Supernatural Fic
Title: What Happens in Millborough Stays in Millborough
Author: mahaliem
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: R
Warnings: Toys with wincest
Length: About 3,500 words
Summary: AU after Asylum. Sam learns that Dean is missing and goes to rescue him.
Thank you, thank you, thank you to moosesal and onelittlesleep for beta reading this for me. I'm so very grateful to both of them for all of their hard work. Any errors that remain are mine and mine alone.
What Happens in Millborough Stays in Millborough
Sam wanted a normal life.
After leaving Rockford, the anger between himself and Dean had simmered but their dad's call that night had caused it to boil over.
With no explanation for where he'd been or why he'd disappeared, John had wanted them to go to the small town of Millborough on a new assignment. Dean had been ready to obey. Sam, however, had had enough and they'd argued.
This time neither had backed down.
Sam had stormed out and caught the first of a series of buses back to Palo Alto. He still had friends living in the area who were okay with him crashing on their couch.
That had been two weeks ago.
Now Sam's grip on his cell phone was so tight it was a wonder it didn't shatter in his hands as he listened to the message left by his father.
"Dean is missing."
* * *
Sam stood on the sidewalk and looked at Millborough. The town was so pristine that it looked like something out of a movie set. No trash littered the streets. The windows of the stores that lined the main street sparkled in the sunshine.
After hearing his father's message, he'd rented a car using the credit card he had kept secret from Dean and driven like a madman. Consequently, he was tired, frustrated, and wanted his brother back. Now.
He knew that Dean had hunted alone for years and was an expert in both demonology and weapons. For something to overcome Dean, it would have to be pretty bad. Millborough would have to be teeming with evil.
Three boys rode by on bikes, yelling and laughing with one another. Two elderly men played checkers at a picnic table in the small park across the street. A lady was walking her dog that kept yipping at a squirrel scrambling among the tree branches.
Okay, maybe teeming with evil wasn't quite accurate.
But Sam knew that appearances could be deceiving. Someone in this town was holding Dean prisoner. He could be hurt, suffering. The thought of Dean in pain clawed at Sam's gut. He refused to consider the possibility that Dean might be dead.
Sam was going to find Dean even if he had to tear this town apart brick by brick to do it.
He remembered what his father had told him over the phone. Years before, while Sam had been at Stanford, John and Dean had investigated a witch living in this town. They'd determined that she was benign. Looks like they'd been wrong.
Sam scanned the street for the nearest Sheriff's office. Even if no one had seen Dean, the Impala was a fairly distinctive car. Someone might remember it.
Walking past a bakery, Sam began to wonder if he should ask for directions when he stopped and stared at the pair coming out of the ice cream parlor two doors down.
It was Dean and a little blonde girl of perhaps three or four years. She was intently eating an ice cream cone while holding Dean's hand.
They turned away from Sam and he had to break into a jog to catch up with them.
"Dean!" At the lack of response, he shouted again, "Dean!"
Dean stopped and swiveled to face him. The look Sam received was one of pleasant curiosity.
"Yes?"
Sam didn't even try to stifle his annoyance as he stalked closer. "Why haven't you been answering your phone?"
Dean's expression changed to puzzlement. "Excuse me?"
"Daddy?"
Sam blinked and looked down at the small girl tugging on Dean's sleeve with sticky fingers.
"Daddy?" Sam repeated.
The little girl peered up at Dean. "Can we get Mommy now?"
"Mommy? You're married?" Sam shouted. "Wow, there was a lot you didn't bother telling me, isn't there?"
"Do I even know you?" Dean asked.
"My feelings exactly." Sam shook his head in disgust. "You'd think that at some point, in one of those lousy fleabag motels you took me to, you might've mentioned that you were married with a kid."
Dean's eyes widened. "I what?"
"Look Daddy!" the girl shouted happily as she pointed, "Mommy."
Both Dean and Sam glanced over to find a very pretty woman with long blonde hair walking towards them.
Dean leaned a little closer to Sam, his voice low and rushed.
"Listen, I don't remember you and I'm sorry about that." Dean's eyes flickered down Sam's body in a way that made Sam want to go put on another layer of clothes. "Really sorry," Dean said with a hint of a leer. "But I'd appreciate it if you didn't wreck my marriage. My wife, she doesn't know about... you know."
Stunned, Sam watched as Dean, with his hand still holding the girl's turned and walked toward the woman, greeted her with a kiss, and then murmured something to her. Sam was about to step forward and say something, do something to try to figure out what the fuck was going on when a he was struck by a pain in his head so severe that it took his breath away.
For a moment it seemed as if the world shimmered, everything fading as he blinked back the agony in his head and gasped.
By the time the pain receded to the point where he could function again, it was too late to stop Dean. He was at a minivan, holding the passenger door open as his wife slid into the seat. A minute later, Sam watched Dean drive past him. Both blonde passengers stared at Sam as they rode by.
Dean was driving a minivan. The world had gone crazy.
* * *
Get a grip, Sam told himself for the fifth time.
It took him a few seconds after the minivan drove past him to realize that he was letting his brother get away. Sam tried to blame his hesitation on the echo of that strange explosion of pain he'd experienced. It was a much better explanation than the fact that he was still totally and completely freaked by his brother checking him out.
Dean swung both ways. Sam had known that since he was fourteen and caught him with the night clerk of a motel they were staying in. Later Dean had explained how life was short and sex was sex. But for Dean to look at him like that was just wrong. And Sam wasn't ever going to think about how a small part of him was secretly pleased that Dean had liked what he'd seen.
The minivan was picking up speed when Sam finally focused back on the problem at hand. He raced back to his rental to follow Dean. If Dean and his little family hadn't had to stop at a railway crossing, Sam would've lost them.
Now Sam stared out of the car's window in amazement. The minivan instead of the Impala had been freaky, but almost funny. The small house surrounded by a white picket fence? That wasn't funny at all.
Dean was in that picture-perfect house with the picture-perfect wife and a picture-perfect daughter living what he assumed to be a picture-perfect life. A life that Sam would give his right arm for.
It pissed Sam off.
* * *
"I'm telling you, he's turned into Ward Cleaver," Sam said into the telephone. He scrunched up his brow in thought. "No, make that Mike Brady. There was always something a little off about that guy."
"He's under a spell," John Winchester reassured his son. "It sounds as if the witch has taken over Dean's mind and made him thinks he's a husband and father. The pain you felt was most likely the witch attempting to add you to the scenario and failing."
"So what do I do now? Kill the witch?"
"As a last resort. You'd probably need help to do it too. I suggest that you concentrate on removing Dean from the enchantment."
"How do I do that?"
* * *
Sam entered his hotel room and placed the Aquafina bottle he'd filled with holy water on the nightstand. The length of rope he carried went under the bed. He hoped he wouldn't have to use it. If it came down to a fight he was bigger than Dean and probably stronger, but Dean fought dirty.
Pulling a small pad of paper out of his pocket, Sam went over the directions again on how to break a witch's enchantment on a subject. One only had to anoint with holy water the subject's forehead, soles of the feet, palms of the hands, and then the chest above the heart, before reciting a line of Latin.
Shoving the paper back into his pocket, Sam headed out. He had the holy water and rope to tie Dean up if he didn't want to go along with it. Now all he had to do was get Dean.
* * *
When Sam found him, Dean was exiting a toy store, his arms cradling an Easy Bake Oven.
"Can I help you with that?" Sam asked.
Giving him a quick glance, Dean shook his head. "I can handle it." Carrying the toy, he headed for the minivan parked nearby.
Sam cleared his throat as he followed. "I was wondering if I could talk to you."
"Talk away."
"I know you don't remember me, but there are things I need to tell you."
Dean reached the van and began loading his package into the trunk. "Really."
Sam glanced around the street. "Maybe we could go somewhere more private."
Slamming the trunk closed, Dean leaned back against it as his gaze wandered over Sam.
"You do move fast, don't you?" Dean purred.
Oh shit. Sam barely stopped himself from retreating several feet. It took a few seconds for him to realize that this might work. He needed to get Dean to the motel room. He needed him partially unclothed so that he could anoint his feet and chest. Dean would not be an easy person to tackle and tie up if he was unwilling.
But could he get Dean to come to his motel room?
Sam took a deep breath and wondered if God would strike him dead for what he was about to do. He also wondered if Dean would strike him dead when he got his memories back.
Taking a step closer, Sam put his hand on Dean's chest.
"I only move fast when I see something I want."
"And you think I'm that easy?" Dean asked. "That I'll let a complete stranger pick me up?"
Sam moved so close that their bodies brushed against each other. He pitched his voice to a low murmur.
"Yeah, I do."
Dean shrugged. "Okay, you've got me there. But I'm still not convinced I should go with you. You could be some psycho serial killer."
Sam licked his lips. Encouraged by the way Dean's eyes followed his tongue as if mesmerized, he leaned forward.
Sam's mouth closed over Dean's.
Dean lips! Lips of Dean! The voice inside his head was running around and shrieking in panic. Ew! And hey, Dean wasn't that bad a kisser.
Sam remembered catching eleven-year-old Dean making out with their fourteen-year-old babysitter so it made sense that he would have perfected his kissing technique over the years.
Wait a minute, Sam thought. Was that Dean's tongue? Ewwwww!
Doing his best not to jump back, Sam broke the kiss to see Dean smiling widely.
"I'm convinced."
* * *
Sam had turned to lock the motel room's door when he was pushed against its surface, Dean pressing hard against his back
"Maybe you'd like to get comfortable first," Sam suggested, his voice edging toward hysteria.
Dean's mouth nipped at Sam's ear before he spoke huskily. "I'm pretty comfortable right where I am." He pressed against Sam a little harder.
Please God, Sam prayed. Please let Dean be carrying a gun.
"A drink!" Sam yelped. "Wouldn't you like a drink?"
Dean's weight eased away. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Sam turned around to face him.
"Didn't figure you for the kind to want to talk beforehand," Dean said, eyeing Sam.
Sam resisted the urge to zip up his jacket and fold his arm across his chest in a weak attempt to hide from Dean's gaze. Instead he gave Dean a shaky smile.
"I like to talk. Talking is good."
"Whatever." Dean plopped down on the bed and glanced around the room. "So, what do you have?" At Sam's lack of answer, Dean clarified. "You offered me a drink?"
"Right. Right." Sam realized that he didn't actually have much on hand. Dean usually bought all things alcoholic.
"I've got beer."
Two, in fact, leftover from the six-pack he'd purchased the night before.
"And there's water. Would you like some water?"
"Sure. Water's fine."
Dean reached for the Aquafina bottle on the nightstand next to him. The bottle that was filled with holy water.
"Not that water!" Sam shouted.
"What?" Dean arched his eyebrows.
"You can't drink that!"
Great. Dean was now looking at Sam like he was a loony.
"That one's already open," Sam said quickly. "There are germs. Lots of germs. Nasty things."
"Oookay. I guess I won't have to work too hard to convince you to wear a condom."
"Why don't you get comfortable?" Sam said, desperately trying not to think about condoms and Dean and the whole fucked up situation. The best thing to do was apply the holy water, say the Latin, and hope it solved the problem and caused both of them to have selective amnesia.
"Take off your shoes and socks and relax," Sam said, swallowing hard.
Dean grinned at him and bent to untie his boots. It was only after he'd stuffed his socks into his boots and was placing them neatly by the bed that his hands brushed against something underneath it. Frowning, Dean reached under the bed and pulled out the length of rope that Sam had stashed there.
"Fuck!" Dean jumped to his feet. "You are a psycho killer."
"I'm not!"
Frantic to keep Dean where he was, Sam launched himself at Dean, sending them flying back to land on the bed with a thump. Sam ended up on top, straddling Dean's body.
"Let me go," Dean hissed, aiming a punch at Sam's face.
Blocking the punch, Sam grabbed hold of Dean's wrists and pinned them to the bed.
"I'm not a psycho," Sam repeated.
"Right. You're not. Everyone stashes rope under the bed." Dean thrashed and squirmed trying to get away. "Get your psycho ass off of me."
"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just...."
Shit. What could he possibly say to Dean to get him to calm down?
"I'm kinky."
Dean stilled.
"What?" Dean asked.
"I'm kinky," Sam said, feeling his face heat up. "I like... you know... being tied up and stuff."
"Kinky," Dean repeated.
"Yeah."
This was just too humiliating, Sam decided. Maybe he could forget the whole thing. Dean could go on living a normal life with his wife and daughter and Sam would get used to being an only child.
No. He couldn't do that. He'd never be able to live without Dean in his life, even if he had to walk through hell to get him back.
And this was hell, Sam thought as Dean grinned up at him and Sam determined that definitely wasn't a gun pressing up against his ass.
"You want me to tie you up now?" Dean offered.
Did he have to sound so damn eager?
"N-no," Sam stammered. "There's something I want to do first. It's sort of a cleansing ritual."
"A cleansing ritual," Dean stated. His eyebrows went up again.
"Yeah. Afterwards you can tie me up and do anything you want to me."
"Anything?"
Sam nodded and bit his lower lip.
"Alright." Dean stretched out under Sam. "Go for it."
Sam quickly unbuttoned Dean's shirt and moved off of him to grab the bottle of holy water.
"You're going to do the cleansing ritual with dirty, germ-filled water?" Dean asked.
"Um... yeah."
Working as quickly as possible, Sam anointed Dean's forehead, feet, hands, and chest with the holy water then rattled off the Latin incantation.
Sam stepped away from the bed and studied Dean carefully. He didn't look any different.
"You done?" Dean asked, rising to his feet to stand next to Sam.
Sam nodded.
"Then hand me the rope."
Crap! It hadn't worked.
"You don't really want to tie me up, do you?" Sam asked nervously.
"Oh, I do. I definitely do."
Dean leaned closer. Sam closed his eyes and braced for another kiss. He could feel Dean's breath against his ear.
"I want you tied up good so that you can't get away while I beat the shit out of you, Sammy."
* * *
"You can't do this, Dean."
Dean turned away from the steering wheel of Sam's rental and glared at him.
"That witch tried to steal my life from me. Turned me into her lap dog. I think burning may be too good for her."
"We need to confront her."
"You confront her. I'm going to see if there's a stake and kindling around somewhere."
"Dean," Sam said warningly.
Ignoring his brother, Dean pulled up outside the house, the brakes squealing in protest. In a flash he was out of the car and storming up the walk that led to the house. Sam raced to catch up to him.
To Sam's surprise, Dean didn't pause to knock. He simply turned the knob and walked in. At Sam's unspoken question he said "My house, right?"
He lead Sam through a living room and into a brightly lit kitchen where the blonde woman was loading dishes into a dishwasher while the little girl colored pictures at the table.
"Why?" Dean snarled to the woman.
She turned around, shock and concern spreading over her face.
"Dean, honey, what's wrong?"
"What's wrong, Linda? First of all, how about the fact that I'm not your honey."
"Dean?" she said, voice quivering.
"I'm not too thrilled that you chose me to enchant into your personal Ken doll."
"Enchant? I didn't-"
"Daddy?"
The little girl had left the table and grabbed onto Dean's sleeve.
"Not now, sweetpea. I'm talking to your mama." Without looking down, he continued to stare at the woman at the sink. "I can't believe you made me think this was all real."
"But I didn't. I didn't do an enchantment. I would never-"
"Daddy," the little girl said again. "Be a good daddy."
Sam squatted down next to the girl. "Would you like to show me your room while your parents talk?" The girl ignored him, eyes on Dean.
"Then how do explain me thinking that we're married?"
"We're not?" The woman shook her head. "No, of course we're not. Why did I think we were? What's happened to me?"
The girl stamped her feet and glared at Dean. "Be a good Daddy!"
Pain exploded in Sam's head and the world tilted for a moment. He blinked to see Dean and the woman called Linda staring at the girl next to him.
"I want you to be a good Daddy," she yelled, stamping her foot again.
"Oh God," Linda exclaimed, covering her hand with her mouth. "I didn't realize. You must believe me, I really didn't know."
Sam rose to his feet. "It seems as though the power to enchant others is genetic."
* * *
Sam and Dean didn't say a word as they drove out of town. Once the enchantment had been dropped from the town, it hadn't taken long for them to discover the Impala parked on a nearby street. They returned the rental to a local franchise.
The town changed back to normal. The bakery and toy store disappeared from the main street. The ice cream parlor was still there only now it stood alongside a barbershop and a hardware store.
They were ten miles out of Millborough when the silence became too much for Sam.
"I'm sorry, Dean. You looked happy with a wife and daughter. I'm sorry it wasn't real."
Dean stared at Sam as if he'd lost his mind. "You think I'm freaked out because of the enchantment?"
"Um... yeah?" Sam said, turning his answer into a question.
"I'm a lot more freaked out by what you did."
Wincing, Sam asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Hell, no!"
Several miles went by before Dean spoke again.
"I can't believe you did that. Shit, Sammy. I'm your brother!"
"I had to!" Sam yelled.
"Couldn't you have just sneaked up behind me and conked me on the head or something?"
Through clenched teeth, Sam hissed, "Knocking you out sounds like a pretty good idea right about now. Excuse me for trying not to hurt you."
Dean slammed his hand down on the steering wheel. "You fucking kissed me!" he shouted.
"Yeah, well... well you drove a minivan!" Sam shouted back.
For a moment they glared at one another.
"We are never speaking of this again," Dean snarled.
"Right."
"What happened in Millborough stays in Millborough."
"Agreed."
Ten more minutes went by.
"And the next time you plan to kiss someone," Dean said, "you might want to consider a breath mint first."
"Oh, fuck you."
"Yeah, we know that's what you want now, don't we?"
Sam folded his arms across his chest. "You're the one that took almost no persuading to come to my hotel room. And you were married. Slut."
"I didn't know you were my brother. Pervert."
"Soccer mom."
Giving Sam a scowl, Dean cranked up the music to the point that more conversation was impossible. Sam settled himself back in his seat then turned toward the window to hide a smile.
It was good to have Dean back where he belonged.
The End
Author: mahaliem
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: R
Warnings: Toys with wincest
Length: About 3,500 words
Summary: AU after Asylum. Sam learns that Dean is missing and goes to rescue him.
Thank you, thank you, thank you to moosesal and onelittlesleep for beta reading this for me. I'm so very grateful to both of them for all of their hard work. Any errors that remain are mine and mine alone.
What Happens in Millborough Stays in Millborough
Sam wanted a normal life.
After leaving Rockford, the anger between himself and Dean had simmered but their dad's call that night had caused it to boil over.
With no explanation for where he'd been or why he'd disappeared, John had wanted them to go to the small town of Millborough on a new assignment. Dean had been ready to obey. Sam, however, had had enough and they'd argued.
This time neither had backed down.
Sam had stormed out and caught the first of a series of buses back to Palo Alto. He still had friends living in the area who were okay with him crashing on their couch.
That had been two weeks ago.
Now Sam's grip on his cell phone was so tight it was a wonder it didn't shatter in his hands as he listened to the message left by his father.
"Dean is missing."
* * *
Sam stood on the sidewalk and looked at Millborough. The town was so pristine that it looked like something out of a movie set. No trash littered the streets. The windows of the stores that lined the main street sparkled in the sunshine.
After hearing his father's message, he'd rented a car using the credit card he had kept secret from Dean and driven like a madman. Consequently, he was tired, frustrated, and wanted his brother back. Now.
He knew that Dean had hunted alone for years and was an expert in both demonology and weapons. For something to overcome Dean, it would have to be pretty bad. Millborough would have to be teeming with evil.
Three boys rode by on bikes, yelling and laughing with one another. Two elderly men played checkers at a picnic table in the small park across the street. A lady was walking her dog that kept yipping at a squirrel scrambling among the tree branches.
Okay, maybe teeming with evil wasn't quite accurate.
But Sam knew that appearances could be deceiving. Someone in this town was holding Dean prisoner. He could be hurt, suffering. The thought of Dean in pain clawed at Sam's gut. He refused to consider the possibility that Dean might be dead.
Sam was going to find Dean even if he had to tear this town apart brick by brick to do it.
He remembered what his father had told him over the phone. Years before, while Sam had been at Stanford, John and Dean had investigated a witch living in this town. They'd determined that she was benign. Looks like they'd been wrong.
Sam scanned the street for the nearest Sheriff's office. Even if no one had seen Dean, the Impala was a fairly distinctive car. Someone might remember it.
Walking past a bakery, Sam began to wonder if he should ask for directions when he stopped and stared at the pair coming out of the ice cream parlor two doors down.
It was Dean and a little blonde girl of perhaps three or four years. She was intently eating an ice cream cone while holding Dean's hand.
They turned away from Sam and he had to break into a jog to catch up with them.
"Dean!" At the lack of response, he shouted again, "Dean!"
Dean stopped and swiveled to face him. The look Sam received was one of pleasant curiosity.
"Yes?"
Sam didn't even try to stifle his annoyance as he stalked closer. "Why haven't you been answering your phone?"
Dean's expression changed to puzzlement. "Excuse me?"
"Daddy?"
Sam blinked and looked down at the small girl tugging on Dean's sleeve with sticky fingers.
"Daddy?" Sam repeated.
The little girl peered up at Dean. "Can we get Mommy now?"
"Mommy? You're married?" Sam shouted. "Wow, there was a lot you didn't bother telling me, isn't there?"
"Do I even know you?" Dean asked.
"My feelings exactly." Sam shook his head in disgust. "You'd think that at some point, in one of those lousy fleabag motels you took me to, you might've mentioned that you were married with a kid."
Dean's eyes widened. "I what?"
"Look Daddy!" the girl shouted happily as she pointed, "Mommy."
Both Dean and Sam glanced over to find a very pretty woman with long blonde hair walking towards them.
Dean leaned a little closer to Sam, his voice low and rushed.
"Listen, I don't remember you and I'm sorry about that." Dean's eyes flickered down Sam's body in a way that made Sam want to go put on another layer of clothes. "Really sorry," Dean said with a hint of a leer. "But I'd appreciate it if you didn't wreck my marriage. My wife, she doesn't know about... you know."
Stunned, Sam watched as Dean, with his hand still holding the girl's turned and walked toward the woman, greeted her with a kiss, and then murmured something to her. Sam was about to step forward and say something, do something to try to figure out what the fuck was going on when a he was struck by a pain in his head so severe that it took his breath away.
For a moment it seemed as if the world shimmered, everything fading as he blinked back the agony in his head and gasped.
By the time the pain receded to the point where he could function again, it was too late to stop Dean. He was at a minivan, holding the passenger door open as his wife slid into the seat. A minute later, Sam watched Dean drive past him. Both blonde passengers stared at Sam as they rode by.
Dean was driving a minivan. The world had gone crazy.
* * *
Get a grip, Sam told himself for the fifth time.
It took him a few seconds after the minivan drove past him to realize that he was letting his brother get away. Sam tried to blame his hesitation on the echo of that strange explosion of pain he'd experienced. It was a much better explanation than the fact that he was still totally and completely freaked by his brother checking him out.
Dean swung both ways. Sam had known that since he was fourteen and caught him with the night clerk of a motel they were staying in. Later Dean had explained how life was short and sex was sex. But for Dean to look at him like that was just wrong. And Sam wasn't ever going to think about how a small part of him was secretly pleased that Dean had liked what he'd seen.
The minivan was picking up speed when Sam finally focused back on the problem at hand. He raced back to his rental to follow Dean. If Dean and his little family hadn't had to stop at a railway crossing, Sam would've lost them.
Now Sam stared out of the car's window in amazement. The minivan instead of the Impala had been freaky, but almost funny. The small house surrounded by a white picket fence? That wasn't funny at all.
Dean was in that picture-perfect house with the picture-perfect wife and a picture-perfect daughter living what he assumed to be a picture-perfect life. A life that Sam would give his right arm for.
It pissed Sam off.
* * *
"I'm telling you, he's turned into Ward Cleaver," Sam said into the telephone. He scrunched up his brow in thought. "No, make that Mike Brady. There was always something a little off about that guy."
"He's under a spell," John Winchester reassured his son. "It sounds as if the witch has taken over Dean's mind and made him thinks he's a husband and father. The pain you felt was most likely the witch attempting to add you to the scenario and failing."
"So what do I do now? Kill the witch?"
"As a last resort. You'd probably need help to do it too. I suggest that you concentrate on removing Dean from the enchantment."
"How do I do that?"
* * *
Sam entered his hotel room and placed the Aquafina bottle he'd filled with holy water on the nightstand. The length of rope he carried went under the bed. He hoped he wouldn't have to use it. If it came down to a fight he was bigger than Dean and probably stronger, but Dean fought dirty.
Pulling a small pad of paper out of his pocket, Sam went over the directions again on how to break a witch's enchantment on a subject. One only had to anoint with holy water the subject's forehead, soles of the feet, palms of the hands, and then the chest above the heart, before reciting a line of Latin.
Shoving the paper back into his pocket, Sam headed out. He had the holy water and rope to tie Dean up if he didn't want to go along with it. Now all he had to do was get Dean.
* * *
When Sam found him, Dean was exiting a toy store, his arms cradling an Easy Bake Oven.
"Can I help you with that?" Sam asked.
Giving him a quick glance, Dean shook his head. "I can handle it." Carrying the toy, he headed for the minivan parked nearby.
Sam cleared his throat as he followed. "I was wondering if I could talk to you."
"Talk away."
"I know you don't remember me, but there are things I need to tell you."
Dean reached the van and began loading his package into the trunk. "Really."
Sam glanced around the street. "Maybe we could go somewhere more private."
Slamming the trunk closed, Dean leaned back against it as his gaze wandered over Sam.
"You do move fast, don't you?" Dean purred.
Oh shit. Sam barely stopped himself from retreating several feet. It took a few seconds for him to realize that this might work. He needed to get Dean to the motel room. He needed him partially unclothed so that he could anoint his feet and chest. Dean would not be an easy person to tackle and tie up if he was unwilling.
But could he get Dean to come to his motel room?
Sam took a deep breath and wondered if God would strike him dead for what he was about to do. He also wondered if Dean would strike him dead when he got his memories back.
Taking a step closer, Sam put his hand on Dean's chest.
"I only move fast when I see something I want."
"And you think I'm that easy?" Dean asked. "That I'll let a complete stranger pick me up?"
Sam moved so close that their bodies brushed against each other. He pitched his voice to a low murmur.
"Yeah, I do."
Dean shrugged. "Okay, you've got me there. But I'm still not convinced I should go with you. You could be some psycho serial killer."
Sam licked his lips. Encouraged by the way Dean's eyes followed his tongue as if mesmerized, he leaned forward.
Sam's mouth closed over Dean's.
Dean lips! Lips of Dean! The voice inside his head was running around and shrieking in panic. Ew! And hey, Dean wasn't that bad a kisser.
Sam remembered catching eleven-year-old Dean making out with their fourteen-year-old babysitter so it made sense that he would have perfected his kissing technique over the years.
Wait a minute, Sam thought. Was that Dean's tongue? Ewwwww!
Doing his best not to jump back, Sam broke the kiss to see Dean smiling widely.
"I'm convinced."
* * *
Sam had turned to lock the motel room's door when he was pushed against its surface, Dean pressing hard against his back
"Maybe you'd like to get comfortable first," Sam suggested, his voice edging toward hysteria.
Dean's mouth nipped at Sam's ear before he spoke huskily. "I'm pretty comfortable right where I am." He pressed against Sam a little harder.
Please God, Sam prayed. Please let Dean be carrying a gun.
"A drink!" Sam yelped. "Wouldn't you like a drink?"
Dean's weight eased away. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Sam turned around to face him.
"Didn't figure you for the kind to want to talk beforehand," Dean said, eyeing Sam.
Sam resisted the urge to zip up his jacket and fold his arm across his chest in a weak attempt to hide from Dean's gaze. Instead he gave Dean a shaky smile.
"I like to talk. Talking is good."
"Whatever." Dean plopped down on the bed and glanced around the room. "So, what do you have?" At Sam's lack of answer, Dean clarified. "You offered me a drink?"
"Right. Right." Sam realized that he didn't actually have much on hand. Dean usually bought all things alcoholic.
"I've got beer."
Two, in fact, leftover from the six-pack he'd purchased the night before.
"And there's water. Would you like some water?"
"Sure. Water's fine."
Dean reached for the Aquafina bottle on the nightstand next to him. The bottle that was filled with holy water.
"Not that water!" Sam shouted.
"What?" Dean arched his eyebrows.
"You can't drink that!"
Great. Dean was now looking at Sam like he was a loony.
"That one's already open," Sam said quickly. "There are germs. Lots of germs. Nasty things."
"Oookay. I guess I won't have to work too hard to convince you to wear a condom."
"Why don't you get comfortable?" Sam said, desperately trying not to think about condoms and Dean and the whole fucked up situation. The best thing to do was apply the holy water, say the Latin, and hope it solved the problem and caused both of them to have selective amnesia.
"Take off your shoes and socks and relax," Sam said, swallowing hard.
Dean grinned at him and bent to untie his boots. It was only after he'd stuffed his socks into his boots and was placing them neatly by the bed that his hands brushed against something underneath it. Frowning, Dean reached under the bed and pulled out the length of rope that Sam had stashed there.
"Fuck!" Dean jumped to his feet. "You are a psycho killer."
"I'm not!"
Frantic to keep Dean where he was, Sam launched himself at Dean, sending them flying back to land on the bed with a thump. Sam ended up on top, straddling Dean's body.
"Let me go," Dean hissed, aiming a punch at Sam's face.
Blocking the punch, Sam grabbed hold of Dean's wrists and pinned them to the bed.
"I'm not a psycho," Sam repeated.
"Right. You're not. Everyone stashes rope under the bed." Dean thrashed and squirmed trying to get away. "Get your psycho ass off of me."
"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just...."
Shit. What could he possibly say to Dean to get him to calm down?
"I'm kinky."
Dean stilled.
"What?" Dean asked.
"I'm kinky," Sam said, feeling his face heat up. "I like... you know... being tied up and stuff."
"Kinky," Dean repeated.
"Yeah."
This was just too humiliating, Sam decided. Maybe he could forget the whole thing. Dean could go on living a normal life with his wife and daughter and Sam would get used to being an only child.
No. He couldn't do that. He'd never be able to live without Dean in his life, even if he had to walk through hell to get him back.
And this was hell, Sam thought as Dean grinned up at him and Sam determined that definitely wasn't a gun pressing up against his ass.
"You want me to tie you up now?" Dean offered.
Did he have to sound so damn eager?
"N-no," Sam stammered. "There's something I want to do first. It's sort of a cleansing ritual."
"A cleansing ritual," Dean stated. His eyebrows went up again.
"Yeah. Afterwards you can tie me up and do anything you want to me."
"Anything?"
Sam nodded and bit his lower lip.
"Alright." Dean stretched out under Sam. "Go for it."
Sam quickly unbuttoned Dean's shirt and moved off of him to grab the bottle of holy water.
"You're going to do the cleansing ritual with dirty, germ-filled water?" Dean asked.
"Um... yeah."
Working as quickly as possible, Sam anointed Dean's forehead, feet, hands, and chest with the holy water then rattled off the Latin incantation.
Sam stepped away from the bed and studied Dean carefully. He didn't look any different.
"You done?" Dean asked, rising to his feet to stand next to Sam.
Sam nodded.
"Then hand me the rope."
Crap! It hadn't worked.
"You don't really want to tie me up, do you?" Sam asked nervously.
"Oh, I do. I definitely do."
Dean leaned closer. Sam closed his eyes and braced for another kiss. He could feel Dean's breath against his ear.
"I want you tied up good so that you can't get away while I beat the shit out of you, Sammy."
* * *
"You can't do this, Dean."
Dean turned away from the steering wheel of Sam's rental and glared at him.
"That witch tried to steal my life from me. Turned me into her lap dog. I think burning may be too good for her."
"We need to confront her."
"You confront her. I'm going to see if there's a stake and kindling around somewhere."
"Dean," Sam said warningly.
Ignoring his brother, Dean pulled up outside the house, the brakes squealing in protest. In a flash he was out of the car and storming up the walk that led to the house. Sam raced to catch up to him.
To Sam's surprise, Dean didn't pause to knock. He simply turned the knob and walked in. At Sam's unspoken question he said "My house, right?"
He lead Sam through a living room and into a brightly lit kitchen where the blonde woman was loading dishes into a dishwasher while the little girl colored pictures at the table.
"Why?" Dean snarled to the woman.
She turned around, shock and concern spreading over her face.
"Dean, honey, what's wrong?"
"What's wrong, Linda? First of all, how about the fact that I'm not your honey."
"Dean?" she said, voice quivering.
"I'm not too thrilled that you chose me to enchant into your personal Ken doll."
"Enchant? I didn't-"
"Daddy?"
The little girl had left the table and grabbed onto Dean's sleeve.
"Not now, sweetpea. I'm talking to your mama." Without looking down, he continued to stare at the woman at the sink. "I can't believe you made me think this was all real."
"But I didn't. I didn't do an enchantment. I would never-"
"Daddy," the little girl said again. "Be a good daddy."
Sam squatted down next to the girl. "Would you like to show me your room while your parents talk?" The girl ignored him, eyes on Dean.
"Then how do explain me thinking that we're married?"
"We're not?" The woman shook her head. "No, of course we're not. Why did I think we were? What's happened to me?"
The girl stamped her feet and glared at Dean. "Be a good Daddy!"
Pain exploded in Sam's head and the world tilted for a moment. He blinked to see Dean and the woman called Linda staring at the girl next to him.
"I want you to be a good Daddy," she yelled, stamping her foot again.
"Oh God," Linda exclaimed, covering her hand with her mouth. "I didn't realize. You must believe me, I really didn't know."
Sam rose to his feet. "It seems as though the power to enchant others is genetic."
* * *
Sam and Dean didn't say a word as they drove out of town. Once the enchantment had been dropped from the town, it hadn't taken long for them to discover the Impala parked on a nearby street. They returned the rental to a local franchise.
The town changed back to normal. The bakery and toy store disappeared from the main street. The ice cream parlor was still there only now it stood alongside a barbershop and a hardware store.
They were ten miles out of Millborough when the silence became too much for Sam.
"I'm sorry, Dean. You looked happy with a wife and daughter. I'm sorry it wasn't real."
Dean stared at Sam as if he'd lost his mind. "You think I'm freaked out because of the enchantment?"
"Um... yeah?" Sam said, turning his answer into a question.
"I'm a lot more freaked out by what you did."
Wincing, Sam asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Hell, no!"
Several miles went by before Dean spoke again.
"I can't believe you did that. Shit, Sammy. I'm your brother!"
"I had to!" Sam yelled.
"Couldn't you have just sneaked up behind me and conked me on the head or something?"
Through clenched teeth, Sam hissed, "Knocking you out sounds like a pretty good idea right about now. Excuse me for trying not to hurt you."
Dean slammed his hand down on the steering wheel. "You fucking kissed me!" he shouted.
"Yeah, well... well you drove a minivan!" Sam shouted back.
For a moment they glared at one another.
"We are never speaking of this again," Dean snarled.
"Right."
"What happened in Millborough stays in Millborough."
"Agreed."
Ten more minutes went by.
"And the next time you plan to kiss someone," Dean said, "you might want to consider a breath mint first."
"Oh, fuck you."
"Yeah, we know that's what you want now, don't we?"
Sam folded his arms across his chest. "You're the one that took almost no persuading to come to my hotel room. And you were married. Slut."
"I didn't know you were my brother. Pervert."
"Soccer mom."
Giving Sam a scowl, Dean cranked up the music to the point that more conversation was impossible. Sam settled himself back in his seat then turned toward the window to hide a smile.
It was good to have Dean back where he belonged.
The End