Supernatural: Tabula Rasa
Title: Tabula Rasa
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 for explicit sexual content and character death
Word Count: 1,849
Author’s Note: Written for salt_burn_porn for rivkat's prompt "where are you going with that thing?”
Summary: Sam and Dean find each other in The Empty.
It has shed its beautiful girl skin, wears wispy silver light and a skeleton's face, just like Tessa had the first time he saw her. Maybe it's Billie. Probably. He finds that he doesn't much care.
It's here for them both. They died the way they were always supposed to. Blaze of glory. The Darkness blasts them all away.
It feels like standing on the surface of the sun, an oddly peaceful way to go. There's no time to worry that they failed, to lament what it will mean for mankind. He can feel his own molecules disintegrating, but in the center of the explosion, he has just enough of a mind to remember what's important. Sam falls toward him, only a few inches away, and Dean doesn't forget the promise he made a thousand times, when Sam was scared of the monkey bars or the first monster they hunted or the pit. Little brother, I'll catch you.
Sammy must die first, because he sees his brother's soul standing a few feet away from the body he's cradling. The reaper holds out its blinding hand to him, and Sam doesn't hesitate.
He thinks at first that they'll leave without him. Sam can't go without him. His last words are, "Where are you going with that thing?"
"Nowhere without you," his brother responds, and it's only moments before he's standing next to them, apart from the piles of ashes still smoking on the ground. The wind from the fallout blows the dust that used to be their bodies around until there's no knowing where one brother ends and the other begins.
That's fitting. It's right. Dean feels himself smile.
The reaper extends its other hand to him, and he doesn't want to go with it at first, mostly out of habit. He's fought this so many times, but it's different now. There's only peace where usually there's turmoil, a longing to be made whole, to stay behind because his soul can't move on, not without the part of it that matters. He can go this time. They're going together.
Dean glances to Sam before slipping his palm into the reaper's. Sam nods. He's not afraid.
He knows where it will take them. They called it The Empty, and it was supposed to be a threat.
The reapers didn't understand. No one but Sam ever understood.
It's not empty if his brother is inside it with him. It won't be lacking in anything.
_______________________________________________________________
He awakes face down in…nothing. It's no floor he's resting on, but there's no sense of falling, either. The silence roars in his ears, reminding him of the way the wind had whooshed past him in Stull Cemetery. There are no walls, there's no sky, there's no nothing for as far as his eye can see.
But there's a pair of ugly, worn down brown shoes attached to jean-clad legs that go on forever. Dean looks up and up and up and doesn't need to be able to see his brother's face to know who's standing in front of him.
He rises to his feet, a little off kilter because there's nothing to push off from. No gravity working on them. It's like floating, but not quite that.
"Weird, right?" Sam asks with a soft laugh. The sound doesn't quite get swallowed by the silence, but it doesn’t carry the way it would have on Earth, either.
Dean looks his brother in the face, takes in all the ways he's not different at all. They don't have bodies here, do they? They're just souls. But he sees Sam as perfect and radiant as he was on Earth, and when he looks down at himself, he seems to be his own solid self.
"How are we-?"
"Don't know," Sam replies with a shrug. "Maybe we see what we want to see? Or what we expect?"
He scrunches his face up, focuses hard on the void. Nothing happens, so he shakes his head sadly. "I just tried to will a pie into existence, and it didn't work, so this sucks."
Sam only gets halfway into his exasperated laugh before he reaches out, bunches one hand tightly in the front of Dean's shirt, and drags him in.
As soon as their lips meet, color explodes in the corner of his eye, and they both break away, shocked, breathing hard. There's a splash of yellow and green suspended in mid-air.
"What the hell?" Dean asks, but Sam just takes his hand. Their skin-on-skin creates a spark, and as Sam draws closer, the world begins to light up again.
"It's beautiful," Sam says, watching the colors dance around them, an aurora borealis like the one they saw when Sam was 14 years old and they were stranded in the mountains of Minnesota.
"Yeah," Dean agrees, though he isn't watching the lights dance. His eyes are fixed on the wonderment that flashes across Sam's face. He hadn't looked at the sky much in Minnesota, either. "Yeah, Sammy. It's beautiful."
Sam licks his lips and shifts his gaze to meet Dean's. "So what, it's only empty until we fill it?"
Dean crooks a grin at their interlaced fingers. If it's their two souls touching that made the lights show…
"There's only one way to find out."
_______________________________________________________________
It's different, fucking in the void. Outside there were bodies to consider; here there's only the illusion. There's no pain in opening for Sam. There's no recovery period between orgasms. Dean has lost track of how many times they've fucked-hey, it's not like there's anything else to do-but each climax has been an act of creation.
After round three, the Grand Canyon had sprung up around them, an imperfect imitation, probably, seeing as neither of them has ever seen the real thing.
The world they build is only as good as their hunger for each other. Horizons start to fade if they don't touch for more than a few minutes at a time. The good news is that getting enough of Sam has never been Dean's problem.
His brother has him spread out on what should be a dusty road, but there's no discomfort. His cock is resting against Dean's hole, and Dean has to laugh.
"Were you planning to wait all day or-?"
Sam shoves in, so fast the air all leaves Dean in a rush. Maybe once they’ve been here for a while he'll learn to convince his body it doesn't need to breathe, but for now Sam wins the moment, manages to fuck the smartass comments right out of Dean's mouth.
Dean won't complain. Sam was big on Earth, but here he's larger than life. There's nothing between them now, no flesh or bone. Just soul on soul and everywhere they touch is a fire. The sun is literally in the sky because Sam is inside him. It always felt like that, though he never would have been caught dead saying it out loud.
He lifts his hands to trace the taut muscles of Sam's back, each scar that's still there because Dean loves them and he remembers them and he won’t let them be erased. He presses his palm flush against one bicep, feels Sam flex as his brother buries himself deeper and deeper with every roll of his hips.
In a fucked up way, Sam was always Dean's god. There was always magic in his little brother, and now it's manifesting in the world around them the way Dean always felt it within. Every drag of Sam's dick as it pulls out and plunges back in sparks like lightning inside of him and then spreads out from them. He thinks he can feel the plants springing to life miles away, somewhere in this wasteland.
The pleasure goes hand-in-hand with agony, with too much depth for Dean to process. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to this, but he wraps his legs around his brother's form anyway, drags him in even closer.
"Fuck," they both say, and Sam huffs a laugh as he rests his face in the crook of Dean's neck, thrusting into him.
"Good, Sammy," Dean tells him, running his fingers through his brother's hair. "You're doing real good," just like he'd said the first time Sam shot a gun, the first time Sam fucked anything, when Dean was coaching him through it and Sam didn't have even a fraction of the stamina he has now.
Now Sam knows how to fuck Dean through the floor. The world might crack in half if his hips move any harder, but that's okay. They make the rules here. No one gets hurt, not anymore.
"Dean," Sam says, panting as he pulls up. He's sweaty, hair all in his eyes, and Dean can't help smiling at that. Sam is still his messy, imperfect baby brother, and Dean wouldn't have it any other way. "I'm so close."
"Go on, Sammy," Dean says. "Bring it home."
Sam wraps long fingers around Dean's cock, strokes him as he abandons the rhythm they'd been keeping. The world around them trembles, an earthquake, maybe, and they both laugh. Destruction is as good as creation as far as Dean is concerned. If they break what they’ve built in this sandbox, they've got eternity to make something better.
He leans up to meet his brother's lips and they kiss as they reach completion, everything in line, their heartbeats synced. Sam is biting his bottom lip, blood beading and Sam sucking at it gently, when he starts to feel the hot pulse of his brother's come inside him.
Dean closes his eyes, lets the wave of pleasure drown him. He comes too, knows less because of the sensation than because his brother is licking white off his fingertips when he looks again.
They sit up at the same time, look to the road and laugh when they see black rubber tires, smooth black shine. The Impala is sitting there just a few feet away from them, and Dean doesn't have to check for the army men and Legos to know she'll be exactly right from rim to roof.
"You said something about going home?" Sam teases.
Dean pushes to his feet and walks over, runs his hands over the hood. Now there's nothing missing.
Empty, they called this place. It was supposed to be a punishment. For a moment, Dean's heart gets caught in his throat, and he can't help wondering how long they'll really have this to themselves. There's no way all the monsters out there won't realize they got something better than Heaven and they aren't sharing. Eventually, something will come to take this away.
Then he lifts his head and his brother has a look on his face like he knows what Dean just figured out. They won't be here undisturbed forever. But his grin is sharp and blood thirsty and has Dean's dick stirring all over again.
They're Winchesters. Here they're gods. He pities whatever tries to interrupt his eternity with his brother.
"Wanna go for a ride?" he asks.
Sam grins. "Always."
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 for explicit sexual content and character death
Word Count: 1,849
Author’s Note: Written for salt_burn_porn for rivkat's prompt "where are you going with that thing?”
Summary: Sam and Dean find each other in The Empty.
It has shed its beautiful girl skin, wears wispy silver light and a skeleton's face, just like Tessa had the first time he saw her. Maybe it's Billie. Probably. He finds that he doesn't much care.
It's here for them both. They died the way they were always supposed to. Blaze of glory. The Darkness blasts them all away.
It feels like standing on the surface of the sun, an oddly peaceful way to go. There's no time to worry that they failed, to lament what it will mean for mankind. He can feel his own molecules disintegrating, but in the center of the explosion, he has just enough of a mind to remember what's important. Sam falls toward him, only a few inches away, and Dean doesn't forget the promise he made a thousand times, when Sam was scared of the monkey bars or the first monster they hunted or the pit. Little brother, I'll catch you.
Sammy must die first, because he sees his brother's soul standing a few feet away from the body he's cradling. The reaper holds out its blinding hand to him, and Sam doesn't hesitate.
He thinks at first that they'll leave without him. Sam can't go without him. His last words are, "Where are you going with that thing?"
"Nowhere without you," his brother responds, and it's only moments before he's standing next to them, apart from the piles of ashes still smoking on the ground. The wind from the fallout blows the dust that used to be their bodies around until there's no knowing where one brother ends and the other begins.
That's fitting. It's right. Dean feels himself smile.
The reaper extends its other hand to him, and he doesn't want to go with it at first, mostly out of habit. He's fought this so many times, but it's different now. There's only peace where usually there's turmoil, a longing to be made whole, to stay behind because his soul can't move on, not without the part of it that matters. He can go this time. They're going together.
Dean glances to Sam before slipping his palm into the reaper's. Sam nods. He's not afraid.
He knows where it will take them. They called it The Empty, and it was supposed to be a threat.
The reapers didn't understand. No one but Sam ever understood.
It's not empty if his brother is inside it with him. It won't be lacking in anything.
_______________________________________________________________
He awakes face down in…nothing. It's no floor he's resting on, but there's no sense of falling, either. The silence roars in his ears, reminding him of the way the wind had whooshed past him in Stull Cemetery. There are no walls, there's no sky, there's no nothing for as far as his eye can see.
But there's a pair of ugly, worn down brown shoes attached to jean-clad legs that go on forever. Dean looks up and up and up and doesn't need to be able to see his brother's face to know who's standing in front of him.
He rises to his feet, a little off kilter because there's nothing to push off from. No gravity working on them. It's like floating, but not quite that.
"Weird, right?" Sam asks with a soft laugh. The sound doesn't quite get swallowed by the silence, but it doesn’t carry the way it would have on Earth, either.
Dean looks his brother in the face, takes in all the ways he's not different at all. They don't have bodies here, do they? They're just souls. But he sees Sam as perfect and radiant as he was on Earth, and when he looks down at himself, he seems to be his own solid self.
"How are we-?"
"Don't know," Sam replies with a shrug. "Maybe we see what we want to see? Or what we expect?"
He scrunches his face up, focuses hard on the void. Nothing happens, so he shakes his head sadly. "I just tried to will a pie into existence, and it didn't work, so this sucks."
Sam only gets halfway into his exasperated laugh before he reaches out, bunches one hand tightly in the front of Dean's shirt, and drags him in.
As soon as their lips meet, color explodes in the corner of his eye, and they both break away, shocked, breathing hard. There's a splash of yellow and green suspended in mid-air.
"What the hell?" Dean asks, but Sam just takes his hand. Their skin-on-skin creates a spark, and as Sam draws closer, the world begins to light up again.
"It's beautiful," Sam says, watching the colors dance around them, an aurora borealis like the one they saw when Sam was 14 years old and they were stranded in the mountains of Minnesota.
"Yeah," Dean agrees, though he isn't watching the lights dance. His eyes are fixed on the wonderment that flashes across Sam's face. He hadn't looked at the sky much in Minnesota, either. "Yeah, Sammy. It's beautiful."
Sam licks his lips and shifts his gaze to meet Dean's. "So what, it's only empty until we fill it?"
Dean crooks a grin at their interlaced fingers. If it's their two souls touching that made the lights show…
"There's only one way to find out."
_______________________________________________________________
It's different, fucking in the void. Outside there were bodies to consider; here there's only the illusion. There's no pain in opening for Sam. There's no recovery period between orgasms. Dean has lost track of how many times they've fucked-hey, it's not like there's anything else to do-but each climax has been an act of creation.
After round three, the Grand Canyon had sprung up around them, an imperfect imitation, probably, seeing as neither of them has ever seen the real thing.
The world they build is only as good as their hunger for each other. Horizons start to fade if they don't touch for more than a few minutes at a time. The good news is that getting enough of Sam has never been Dean's problem.
His brother has him spread out on what should be a dusty road, but there's no discomfort. His cock is resting against Dean's hole, and Dean has to laugh.
"Were you planning to wait all day or-?"
Sam shoves in, so fast the air all leaves Dean in a rush. Maybe once they’ve been here for a while he'll learn to convince his body it doesn't need to breathe, but for now Sam wins the moment, manages to fuck the smartass comments right out of Dean's mouth.
Dean won't complain. Sam was big on Earth, but here he's larger than life. There's nothing between them now, no flesh or bone. Just soul on soul and everywhere they touch is a fire. The sun is literally in the sky because Sam is inside him. It always felt like that, though he never would have been caught dead saying it out loud.
He lifts his hands to trace the taut muscles of Sam's back, each scar that's still there because Dean loves them and he remembers them and he won’t let them be erased. He presses his palm flush against one bicep, feels Sam flex as his brother buries himself deeper and deeper with every roll of his hips.
In a fucked up way, Sam was always Dean's god. There was always magic in his little brother, and now it's manifesting in the world around them the way Dean always felt it within. Every drag of Sam's dick as it pulls out and plunges back in sparks like lightning inside of him and then spreads out from them. He thinks he can feel the plants springing to life miles away, somewhere in this wasteland.
The pleasure goes hand-in-hand with agony, with too much depth for Dean to process. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to this, but he wraps his legs around his brother's form anyway, drags him in even closer.
"Fuck," they both say, and Sam huffs a laugh as he rests his face in the crook of Dean's neck, thrusting into him.
"Good, Sammy," Dean tells him, running his fingers through his brother's hair. "You're doing real good," just like he'd said the first time Sam shot a gun, the first time Sam fucked anything, when Dean was coaching him through it and Sam didn't have even a fraction of the stamina he has now.
Now Sam knows how to fuck Dean through the floor. The world might crack in half if his hips move any harder, but that's okay. They make the rules here. No one gets hurt, not anymore.
"Dean," Sam says, panting as he pulls up. He's sweaty, hair all in his eyes, and Dean can't help smiling at that. Sam is still his messy, imperfect baby brother, and Dean wouldn't have it any other way. "I'm so close."
"Go on, Sammy," Dean says. "Bring it home."
Sam wraps long fingers around Dean's cock, strokes him as he abandons the rhythm they'd been keeping. The world around them trembles, an earthquake, maybe, and they both laugh. Destruction is as good as creation as far as Dean is concerned. If they break what they’ve built in this sandbox, they've got eternity to make something better.
He leans up to meet his brother's lips and they kiss as they reach completion, everything in line, their heartbeats synced. Sam is biting his bottom lip, blood beading and Sam sucking at it gently, when he starts to feel the hot pulse of his brother's come inside him.
Dean closes his eyes, lets the wave of pleasure drown him. He comes too, knows less because of the sensation than because his brother is licking white off his fingertips when he looks again.
They sit up at the same time, look to the road and laugh when they see black rubber tires, smooth black shine. The Impala is sitting there just a few feet away from them, and Dean doesn't have to check for the army men and Legos to know she'll be exactly right from rim to roof.
"You said something about going home?" Sam teases.
Dean pushes to his feet and walks over, runs his hands over the hood. Now there's nothing missing.
Empty, they called this place. It was supposed to be a punishment. For a moment, Dean's heart gets caught in his throat, and he can't help wondering how long they'll really have this to themselves. There's no way all the monsters out there won't realize they got something better than Heaven and they aren't sharing. Eventually, something will come to take this away.
Then he lifts his head and his brother has a look on his face like he knows what Dean just figured out. They won't be here undisturbed forever. But his grin is sharp and blood thirsty and has Dean's dick stirring all over again.
They're Winchesters. Here they're gods. He pities whatever tries to interrupt his eternity with his brother.
"Wanna go for a ride?" he asks.
Sam grins. "Always."