FIC: The Journey: Mill Stones 5/5
Title: The Journey: Mill Stones
Authors: sasskitten and jeyhawk
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Summary: Dean is a hunter ever on the look out for things to kill. Sam is an innocent with his mind set on tracking down the thing that killed his girlfriend. When these two men are thrown together, they realize that their lives might not be as different as they first thought.
Disclaimer: We don’t own Supernatural, we make no money from it, it’s just for fun.
Note: It's time for a little explanation since a few of you may have noticed the name change. :) The Journey is an ongoing series written in 'episodes' of about five chapters. So every five chapters or so it will change its nameaccording to the new adventure they are setting out on. Just wanted to let you all know.
All the earlier parts can be found here.
Chapter Four
Dean shut the boot of his car and tossed a riffle to Sam, who caught it like it was a grenade. "I realize we haven't gotten to guns in your training yet, but that thing’s loaded with rock salt, you see the bitch anywhere near us, you shoot, got it?"
"Got it," Sam told him, gripping it tightly. Dean also removed two shovels and his bag from the night before, the one containing the salt and lighter fluid.
"Okay then, lets go newbie," Dean said with a big grin, handing Sam the torch.
When they reached the graves they set about digging up both the remaining corpses. Dean had said that although they were fairly sure the story about the wife was true, he wasn't willing to take any chances, so they were digging them both up.
"Hey, Sammy," Dean said, panting slightly as they set about digging up the dense ground. "Let's play a game."
Sam frowned and glanced over at him. "What kinda game?" He sounded worried, knowing Dean it would most likely be strip twenty questions or something.
"Twenty questions."
Sam's eyes narrowed. "Stripping wouldn't be involved would it?"
"Only if you want to... Personally I prefer doing my job fully clothed, but it's entirely up to you."
"Funny," Sam muttered. "You start then."
"Okay... have you ever had sex with a man?"
"Now why did I know you were going to ask that? And the answer is no."
"Not any kind of sex? No kissing? Maybe a little groping?"
"Nothing Dean. I told you I'm not gay."
"Hmmm," Dean responded, giving him a wry look.
"So Dean... Did you ever have sex with a girl?"
"Hell yeah," Dean responded. "I don't discriminate like you do."
"I don't discriminate. I just don't feel that way about guys... I mean... I just don't."
"So you don't find me even the slightest bit attractive then?"
"Now what does that have to do with anything?"
"Oh, I don't know... Do you?"
Sam rolled his eyes and had to restrain himself from throwing the dirt on Dean. He wasn't blind he could see that Dean looked good and he could certainly understand why someone would find him sexy. It just wasn't his kind of thing to dwell on, he'd never gone for guys before and despite his flirtatious manner Dean was still just a guy.
"Yeah, you're attractive. I mean... sure Dean you look good, dress nicely, know some wicked stuff... I guess that makes you hot, just not the kind of hot I'm interested in."
"A man can dream," Dean answered, sounding very pleased with himself. "Your turn."
Sam continued to shovel the dirt out of the grave. "I don't know... I'm pretty sure your answer’s going to be yes to anything I ask."
Dean grinned. "Try me."
"How old were you when you started hunting?"
"Four," Dean said like it was no big deal.
Sam stopped digging and turned to face him horrified. "Are you serious? Four years old?"
"Well, I was four when my dad and I started all this, but I guess the first time I ever killed something was when I was nine."
It wasn't until he saw the sympathetic look on Sam's face that Dean had even considered that might not be normal. "What's the kinkiest kinda sex you ever had," Dean quickly asked, wanting Sam to stop looking at him like that.
Sam sighed and went back to digging. "Is every question going to be about sex?"
"Can you think of a better topic?" Dean asked genuinely.
Sam hit a box and stopping digging. "I'm there, throw over the stuff," he said as he used his shovel to smash in part of the coffin. "God it stinks."
Dean tossed over the bag and chuckled. "Wait ‘til you get one in the first year of decomposition, then it gets really nasty."
"Don't tell me about it," Sam responded, making a face.
Once he got the hole in the box wide enough Sam liberally sprinkled the bones with salt, before pouring fuel all over it and getting out of the hole. He looked down on the sad remains of what was once a human life before lighting a match and throwing it into the grave. Flames shot up from the bones and in sudden terror he remembered the heat from the fire and Jess' burning body. Swallowing hard he backed away from the grave turning his back to the flickering fire.
"Are you okay man?" Dean asked.
Sam nodded. "Just finish it, okay?"
What kind of a person was he? Jess' funeral would be tomorrow and here he was desecrating graves with some guy that wanted to fuck him. She hadn't even been gone for a week and here he was getting on with life, talking and laughing like there wasn't a huge hole where his heart used to be. He wondered what she would have thought if she could see him now, burning old bones like she had burned in that fire, like she might still be burning. Biting his lip he fought not to cry, not to sob with the pain of losing the person he thought was the other half of him, the person that completed him.
"Sam?" Dean asked coming up behind him and putting a hand on his back. "Are you okay?"
"Do you think she's still burning?"
"What Sam? No. No, of course not. She's at peace now somewhere far away from here where there's no pain or suffering."
"Are you sure?"
There was a slight pause before Dean spoke. "Yes. Yes, I'm sure."
Sam nodded and looked back in time for Dean to toss his own matches into his grave. It went up and they stood and watched the two bodies burning until there was nothing left but smoldering ash.
"We need to go inside."
Sam turned to him with a frown. His ankle was suddenly hurting again and he hadn't slept since yesterday. "Why?"
"Cos burning the suckers doesn't always work," he told him only for Sam to throw his hands up in the air.
"Now you tell me? So what do we do if it didn't work?"
Dean frowned and bit his lower lip. "Huh, burn the whole place down I guess." He grinned at him and bent down to pick up his shovel and bag.
Together they walked back to the house and Dean made sure Sam had his shotgun and that the rest of their stuff was on the ground outside, they didn't need any dead weight.
"You asked if she was still burning," Dean said to him as they entered the old mill. "She died in a fire?"
Sam gripped both his torch and his shotgun and walked closely behind Dean. "Yeah, she was pinned to the ceiling above our bed, her blood was dripping down on my face. Then she burst into flames. I couldn't save her."
Dean stopped and turned to face him. "A demon," he simply said. He didn't bring it up now because he didn't think Sam was ready to hear it, but it wasn't the first time Dean and his father had heard that story, right down to the last detail.
"You think?" Sam asked.
"I know," Dean said grimly.
A million questions welled up within Sam but he knew that this wasn't the right time to ask them. They had other things to focus on and he wasn't sure he was ready to hear the answers. They walked around the old mill for at least half an hour before Dean was satisfied that the spirit was really gone. Sam felt an inkling of satisfaction over a job well done as they walked out again, but he couldn't stop thinking about Jess.
"I dreamt about her," Sam said as they started walking down the path that would take them back to the road.
"About your girl?" Dean asked. "A lot of people do that."
"Not like this," Sam said. "This was real."
"Uh huh."
Dean sounded unimpressed and Sam guessed he knew why. Dean must meet a lot of whack jobs in his line of work and he was probably thinking that Sam was turning out to be one.
"I dreamt about her dying in that fire, exactly the way it happened, for days before it did. I didn't realize... I thought I'd just watched too many scary movies, but now she's dead and I... I could have..."
"Could have done what?" Dean interrupted him. "Have your dreams ever come true before?"
"No," Sam answered.
"Then how were you to know that this one would and even if you'd realized... What would you have done? You don't know the first thing about demons and until yesterday you didn't even believe they were real. I have no idea what you're going through, but don't try to pin the guilt on yourself. There is only one thing that is responsible and that is the demon that killed her."
Sam looked at him so gratefully, and his eyes were beginning to brim with tears but Dean still found himself surprised when the young man leaned into him. Dean's arms went around him protectively almost instinctively, something he was sure had never happened before.
Sam hadn't told a soul about his dreams, because who the hell would have believed him? And for a moment there, just for a moment, he had wondered if he really was crazy. Dean's words had been the biggest comfort to him he could have hoped for.
"Hey, aren't you impressed I'm not even trying to feel you up?" Dean said, trying to lighten the situation. Sam chuckled against his shoulder and nodded.
"Yeah, you're growing as a person," he said as he pulled back and shared a smile with the other man.
"Seriously though," Dean said as they made their way back to the car. "Dreaming about something before it happens, we should hit Vegas."
Sam laughed again, wiping at what was left of his tears. "That'd mean more time spent in each other's company."
Dean shrugged and opened his car door. "Might not be so bad. Besides, I don't think the world's ready for you yet newbie."
"Stop calling me that," Sam grumbled as he got in the car.
"Sorry, Sammy," Dean said with a grin.
"I swear, I will shoot you with rock salt," he threatened, making Dean laugh. "Seriously though," he said as Dean started the car. "I can come with you?"
He looked at Dean hopefully, like he knew he wasn't ready yet to do this alone.
With a fake sounding, suffering sigh Dean said, "Yeah, why not. Though you gotta live by my rules," he told him seriously. "Rule number one, you don't ever get to drive my car. And rule number two, you don't ever touch my music."
Sam smiled at him in a way that Dean hadn't seen him smile yet, it was warm and happy, something he suspected Sam hadn't felt in a while.
"Bring it on," Sam said. “And I won’t touch your music if you play just one song made after 1990 a week.”
“Funny,” Dean said, but he was grinning.
To be continued in The Journey: Love Sick
Authors: sasskitten and jeyhawk
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Summary: Dean is a hunter ever on the look out for things to kill. Sam is an innocent with his mind set on tracking down the thing that killed his girlfriend. When these two men are thrown together, they realize that their lives might not be as different as they first thought.
Disclaimer: We don’t own Supernatural, we make no money from it, it’s just for fun.
Note: It's time for a little explanation since a few of you may have noticed the name change. :) The Journey is an ongoing series written in 'episodes' of about five chapters. So every five chapters or so it will change its nameaccording to the new adventure they are setting out on. Just wanted to let you all know.
All the earlier parts can be found here.
Chapter Four
Dean shut the boot of his car and tossed a riffle to Sam, who caught it like it was a grenade. "I realize we haven't gotten to guns in your training yet, but that thing’s loaded with rock salt, you see the bitch anywhere near us, you shoot, got it?"
"Got it," Sam told him, gripping it tightly. Dean also removed two shovels and his bag from the night before, the one containing the salt and lighter fluid.
"Okay then, lets go newbie," Dean said with a big grin, handing Sam the torch.
When they reached the graves they set about digging up both the remaining corpses. Dean had said that although they were fairly sure the story about the wife was true, he wasn't willing to take any chances, so they were digging them both up.
"Hey, Sammy," Dean said, panting slightly as they set about digging up the dense ground. "Let's play a game."
Sam frowned and glanced over at him. "What kinda game?" He sounded worried, knowing Dean it would most likely be strip twenty questions or something.
"Twenty questions."
Sam's eyes narrowed. "Stripping wouldn't be involved would it?"
"Only if you want to... Personally I prefer doing my job fully clothed, but it's entirely up to you."
"Funny," Sam muttered. "You start then."
"Okay... have you ever had sex with a man?"
"Now why did I know you were going to ask that? And the answer is no."
"Not any kind of sex? No kissing? Maybe a little groping?"
"Nothing Dean. I told you I'm not gay."
"Hmmm," Dean responded, giving him a wry look.
"So Dean... Did you ever have sex with a girl?"
"Hell yeah," Dean responded. "I don't discriminate like you do."
"I don't discriminate. I just don't feel that way about guys... I mean... I just don't."
"So you don't find me even the slightest bit attractive then?"
"Now what does that have to do with anything?"
"Oh, I don't know... Do you?"
Sam rolled his eyes and had to restrain himself from throwing the dirt on Dean. He wasn't blind he could see that Dean looked good and he could certainly understand why someone would find him sexy. It just wasn't his kind of thing to dwell on, he'd never gone for guys before and despite his flirtatious manner Dean was still just a guy.
"Yeah, you're attractive. I mean... sure Dean you look good, dress nicely, know some wicked stuff... I guess that makes you hot, just not the kind of hot I'm interested in."
"A man can dream," Dean answered, sounding very pleased with himself. "Your turn."
Sam continued to shovel the dirt out of the grave. "I don't know... I'm pretty sure your answer’s going to be yes to anything I ask."
Dean grinned. "Try me."
"How old were you when you started hunting?"
"Four," Dean said like it was no big deal.
Sam stopped digging and turned to face him horrified. "Are you serious? Four years old?"
"Well, I was four when my dad and I started all this, but I guess the first time I ever killed something was when I was nine."
It wasn't until he saw the sympathetic look on Sam's face that Dean had even considered that might not be normal. "What's the kinkiest kinda sex you ever had," Dean quickly asked, wanting Sam to stop looking at him like that.
Sam sighed and went back to digging. "Is every question going to be about sex?"
"Can you think of a better topic?" Dean asked genuinely.
Sam hit a box and stopping digging. "I'm there, throw over the stuff," he said as he used his shovel to smash in part of the coffin. "God it stinks."
Dean tossed over the bag and chuckled. "Wait ‘til you get one in the first year of decomposition, then it gets really nasty."
"Don't tell me about it," Sam responded, making a face.
Once he got the hole in the box wide enough Sam liberally sprinkled the bones with salt, before pouring fuel all over it and getting out of the hole. He looked down on the sad remains of what was once a human life before lighting a match and throwing it into the grave. Flames shot up from the bones and in sudden terror he remembered the heat from the fire and Jess' burning body. Swallowing hard he backed away from the grave turning his back to the flickering fire.
"Are you okay man?" Dean asked.
Sam nodded. "Just finish it, okay?"
What kind of a person was he? Jess' funeral would be tomorrow and here he was desecrating graves with some guy that wanted to fuck him. She hadn't even been gone for a week and here he was getting on with life, talking and laughing like there wasn't a huge hole where his heart used to be. He wondered what she would have thought if she could see him now, burning old bones like she had burned in that fire, like she might still be burning. Biting his lip he fought not to cry, not to sob with the pain of losing the person he thought was the other half of him, the person that completed him.
"Sam?" Dean asked coming up behind him and putting a hand on his back. "Are you okay?"
"Do you think she's still burning?"
"What Sam? No. No, of course not. She's at peace now somewhere far away from here where there's no pain or suffering."
"Are you sure?"
There was a slight pause before Dean spoke. "Yes. Yes, I'm sure."
Sam nodded and looked back in time for Dean to toss his own matches into his grave. It went up and they stood and watched the two bodies burning until there was nothing left but smoldering ash.
"We need to go inside."
Sam turned to him with a frown. His ankle was suddenly hurting again and he hadn't slept since yesterday. "Why?"
"Cos burning the suckers doesn't always work," he told him only for Sam to throw his hands up in the air.
"Now you tell me? So what do we do if it didn't work?"
Dean frowned and bit his lower lip. "Huh, burn the whole place down I guess." He grinned at him and bent down to pick up his shovel and bag.
Together they walked back to the house and Dean made sure Sam had his shotgun and that the rest of their stuff was on the ground outside, they didn't need any dead weight.
"You asked if she was still burning," Dean said to him as they entered the old mill. "She died in a fire?"
Sam gripped both his torch and his shotgun and walked closely behind Dean. "Yeah, she was pinned to the ceiling above our bed, her blood was dripping down on my face. Then she burst into flames. I couldn't save her."
Dean stopped and turned to face him. "A demon," he simply said. He didn't bring it up now because he didn't think Sam was ready to hear it, but it wasn't the first time Dean and his father had heard that story, right down to the last detail.
"You think?" Sam asked.
"I know," Dean said grimly.
A million questions welled up within Sam but he knew that this wasn't the right time to ask them. They had other things to focus on and he wasn't sure he was ready to hear the answers. They walked around the old mill for at least half an hour before Dean was satisfied that the spirit was really gone. Sam felt an inkling of satisfaction over a job well done as they walked out again, but he couldn't stop thinking about Jess.
"I dreamt about her," Sam said as they started walking down the path that would take them back to the road.
"About your girl?" Dean asked. "A lot of people do that."
"Not like this," Sam said. "This was real."
"Uh huh."
Dean sounded unimpressed and Sam guessed he knew why. Dean must meet a lot of whack jobs in his line of work and he was probably thinking that Sam was turning out to be one.
"I dreamt about her dying in that fire, exactly the way it happened, for days before it did. I didn't realize... I thought I'd just watched too many scary movies, but now she's dead and I... I could have..."
"Could have done what?" Dean interrupted him. "Have your dreams ever come true before?"
"No," Sam answered.
"Then how were you to know that this one would and even if you'd realized... What would you have done? You don't know the first thing about demons and until yesterday you didn't even believe they were real. I have no idea what you're going through, but don't try to pin the guilt on yourself. There is only one thing that is responsible and that is the demon that killed her."
Sam looked at him so gratefully, and his eyes were beginning to brim with tears but Dean still found himself surprised when the young man leaned into him. Dean's arms went around him protectively almost instinctively, something he was sure had never happened before.
Sam hadn't told a soul about his dreams, because who the hell would have believed him? And for a moment there, just for a moment, he had wondered if he really was crazy. Dean's words had been the biggest comfort to him he could have hoped for.
"Hey, aren't you impressed I'm not even trying to feel you up?" Dean said, trying to lighten the situation. Sam chuckled against his shoulder and nodded.
"Yeah, you're growing as a person," he said as he pulled back and shared a smile with the other man.
"Seriously though," Dean said as they made their way back to the car. "Dreaming about something before it happens, we should hit Vegas."
Sam laughed again, wiping at what was left of his tears. "That'd mean more time spent in each other's company."
Dean shrugged and opened his car door. "Might not be so bad. Besides, I don't think the world's ready for you yet newbie."
"Stop calling me that," Sam grumbled as he got in the car.
"Sorry, Sammy," Dean said with a grin.
"I swear, I will shoot you with rock salt," he threatened, making Dean laugh. "Seriously though," he said as Dean started the car. "I can come with you?"
He looked at Dean hopefully, like he knew he wasn't ready yet to do this alone.
With a fake sounding, suffering sigh Dean said, "Yeah, why not. Though you gotta live by my rules," he told him seriously. "Rule number one, you don't ever get to drive my car. And rule number two, you don't ever touch my music."
Sam smiled at him in a way that Dean hadn't seen him smile yet, it was warm and happy, something he suspected Sam hadn't felt in a while.
"Bring it on," Sam said. “And I won’t touch your music if you play just one song made after 1990 a week.”
“Funny,” Dean said, but he was grinning.
To be continued in The Journey: Love Sick