for you not to have found out. Ever.”
Sam grabbed his hand again, rubbing his thumb soothingly over the knuckles. “I’m glad I did.”
Dean sighed and shook his head, looking more tired than Sam could remember ever seeing him. “Sam…”
“No, Dean. I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t need you to shelter me. I can make my own decisions about what I want and what road to take.”
“Sam, you don’t have to…”
“Yeah well, I want to. Do you have any idea how much I missed you while I was up in Stanford? I used to dream about you, all the time. That you died, that I’d never see you again. That I’d go back and you hated me.” Sam laced their fingers together again, squeezing tight. “That one day there’d be a knock on my door and there you’d be. And you’d push me up against the wall and kiss me until I couldn’t breathe.”
Dean’s head snapped up, his eyes big and wide with shock. “What?”
“Yeah.” Sam laughed softly. “Think you’re the only one with a twisted mind? Fuck, Dean. Do you have any idea how fucking pretty you are? I’ve been having dirty fantasies about your lips since I had my first wet dream.”
Dean just stared at him, like Sam had grown two heads. The thought made him suddenly remember something and he reached up to run his hand shakily over his face. It felt rough, covered in scabs and raw skin. Fuck.
“Smallpox, huh?”
Dean swallowed, eyes slightly glazed. “It’s not so bad. I have some ointment. It shouldn’t scar…” His voice trailed of and he looked away, shoulders slumping. “Sam, it’s the spell. Remember? It said…”
Sam rolled his eyes. “I remember. But, Dean, ‘turn’ indicates I wasn’t before and, dude, I gotta tell you…”
Sam chuckled at the shocked look on his brother’s face. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? My first wet dream, man. All you. And pretty much every one since then. Sure, there were some girls, you’re not that perfect.” He laughed as Dean sniffed indignantly but then his face turned serious. “And I loved Jess, so damn much. She was all I wished I wanted. But, Dean, it’s been this,” he lifted their joined hands, “for as long as I could remember. You and me, Dean.”
Dean bit his lip, uncertainty still lingering in his eyes. “You never said anything either.”
Sam snorted. “God, Dean! I told you, you were like my hero, my everything. Still are. You said it yourself, it’s sick and wrong. I didn’t want you to hate me. I couldn’t risk that.”
Dean closed his eyes, his free hand coming up to rub his face, his body giving a brief shudder. “I would never, never, hate you, Sam. Never! God, I…” He looked up and gave a shaky laugh. “Fuck, Sammy.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Sam winked. “I love you too, bro.”
Dean actually giggled, then put his hand to his mouth when he realized what he’d done, eyes wide, making Sam break out in helpless laughter that had him clutching his chest and wheezing for breath.
“Fuck, don’t make me laugh, Dean. My throat hurts like hell.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t say you’re sorry. Just…” Sam tried again to raise his head, to sit up, only to fall back down with a frustrated growl. “Dammit, Dean. Give me a hand here.”
“You shouldn’t be moving too much. You’re still too weak to…”
“Dean, will you stop mothering me and help me sit up. I’m not gonna do this lying down.”
Dean hesitated and then slid an arm under Sam’s shoulder, reluctantly, like he didn’t trust himself to touch Sam at all. “Do what?”
Sam kept stubbornly silent until he was propped up against the pillows, panting from the effort, and then he reached out and curled one hand behind Dean’s neck, pulling him close. “Kiss you.”
Dean’s eyes widened with panic and he jerked back so fast Sam fell forward with a curse. “Sam…” Dean put a hand on his chest and pushed him up again. “We can’t do this.”
“I almost died, Dean.” Sam grabbed Dean’s hand, clutching it as hard as he could in case Dean would try again to move away. “White fucking tunnel and everything. So don’t tell me what I can and can not do.”
He could see the emotions flickering in his brother’s eyes, shifting between fear and want, guilt and need. The look that said ‘You’re my brother and I’ll do anything for you’ and ‘You’re my brother! My brother, my Sammy, and I have done this to you. Me, all me. It’s all my fault.’
“Dean, please.”
Dean closed his eyes and bowed his head, his shoulders trembling with tension. “I can’t. I can’t do that to you.”
Sam reached out and cupped Dean’s face again, enveloping it in his long fingers. “We’ve had a shitty life, Dean. Our mom, our childhood, Jessica… our whole life has been nothing but one blow after another. Everything I’ve had has been taken from me. Everything but you. And I’m taking a stand on this one. I want this. I want you. And I’m not gonna let shame or guilt keep it from me.” Sam smiled softly. “You’re not doing anything to me. I’m asking you to do this with me. Dean, isn’t it about time we got something, just for us? Something we can have and fuck the rest of the world?”
“What if… What if it doesn’t work out like that?” Dean’s voice was rough, his lips thin. “What if it’s just some… fucking lust thing? Something I’ve wanted because I couldn’t get it. What if we do this and in a week I grow tired of you? What then?”
“Dean…”
“No. I don’t do relationships, Sam. I can’t…” Dean swallowed. “I fuck and I move on. They don’t even remember my name. I’m that guy. I’m not…”
Sam let his hand fall and sighed. “Dean, I’ve known you all my life. You’ve gotta be a pretty shitty lover if having sex with you will make me want to forget your name.”
Dean blinked. His mouth fell open and when he noticed he snapped it shut before shooting Sam a glare. “Dude, did you just call me a lousy lay?”
Sam quirked his eyebrows at him. “Did I? For all I know, all those girls? Read you poetry or something. Maybe you’re all big talk and no walk. That it, Dean? You a virgin maybe? All those stories nothing but smoke blowing out your ass?”
Dean stared at him. Then he looked away, shaking his head slightly, before raising his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. “You are questioning my manhood? That’s… Sammy boy, you are messing with the wrong man.”
“Still talking.” Sam leaned his head back against the headboard and closed his eyes. “Wake me up when you’re ready to do the walking part.”
He kept perfectly still, fighting the urge to just grab Dean and show him with kisses and touches what it was that he really wanted, and with that convince Dean to give in. Instead he kept his eyes closed and listened to his brother breathe. After all these days of darkness it was still oddly comforting to revert to it. The dark had been terrifying but it had brought him one thing, something he’d never believed in the harsh light of day that he could have.
He knew he was his brother’s weakness. If he really wanted to, he could get Dean to do pretty much whatever he set his mind to. He’d used that to his advantage quite a few times but not this time. This had to be something they both were ready to do. And if Dean couldn’t do it… Sam wasn’t sure what he would do but he had a feeling it involved more tears than he cared for and quite possibly a trip on a Greyhound Bus back to California.
He was so deep in thoughts that when he felt soft lips press against his he sucked in his breath in surprise. He hadn’t really expected… He hadn’t dared to hope.
Sam opened his eyes. Dean was watching him with a look of vulnerability Sam couldn’t remember ever seeing him express so openly before. As if he’d walked out on that tight rope and there was no going back and that left him exposed and terrified of falling down.
Sam smiled softly and reached out to pull Dean in again, holding his face between his hands as he pressed their lips together.
He could feel Dean’s pulse racing in the veins underneath his fingertips, he could smell the faint scent of sweat and salt on his skin. He tasted whiskey and pizza on Dean’s tongue, he listened to the soft hiccups of his breath change into languid moans.
His eyes were closed but it didn’t matter. He could see everything perfectly clear in the dark.
fin
A/N: The Seven Sisters or Pleiades, are a cluster of stars situated on the shoulder of Taurus, the bull. The name is based on the myth of the seven daughters of Atlas about which one story says Zeus transformed them into stars after their deaths (suicides) as a comfort to their father. There are other myths as well, one of them saying they were the doves that brought baby Zeus ambrosia.
According to astrology the Pleiades have mainly malign effects, among them blindness, disgrace and evil influence, which many have interpreted as homosexuality. *rolls eyes* I swear I didn’t look for that, I was just looking for a myth that causes blindness and the ‘turn gay’ thing was a bonus. * g*
Other effects, depending on the position of other stars and the moon and sun, include:
“…blindness from fevers, small pox, and accidents to the face.”
“Throat ailments, chronic catarrh, blindness, bad eyes, injuries to the face, sickness, disgrace…” etc.
Quotes taken from here and more info can be found here.
As with all myths and astrological interpretations those regarding the Pleiades do vary. A lot. And I did take some poetic license in making the “curse”.