FIC: Sam...Sammy...Samuel. The Beginning.
Title: Sam...Sammy...Samuel. The Beginning.
Author: Anonymous and pattyposh
Pairing: Sam/Dean [top!sam for now]
Rating: NC-17?
Disclaimer: i wish they were mine. also, italicized part not written by me.
Word Count: 2,151
A/N: Okay this is the first real long-ish part of
the whole Dissociative Identity Disorder! Sammy
verse I've been talking about for a while. hopefully,
i can come up with a better title, lol. suggestions?
The part that's italicized is the original ficlet
written by an anonymous author. I included it
for those of you who hadn't had the pleasure
of reading it. I wanted to continue this story
because it really interested me, so I hope you
guys like it and find it and what i've added
just as interesting. there's plenty more to come.
COMMENTS=DEANGASMS!
you can never have enough.
=D
Dean dreads every time John has to go on an extended hunt. It's not taking care of the house or forging permissions slips but having to deal with his brother.
He doesn't know from one minute to the next, who's he talking to. Sam usually manages to stay Sam when he's at school and is usually there most of the time, sometimes emo but usually OK. Then there's Sammy, who needs hugs and wants to be around him all the time, like Sammy's Linus and Dean's the security blanket. But then there's Samuel . . .
Samuel's the personality that's dark and scary. He's as needy as Sammy but meaner about it. When he's Samuel, he wants Dean and will push aside anybody who gets in his way. He once saw Samuel in a jealous rage, try to push a girl Dean had been serious about down the stairs. A dog that bit him, he slit its throat. And lately, Samuel's interest has been taking a very weird turn, lately.
Right now, he's certain he's dealing with Sam. Sam's the one who does the homework and research and talks trash about the other classmates. During that time, Dean can make dinner and do his own homework. If he's lucky, Samuel won't appear for days and it'll just be Sam and Sammy.
They get through dinner and Dean goes to the living room to watch TV.
"Can I sit next to you?" The high uncertain voice sounds like Sammy.
"Sure, Sammy."
Sammy sat right next to him on the couch. "I want to sit on your lap."
"You're too big, Sammy. Just put your head on my shoulder."
Sammy does so and they watch the movie for a while. Dean's sleepy so he doesn't notice the first kiss on his neck but he noticed when Sammy starts nuzzling his neck. "Sammy, stop."
"It's Samuel, Dean." Samuel pushes Dean back on the couch and begins kissing him.
"Samuel, wait. We're brothers, its wrong."
"I want you . . ."
Dean used to be able to push Samuel off easily then lock himself in his bedroom but recently, he's had this enormous growth spurt so he's the same height and weight as Dean, so he's struggling. "Samuel, you're hurting me . . ."
"I need to touch you." Samuel continues kissing him and shoves his T-shirt up. "Dad says you have to keep me happy." He began toying with Dean's nipple. "I'm not a little boy anymore."
Samuel whispers into Dean's ear. "Sam and Sammy want to do it, too, you know. It's just I'm the only one who's got the guts to say so. I . . . I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just going to suck your cock, hold you in my mouth."
Samuel pulls down Dean's sweatpants and begins stroking him. "I love you, Dean. Don't be scared." Samuel slides down between Dean's legs and starts sucking on his dick like it were the best lollipop ever.
Dean tries to push his head away only to have his wrists grabbed and held down on the couch. Dean can only watch as Samuel bobs his head up and down like a pistol while making hungry noises. He's also horrified to find that Samuel is actually good at it. "Samuel, I'm about to . . ."
Samuel pulls off and Dean comes over his mouth. Samuel just smiles while licking his lips. "Made you come." Then his face crumples.
"I'm so sorry, Dean," says Sammy as he starts to cry. Samuel usually left Sammy to deal with the aftermath.
"I know, Sammy, I know."
*-*-*
“I know Sammy, I know,” Dean says, pulling the suddenly fragile boy into his arms. Sammy buries himself in Dean’s embrace, climbing up onto his brother’s lap.
“I hate what he makes us do,” Sammy whispered into his chest. Dean began stroking his brother’s long unruly hair, a soothing gesture. He held Sammy close to him, rocking them back and forth repeatedly mumbling “I know” into the young boy’s hair.
When he was certain that Sammy was finally asleep, he whispered “Me too,” in the silent night, releasing all the tears he’s been holding back all this time. He couldn’t let Sammy see him like this, the poor boy practically worshipped him, wanted to be just like Dean, if only to get their father’s approval. John Winchester was always on Sammy’s case about something, constantly yelling at the boy and degrading him over the simplest thing. One time when Sam was seven, he’d forgotten his favorite Thundercats lunchbox at school. When he told his father about it John had spent thirty minutes yelling at Sammy about how stupid he was for forgetting, he’d slapped him across the face and told him he’d better pray no one had taken it or there’d be more where that came from.
The next day, Sammy found out exactly where all that more came from.
*-*-*
Dean sat there with Sammy on the couch for a good while until he realized that his pants were still undone.
“Shit,” he cursed softly, moving to place Sammy’s still sleeping form on the other side of the couch. He clung to Dean in his sleep; Dean almost had to pry his arms off. He stood up and tucked himself back into his sweats, surveying the apartment and taking mental notes of all the trash lying about. He tried not to look at Sammy nestled there between the cushions but, nevertheless, his gaze wandered over to where his brother lay. After his reaction from tonight’s events, he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to look at his brother the same way again.
*-*-*
After he tidied up the house a bit and got cleaned up himself, he walked into the living room to find…Sam, hopefully Sam, still sleeping on the couch where he’d left him. It was starting to get pretty dark, so he headed to the kitchen to set about making dinner. “Sam?” he whispered, just to be sure that the boy was truly knocked out. Sam didn’t wake, he just casually rolled over, and Dean saw that he was sucking his thumb innocently in sleep as though he hadn’t molested his brother 20 minutes ago. Dean stared at him a moment before making his way to the kitchen sink to wash his hands.
After washing and drying off his hands, Dean rummaged around in the fridge, looking for ground beef; he was going to make burgers and maybe some French fries too. More so for Sammy’s sake than his, the boy always did enjoy Dean’s cooking; Dean seemed to have a knack in the kitchen. Dean set to work, turning on the stove and laying out everything else he’d need. He figured it’d take him about half an hour to make the meal, he poked his head out of the kitchen, once more reassuring himself that his brother was asleep; he hoped that Sam wouldn’t wake up before he finished. And, if he was being honest with himself, a tiny part of him hoped that Sam wouldn’t wake at all, once again, more for Sam’s sake than his own. Because deep down inside Dean knew that Sam, the rational part of him, his Sam, didn’t want to live like this forever, and Dean was wise enough to know that living with things constantly warring inside you was hard enough just being one person
*-*-*
Dean pulled out the pans he’s need and set them on the burners of the stove. Then, he slid over to where he set the ground beef on the counter, pulling it out of its wrapper and putting it into a bowl whereupon he began adding all the seasonings to it getting it just how he knew Sam liked it.
Truth be told, Dean liked cooking (though he’d deny it any other time) even though he mostly did it for his dad or Sam than for himself. It made him useful outside of hunting, something his father valued when he had to be gone for more than a few days on a hunt. And if Dean was being brutally honest, cooking was everything for him that hunting wasn’t. Whereas with hunting he could completely rid himself of restlessness and pent up anger and just vent his frustrations full force, with cooking he could simply relax; despite it being completely girly, Dean felt at home, felt in his element in the kitchen. Plus, his food always made Sammy happy, made him smile big and bright, made him smile Dean’s special smile, something which Dean cherished greatly.
After he finished seasoning the beef, he rolled it up into little patties and there was more than enough for both boys. He hummed as he worked, the awesome sounds of Styx’ ‘Wanted Man’ floating through his head and out of his mouth as he began placing the patties on the frying pan.
He felt arms circling his waist as he set down the last patty, arms that roughly pulled him back into something solid. “Shit Sam!” he cursed, more so because he hadn’t even heard his brother move, than anything else. As Sam leaned in to nuzzle at Dean’s neck, a small part of Dean was still amazed that his brother was almost as tall as he was now, thanks to numerous growth spurts. He quickly forgot about that as Sam bit his neck, hard. Sam’s mouth swept over his ear. Pausing to whisper darkly “It’s Samuel, Dean. I thought we went through this already,” Dean stiffened.
“Well Samuel,” he said putting emphasis on his brother’s name as he tried in vain to remove himself from his brother’s grasp, “why don’t you sit down and let me finish making dinner.” It wasn’t a suggestion.
Samuel only clutched him tighter, and ground his hips against Dean’s ass. Apparently, little Sammy had had enough of sleeping. “God Dean, see what you do to me?” he said, breaths becoming erratic as he continued grinding against his brother. “You don’t know how fucking hot you are when you’re in this kitchen cooking for me,” Dean shuddered, “You get all three of us worked up. Y’know Sam? He won’t admit it but I can feel him here, little innocent Sammy too, and let me tell you, they wanna bend you over this counter and fuck your perfect ass raw almost as much as I do, Big Brother,” he said mockingly. Dean gasped at his brothers words, he knew he was lying - the other two loved him sure, loved him like a brother, maybe even like a father but neither of them had the darker urges that Samuel did. But, it worried him that Samuel did have those urges, because in truth it meant that a part of Sam, his Sam, wanted Dean in a way that was illegal, illogical, and impossible; a way that no brother should. And what worried Dean even more was that maybe, deep down, he returned his brother’s feelings, however unnatural they may be, but he didn’t want Sam like this. He didn’t want this twisted version of his brother that savagely lusted after him, he just wanted his Sam back...he just wanted his little brother.
He tried to pull away again, “No, Samuel!” he said roughly, trying to elbow his brother off of him. He only managed to get a step away before he felt his brother’s arms closing around him like a vice. “Dean!” Samuel shouted frantically, “Need you Dean, always need you,” he whispered, near breathless, as he held his brother in his arms.
Refusal was on the tip of Dean’s tongue but, then…then he heard his father’s voice in his head - ‘Keep Sammy happy Dean, keep him safe. That’s what’s most important,’ words that had become engrained in his being since they discovered Sam’s illness all those years ago. Dean could feel his walls crumbling, and he stopped resisting.
‘Keep Sammy Happy’
“Okay, Samuel,” he said numbly, taking his brother’s hand in his own and bringing it up to his mouth for a kiss, “Okay,” he said again. Samuel made a contented noise behind him, “So good Dean, I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he said lustily, beginning to run his hands up and down Dean’s sides.
Dean closed his eyes, “Okay Sammy,” and despite the fact that he could smell the meat starting to burn, he didn’t care. Nothing else, nothing, mattered more in the world to him than this fragile boy before him, nothing save for the broken pieces of his brother, his Sammy, that he hoped to put back together again someday. If bending over and taking it, or giving , or just letting his brother tug his sweats down like he was now, if that was the only way to get his Sam back, then Dean would do it. He’d do anything for his brother.
Author: Anonymous and pattyposh
Pairing: Sam/Dean [top!sam for now]
Rating: NC-17?
Disclaimer: i wish they were mine. also, italicized part not written by me.
Word Count: 2,151
A/N: Okay this is the first real long-ish part of
the whole Dissociative Identity Disorder! Sammy
verse I've been talking about for a while. hopefully,
i can come up with a better title, lol. suggestions?
The part that's italicized is the original ficlet
written by an anonymous author. I included it
for those of you who hadn't had the pleasure
of reading it. I wanted to continue this story
because it really interested me, so I hope you
guys like it and find it and what i've added
just as interesting. there's plenty more to come.
COMMENTS=DEANGASMS!
you can never have enough.
=D
Dean dreads every time John has to go on an extended hunt. It's not taking care of the house or forging permissions slips but having to deal with his brother.
He doesn't know from one minute to the next, who's he talking to. Sam usually manages to stay Sam when he's at school and is usually there most of the time, sometimes emo but usually OK. Then there's Sammy, who needs hugs and wants to be around him all the time, like Sammy's Linus and Dean's the security blanket. But then there's Samuel . . .
Samuel's the personality that's dark and scary. He's as needy as Sammy but meaner about it. When he's Samuel, he wants Dean and will push aside anybody who gets in his way. He once saw Samuel in a jealous rage, try to push a girl Dean had been serious about down the stairs. A dog that bit him, he slit its throat. And lately, Samuel's interest has been taking a very weird turn, lately.
Right now, he's certain he's dealing with Sam. Sam's the one who does the homework and research and talks trash about the other classmates. During that time, Dean can make dinner and do his own homework. If he's lucky, Samuel won't appear for days and it'll just be Sam and Sammy.
They get through dinner and Dean goes to the living room to watch TV.
"Can I sit next to you?" The high uncertain voice sounds like Sammy.
"Sure, Sammy."
Sammy sat right next to him on the couch. "I want to sit on your lap."
"You're too big, Sammy. Just put your head on my shoulder."
Sammy does so and they watch the movie for a while. Dean's sleepy so he doesn't notice the first kiss on his neck but he noticed when Sammy starts nuzzling his neck. "Sammy, stop."
"It's Samuel, Dean." Samuel pushes Dean back on the couch and begins kissing him.
"Samuel, wait. We're brothers, its wrong."
"I want you . . ."
Dean used to be able to push Samuel off easily then lock himself in his bedroom but recently, he's had this enormous growth spurt so he's the same height and weight as Dean, so he's struggling. "Samuel, you're hurting me . . ."
"I need to touch you." Samuel continues kissing him and shoves his T-shirt up. "Dad says you have to keep me happy." He began toying with Dean's nipple. "I'm not a little boy anymore."
Samuel whispers into Dean's ear. "Sam and Sammy want to do it, too, you know. It's just I'm the only one who's got the guts to say so. I . . . I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just going to suck your cock, hold you in my mouth."
Samuel pulls down Dean's sweatpants and begins stroking him. "I love you, Dean. Don't be scared." Samuel slides down between Dean's legs and starts sucking on his dick like it were the best lollipop ever.
Dean tries to push his head away only to have his wrists grabbed and held down on the couch. Dean can only watch as Samuel bobs his head up and down like a pistol while making hungry noises. He's also horrified to find that Samuel is actually good at it. "Samuel, I'm about to . . ."
Samuel pulls off and Dean comes over his mouth. Samuel just smiles while licking his lips. "Made you come." Then his face crumples.
"I'm so sorry, Dean," says Sammy as he starts to cry. Samuel usually left Sammy to deal with the aftermath.
"I know, Sammy, I know."
*-*-*
“I know Sammy, I know,” Dean says, pulling the suddenly fragile boy into his arms. Sammy buries himself in Dean’s embrace, climbing up onto his brother’s lap.
“I hate what he makes us do,” Sammy whispered into his chest. Dean began stroking his brother’s long unruly hair, a soothing gesture. He held Sammy close to him, rocking them back and forth repeatedly mumbling “I know” into the young boy’s hair.
When he was certain that Sammy was finally asleep, he whispered “Me too,” in the silent night, releasing all the tears he’s been holding back all this time. He couldn’t let Sammy see him like this, the poor boy practically worshipped him, wanted to be just like Dean, if only to get their father’s approval. John Winchester was always on Sammy’s case about something, constantly yelling at the boy and degrading him over the simplest thing. One time when Sam was seven, he’d forgotten his favorite Thundercats lunchbox at school. When he told his father about it John had spent thirty minutes yelling at Sammy about how stupid he was for forgetting, he’d slapped him across the face and told him he’d better pray no one had taken it or there’d be more where that came from.
The next day, Sammy found out exactly where all that more came from.
*-*-*
Dean sat there with Sammy on the couch for a good while until he realized that his pants were still undone.
“Shit,” he cursed softly, moving to place Sammy’s still sleeping form on the other side of the couch. He clung to Dean in his sleep; Dean almost had to pry his arms off. He stood up and tucked himself back into his sweats, surveying the apartment and taking mental notes of all the trash lying about. He tried not to look at Sammy nestled there between the cushions but, nevertheless, his gaze wandered over to where his brother lay. After his reaction from tonight’s events, he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to look at his brother the same way again.
*-*-*
After he tidied up the house a bit and got cleaned up himself, he walked into the living room to find…Sam, hopefully Sam, still sleeping on the couch where he’d left him. It was starting to get pretty dark, so he headed to the kitchen to set about making dinner. “Sam?” he whispered, just to be sure that the boy was truly knocked out. Sam didn’t wake, he just casually rolled over, and Dean saw that he was sucking his thumb innocently in sleep as though he hadn’t molested his brother 20 minutes ago. Dean stared at him a moment before making his way to the kitchen sink to wash his hands.
After washing and drying off his hands, Dean rummaged around in the fridge, looking for ground beef; he was going to make burgers and maybe some French fries too. More so for Sammy’s sake than his, the boy always did enjoy Dean’s cooking; Dean seemed to have a knack in the kitchen. Dean set to work, turning on the stove and laying out everything else he’d need. He figured it’d take him about half an hour to make the meal, he poked his head out of the kitchen, once more reassuring himself that his brother was asleep; he hoped that Sam wouldn’t wake up before he finished. And, if he was being honest with himself, a tiny part of him hoped that Sam wouldn’t wake at all, once again, more for Sam’s sake than his own. Because deep down inside Dean knew that Sam, the rational part of him, his Sam, didn’t want to live like this forever, and Dean was wise enough to know that living with things constantly warring inside you was hard enough just being one person
*-*-*
Dean pulled out the pans he’s need and set them on the burners of the stove. Then, he slid over to where he set the ground beef on the counter, pulling it out of its wrapper and putting it into a bowl whereupon he began adding all the seasonings to it getting it just how he knew Sam liked it.
Truth be told, Dean liked cooking (though he’d deny it any other time) even though he mostly did it for his dad or Sam than for himself. It made him useful outside of hunting, something his father valued when he had to be gone for more than a few days on a hunt. And if Dean was being brutally honest, cooking was everything for him that hunting wasn’t. Whereas with hunting he could completely rid himself of restlessness and pent up anger and just vent his frustrations full force, with cooking he could simply relax; despite it being completely girly, Dean felt at home, felt in his element in the kitchen. Plus, his food always made Sammy happy, made him smile big and bright, made him smile Dean’s special smile, something which Dean cherished greatly.
After he finished seasoning the beef, he rolled it up into little patties and there was more than enough for both boys. He hummed as he worked, the awesome sounds of Styx’ ‘Wanted Man’ floating through his head and out of his mouth as he began placing the patties on the frying pan.
He felt arms circling his waist as he set down the last patty, arms that roughly pulled him back into something solid. “Shit Sam!” he cursed, more so because he hadn’t even heard his brother move, than anything else. As Sam leaned in to nuzzle at Dean’s neck, a small part of Dean was still amazed that his brother was almost as tall as he was now, thanks to numerous growth spurts. He quickly forgot about that as Sam bit his neck, hard. Sam’s mouth swept over his ear. Pausing to whisper darkly “It’s Samuel, Dean. I thought we went through this already,” Dean stiffened.
“Well Samuel,” he said putting emphasis on his brother’s name as he tried in vain to remove himself from his brother’s grasp, “why don’t you sit down and let me finish making dinner.” It wasn’t a suggestion.
Samuel only clutched him tighter, and ground his hips against Dean’s ass. Apparently, little Sammy had had enough of sleeping. “God Dean, see what you do to me?” he said, breaths becoming erratic as he continued grinding against his brother. “You don’t know how fucking hot you are when you’re in this kitchen cooking for me,” Dean shuddered, “You get all three of us worked up. Y’know Sam? He won’t admit it but I can feel him here, little innocent Sammy too, and let me tell you, they wanna bend you over this counter and fuck your perfect ass raw almost as much as I do, Big Brother,” he said mockingly. Dean gasped at his brothers words, he knew he was lying - the other two loved him sure, loved him like a brother, maybe even like a father but neither of them had the darker urges that Samuel did. But, it worried him that Samuel did have those urges, because in truth it meant that a part of Sam, his Sam, wanted Dean in a way that was illegal, illogical, and impossible; a way that no brother should. And what worried Dean even more was that maybe, deep down, he returned his brother’s feelings, however unnatural they may be, but he didn’t want Sam like this. He didn’t want this twisted version of his brother that savagely lusted after him, he just wanted his Sam back...he just wanted his little brother.
He tried to pull away again, “No, Samuel!” he said roughly, trying to elbow his brother off of him. He only managed to get a step away before he felt his brother’s arms closing around him like a vice. “Dean!” Samuel shouted frantically, “Need you Dean, always need you,” he whispered, near breathless, as he held his brother in his arms.
Refusal was on the tip of Dean’s tongue but, then…then he heard his father’s voice in his head - ‘Keep Sammy happy Dean, keep him safe. That’s what’s most important,’ words that had become engrained in his being since they discovered Sam’s illness all those years ago. Dean could feel his walls crumbling, and he stopped resisting.
‘Keep Sammy Happy’
“Okay, Samuel,” he said numbly, taking his brother’s hand in his own and bringing it up to his mouth for a kiss, “Okay,” he said again. Samuel made a contented noise behind him, “So good Dean, I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he said lustily, beginning to run his hands up and down Dean’s sides.
Dean closed his eyes, “Okay Sammy,” and despite the fact that he could smell the meat starting to burn, he didn’t care. Nothing else, nothing, mattered more in the world to him than this fragile boy before him, nothing save for the broken pieces of his brother, his Sammy, that he hoped to put back together again someday. If bending over and taking it, or giving , or just letting his brother tug his sweats down like he was now, if that was the only way to get his Sam back, then Dean would do it. He’d do anything for his brother.