Damned By Love
Title: Damned By Love
Author: hunters_retreat
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warning: Non-con, underage (Sam is 16)
Summary: Dean tried to think his way through the situation but he was still in nothing but a towel and he couldn’t hurt Sam. Even now, he couldn’t stand the idea of what Sam would do if he found out the truth that Dean had been hiding from him.
Author's Note: This is for my timestamp meme for saltandburnboys who wanted a timestamp for Broken and Breaking. That story was written for the spnkink_meme . This won't make any sense at all without reading the first story. This is a dark, non-con story and I thought it might be interesting to see how that Sam might interact with Dean at the time of the show's pilot :P
Damned By Love
Fire and smoke filled the night air, leaving Dean shaken and unsure. The red of the fire engine lights left a bloody vision in its wake and Dean had never wanted to be further away from Stanford than he did at that moment. His hand was still resting on the small of Sam’s back, whether it was to keep his brother close or to remind himself of why he was still there, Dean wasn’t sure.
He knew what he’d seen in that room and he felt the old pain coming to surface again, the memory of rushing his brother out of the house only to be scooped up by his father, knowing his mother wasn’t coming out.
That one night had set Dean’s entire life into an alternate path and he couldn’t help but wonder what this would do to Sam. His brother pulled away, heading back to the impala and Dean let him go.
Dean watched him, an eye always on his brother since he’d come to Stanford and asked Sam to help him find their father. No matter how much Dean wanted to leave Sam alone, he’d needed to see Sam to make sure he was still alright. With John missing, it wasn’t hard to believe something might have come for the remaining Winchester family and he’d needed to see Sam with his own two eyes to make sure he was alright.
Through the long weekend Dean had watched his brother, trying not to be too obvious. Dean knew that Sam hadn’t been in trouble at Stanford. Even if he’d never gone to see him there, Dean kept an eye on his brother and an ear to the ground for anything that could possibly be his brother’s … darkness. There had been plenty of opportunities for his brother’s darker side to come out over the weekend but there was no sign of it. Sam never knew about it, the moments when they were growing up where Sam became something violent and cruel, waking up after with a black hole in his memory. Dean had worked hard to make sure Sam never knew what happened and when Sam went off to Stanford, Dean had hoped that Sam’s darkness would disappear. Without the hunting life, Dad’s domineering personality, and Dean to take it out on, he’d hoped Sam would get the normal life he’d wanted.
Sam opened the trunk of the impala and Dean moved over to his side, away from the gaping crowd to see what his brother was doing. He watched as Sam moved his hands over the weapons, the way his fingers trailed over the knives he’d left behind, and how he gripped the sawed off shotgun.
When he looked up at Dean, there was something cold in his eyes, something that made Dean shiver.
“We have work to do.”
He didn’t say anything else, didn’t make a move towards Dean and when Sam threw the gun back into the trunk, Dean just shut it. Sam crawled into the front seat and Dean took a minute to let out a relieved breath. Whatever he’d seen in Sam’s eye was just the shock and numbness of losing his girl. It wasn’t the darkness that had haunted Dean’s earlier days.
**
The motel was no better than any other they’d stayed in over the weekend but Dean wanted to get Sam settled before his grief could hit. Sam disappeared into the bathroom before Dean had the bags set down and Dean just stopped, letting the night’s events catch up while Sam was in the other room.
He felt numb and he couldn’t help but shoulder the blame for what had happened to Sam’s girlfriend. If he’d gone in when he dropped Sam off, maybe he’d have noticed something. If he and Sam hadn’t taken so long to pack, maybe they’d have been there before the demon. If he hadn’t asked Sam to go at all, maybe his brother would have been able to stop it.
Or maybe Sam would be dead along with Jessica.
“Its all yours,” Sam said as he walked out of the bathroom, only the thin motel towel wrapped around his waist as he rifled through his bag to find something clean for the night. In the back of his head, Dean was thinking he needed to get to the store in the morning and find his brother some new clothes, but mostly Dean was caught with the way the water dropped down his brother’s back.
Dean shook his head and walked away from Sam, into the bathroom. He set the water on as hot as he could stand it, trying to wash away the thoughts. Dean couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t known his brother was broken, but he’d never expected it to break him. Dean knew it had though. He could remember sitting next to his brother, hiding his own wounds so that his brother would never know what he’d done. He could remember, wondering what it would be like to hold power over Sam, like he had over Dean. He could remember wondering what it would feel like to push into his brother’s body and take what Sam had so many times taken from him.
Dean shivered at the thought. He would never hurt Sam and he had no doubt that if he tried the darkness in Sam would recede in time for Sam to be the one hurt by Dean’s need for retribution. Instead, Dean had watched his brother go off to college and hoped to never see the blackness of his brother’s soul ever again, even if it meant never getting to see his little brother again either.
There was a crash in the other room and Dean hurried out of the shower, barely threw a towel over his hips before he went running out of the bathroom to check on Sam.
“Sam?”
Sam was sitting at the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees as he stared at the space between the two beds. The lamp was lying on the floor, bulb shattered and the shade was twisted away from the wire. The ceramic birds of the base were broken and lie in a ceramic pile at Sam’s feet which were red with blood.
“Damn it, Sammy,” Dean huffed as he moved to the side of the bed. He squatted down at his brother’s feet, careful to avoid stepping in anything. “Let me see,” he said softly as he lifted Sam’s foot up to see the damage. “Shift over this way.”
Dean moved to the foot of the bed and Sam scooted over until his feet were dangling off the end of the bed so Dean could get a better look. It only took a few minutes, but Dean had the first aid kit out and he’d removed the glass and ceramic his brother had stepped on and had his feet bandaged. It wasn’t bad. Sam probably wouldn’t even feel it much in the morning.
“Just go to sleep, Sam,” Dean told his brother as he moved around the room, finding something to scoop up the worst of the mess with. He dropped it into the trash and heard Sam moving around on the bed.
“Dean.”
He stilled on instinct, coldness seeping into his bones as he turned to look at his brother. Sam was on the bed, wearing nothing but ratty sweatpants. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, eyes dark, and a cruel smirk twisting his lips.
“I thought I’d have to work to get you naked again,” Sam said.
“Sammy, don’t. This isn’t you man.”
“Dean, we haven’t talked in four years. You have no idea who your little Sammy is anymore.” Sam stood up, ignoring the wounds on his feet. “I thought you’d be better prepared Dean. You saw me earlier. Surprised you didn’t go running for the hills.”
Dean shivered because even if he knew what was coming, he’d never have been able to leave Sam after what happened tonight. No matter what Sam was doing now, when he woke in the morning he’d have nothing but memories of the fire and questions for why his brother had abandoned him when he needed him the most.
Dean tried to think his way through the situation but he was still in nothing but a towel and he couldn’t hurt Sam. Even now, he couldn’t stand the idea of what Sam would do if he found out the truth that Dean had been hiding from him.
“You going to make a run for it, Dean?” Sam asked as he moved closer. Dean’s heart raced as he watched Sam reach into the first aid kit he’d left on the bed. Fuck, he should have remembered.
“You remember what happens when you run?” Sam asked as he pulled the knife from the bag. It was just a small knife, sharp, but it did what it needed to do tonight. It reminded Dean that there were far worse weapons Sam could use and they were all at his disposal.
The blade was pressed to Sam’s wrist and Dean swallowed against the lump in his throat. “Please, Sam, just not that.”
Sam smiled, letting the blade up before it could break the skin. He dropped it onto the bed by the kit and took his time stripping out of Dean’s sweatpants. When he crossed the room, Dean closed his eyes, afraid of what his brother would ask of him next.
“Don’t worry, Dean. I promise, no matter what else I do, you’ll enjoy yourself tonight.”
Dean didn’t want to enjoy himself. He didn’t want to get off on what was happening and he didn’t want his brother to think this was what he wanted either, but he knew the price of voicing it and he wouldn’t be the one paying it.
“Come lay down with me, Dean.”
Dean opened his eyes and realized Sam was lying on his bed. Dean moved forward slowly, eyes flicking over to the door. He thought of the impala on the other side. In the beginning, he’d been able to take cover there sometimes. If he was quick enough and smart enough to get away from Sam, he’d been able to lock himself behind the impala’s doors until Sam’s darkness passed. Sam would wake up from his own ‘nap’ to stare at Dean like he was a moron for locking himself in the car to take a nap himself. Dean never explained to Sam that his ‘naps’ were the only way he’d found to protect himself from Sam’s ‘sleepwalking’.
When Sam got older, he got smarter though and Dean’s escape routes were cut short when Sam realized Dean would do anything he said once he started threatening to cut himself up. Four years later and it still worked.
Dean dropped onto the mattress and Sam pushed him over onto his back. “Sammy, don’t.”
“Just going to have a little fun, Dean,” Sam said with a wink. If it weren’t for the situation, Dean could almost have sworn it was just his little brother but he knew differently. Dean closed his eyes as he felt Sam’s breath moving over his skin. The towel was pulled away from his hips and Sam settled between Dean’s legs. His mouth was hot and wet and Dean knew it would feel so damn good if even a part of him wanted this. His body wasn’t on board with his mind though and before long, his cock was thick and full, crammed down Sam’s throat while Dean willed his body to stop.
It didn’t work. It never did.
When Sam pushed a dry finger into Dean’s body, aiming just right for his prostate, Dean’s body seized up as he came in Sam’s mouth. Dean ignored the wetness around his eyes and kept his hands clenched tightly in the sheets. He knew what would happen next.
Sam sat up on the bed, pulling Dean’s hips until he was almost sitting on Sam’s lap. When he felt the blunt head of Sam’s cock at his hole he took a deep breath, prepared for the pain. He bit down on his lip hard enough to taste blood as Sam pushed into his body.
It was hard and brutal but Dean had been through worse, physically. He couldn’t stop the small gasps that left his lips though or the knowledge that Sam’s laughter filled the air after each.
“Fuck, Dean, the way you feel on my cock,” Sam whispered as he leaned closer. “You have no idea how much I missed this. I missed the way you always look for a way out. I missed the way you always hide it from me in the morning. I missed the way you cry when I let you come down my throat. But mostly, I missed how fucked up you are, that you always give in and let me have what I want because you think you don’t deserve anything else.”
“Fuck, Dean, the way you fucked me up, the way you broke me,” Sam shivered over him and Dean knew it was almost over. “I thought you were going to leave without getting to feel this again but … fuck …” he bit down on Dean’s neck as his hips began to move with less of a rhythm. “Took my last chance and here you are,” Sam said.
Sam’s hands gripped Dean’s hips hard, forced him back onto Sam’s cock with such force that Dean couldn’t breathe. Sam’s thrusts were harsh and spastic until finally he watched as Sam’s body stilled, his cock emptying in Dean’s body.
When Sam pulled out, Dean curled over onto his side, trying to stop the shakes that were soon to come. Sam manhandled him until the blankets were pulled out from under him and then he was cocooned in their warmth with Sam at his back, pulling Dean into his chest.
Dean shivered at the touch of Sam’s hand on his skin but he closed his eyes, keeping still as Sam continued to whisper in his ear.
“I loved her, Dean. Jessica was good and smart and funny. She was perfect, except she could never take this, could she? She would never love me enough to let me have this. So she had to go. She didn’t know, but I’m not the little boy I was Dean. Now, I’m a psychic. I can move things with my mind. It was so simple to raise her to the ceiling and watch the knife cut her in two. It was so simple to set her on fire and watch the life we’d been building burn to the ground. The only hard part about tonight, Dean,” Sam shivered against him as he brought his lips to Dean’s shoulder and bit lightly.
“The only thing I almost couldn’t do was walk out of that fire. You looked so breathtakingly devastated that I almost had to have you right there. I’d have burned happily to fuck you in the middle of that flame, under Jessica’s watchful eyes.”
Dean let out a sob because there was nothing else he could do. Sam was … broken. Still so fucking broken and Dean couldn’t fix him. He couldn’t fix himself because Sam was right. Dean would never stop this, never stop Sam when it would mean admitting to all the years Sam had been hurting him. And now, Jessica had paid the price. Dean didn’t have to wonder what would happen if he let Sam leave, if he let Sam find someone else. There would be another fire, a late night call from Sam to his big brother because he was lost and needed him. And Dean would go. Broken? It wasn’t the right word for them anymore. They were more than broken.
When Sam fell asleep, Dean crawled out from under the covers and went to the bathroom, cleaning himself up and dressing so that Sam wouldn’t find any evidence of what had happened tonight. In the morning, they’d have to deal with the officials about the fire and Jessica’s death and Sam’s school and where his life was going to head now, but tonight, Dean was by himself and lost.
He looked into the mirror in the bathroom and all he could see were flames. He deserved it. He deserved to go up in flames like that, to be held under the fire’s tongue, because he’d never found a way to fix this.
He and Sam, they were so broken it wasn’t possible to be fixed. No, not broken. Damned.
Damned by flame. Damned by blood. Damned by love.
Author: hunters_retreat
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warning: Non-con, underage (Sam is 16)
Summary: Dean tried to think his way through the situation but he was still in nothing but a towel and he couldn’t hurt Sam. Even now, he couldn’t stand the idea of what Sam would do if he found out the truth that Dean had been hiding from him.
Author's Note: This is for my timestamp meme for saltandburnboys who wanted a timestamp for Broken and Breaking. That story was written for the spnkink_meme . This won't make any sense at all without reading the first story. This is a dark, non-con story and I thought it might be interesting to see how that Sam might interact with Dean at the time of the show's pilot :P
Damned By Love
Fire and smoke filled the night air, leaving Dean shaken and unsure. The red of the fire engine lights left a bloody vision in its wake and Dean had never wanted to be further away from Stanford than he did at that moment. His hand was still resting on the small of Sam’s back, whether it was to keep his brother close or to remind himself of why he was still there, Dean wasn’t sure.
He knew what he’d seen in that room and he felt the old pain coming to surface again, the memory of rushing his brother out of the house only to be scooped up by his father, knowing his mother wasn’t coming out.
That one night had set Dean’s entire life into an alternate path and he couldn’t help but wonder what this would do to Sam. His brother pulled away, heading back to the impala and Dean let him go.
Dean watched him, an eye always on his brother since he’d come to Stanford and asked Sam to help him find their father. No matter how much Dean wanted to leave Sam alone, he’d needed to see Sam to make sure he was still alright. With John missing, it wasn’t hard to believe something might have come for the remaining Winchester family and he’d needed to see Sam with his own two eyes to make sure he was alright.
Through the long weekend Dean had watched his brother, trying not to be too obvious. Dean knew that Sam hadn’t been in trouble at Stanford. Even if he’d never gone to see him there, Dean kept an eye on his brother and an ear to the ground for anything that could possibly be his brother’s … darkness. There had been plenty of opportunities for his brother’s darker side to come out over the weekend but there was no sign of it. Sam never knew about it, the moments when they were growing up where Sam became something violent and cruel, waking up after with a black hole in his memory. Dean had worked hard to make sure Sam never knew what happened and when Sam went off to Stanford, Dean had hoped that Sam’s darkness would disappear. Without the hunting life, Dad’s domineering personality, and Dean to take it out on, he’d hoped Sam would get the normal life he’d wanted.
Sam opened the trunk of the impala and Dean moved over to his side, away from the gaping crowd to see what his brother was doing. He watched as Sam moved his hands over the weapons, the way his fingers trailed over the knives he’d left behind, and how he gripped the sawed off shotgun.
When he looked up at Dean, there was something cold in his eyes, something that made Dean shiver.
“We have work to do.”
He didn’t say anything else, didn’t make a move towards Dean and when Sam threw the gun back into the trunk, Dean just shut it. Sam crawled into the front seat and Dean took a minute to let out a relieved breath. Whatever he’d seen in Sam’s eye was just the shock and numbness of losing his girl. It wasn’t the darkness that had haunted Dean’s earlier days.
**
The motel was no better than any other they’d stayed in over the weekend but Dean wanted to get Sam settled before his grief could hit. Sam disappeared into the bathroom before Dean had the bags set down and Dean just stopped, letting the night’s events catch up while Sam was in the other room.
He felt numb and he couldn’t help but shoulder the blame for what had happened to Sam’s girlfriend. If he’d gone in when he dropped Sam off, maybe he’d have noticed something. If he and Sam hadn’t taken so long to pack, maybe they’d have been there before the demon. If he hadn’t asked Sam to go at all, maybe his brother would have been able to stop it.
Or maybe Sam would be dead along with Jessica.
“Its all yours,” Sam said as he walked out of the bathroom, only the thin motel towel wrapped around his waist as he rifled through his bag to find something clean for the night. In the back of his head, Dean was thinking he needed to get to the store in the morning and find his brother some new clothes, but mostly Dean was caught with the way the water dropped down his brother’s back.
Dean shook his head and walked away from Sam, into the bathroom. He set the water on as hot as he could stand it, trying to wash away the thoughts. Dean couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t known his brother was broken, but he’d never expected it to break him. Dean knew it had though. He could remember sitting next to his brother, hiding his own wounds so that his brother would never know what he’d done. He could remember, wondering what it would be like to hold power over Sam, like he had over Dean. He could remember wondering what it would feel like to push into his brother’s body and take what Sam had so many times taken from him.
Dean shivered at the thought. He would never hurt Sam and he had no doubt that if he tried the darkness in Sam would recede in time for Sam to be the one hurt by Dean’s need for retribution. Instead, Dean had watched his brother go off to college and hoped to never see the blackness of his brother’s soul ever again, even if it meant never getting to see his little brother again either.
There was a crash in the other room and Dean hurried out of the shower, barely threw a towel over his hips before he went running out of the bathroom to check on Sam.
“Sam?”
Sam was sitting at the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees as he stared at the space between the two beds. The lamp was lying on the floor, bulb shattered and the shade was twisted away from the wire. The ceramic birds of the base were broken and lie in a ceramic pile at Sam’s feet which were red with blood.
“Damn it, Sammy,” Dean huffed as he moved to the side of the bed. He squatted down at his brother’s feet, careful to avoid stepping in anything. “Let me see,” he said softly as he lifted Sam’s foot up to see the damage. “Shift over this way.”
Dean moved to the foot of the bed and Sam scooted over until his feet were dangling off the end of the bed so Dean could get a better look. It only took a few minutes, but Dean had the first aid kit out and he’d removed the glass and ceramic his brother had stepped on and had his feet bandaged. It wasn’t bad. Sam probably wouldn’t even feel it much in the morning.
“Just go to sleep, Sam,” Dean told his brother as he moved around the room, finding something to scoop up the worst of the mess with. He dropped it into the trash and heard Sam moving around on the bed.
“Dean.”
He stilled on instinct, coldness seeping into his bones as he turned to look at his brother. Sam was on the bed, wearing nothing but ratty sweatpants. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, eyes dark, and a cruel smirk twisting his lips.
“I thought I’d have to work to get you naked again,” Sam said.
“Sammy, don’t. This isn’t you man.”
“Dean, we haven’t talked in four years. You have no idea who your little Sammy is anymore.” Sam stood up, ignoring the wounds on his feet. “I thought you’d be better prepared Dean. You saw me earlier. Surprised you didn’t go running for the hills.”
Dean shivered because even if he knew what was coming, he’d never have been able to leave Sam after what happened tonight. No matter what Sam was doing now, when he woke in the morning he’d have nothing but memories of the fire and questions for why his brother had abandoned him when he needed him the most.
Dean tried to think his way through the situation but he was still in nothing but a towel and he couldn’t hurt Sam. Even now, he couldn’t stand the idea of what Sam would do if he found out the truth that Dean had been hiding from him.
“You going to make a run for it, Dean?” Sam asked as he moved closer. Dean’s heart raced as he watched Sam reach into the first aid kit he’d left on the bed. Fuck, he should have remembered.
“You remember what happens when you run?” Sam asked as he pulled the knife from the bag. It was just a small knife, sharp, but it did what it needed to do tonight. It reminded Dean that there were far worse weapons Sam could use and they were all at his disposal.
The blade was pressed to Sam’s wrist and Dean swallowed against the lump in his throat. “Please, Sam, just not that.”
Sam smiled, letting the blade up before it could break the skin. He dropped it onto the bed by the kit and took his time stripping out of Dean’s sweatpants. When he crossed the room, Dean closed his eyes, afraid of what his brother would ask of him next.
“Don’t worry, Dean. I promise, no matter what else I do, you’ll enjoy yourself tonight.”
Dean didn’t want to enjoy himself. He didn’t want to get off on what was happening and he didn’t want his brother to think this was what he wanted either, but he knew the price of voicing it and he wouldn’t be the one paying it.
“Come lay down with me, Dean.”
Dean opened his eyes and realized Sam was lying on his bed. Dean moved forward slowly, eyes flicking over to the door. He thought of the impala on the other side. In the beginning, he’d been able to take cover there sometimes. If he was quick enough and smart enough to get away from Sam, he’d been able to lock himself behind the impala’s doors until Sam’s darkness passed. Sam would wake up from his own ‘nap’ to stare at Dean like he was a moron for locking himself in the car to take a nap himself. Dean never explained to Sam that his ‘naps’ were the only way he’d found to protect himself from Sam’s ‘sleepwalking’.
When Sam got older, he got smarter though and Dean’s escape routes were cut short when Sam realized Dean would do anything he said once he started threatening to cut himself up. Four years later and it still worked.
Dean dropped onto the mattress and Sam pushed him over onto his back. “Sammy, don’t.”
“Just going to have a little fun, Dean,” Sam said with a wink. If it weren’t for the situation, Dean could almost have sworn it was just his little brother but he knew differently. Dean closed his eyes as he felt Sam’s breath moving over his skin. The towel was pulled away from his hips and Sam settled between Dean’s legs. His mouth was hot and wet and Dean knew it would feel so damn good if even a part of him wanted this. His body wasn’t on board with his mind though and before long, his cock was thick and full, crammed down Sam’s throat while Dean willed his body to stop.
It didn’t work. It never did.
When Sam pushed a dry finger into Dean’s body, aiming just right for his prostate, Dean’s body seized up as he came in Sam’s mouth. Dean ignored the wetness around his eyes and kept his hands clenched tightly in the sheets. He knew what would happen next.
Sam sat up on the bed, pulling Dean’s hips until he was almost sitting on Sam’s lap. When he felt the blunt head of Sam’s cock at his hole he took a deep breath, prepared for the pain. He bit down on his lip hard enough to taste blood as Sam pushed into his body.
It was hard and brutal but Dean had been through worse, physically. He couldn’t stop the small gasps that left his lips though or the knowledge that Sam’s laughter filled the air after each.
“Fuck, Dean, the way you feel on my cock,” Sam whispered as he leaned closer. “You have no idea how much I missed this. I missed the way you always look for a way out. I missed the way you always hide it from me in the morning. I missed the way you cry when I let you come down my throat. But mostly, I missed how fucked up you are, that you always give in and let me have what I want because you think you don’t deserve anything else.”
“Fuck, Dean, the way you fucked me up, the way you broke me,” Sam shivered over him and Dean knew it was almost over. “I thought you were going to leave without getting to feel this again but … fuck …” he bit down on Dean’s neck as his hips began to move with less of a rhythm. “Took my last chance and here you are,” Sam said.
Sam’s hands gripped Dean’s hips hard, forced him back onto Sam’s cock with such force that Dean couldn’t breathe. Sam’s thrusts were harsh and spastic until finally he watched as Sam’s body stilled, his cock emptying in Dean’s body.
When Sam pulled out, Dean curled over onto his side, trying to stop the shakes that were soon to come. Sam manhandled him until the blankets were pulled out from under him and then he was cocooned in their warmth with Sam at his back, pulling Dean into his chest.
Dean shivered at the touch of Sam’s hand on his skin but he closed his eyes, keeping still as Sam continued to whisper in his ear.
“I loved her, Dean. Jessica was good and smart and funny. She was perfect, except she could never take this, could she? She would never love me enough to let me have this. So she had to go. She didn’t know, but I’m not the little boy I was Dean. Now, I’m a psychic. I can move things with my mind. It was so simple to raise her to the ceiling and watch the knife cut her in two. It was so simple to set her on fire and watch the life we’d been building burn to the ground. The only hard part about tonight, Dean,” Sam shivered against him as he brought his lips to Dean’s shoulder and bit lightly.
“The only thing I almost couldn’t do was walk out of that fire. You looked so breathtakingly devastated that I almost had to have you right there. I’d have burned happily to fuck you in the middle of that flame, under Jessica’s watchful eyes.”
Dean let out a sob because there was nothing else he could do. Sam was … broken. Still so fucking broken and Dean couldn’t fix him. He couldn’t fix himself because Sam was right. Dean would never stop this, never stop Sam when it would mean admitting to all the years Sam had been hurting him. And now, Jessica had paid the price. Dean didn’t have to wonder what would happen if he let Sam leave, if he let Sam find someone else. There would be another fire, a late night call from Sam to his big brother because he was lost and needed him. And Dean would go. Broken? It wasn’t the right word for them anymore. They were more than broken.
When Sam fell asleep, Dean crawled out from under the covers and went to the bathroom, cleaning himself up and dressing so that Sam wouldn’t find any evidence of what had happened tonight. In the morning, they’d have to deal with the officials about the fire and Jessica’s death and Sam’s school and where his life was going to head now, but tonight, Dean was by himself and lost.
He looked into the mirror in the bathroom and all he could see were flames. He deserved it. He deserved to go up in flames like that, to be held under the fire’s tongue, because he’d never found a way to fix this.
He and Sam, they were so broken it wasn’t possible to be fixed. No, not broken. Damned.
Damned by flame. Damned by blood. Damned by love.