For Me
For Me
It hit him, as he watched them sleeping, that there was nothing more important to him than these two men. That there was nothing more important to them than the three of them. He didn’t understand how or why things worked the way they did, but he’d never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Sam could probably spout all sorts of psycho babble about bonding over life and death situations and crappy childhoods and them finding acceptance of their own perverse relationship with Eliot, but it didn’t really matter to Dean. It was what it was.
He’d been awake all night, watching them. After the bar, the way Eliot had been able to take Sam’s control, take it and still protect him, he’d known what he needed to do. He’d seen the way Eliot watched Sam, the way he worshipped him. They were good together, with or without him. They wouldn’t see it that way at first, but he did.
Sam had always said Dean’s biggest fault was not being able to stand up for himself against his family. He knew Sam meant Dad, but Dean knew how far he’d fallen because he couldn’t say no to Sam. He couldn’t fight his brother’s demands along with his own desires. When Sam was 14 he’d caved, forced his own revulsion down and he’d taken his brother to his bed, always aware of how sick it made him, but wanting it none the less. Knowing it made him as sick as the men he’d pandered to when things were bad.
Sam understood. He never talked about it, never mentioned it, but in the quiet times when they lay against each other, he would always speak about love and how much he needed him, how much he desired him, how he didn’t care what anyone else thought about it. He never pushed and Dean just accepted his words. Over time it made it easier but it wasn’t perfect and it still crept up on Dean from time to time, the need to spill his guts because he looked at his brother with such need and open lust.
Tonight… he knew he had a chance. Sam and Eliot were sleeping soundly and his bags were already packed. Eliot would take good care of Sam, on and off the hunt and Sam would take care of him. They’d look for him a little while, but Dean had tricks neither Sam nor Eliot had and connections that Sam missed in those 4 years at Stanford.
His mind made up, Dean threw on his jacket and grabbed his bag. He left most of the cash he had on the table and they had Eliot’s journal, the one that he’d copied everything he could from their Dad’s journal, so he didn’t worry about that either. Sam’s favorite knife and gun were left as well as a crossbow because Sam loved the damn thing; no matter that Dean was the better shot with it. Eliot had everything else they would need. He reached down to pull the necklace over his head and leave it as well, leave Sam something of himself, but he couldn’t do it. Instead, he slid off his silver ring and left it. Protective symbols lined the inside and Sam would know what it was.
The Impala started with an angry growl and he patted her dash. “Sorry baby. It’s best for now. Let Sam get his space. Let us all get some space before we eat each other alive.” He said, for his benefit more than anything else. He was on the road then and leaving his little brother and lover far behind.
Eliot managed to fumble for the phone when it started ringing. It wasn’t quite light out and even Sam was still asleep so he knew it had to be really early.
“Yeah?” He asked into his phone, not paying any attention to the id listed because he didn’t think he was awake enough to read it anyway. Not and comprehend it.
“Take good care of him Eliot, that’s all I ask. Take good care of him and love him for me.”
“Dean?”
Sam sat up in bed beside Eliot, but the line was already dead.