Every Last Drop
Every Last Drop
He stared down at his arm, at the crisscross scars that spattered both wrists and closed his eyes before it could become an issue again. He might be a lot of things, but Dean Winchester was foremost a survivor. Well, except when it came to his family because they all knew what he’d do to save them but there wasn’t much else in the world he’d be willing to trade his life for. He tried not to think as he looked away from his wrists, about the things he was willing to do for his family.
He felt the need to get them moving again. Heaven and Hell were still looking for them and they didn’t know what either side wanted anymore. Dean was supposed to stop the apocalypse, Sam was supposed to start it, only that was all done now and they were still targets so what they hell did they want now? Only no one wanted to explain that one to them so they ran until they could figure out what it was and how to stop it. They had hex bags and ancient runes that kept them from being traceable to heaven or hell thanks to Castiel. Anna had shown up not long after that and the two had headed off, into battle of the immortal kind and they hadn’t heard anything since. Castiel couldn’t track them anymore than the others could but Sam had shown him how to work a cell phone and with his talents it wasn’t likely Castiel couldn’t find use of a phone if he needed one.
It left both Sam and Dean feeling restless and reckless at times, but keeping each other safe seemed to keep the other in line. Dean had a hard time letting Sam out of his sight and Sam seemed to need to touch Dean every couple minutes or he went a little nuts. Dean understood it at first, but he wasn’t so sure what it was anymore.
In the first few days they had run and when Castiel had caught up, beaten and battered and yet still whole, they’d had a few days respite before it all started up again. This time Castiel had given them a way to hide until they were strong enough for the fight and not even Sam tried to argue about their condition this time around. They needed a place to lick their wounds.
When Castiel left, Dean took off, driving as far from anyplace they’d ever been and just kept going. When he finally pulled off it was after 3 days of non-stop driving, caffeine ridden and with only the sleep he’d allowed himself when Sam took over the wheel. He’d managed to get them a rental cabin, paid with cash up front so they could be there a while if need be. Dean found out about the place a few days back, a random overheard conversation about the perfect hunting cabin in the middle of nowhere. When Sam had gone to the bathroom Dean had asked about it. A few phone calls later and he had the place.
Dean settled back onto the bed, resting his head on the wall above the headboard and listening for Sam in the other room. The hallucinations seemed to be gone but every so often one came out of the blue and Sam was suddenly stumbling over himself, red faced and soul screaming pain through his eyes. It was then that he reached for Dean, reached too hard and too fast and could never catch himself. It was a good thing Dean had gotten good at catching Sam over the years.
The first few days had been bad, when the detox of the demon blood had pounded through Sam’s body. It wasn’t the worst though because it was soul poison and even as his body was relieving itself of the addiction; his mind was beginning to have its own reaction. The weakness, the doubt, the pain. The hallucinations had been almost constant then and to his horror he realized that the majority of the time Sam was talking to a hallucinated-angry-Dean or to his younger self who mocked what Sam had become. It got worse when he realized how little Sam could stand to hear Dean’s criticisms.
He knew his own heart enough to know what he’d do for his brother. He just never realized Sam might feel the same. Even with everything that had happened, he’d known without a doubt that what Sam was doing was because of something else, the demon blood inside him, not some fucked-up idea of saving Dean. He still believed that, but the more he listened to his brother’s painful interactions the more he thought maybe, just maybe Sam did think that much of him. He could certainly hear it when Sam talked to the hallucinated-angry-Dean, knew how much his brother truly respected him, no matter their many differences. It hurt to know that Sam’s mind was using him to inflict that sort of pain. It hurt to know that he’d said some of the things all on his own at other times.
“Dean…”
He looked up and saw Sam in the door of the bathroom and he swallowed against the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to see the look in Sam’s eyes tonight, didn’t want to have to do this again but if Sam needed it, he knew he would. He couldn’t deny him this little thing, not when it helped to keep all the rest of it at bay. Because while Sam’s body didn’t need the demon blood, didn’t crave it, his mind still did. He couldn’t get rid of the habit and the need and in a fit of anger in the first days, Dean had set them on this path unknowing. A moment of anger, a slit wrist and the words “You still need this Sammy? Then come and get it.” A single moment of weakness for Sam and he’d caved at the sight of Dean’s blood flowing down his fingers. Neither knew how to take the moment back. Neither knew how to be anything more than broken.
He looked away from Sam. “Yeah Sammy?”
Sam didn’t answer but Dean felt the bed dip beside him as he tried his best to find the local fishing report on TV interesting. Sam shifted further up until he was sitting with his shoulder next to Dean’s. They sat like that for a few minutes, Sam’s long legs bent up at the knee while Dean’s were stretched out in front of him.
The cabin wasn’t a resort or anything, but it was actually better than most places they stayed at. Everything was clean and well kept. The mattresses were firm and the blankets nice and soft. Good water pressure in the shower and lots of hot water. The only TV in the place though was in one of the bedrooms and Dean had called dibs on that as soon as they walked in.
They were in the habit of hanging out in there together, just relaxing and being close again, without the lies that had permeated their relationship the past year. They were both too sore to open up yet, not after the initial volley had been thrown but they both knew there was nothing going to keep them from coming back to one another, no matter what happened or how long it took. They were both too stubborn to let go.
He sighed when he felt Sam’s hand shift, pulling Dean’s wrist up into his large hands. His palm was brought up to cup Sam’s face and Dean just closed his eyes, trying to keep from participating in what was going to happen.
“I’m sorry Dean… I tried….”
“Sh…. Sammy, it’s alright…” he said as he felt Sam nuzzling his wrist. It wasn’t, but it was. Sam didn’t need the blood anymore, but he needed something else now. Needed something worse maybe, but Dean wasn’t so sure he didn’t need it too. He shuddered when he felt Sam’s tongue lap lightly at the soft flesh of his wrist. It was too intimate for what they were doing, felt different than what he had always given Sam before.
Sam never asked for it, never asked for anything because he was too afraid of Dean turning him away, too afraid of the words ‘monster’ and ‘don’t come back’ to give anything more than just the tiniest bickering about the tv channel and Dean’s version of entertainment.
He didn’t know how to make things right between them because everything that had once been fundamentally them had been thrown out the door. Everything they took for granted about each other was gone and they were left to try to make it back. Only there were new things between them and in ways it was like getting to know Sam for the first time.
He took a deep breath when he felt Sam’s teeth graze his wrist, tried to suppress the desire that coursed through him. That was something new too. Knowing that he could take care of Sam now, that he could do what he needed to in order to keep Sam safe, it was exhilarating and powerful. He’d felt it the moment he stuck the knife in Ruby, Sam holding her against his body as he took away the thing that had hurt Sam most in this life. He’d felt it as his brother reached out to him, hands shaking and eyes full of terror. The same eyes that had looked so recently at him with anger and pity. The same eyes that had once held hero worship.
They held it again now. Dean opened his eyes as he felt Sam shift away from his wrist. Sam was looking at him, eyes wide and open, full of hunger and need and before he could think about it, Dean grabbed the back of Sam’s neck with the hand still held close and pulled him towards him, crushing their lips together.
The noise Sam made was half indignant and half surprised but even as he gasped against Dean’s mouth, he thrust his tongue into his brother. Sam shifted beside him and suddenly Sam was on top of him, his body pressing him hard and heavy against the headboard. Dean let his fingers feel the texture of Sam’s hair before pulling back sharply, exposing a long line of neck and Dean didn’t bother to hold in his need to bite at the vein, sucking it lightly before sinking his teeth in. Sam groaned, his hips pressing forward in a need for friction that Dean wholly agreed with.
“Think I could taste it Sammy?” He asked, voice dripping gravel. “Think I could taste my own blood if I bit down hard enough?”
Sam growled then suddenly pulled away. Dean watched as Sam grabbed him by the hips and pulled him down the bed, then pressed him back into the mattress. “Do it.” Sam said, his face buried in the curve of Dean’s neck. “It’s yours. Everything is yours.”
He closed his eyes to that admission and then suddenly flipped Sam over. He knew what he needed, knew what they both needed tonight. He didn’t waste time as he pulled the shirt off Sam’s shoulders and Sam was already working the tee shirt over his head when Dean sat back and pulled his own shirt off. He stood up and stripped the rest of his clothes and only spared a glance to make sure Sam was doing the same. When he knelt back at the foot of the bed, Sam was naked and waiting for him. It made him pause for a second, seeing his brother laid out like that for him for the first time, but Dean wasn’t in the mood for caution and Sam’s eyes begged for him. So Dean crawled up his body, letting skin drag against skin the whole maddening way. There was a lot of skin to cover and more than once he stopped to lick or bite at something of interest, some scar or mark that he knew intimately from tending it with his own hands.
When he climbed the length of him, he shifted his hips slightly, feeling the rub of cock against cock and Sam arched into it as Dean smirked down at him. “This what you want Sam?” He asked as he leaned down, whispering into his ear. “This what you need right now?”
“Yes.” Sam hissed out as Dean thrust against him again. “Dean, God yes.”
He reached for the small bottle in the bedside table and before he set it down his fingers were well coated. He let his hand trail between them, making the way slowly down to Sam’s cock and stroked it a few times before trailing lower. He circled Sam’s entrance as Sam’s hips pushed up into him. When he pressed the first finger in Sam groaned. Dean bit hard into his cheek, tasting blood. When a second finger pressed into Sam, he bit his tongue. By the time Sam was stretched open around all three of his fingers, he pulled away, and lined himself up. Biting hard on his lip, he leaned forward, pushing into Sam and kissing him hard.
Sam gasped but Dean wasn’t sure if it was the pain, the pleasure, or the blood offering but then Sam was licking into his mouth, biting and sucking at his lip and when Dean pulled away slightly, Sam’s lips were coated with his blood.
“Not the way we normally do this.” Sam laughed as his hand came up to Dean’s neck, pulling him back in for another bloody kiss.
He let Sam pull, let him take what he wanted, what he needed as he thrust in and out of his body. It was the first of Sam he’d seen since their fight, the first words that had been really him, without fear of retribution or loss. He smiled into Sam’s mouth. It was fucked up and he didn’t care. They’d brought the fucking apocalypse onto humanity and if that didn’t damn them both to hell for eternity he doubted this would either.
“Maybe not.” He said in answer. “Hell of a lot more fun though. And less scars.”
Sam didn’t answer because then Dean was wrapping his fingers around his cock and it only took a few strokes before he was painting their stomachs in thick white stripes. Dean’s hips stuttered on a few more times but then he was coming as well and Sam kissed him through it all.
When he pulled out Sam manhandled him until they were facing one another, not letting Dean get away from the moment anymore than Dean really wanted too. Sam took Dean’s wrist and brought it to his lips, kissing at the scars softly. “I never wanted things to be like this.” He said softly and Dean knew he meant the blood.
“I know Sammy.” He said softly.
“You shouldn’t have had to do this for me.” He looked up, tears in his eyes as he watched his brother and Dean just smiled sadly.
“I should never have made you think you didn’t have me Sam. Should never have let you think that anything you did would make me love you less. You’re my brother and even if we don’t agree on everything, I’m always yours.”
“I’m yours.” Sam said softly, bringing his head to rest on Dean’s chest as if he could finally find peace now. “You made me yours.”
Dean let a hand run through Sam’s hair and stroked it the way he’d always done when Sam was upset as a child. He kissed his forehead and closed his eyes, feeling the slight brush of fingers over the scars where he’d opened his veins for Sam to drink. “It’s the only think I could do to get through to you.” He said softly. “I’m not sorry either. If it’s what you needed, I’d give you every last drop Sammy. Every last drop of who I am is yours.”