Fic: The Price of Love (7/7)
Back to Part 6
* * * DW * * *
Dean and Benny sat in Dean's office, watching the burning car. They'd tuned in to watch the press conference. Now they were horrified at seeing the car burn, after it exploded on camera.
"Holy shit," said Dean. "That's. . . holy shit." His stomach churned at what he'd just witnessed. The pure violence and evil of the car bomb revolted him.
"Yeah," Benny agreed, his expression dark. "Talk about taking off the gloves."
"It had to be Roman, right? Behind it? I mean, that's what we're thinking here." Dean picked up the remote and turned the television off. He got up and headed for the bar, needing a drink to wash the imagined taste of smoke from his mouth.
"Yeah, I'm sure it's his work." Benny nodded when Dean looked at him with a questioning face. "Hell yes, I'll take a drink, that was--"
"Yeah." Dean handed Benny a glass half full of whiskey, and they drank together. "I'm not a fan of the FBI giving us a hard time, but that--Henriksen was a decent man, he didn't deserve that."
They drank again in silence for a moment. Dean hadn't appreciated being investigated for acts he had nothing to do with, but Henriksen had started to see that. There was something deeper and darker going on and Henriksen had been in the middle of shifting his efforts into probing the courts rather than Dean. Besides all of that, Henriksen had been a man of integrity, who'd believed in his fight against crime and injustice. Dean respected that.
And now . . . Henriksen was dead.
"So what's our next move?" Benny asked.
"I don't know. Maybe. . . " Dean paused.
"Maybe you better call your brother." Benny finished his drink. "Some inside scoop wouldn't go amiss."
Fuck! What if it had been-- it could have been Sam in there. Dean almost dropped his glass at the realization. He struggled to mask his sudden weakness from Benny. He stumbled to the couch and sat heavily.
"You okay, brutha?" Benny asked with concern.
"Yeah, just--just a little shocked," Dean said. "I'm fine, just need a minute."
"I'll go see how everyone is doing, give you a bit of space." Benny patted Dean on the shoulder and left.
Dean fell back against the couch's back. Dear God, Sammy. . .
* * * SW * * *
Sam sat numbly in his office, his hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey. He didn't normally drink at work, but he felt it was excusable today. He'd just seen an intelligent, honorable man obliterated after all. That warranted a day drink.
Jo had been crying at her desk when he'd finally made his way upstairs to his office. He'd hugged her, gotten her a bottle of water, and then retreated into his office. He could see Crowley's office down the hall had at least half a dozen people in it, and he felt sickened by the vulturous attitude of his erstwhile boss.
Erstwhile? Interesting choice of words, Winchester, Sam thought to himself. He knew not to make any big decisions while under the effects of a traumatic event, but he couldn't ignore how the thought had popped in there unbidden.
His phone buzzed. Taking it out of his pocket, he saw Dean on the screen.
"Great," he mumbled. Nonetheless, he knew he needed to answer it. Who knew what new information Dean had? Sam tried to ignore that, besides the question of Dean's knowledge, he had the undeniable need to reassure himself that Dean was okay.
Sam clicked 'Accept'. "Yeah," he grunted, trying to not express the sudden vulnerability he felt. Life seemed unexpectedly tenuous.
"Yeah, hi to you too." Dean's voice was gruff.
Anger flared painfully in Sam's chest, crowding out his other confused emotions. "Excuse me, I just saw--"
"Yeah, I know. We saw it on TV." Dean cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Sammy. He was a good man."
Sam couldn't speak for a moment. It was quiet on the other end.
"So, what's up," Sam finally said, forcing the words through the tight tunnel his throat had become.
"I just--I needed to hear your voice." Dean's voice was low and hoarse. "All I could think for a second was . . .well, you're okay. That's all I needed to know."
"Yeah, I guess I am. I just--" Tears clogged Sam's throat. "Jesus, Dean, how could that--how could someone do that?" He couldn't mask a sniffle. "Dean, I'm scared for you."
"Fuck that, I'm scared for you! You're in the lion's den, Sammy, and I--" Dean's words cut off. Sam heard a sound that sounded suspiciously like Dean's voice hitching.
"Are you at Iniquity?" Sam asked. "Like, right now?"
"Yeah."
"Stay there." Sam clicked his phone off. He bolted from his office, breezing past a still rather teary Jo. "Going out. No calls." He ignored the startled look on her face and continued out of the office.
Sam ran out to his car, sliding into the driver's seat and turning the ignition. For the split second before he turned the key, he thought What if-- But the car started smoothly, and after a few deep breaths, he put it into gear and drove out of the lot.
* * * DW * * *
Coming out of his office, Dean saw Benny in the hallway. "Sam's on the way over, I think," Dean told him.
Benny looked surprised. "Is there a new development?"
Dean shook his head. "No, I think--it might be personal. Get him into my office as soon as he gets here, and then no calls or interruptions until I let you know."
"You got it." Benny gave a half-salute. Dean ignored the curious look on his face and retreated back into this office to wait for Sam.
Sammy. . . coulda been Sammy. Fuck this investigation, and fuck Roman. Dean collapsed into his executive chair and pounded a fist on the desk top. We gotta end this somehow. Get the goods on that bastard once and for all.
His swirling thoughts were interrupted by his office door flying open. Sam barreled in. Benny stuck his head inside and said "No interruptions. I got the door." He closed the door firmly as he withdrew.
"Sam! Jesus--" Dean sprang up, coming out from behind his desk and grabbing Sam's arms. "Are you sure you're alright?" He ran his hands up and down Sam's arms, like when Sam was a kid and Dean checked him for playground or sports injuries.
"Yeah, I'm okay. Just. . . shook up." He grabbed Dean back, his hands gripping tightly. "Dean, all I could think was what if it was you in that car?"
Dean couldn't tell if he laughed or gave a sob. "Me too, Sammy, me too. I couldn't--God, baby, I couldn't--"
His eyes searched Sam's face and he saw his own fear mirrored there. All of the years of tension and conflict fell away as he pulled Sam in close, wrapping his arms around Sam and kissing him.
"Dean!" Sam pulled back for a moment. "Are you--"
"Shut up," Dean commanded and kissed Sam again.
Hands grappled and tore at clothing while mouths refused to be parted for more than a quick breath. Dean didn't quite know how it happened, but suddenly they were naked, shirts hanging unbuttoned off shoulders and shoes kicked off so pants could slide down. A trail of the discarded garments followed them to the couch, which Dean fell onto and pulled Sam on top of him.
"God, Sammy, even more gorgeous than ever. All these muscles, good God. . . " Dean panted, running his hands over every bit of Sam he could reach.
"I uh, I run, uh, and I--fuck! I work out," Sam panted back, punctuating his words with kisses to Dean's throat and jaw. "You're so fucking hot, thought I was going to explode that night here--you trying to shove people at me and all I wanted was you." His mouth slid down to Dean's pecs and attached itself to a pink, hard nipple.
Dean groaned. "That's evil, you fucker," he hissed, bringing his fingers to Sam's chest and retaliating with little pinches and tugs. "You know how that--"
"Drives you crazy, yeah, I know." Sam released one nipple only to suckle at the other, flicking it with his tongue. Dean groaned again, arching his back and grabbing Sam's hair.
No more words were spoken, only sounds of pleasure and desire. They writhed together, grasping, pushing, twisting, as if they had to feel the entirety of each other's bodies all at once. Dean couldn't get enough of Sam's beautiful body, but what made it perfect was just that it was Sam. Sam as he'd dreamed about and considered lost for years. Sam, the other half of him that had been gone for so long.
"We gonna. . . um," Sam moaned as Dean stroked his dick. "I don't think I'll be able to--"
"Naw, baby, just this, okay? Just us together," Dean murmured. Both of them were leaking precome and he ran his head over the heads of their cocks, collecting it in his palm. "There, like that," he soothed, gripping them both in one hand. "C'me on, do it with me."
Sam wrapped his hand around Dean's. They moved together, rocking their hips and thrusting into their joined hands. Mouths whispered and clung, now in soft kisses, now breathing as one. Skin to skin, chest to chest, cock to cock, they floated in their perfect, passionate bubble.
When their passion crested, they both cried the other's name out, sharing the hot fluid as it jettisoned on each other's skin. They lay sated, bodies cooling, but reluctant to break apart, as if their parting would shatter the temporary haven they'd made.
Dean moved first, knowing that first of all, they couldn't stay there forever, and second, they needed to address the mess or stick together painfully. He had a small en-suite bathroom, so he was able to get a couple of towels, dampening one to clean themselves of the tacky spunk and another to dry off with.
"Well, um, wow," Sam said, hesitant to look at Dean. "I'm sorry, I didn't plan for, uh, for this."
Dean knelt in front of him, resting his hands on Sam's thighs.
"Me either, but I don't regret it. Do you?" He cupped Sam's chin with one hand and tilted his face up to look Dean in the eyes.
Sam shook his head. "No, I don't. Just--it makes things a little more complicated, doesn't it?"
Dean stood up, collecting the dirty towels and throwing them back into the bathroom. "I don't know, Sammy. I think things look a lot clearer from where I'm standing." He found both of their shirts and handed Sam's to him. Sliding his arms into his sleeves, Dean continued, "If anything, we've kinda cleared the decks, as far as our feelings go anyway. We have to figure out this whole Roman-drug thing, but we're on the same team now. Again."
Sam gave a small nod. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Just--let's not go further with this until we have that sorted out? Is that okay?"
"Sure, Sammy. I gotcha. But I'll be here when it's over." Dean drew close and gave Sam a soft, chaste kiss. "That's a promise."
* * * SW * * *
"What? You want to break up?" Jessica's face paled in shock. "Sam, what is going on?"
Sam's chest ached as he faced his unhappy fiancée--now ex-fiancée. He didn't want to hurt her, but he knew he couldn't be with her now. Not after he and Dean--even if that was all it was going to be, his feelings for Jess were compromised. It wasn't fair to her to pretend they had a real chance to be together any longer.
"I can't--things have changed," he said, trying to keep his voice level.
"Changed? What's changed? I haven't changed. My feelings haven't changed." Her look darkened. "Is that it? Have your feelings changed, Sam? Are you not--not in love with me anymore?"
"I do love you, Jess. But not . . . not like 'getting married' love."
She drew closer. "Is it cold feet? Because that's normal, Sam. A lot of men get cold feet, like they're leaving their bachelor days behind. We can just wait a bit before we get into planning things." He could see the pleading in her eyes as her mouth quivered.
One of Sam's great legal talents was his ability to succinctly articulate complex situations and emotions. Yet standing here and facing Jess, he felt at a total loss for words. How does one explain that the recent reliving of one's past and a moment of desperate sex has led one to realize that one is still in love with their brother?
"It's not that," he answered. "My feelings--they--you--"
"Oh my God," Jess breathed, raising her hand to her mouth. "Sam--oh God, Sam, are you in love with someone else?"
He couldn't reply, the words frozen in his throat.
"Oh God," Jess repeated, the tears starting to flow from her big green eyes. "Oh God..."
She ran from the room and slammed the bedroom door shut. Sam sank down onto the couch and buried his face in his hands. He felt sick about breaking her heart, sick about what he couldn't help feeling was betrayal.
And yet at the same time, there was the cool relief of it being over. That alone told him he'd done the right thing by breaking it off with her. In time, she'd be able to move on and find real love. Find someone who wasn't hopelessly besotted by their sibling.
* * * SW * * *
"What the hell is this, Sam?" John bellowed, waving a sheaf of white papers around in his hand. "What have you been up to?"
Sam scowled at his angry father. "I'm not 'up to' anything, Dad. I'm doing what kids my age all over the country are doing. I'm getting ready to go to college."
"College?" John snorted. "How do you expect to pay for that? And why would you go anyway?"
"I'm paying for it by being smart. I got a scholarship. A full ride--tuition, dorms, books, the works." Anger and frustration welled up inside his chest. "I'm fucking smart, Dad, and they saw it. They want me to go there." He bit out the words. "I'm going, Dad. I worked for it and I deserve it."
"Sammy--" Dean moved toward him, but Sam put up a hand to ward him off. Dean looked startled, but stopped moving. "No one says you aren't smart. We all know how smart you are. But maybe you could just go here, to the local--"
"Stanford is an Ivy League school. Do you guys even know what that means?" Sam shook his head. "It means it's one of the top schools in the country, The country. And they want me to go there so much they're letting me go for free. Why would I go to a little local college when I can go to the best?"
He turned away from them, feeling their eyes on him as he stomped off to the bedroom. Grabbing a duffle, he started shoving things into it--clothes, toiletries, a few paperbacks. He grabbed his backpack and put his laptop into it with a few more clothes. The rumble of Dean's and John's voices continued in the other room, but Sam couldn't distinguish what they were saying.
I'm not going to back down, he told himself fiercely. I'm doing this. I'm getting the fuck out of here.
His bags packed, he took them out into the living room. Dean leaned against the wall by the front door, his hands shoved into his pockets. John glowered in the middle of the room, arms crossed over his chest.
"Dad, why are you so mad anyway? You don't need me to run your tawdry little whorehouse," Sam sneered. He saw Dean flinch, but barreled on. "I'm not going to grow up and be a hustler or a pimp or any of the stellar role models you've provided me with. I'm going to be a lawyer."
"A lawyer! I suppose this is Singer's doing. You've been so pally-pally with a fucking policeman, now you're getting ridiculous ideas." John's face darkened further. "Is he the one who helped with all of this paperwork shit? Goddammit! I'll punch his lights out!"
"Dad! You'll end up in jail again!" Dean finally spoke. "Calm down--"
"I'll calm down when Sam sees sense and drops this cockamamie idea!" John's voice was in full roar now. He stepped over to Sam and reached out, grabbing his bags and trying to wrest them from his son's grip.
"Stop it!" Sam yelled. "Get the fuck off me!" He wrenched out of John's grip. He'd grown a lot over this past summer, and he saw that realization dawn on John. No longer the shortest, weakest Winchester, Sam could now look John straight in the eyes.
"Stop fighting! Jesus, you guys, you're--" Dean tried to break it up, but he was ignored.
"You know, Dad," Sam spat that word out like an epithet. "Other parents would be proud of their kid. Proud that they achieved this. That they were going to do something big with their lives. But not you. You want me to settle for being a scummy low-life running a whorehouse. Well, I'm not."
He strode to the door, hesitating only as he drew level with Dean before continuing outside.
"Leave, you son of a bitch! Just like your mother, thinking you're better than everyone! Go ahead and leave and don't come back!" John shouted.
The words reverberated in Sam's ears. He couldn't help the tears that sprang up in his eyes.
He only got a few yards down the road when he heard feet running after him. Turning, he saw Dean catching up to him.
When he reached Sam, he stopped, breathing hard. Sam saw how pinched and pale Dean's face looked, the hurt look in his eyes. "Damn, Sammy, is that all you think of me too?"
Sam's heart twinged. "Dean, I know you're trying to do more. But--I can't live that way. And you shouldn't either. You're better than that. You're not a criminal--"
Dean drew back. "Whoa, okay. So if I stay, I'm a criminal? And a lowlife scum too? Thanks, Sam. Sorry we can't all be the white knight like you are."
"They're whores, Dean. They--"
"Damn, dude. They're people, Sam. People who I said I'd look out for. Protect. Take responsibility for. Do you think I'm using them like Dad fuckin' does?" Hurt turned to anger on his face. "Sam, I told every single one of them that they owed me nothing. That they were free to go do whatever they wanted and I'd help them do it. But you know what? They stayed. They trust me. They said they want to build something with me. They're--we're becoming a family, Sam. And I want you to still be my family too."
"No, Dean. I can't. I can't live like that." Sam lifted his head higher. "You go on back then. Live your little scummy life with your hookers. I'm going to be better than that." He sneered a little. "I already am."
He saw the blow his words dealt to Dean, but Sam was already turning. Back stiff and straight, he walked away.
Inside him, the tether he'd always felt binding him to Dean stretched until with an almost audible sound, it snapped.
* * * DW * * *
Dean and Benny stood at the bar in Iniquity's salon. It was early afternoon, so no clients had arrived yet. Most of the talent was off preparing for their engagements that evening, so the only other person present was Kevin, who was busy doing bar prep.
Most of the time there were no televisions going, but Dean did have a flat screen mounted on one wall that was disguised under a drapery. Right now, the drapery was open and the TV was on for a newscast from a local station.
"We present this news update on the trial of Judge Richard Roman. The Judge was recently brought up on charges of drug dealing, improper handling of supernatural bio-products, information tampering, verdict tampering, and ethical misconduct including ex parte communications and failing to disqualify for a conflict of interest.
The revelation of the Judge's misconduct blew up at a press conference regarding the death of Alicia Banes, an FBI agent killed in the line of duty, that was followed by the tragic murder of fellow FBI Agent Victor Henriksen in a car bombing directly after the conference.
Further evidence was obtained via the surprise witness of Mrs. Bela Roman, the Judge's wife. A plea bargain was arranged with Mrs. Roman where she will not be prosecuted for her unknowing participation in the Judge's dealings in return for furnishing extensive information and records of the Judge's criminal acts.
The jury is due to return later today. The expectation is that the Judge will be convicted on all counts and subsequently disbarred and sentenced. D.A. Fergus Crowley has issued a statement that further investigations will be made into other possible judicial figures who might be implicated.
We will bring you that verdict as soon as it is announced. We now return you to--"
Dean clicked the remote, turning off the TV. Kevin brought over drinks for him and Benny. Raising their glasses, the two men toasted silently and drank.
"Well then, good riddance to bad rubbish," Benny said.
"Damn straight. God, who knew what an asshole he was?" Dean shook his head and drank again. "That whole courthouse is like a cesspool."
Benny nodded. "Speaking of which. . . what does that mean for your brother?"
Dean looked at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"Well, everything I've learned about Sam Winchester is that he's the real deal. A genuine good guy, if a trifle uptight. Fair, moral, kind. Intelligent as hell. What's he going to do now that the rock has been lifted up and everyone can see the worms underneath it?"
Dean considered for a moment. "Wow, I had not thought about that. I guess--well, I don't know. I guess we'll have to wait and see."
The joy of being vindicated of any wrongdoing had left Dean feeling buoyant, but thinking about what Sam must now be experiencing mitigated that joy. Benny clapped him on the shoulder and wandered off, while Dean stood there musing.
"Would you like another, Mr. Winchester?" Kevin asked.
"No, no thanks." Dean gave Kevin a half-smile. "I'm going to go to my office, if anyone comes around looking for me, okay?"
"You got it, sir."
Dean left the salon and went upstairs to his office. Sitting down on the couch, he let his head drop back. Sam's last words to him, after their spontaneous passionate reunion, ran through his mind.
". . . let's not go further with this until we have that sorted out? Is that okay?"
"Oh, Sammy. What's going to happen with us now?"
Funny thing, life. Funny how it squirmed and wriggled, taking and giving unexpectedly. He had almost everything he wanted here. He'd carved this place out, built it from ashes and scrap and he was proud of it. Proud of his people, proud of taking care of them. Proud of earning their loyalty.
And yet something evil had still found its way in. Fouling its own nest, it had tried to foul this one as well.
Well, it was stomped out now. It--Roman--was in jail, soon prison. He'd stay there forever if Dean had anything to say about it.
He felt badly for anyone who'd crossed Roman's path and paid for it. Alicia Banes, inadvertently. Victor Henriksen, who'd jousted with the dragon and lost.
And Sam. Goddammit, Sam. Sam, who'd always tried to do the right thing and had found out that the man behind the curtain wasn't the Wizard, but something malignant. The ivory tower had crumbled into dust at Sam's feet.
Oh, my Sammy.
* * * SW * * *
Sitting at his desk, Sam felt drained. He didn't have any energy left. His limbs felt heavy and wooden.
What the fuck? What . . . what have I given my career to? My life? Doubt wrapped around him like a thick fog. Sure, the 'good guys' had won at the end. Roman was ousted, soon to be disbarred, and awaiting a sure-to-be guilty verdict. Prison lay ahead of him and Sam didn't envy Roman's reception there. Roman's network of hangers-on and minions would be next to unravel. Between the video, investigation, and Bela's incendiary information, his whole scheme was toast.
But instead of feeling triumphant, Sam felt hollow. Smudged with the dirt of the unsavory plans and events that had transpired behind the purportedly righteous cloak of the bench.
I thought I was in the right place, doing the right thing. Sure, I did some good. But I was ignorant of so much. Didn't see the strings being pulled, the hoodwinking. Sam dropped his head into his hands. Am I complicit? Ignorance is no excuse.
Suddenly he felt the need to get out of there. Escape the wooden halls and walls of books, the center of what he thought was just and right, but had been tainted with evil and greed.
He practically ran out of his office, looking around for Jo. Her desk was empty though, so he continued moving quickly, not feeling any relief until he found himself outside.
I can't ever go back there, he thought grimly. I'll always know how venal it really is. How twisted and manipulative. He swallowed hard as bile rose from his belly. How easily I was duped.
An ache resounded in his heart. Ache for what he'd lost here.
And an ache for what he needed.
Who he needed.
Sam ran out into the street, hailing a cab.
* * * DW * * *
A tap on Dean's office door heralded Benny's entrance.
"Someone's here to see you."
Dean shook his head. "I'm not seeing anyone today."
"I hoped you'd see me," a voice said.
Dean looked up. Sam stood in the doorway.
Benny disappeared.
"What--" Dean stood up. He didn't even know what to ask. Why was Sam here? What did he want? What about . . . them?
Sam walked forward slowly. He ran a hand nervously through his hair.
"I wanted--" he stammered. "I needed to see you."
Dean nodded dumbly. Sam looked even more nervous, fidgeting back and forth on his feet.
"I'm, uh. . . well, I'm looking for a job. Thought . . . maybe you'd be hiring."
Dean felt a grin split his face. Sam's smile grew wider in response.
"Yeah, I just might be. Interested in coming onboard?"
Sam's dimples creased his face, and his eyes sparkled.
"Yes, I am."
THE END
* * * DW * * *
Dean and Benny sat in Dean's office, watching the burning car. They'd tuned in to watch the press conference. Now they were horrified at seeing the car burn, after it exploded on camera.
"Holy shit," said Dean. "That's. . . holy shit." His stomach churned at what he'd just witnessed. The pure violence and evil of the car bomb revolted him.
"Yeah," Benny agreed, his expression dark. "Talk about taking off the gloves."
"It had to be Roman, right? Behind it? I mean, that's what we're thinking here." Dean picked up the remote and turned the television off. He got up and headed for the bar, needing a drink to wash the imagined taste of smoke from his mouth.
"Yeah, I'm sure it's his work." Benny nodded when Dean looked at him with a questioning face. "Hell yes, I'll take a drink, that was--"
"Yeah." Dean handed Benny a glass half full of whiskey, and they drank together. "I'm not a fan of the FBI giving us a hard time, but that--Henriksen was a decent man, he didn't deserve that."
They drank again in silence for a moment. Dean hadn't appreciated being investigated for acts he had nothing to do with, but Henriksen had started to see that. There was something deeper and darker going on and Henriksen had been in the middle of shifting his efforts into probing the courts rather than Dean. Besides all of that, Henriksen had been a man of integrity, who'd believed in his fight against crime and injustice. Dean respected that.
And now . . . Henriksen was dead.
"So what's our next move?" Benny asked.
"I don't know. Maybe. . . " Dean paused.
"Maybe you better call your brother." Benny finished his drink. "Some inside scoop wouldn't go amiss."
Fuck! What if it had been-- it could have been Sam in there. Dean almost dropped his glass at the realization. He struggled to mask his sudden weakness from Benny. He stumbled to the couch and sat heavily.
"You okay, brutha?" Benny asked with concern.
"Yeah, just--just a little shocked," Dean said. "I'm fine, just need a minute."
"I'll go see how everyone is doing, give you a bit of space." Benny patted Dean on the shoulder and left.
Dean fell back against the couch's back. Dear God, Sammy. . .
* * * SW * * *
Sam sat numbly in his office, his hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey. He didn't normally drink at work, but he felt it was excusable today. He'd just seen an intelligent, honorable man obliterated after all. That warranted a day drink.
Jo had been crying at her desk when he'd finally made his way upstairs to his office. He'd hugged her, gotten her a bottle of water, and then retreated into his office. He could see Crowley's office down the hall had at least half a dozen people in it, and he felt sickened by the vulturous attitude of his erstwhile boss.
Erstwhile? Interesting choice of words, Winchester, Sam thought to himself. He knew not to make any big decisions while under the effects of a traumatic event, but he couldn't ignore how the thought had popped in there unbidden.
His phone buzzed. Taking it out of his pocket, he saw Dean on the screen.
"Great," he mumbled. Nonetheless, he knew he needed to answer it. Who knew what new information Dean had? Sam tried to ignore that, besides the question of Dean's knowledge, he had the undeniable need to reassure himself that Dean was okay.
Sam clicked 'Accept'. "Yeah," he grunted, trying to not express the sudden vulnerability he felt. Life seemed unexpectedly tenuous.
"Yeah, hi to you too." Dean's voice was gruff.
Anger flared painfully in Sam's chest, crowding out his other confused emotions. "Excuse me, I just saw--"
"Yeah, I know. We saw it on TV." Dean cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Sammy. He was a good man."
Sam couldn't speak for a moment. It was quiet on the other end.
"So, what's up," Sam finally said, forcing the words through the tight tunnel his throat had become.
"I just--I needed to hear your voice." Dean's voice was low and hoarse. "All I could think for a second was . . .well, you're okay. That's all I needed to know."
"Yeah, I guess I am. I just--" Tears clogged Sam's throat. "Jesus, Dean, how could that--how could someone do that?" He couldn't mask a sniffle. "Dean, I'm scared for you."
"Fuck that, I'm scared for you! You're in the lion's den, Sammy, and I--" Dean's words cut off. Sam heard a sound that sounded suspiciously like Dean's voice hitching.
"Are you at Iniquity?" Sam asked. "Like, right now?"
"Yeah."
"Stay there." Sam clicked his phone off. He bolted from his office, breezing past a still rather teary Jo. "Going out. No calls." He ignored the startled look on her face and continued out of the office.
Sam ran out to his car, sliding into the driver's seat and turning the ignition. For the split second before he turned the key, he thought What if-- But the car started smoothly, and after a few deep breaths, he put it into gear and drove out of the lot.
* * * DW * * *
Coming out of his office, Dean saw Benny in the hallway. "Sam's on the way over, I think," Dean told him.
Benny looked surprised. "Is there a new development?"
Dean shook his head. "No, I think--it might be personal. Get him into my office as soon as he gets here, and then no calls or interruptions until I let you know."
"You got it." Benny gave a half-salute. Dean ignored the curious look on his face and retreated back into this office to wait for Sam.
Sammy. . . coulda been Sammy. Fuck this investigation, and fuck Roman. Dean collapsed into his executive chair and pounded a fist on the desk top. We gotta end this somehow. Get the goods on that bastard once and for all.
His swirling thoughts were interrupted by his office door flying open. Sam barreled in. Benny stuck his head inside and said "No interruptions. I got the door." He closed the door firmly as he withdrew.
"Sam! Jesus--" Dean sprang up, coming out from behind his desk and grabbing Sam's arms. "Are you sure you're alright?" He ran his hands up and down Sam's arms, like when Sam was a kid and Dean checked him for playground or sports injuries.
"Yeah, I'm okay. Just. . . shook up." He grabbed Dean back, his hands gripping tightly. "Dean, all I could think was what if it was you in that car?"
Dean couldn't tell if he laughed or gave a sob. "Me too, Sammy, me too. I couldn't--God, baby, I couldn't--"
His eyes searched Sam's face and he saw his own fear mirrored there. All of the years of tension and conflict fell away as he pulled Sam in close, wrapping his arms around Sam and kissing him.
"Dean!" Sam pulled back for a moment. "Are you--"
"Shut up," Dean commanded and kissed Sam again.
Hands grappled and tore at clothing while mouths refused to be parted for more than a quick breath. Dean didn't quite know how it happened, but suddenly they were naked, shirts hanging unbuttoned off shoulders and shoes kicked off so pants could slide down. A trail of the discarded garments followed them to the couch, which Dean fell onto and pulled Sam on top of him.
"God, Sammy, even more gorgeous than ever. All these muscles, good God. . . " Dean panted, running his hands over every bit of Sam he could reach.
"I uh, I run, uh, and I--fuck! I work out," Sam panted back, punctuating his words with kisses to Dean's throat and jaw. "You're so fucking hot, thought I was going to explode that night here--you trying to shove people at me and all I wanted was you." His mouth slid down to Dean's pecs and attached itself to a pink, hard nipple.
Dean groaned. "That's evil, you fucker," he hissed, bringing his fingers to Sam's chest and retaliating with little pinches and tugs. "You know how that--"
"Drives you crazy, yeah, I know." Sam released one nipple only to suckle at the other, flicking it with his tongue. Dean groaned again, arching his back and grabbing Sam's hair.
No more words were spoken, only sounds of pleasure and desire. They writhed together, grasping, pushing, twisting, as if they had to feel the entirety of each other's bodies all at once. Dean couldn't get enough of Sam's beautiful body, but what made it perfect was just that it was Sam. Sam as he'd dreamed about and considered lost for years. Sam, the other half of him that had been gone for so long.
"We gonna. . . um," Sam moaned as Dean stroked his dick. "I don't think I'll be able to--"
"Naw, baby, just this, okay? Just us together," Dean murmured. Both of them were leaking precome and he ran his head over the heads of their cocks, collecting it in his palm. "There, like that," he soothed, gripping them both in one hand. "C'me on, do it with me."
Sam wrapped his hand around Dean's. They moved together, rocking their hips and thrusting into their joined hands. Mouths whispered and clung, now in soft kisses, now breathing as one. Skin to skin, chest to chest, cock to cock, they floated in their perfect, passionate bubble.
When their passion crested, they both cried the other's name out, sharing the hot fluid as it jettisoned on each other's skin. They lay sated, bodies cooling, but reluctant to break apart, as if their parting would shatter the temporary haven they'd made.
Dean moved first, knowing that first of all, they couldn't stay there forever, and second, they needed to address the mess or stick together painfully. He had a small en-suite bathroom, so he was able to get a couple of towels, dampening one to clean themselves of the tacky spunk and another to dry off with.
"Well, um, wow," Sam said, hesitant to look at Dean. "I'm sorry, I didn't plan for, uh, for this."
Dean knelt in front of him, resting his hands on Sam's thighs.
"Me either, but I don't regret it. Do you?" He cupped Sam's chin with one hand and tilted his face up to look Dean in the eyes.
Sam shook his head. "No, I don't. Just--it makes things a little more complicated, doesn't it?"
Dean stood up, collecting the dirty towels and throwing them back into the bathroom. "I don't know, Sammy. I think things look a lot clearer from where I'm standing." He found both of their shirts and handed Sam's to him. Sliding his arms into his sleeves, Dean continued, "If anything, we've kinda cleared the decks, as far as our feelings go anyway. We have to figure out this whole Roman-drug thing, but we're on the same team now. Again."
Sam gave a small nod. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Just--let's not go further with this until we have that sorted out? Is that okay?"
"Sure, Sammy. I gotcha. But I'll be here when it's over." Dean drew close and gave Sam a soft, chaste kiss. "That's a promise."
* * * SW * * *
"What? You want to break up?" Jessica's face paled in shock. "Sam, what is going on?"
Sam's chest ached as he faced his unhappy fiancée--now ex-fiancée. He didn't want to hurt her, but he knew he couldn't be with her now. Not after he and Dean--even if that was all it was going to be, his feelings for Jess were compromised. It wasn't fair to her to pretend they had a real chance to be together any longer.
"I can't--things have changed," he said, trying to keep his voice level.
"Changed? What's changed? I haven't changed. My feelings haven't changed." Her look darkened. "Is that it? Have your feelings changed, Sam? Are you not--not in love with me anymore?"
"I do love you, Jess. But not . . . not like 'getting married' love."
She drew closer. "Is it cold feet? Because that's normal, Sam. A lot of men get cold feet, like they're leaving their bachelor days behind. We can just wait a bit before we get into planning things." He could see the pleading in her eyes as her mouth quivered.
One of Sam's great legal talents was his ability to succinctly articulate complex situations and emotions. Yet standing here and facing Jess, he felt at a total loss for words. How does one explain that the recent reliving of one's past and a moment of desperate sex has led one to realize that one is still in love with their brother?
"It's not that," he answered. "My feelings--they--you--"
"Oh my God," Jess breathed, raising her hand to her mouth. "Sam--oh God, Sam, are you in love with someone else?"
He couldn't reply, the words frozen in his throat.
"Oh God," Jess repeated, the tears starting to flow from her big green eyes. "Oh God..."
She ran from the room and slammed the bedroom door shut. Sam sank down onto the couch and buried his face in his hands. He felt sick about breaking her heart, sick about what he couldn't help feeling was betrayal.
And yet at the same time, there was the cool relief of it being over. That alone told him he'd done the right thing by breaking it off with her. In time, she'd be able to move on and find real love. Find someone who wasn't hopelessly besotted by their sibling.
* * * SW * * *
"What the hell is this, Sam?" John bellowed, waving a sheaf of white papers around in his hand. "What have you been up to?"
Sam scowled at his angry father. "I'm not 'up to' anything, Dad. I'm doing what kids my age all over the country are doing. I'm getting ready to go to college."
"College?" John snorted. "How do you expect to pay for that? And why would you go anyway?"
"I'm paying for it by being smart. I got a scholarship. A full ride--tuition, dorms, books, the works." Anger and frustration welled up inside his chest. "I'm fucking smart, Dad, and they saw it. They want me to go there." He bit out the words. "I'm going, Dad. I worked for it and I deserve it."
"Sammy--" Dean moved toward him, but Sam put up a hand to ward him off. Dean looked startled, but stopped moving. "No one says you aren't smart. We all know how smart you are. But maybe you could just go here, to the local--"
"Stanford is an Ivy League school. Do you guys even know what that means?" Sam shook his head. "It means it's one of the top schools in the country, The country. And they want me to go there so much they're letting me go for free. Why would I go to a little local college when I can go to the best?"
He turned away from them, feeling their eyes on him as he stomped off to the bedroom. Grabbing a duffle, he started shoving things into it--clothes, toiletries, a few paperbacks. He grabbed his backpack and put his laptop into it with a few more clothes. The rumble of Dean's and John's voices continued in the other room, but Sam couldn't distinguish what they were saying.
I'm not going to back down, he told himself fiercely. I'm doing this. I'm getting the fuck out of here.
His bags packed, he took them out into the living room. Dean leaned against the wall by the front door, his hands shoved into his pockets. John glowered in the middle of the room, arms crossed over his chest.
"Dad, why are you so mad anyway? You don't need me to run your tawdry little whorehouse," Sam sneered. He saw Dean flinch, but barreled on. "I'm not going to grow up and be a hustler or a pimp or any of the stellar role models you've provided me with. I'm going to be a lawyer."
"A lawyer! I suppose this is Singer's doing. You've been so pally-pally with a fucking policeman, now you're getting ridiculous ideas." John's face darkened further. "Is he the one who helped with all of this paperwork shit? Goddammit! I'll punch his lights out!"
"Dad! You'll end up in jail again!" Dean finally spoke. "Calm down--"
"I'll calm down when Sam sees sense and drops this cockamamie idea!" John's voice was in full roar now. He stepped over to Sam and reached out, grabbing his bags and trying to wrest them from his son's grip.
"Stop it!" Sam yelled. "Get the fuck off me!" He wrenched out of John's grip. He'd grown a lot over this past summer, and he saw that realization dawn on John. No longer the shortest, weakest Winchester, Sam could now look John straight in the eyes.
"Stop fighting! Jesus, you guys, you're--" Dean tried to break it up, but he was ignored.
"You know, Dad," Sam spat that word out like an epithet. "Other parents would be proud of their kid. Proud that they achieved this. That they were going to do something big with their lives. But not you. You want me to settle for being a scummy low-life running a whorehouse. Well, I'm not."
He strode to the door, hesitating only as he drew level with Dean before continuing outside.
"Leave, you son of a bitch! Just like your mother, thinking you're better than everyone! Go ahead and leave and don't come back!" John shouted.
The words reverberated in Sam's ears. He couldn't help the tears that sprang up in his eyes.
He only got a few yards down the road when he heard feet running after him. Turning, he saw Dean catching up to him.
When he reached Sam, he stopped, breathing hard. Sam saw how pinched and pale Dean's face looked, the hurt look in his eyes. "Damn, Sammy, is that all you think of me too?"
Sam's heart twinged. "Dean, I know you're trying to do more. But--I can't live that way. And you shouldn't either. You're better than that. You're not a criminal--"
Dean drew back. "Whoa, okay. So if I stay, I'm a criminal? And a lowlife scum too? Thanks, Sam. Sorry we can't all be the white knight like you are."
"They're whores, Dean. They--"
"Damn, dude. They're people, Sam. People who I said I'd look out for. Protect. Take responsibility for. Do you think I'm using them like Dad fuckin' does?" Hurt turned to anger on his face. "Sam, I told every single one of them that they owed me nothing. That they were free to go do whatever they wanted and I'd help them do it. But you know what? They stayed. They trust me. They said they want to build something with me. They're--we're becoming a family, Sam. And I want you to still be my family too."
"No, Dean. I can't. I can't live like that." Sam lifted his head higher. "You go on back then. Live your little scummy life with your hookers. I'm going to be better than that." He sneered a little. "I already am."
He saw the blow his words dealt to Dean, but Sam was already turning. Back stiff and straight, he walked away.
Inside him, the tether he'd always felt binding him to Dean stretched until with an almost audible sound, it snapped.
* * * DW * * *
Dean and Benny stood at the bar in Iniquity's salon. It was early afternoon, so no clients had arrived yet. Most of the talent was off preparing for their engagements that evening, so the only other person present was Kevin, who was busy doing bar prep.
Most of the time there were no televisions going, but Dean did have a flat screen mounted on one wall that was disguised under a drapery. Right now, the drapery was open and the TV was on for a newscast from a local station.
"We present this news update on the trial of Judge Richard Roman. The Judge was recently brought up on charges of drug dealing, improper handling of supernatural bio-products, information tampering, verdict tampering, and ethical misconduct including ex parte communications and failing to disqualify for a conflict of interest.
The revelation of the Judge's misconduct blew up at a press conference regarding the death of Alicia Banes, an FBI agent killed in the line of duty, that was followed by the tragic murder of fellow FBI Agent Victor Henriksen in a car bombing directly after the conference.
Further evidence was obtained via the surprise witness of Mrs. Bela Roman, the Judge's wife. A plea bargain was arranged with Mrs. Roman where she will not be prosecuted for her unknowing participation in the Judge's dealings in return for furnishing extensive information and records of the Judge's criminal acts.
The jury is due to return later today. The expectation is that the Judge will be convicted on all counts and subsequently disbarred and sentenced. D.A. Fergus Crowley has issued a statement that further investigations will be made into other possible judicial figures who might be implicated.
We will bring you that verdict as soon as it is announced. We now return you to--"
Dean clicked the remote, turning off the TV. Kevin brought over drinks for him and Benny. Raising their glasses, the two men toasted silently and drank.
"Well then, good riddance to bad rubbish," Benny said.
"Damn straight. God, who knew what an asshole he was?" Dean shook his head and drank again. "That whole courthouse is like a cesspool."
Benny nodded. "Speaking of which. . . what does that mean for your brother?"
Dean looked at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"Well, everything I've learned about Sam Winchester is that he's the real deal. A genuine good guy, if a trifle uptight. Fair, moral, kind. Intelligent as hell. What's he going to do now that the rock has been lifted up and everyone can see the worms underneath it?"
Dean considered for a moment. "Wow, I had not thought about that. I guess--well, I don't know. I guess we'll have to wait and see."
The joy of being vindicated of any wrongdoing had left Dean feeling buoyant, but thinking about what Sam must now be experiencing mitigated that joy. Benny clapped him on the shoulder and wandered off, while Dean stood there musing.
"Would you like another, Mr. Winchester?" Kevin asked.
"No, no thanks." Dean gave Kevin a half-smile. "I'm going to go to my office, if anyone comes around looking for me, okay?"
"You got it, sir."
Dean left the salon and went upstairs to his office. Sitting down on the couch, he let his head drop back. Sam's last words to him, after their spontaneous passionate reunion, ran through his mind.
". . . let's not go further with this until we have that sorted out? Is that okay?"
"Oh, Sammy. What's going to happen with us now?"
Funny thing, life. Funny how it squirmed and wriggled, taking and giving unexpectedly. He had almost everything he wanted here. He'd carved this place out, built it from ashes and scrap and he was proud of it. Proud of his people, proud of taking care of them. Proud of earning their loyalty.
And yet something evil had still found its way in. Fouling its own nest, it had tried to foul this one as well.
Well, it was stomped out now. It--Roman--was in jail, soon prison. He'd stay there forever if Dean had anything to say about it.
He felt badly for anyone who'd crossed Roman's path and paid for it. Alicia Banes, inadvertently. Victor Henriksen, who'd jousted with the dragon and lost.
And Sam. Goddammit, Sam. Sam, who'd always tried to do the right thing and had found out that the man behind the curtain wasn't the Wizard, but something malignant. The ivory tower had crumbled into dust at Sam's feet.
Oh, my Sammy.
* * * SW * * *
Sitting at his desk, Sam felt drained. He didn't have any energy left. His limbs felt heavy and wooden.
What the fuck? What . . . what have I given my career to? My life? Doubt wrapped around him like a thick fog. Sure, the 'good guys' had won at the end. Roman was ousted, soon to be disbarred, and awaiting a sure-to-be guilty verdict. Prison lay ahead of him and Sam didn't envy Roman's reception there. Roman's network of hangers-on and minions would be next to unravel. Between the video, investigation, and Bela's incendiary information, his whole scheme was toast.
But instead of feeling triumphant, Sam felt hollow. Smudged with the dirt of the unsavory plans and events that had transpired behind the purportedly righteous cloak of the bench.
I thought I was in the right place, doing the right thing. Sure, I did some good. But I was ignorant of so much. Didn't see the strings being pulled, the hoodwinking. Sam dropped his head into his hands. Am I complicit? Ignorance is no excuse.
Suddenly he felt the need to get out of there. Escape the wooden halls and walls of books, the center of what he thought was just and right, but had been tainted with evil and greed.
He practically ran out of his office, looking around for Jo. Her desk was empty though, so he continued moving quickly, not feeling any relief until he found himself outside.
I can't ever go back there, he thought grimly. I'll always know how venal it really is. How twisted and manipulative. He swallowed hard as bile rose from his belly. How easily I was duped.
An ache resounded in his heart. Ache for what he'd lost here.
And an ache for what he needed.
Who he needed.
Sam ran out into the street, hailing a cab.
* * * DW * * *
A tap on Dean's office door heralded Benny's entrance.
"Someone's here to see you."
Dean shook his head. "I'm not seeing anyone today."
"I hoped you'd see me," a voice said.
Dean looked up. Sam stood in the doorway.
Benny disappeared.
"What--" Dean stood up. He didn't even know what to ask. Why was Sam here? What did he want? What about . . . them?
Sam walked forward slowly. He ran a hand nervously through his hair.
"I wanted--" he stammered. "I needed to see you."
Dean nodded dumbly. Sam looked even more nervous, fidgeting back and forth on his feet.
"I'm, uh. . . well, I'm looking for a job. Thought . . . maybe you'd be hiring."
Dean felt a grin split his face. Sam's smile grew wider in response.
"Yeah, I just might be. Interested in coming onboard?"
Sam's dimples creased his face, and his eyes sparkled.
"Yes, I am."
THE END