New: Ain't No Grave Gonna Hold My Body Down 2/3 (SPN-Sam/Dean) [NC-17]
Author: Rini (myficjournal) and Saklani (saklani2)
Title: Ain’t No Grave Gonna Hold My Body Down
Codes: Sam/Dean, Dean/OFC
Series: SPN
Rating: NC-17
Beta: Lyns from runedgirl
Summary: It’s almost Halloween, and Sam’s getting visions of his Stanford friends dying at the hands of a vengeful spirit. Worse yet, the spirit is Jess. Sam needs his brother’s support to fight and survive old ghosts, but Dean’s got troubles of his own.
Word Count: 25,111
Disclaimer: We don’t own them. We mean them no harm. We make no profit.
Posting: Please ask first!
Author's Notes: My annual Halloween fic, and the first with my lovely co-author, Rini! *hugs* This is our second foray into SPN. We hope you enjoy!
Body, mind and soul weary from the events of the past few days, Sam slipped into sleep almost instantly. For about four hours, he managed a deep, dreamless rest, but about one a.m., images began to fill his head. He shifted restlessly on the sheets, moaning softly. As the images became more vivid, Sam thrashed and cried out loudly.
Dean woke as soon Sam started thrashing. He pushed up in bed, rubbing a hand over his face and looking over to his brother's bed. "Sam? You okay, Sammy?"
Sam's body flopped around, tangling him in the sheets. His voice rose even louder, reverberating off the walls. The images intensified -- Jess reached for him from the ceiling, hands aflame. "Jess!"
Flying into action, Dean flung himself from his bed to Sam's, grabbing his brother by the shoulders and trying to hold on to him. "Sammy, wake up. C'mon, Sammy. It's just a nightmare, you need to wake up."
Jess grabbed him by the shoulders, tried to hold him down, set him aflame. Sam fought, trying to throw Jess off. "Please, Jess. Please! I'm sorry. Please!"
"Damn it, Sam! Wake up!" Dean held him tightly and then shook him hard. "C'mon and wake up now, Sammy!"
A familiar voice echoed in Sam's dreams, pulling him back toward reality. He struggled toward consciousness, away from his grisly dreams. Eyes dragging open, he found himself in his bed, wrapped in Dean's arms. "Dean. Oh God, Jess." He grabbed hold of Dean, squeezing his brother close.
Dean breathed out when Sam's eyes registered reality instead of dream and held tight to his brother while Sam clung to him. "It's okay. I've got you and the visions of Jess were just a nightmare." He rocked Sam a bit, slowly and unconsciously trying to get Sam to relax again.
Sam slid his hands down to grip Dean more tightly, burying his face in Dean's neck. "Dean," he said, “they're worse than before. Worse than ever. Don't leave me, Dean."
"I've got you, Sam. Not going anywhere. Right here." Dean murmured the words quietly, rocking Sam gently. He stroked one hand down Sam's back and held his shoulder in a fierce grip.
Sam sobbed into the warm skin, wrapping his legs around Dean to tighten his hold even more. "I killed her, Dean. It's my fault. I should let her get me."
Dean's heart broke all over again for Sam. "You didn't kill her...it's not your fault." He stroked Sam's back, hugging him tighter and thought of how he'd dispatch Jess to hell.
The words bounced out of Sam's ears, not making any sense to him in his current state. He just knew he needed Dean near, his only stability in a world gone mad. His fingers gripped into strong shoulders. "Don't go, Dean. Stay here?"
"Not leaving, Sam. Right here." Dean continued to rock, hoping his brother would calm enough to sink back into his bed.
Sam's lips brushed against Dean's neck when he pressed in tighter. "Can't take this much longer, Dean. Visions, nightmares, Jess' ghost killing our friends. I don't want this life."
Dean closed his eyes, breath shuddering out at the feel of Sam's lips on his skin. "I know, Sam. I wish you'd never had to live this life."
"You brought me back into it," Sam said without accusation. He sighed and settled back into the pillows, holding on to Dean. "And now I need you."
Opening his eyes, Dean simply nodded and settled onto the bed next to him. "I'm sorry, Sam," he murmured, tugging so that his brother lay curled into and around him. "I never meant for this to happen."
Sam nodded and huffed a warm breath over the moist spot he'd left a moment before. "I know, Dean. I know." He rolled until he was completely comfortable in Dean's arms. He rubbed his hands over and over Dean's back and side, drawing more comfort from the touches.
Dean huffed out a breath and closed his eyes again, hand stroking slow and gentle over Sam's back while praying that his brother was able to find some sleep. He'd stand guard and watch over him.
The hands on his back soothed Sam to the point where his body relaxed again, wanting more sleep. But even with Dean close, images of Jess haunted him when his eyes closed. "Dean?" he whispered softly. "Do you remember how you used to get me to sleep? When I was little."
Laughing softly, Dean nodded. "Yeah, course I do, Sammy-boy. It was the only way you'd go to sleep for a long, long time." He shifted slightly, just enough to be able to trace the letters of their names into Sam's lower back. For years, Dean had spelled out dad's name, mom's name and both of their names while singing their mother's favorite lullaby to Sam. He stopped wanting the sleep ritual somewhere about fourth or fifth grade, and Dean had missed it since then.
Sam sighed and pressed his mouth against Dean's skin again. He closed his eyes and let the feel of Dean's hands and the sound of his voice lull him into a warm sense of security. "You're the only one who can take care of me."
The thought both warmed and chilled Dean. He loved that he could care for Sam, but also hated that Sam felt so isolated and so incapable of being cared for by someone else. Dean knew that wasn't the case with Jess and there were times (especially now) when Dean wished that Sam still had that and had her and that Dean could have just continued to bury his feelings between the legs of the willing people he met on the road.
"Love you, Dean," Sam mumbled as his eyes slid closed, and he drifted into blissfully dreamless sleep.
~~~~~~~
Sam led Dean into the Sisters of Serenity's meeting place with trepidation. Despite his brother's promise not to make any remarks, he knew the crystal balls, gemstones, earth tones and statuary would tickle his brother's funny bone. And despite outward appearances, the Sisters were not to be taken lightly. They could and would bring down the whammy on anyone who riled them. "You promised."
Dean opened his mouth and then shut it with an audible clack. "Fine. I promised." He clenched his teeth and fisted his hands in his jean pockets. "I'll let you do all that talking."
Sam nodded and turned when a matronly figure dressed in a diaphanous gown swirled in. He smiled at her brightly, trying to broadcast how grateful they were for an audience. "I'm-"
"Sam and Dean Winchester," she said with a dreamy wave of her hand. "I am Penelope. You wish to know about your friend, Melissa, who has done a very terrible thing."
Watching Penelope swirl into the room, it took everything Dean had to not snort. When she brought out their and Melissa’s names, he tensed and furrowed his brows slightly.
"Yeah," Sam said with a nod. "She- uh, raised a friend of mine and seems to have brought her back wrong."
"There is no way to bring back the dead right, Sam Winchester. Melissa came to us some weeks ago to ask for a spell to raise the dead. We naturally told her that such things were not a part of the magic we practice." Penelope swirled to the other side of the room, picking up one of the crystals. "We specialize in bringing the world into harmony, not ripping it apart."
That caused Dean to snort, hands coming out of his pockets so he could cross his arms over his chest. He didn’t believe that magic could ever be used for good purposes.
Penelope shot Dean a glare and then arched an eyebrow. "A disbeliever, I see." She turned back to Sam. "We sent Melissa on her way, but there are other ways of gaining the knowledge she sought. People more interested in profit than the dangers of unleashing evil on this world."
Sam grimaced slightly at Dean's reaction and tried his best to look charming when Penelope returned her attention to him. "Do you know what spell she tried?"
Penelope nodded once. "We attempted to counteract the effects, but the Invocation of Balberith is a powerful spell. And one that even the most experienced spell caster would hesitate to attempt."
"Which is why Melissa is now dead, and Jess is taking others out left and right." Dean grumbled, uncrossing his arms and pacing slightly from her perch near the door.
Penelope merely nodded once. "She returned strong and angry. And to counteract the spell, you will need the ’Psychomantium.’ Only through its powers can your Jess be returned to her grave. Until then she has all the weaknesses of a normal spirit, except that you cannot salt and burn her remains."
Dean stopped at that and looked speculatively at Penelope. "You mean iron'll still work? And salt?"
"To temporarily drive her away, but no more than that. And your Sam will draw her as a fly to honey. His aura is further darkened and disturbed by her desire to destroy him." Penelope fiddled through the drawers of a small bureau and pulled out an amulet in the shape of a hand with a dull red stone inset in the middle. "This will slow her attacks, but she is powerful enough to destroy you despite the protection this offers." She held it out to Sam, who took it and slipped it over his head without question.
"Thank you," Sam said softly, running his hand over the amulet.
Glaring at the amulet around Sam's neck, Dean cleared his throat and looked at Penelope. "Why does she want to destroy him?"
"She is destroying all vestiges of her life. All those close to her. And who is closer than Sam? Who is closer than the one who brought death to her door?"
Sam hung his head and nodded once, accepting the words as truth.
"Damn it." Dean wheeled on them both. "It wasn't Sam's fault." He glowered at the suggestion that it might've been. "The only thing responsible is the demon."
Penelope smiled at him. "Always the brave protector. Ready to jump in front of any bullet aimed at your Sammy. Your aura is so much lighter than his and always has been." She folded her hands together. "Obtaining another copy of what you seek shall not be easy. The police keep the copy they found under lock and key, but that may yet be your best bet for obtaining the ’Psychomantium’."
Sam lifted his head and sighed. "I don't suppose you can make Dean's rap sheet go away?"
Penelope laughed and shook her head. "I fear such things are beyond our abilities. I can offer you nothing more than what has already been given. Take it with our blessings and wishes for luck. Bringing Jessica to rest will be a good deed for many a reason." Penelope inclined her head and disappeared back through the curtains.
Sam looked at Dean and gestured for them to leave. As they walked out the door, he said, "I have to get the book alone, Dean."
"No way, Sam, I'm not letting you take that chance." Dean looked back at the building they'd just left and sighed.
"You can't break into a police station. Murder charge sound familiar to you? Bad enough if I get caught but you..." Sam shook his head firmly. "And I'll take all the right protections, keep Jess away long enough to get the book."
Dean shook his head again. "There's no way either of us can go in there alone. We need to do this together...it's the best way to make sure it works out right."
Sam looked away, tension tight in his shoulders and back. "Twice as likely to get caught with two of us, too," he said. "I am not fucking losing you to a needle in your arm, Dean, not after surviving all this other crap!"
Sighing, Dean led Sam to the car, not exactly stomping, but not walking softly either. "The last thing I want is to go anywhere, Sam, but if you get caught alone, you’re vulnerable to Jess."
Sam banged his head against the Impala. Stalemate. His brother would never let him out of his sight while Jess hunted him. Which left them no option but to break in together and pray the police did not catch them. Jess would have every option to tear him to bits while he was unprotected in a holding cell, and no jury in the world would settle for anything less than the death penalty for Dean. "I really hate my life."
"Yeah, I know you do, Sam."
Sam lifted tired eyes to Dean's. "One break. Is that too much to ask?" He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I don't know how you manage it, Dean. Penelope said that your aura is light, pure. How do you get through all this crap without ending up as dark as I am?"
Dean blushed, rubbing at the back of his neck, and shrugged. "I don't have a clue what she was rambling about, Sammy." He moved to the driver's door and tugged it open, hand resting on the roof. "I'm just me, and I do what I have to do to get through it all.
Sam snorted and climbed into the car. "You were born for this, Dean. I just made sure you ended up here."
Wrinkling his brow, Dean slid into the car and shut the door. "None of it's your fault, Sam."
"For whatever reason, I bring the evil, Dean. Once you might wave off, but twice is too often. And because of the demon, dad went crazy and became a hunter and took us along for the ride. And you -- you were always all right with it all. But I've never been, not since I really understood what it meant." Sam sighed and wiped his eyes again. "But I won’t leave you out here all alone.”
And that was the reason Dean would have to leave without Sammy knowing. Once they'd dealt with the demon, he'd let Sam head off to his own life. “Maybe someday this'll all be over, Sammy. It's what we're trying to do."
"Evil won't vanish, Dean. It'll always be out there. And you'll always want to fight it." Sam leaned back in his seat, propping his chin in one hand. "And I'll always be tagging along with you."
Not if he could help it, Dean thought, but he knew better than to continue that conversation. "Back to the room, Sam? Or is there somewhere else we need to go?"
"We need to plan how to break into the police evidence lockers," Sam said, "and that's going to take me a hell of a lot of research. So, library. I jut hope they have some building plans."
Dean nodded, started the car, put it in gear and headed them toward the library.
~~~~~~~
Sam should have expected the attack, but when Jess appeared right next to him while they strolled back to the Impala after an insipid dinner at yet another greasy spoon, he merely gaped in shock. And went pile driving face first into the asphalt when she hit him with strength any defensive lineman would have killed for.
Dean trailed a few extra steps behind Sam, unable to resist winking at the waitress one more time and tucking the napkin with a phone number he'd never call into his pocket. He turned when Sam went skidding down, hollering to get Jessica’s attention. She never took her gaze off Sam.
Rolling over on his side, Sam reached for his gun, but ended up with empty air instead. He rolled to his feet, eyes desperately searching the ground and finding his gun lying across the pavement. Looking up at Dean, Sam opened his mouth to tell him that his gun had been lost, when Jess jabbed a fist right through his chest. He gasped in sick shock, the pain worse than the time the Woman in White had grabbed at his heart.
"Sam!" Dean tore across the pavement, fast as he could, gun drawn from the back of his pants and iron blade pulled from its sheath. "Sam! Drop! I need a clear shot." He leveled the gun and kept running, hoping that Sam could move out of his way.
The amulet flared suddenly, hot and sharp, and Jess shrieked, her hands yanking back from his chest. She struck him across the face, blood splattering the ground, even when he hit the asphalt again. "Shoot her, Dean!" he yelled through a mouthful of copper.
Dean didn't hesitate. As soon as Sam was out of range, he shot Jess square in the torso with a round of salt and watched her flicker out. He knew better than to assume that she was gone, not with one shot, so he loaded another round in the chamber and dropped to one knee to haul Sam to his feet. "Get in the car, Sam. Now!"
Sam didn’t bother to answer, just scrambled to his feet and made a beeline for the Impala. He made it twenty feet before Jess appeared again, beautiful face twisted with an even more insane rage than before. He dove for the ground, rolling under her strike and scrambled along on his hands and knees.
Shouting obscenities at Jess, Dean charged her and shot another round of rock salt at her, wincing when it sliced through her and into his car. That was going to hurt, and Dean would have to make it up to his baby later. “C’mon Sam, move. She’s not giving up easy, and I want you back at the motel.” Dean spun back around, moving backward toward the car with a full turn every so many feet to keep his eyes on their surroundings.
Sam winced and scrambled back up to his feet, sprinting full out for the Impala. He hated to see his brother blow chunks of salt through his beloved car and didn't want to give Jess another chance to attack. Vaulting across the hood, he grabbed for the handle and was struck in the side. Hitting the ground with Jess on top of him, clawing at his throat, Sam fought for his breath. He felt the amulet flare again, causing Jess to shriek and pull back. "Get away from me!" he yelled hoarsely, hating himself even as he did.
Rounding the car, Dean yelled for Sam to duck again and shot off another round of salt before yanking the door open and shoving Sam inside. He wasn't at all sure that his baby would protect Sam from Jess and wanted to get the hell out of there. With the door closed behind Sam, Dean sprinted to his door and slid behind the wheel. Dean had the car started and in gear in seconds, peeling out of the parking lot and hoping that Jess couldn't get at them now.
Sam slammed into the side of the door as Dean pulled out of the parking lot. His nose and mouth dripped blood freely, and he cupped his hands under them to prevent getting it all over the interior. "Fuck. Shoulda seen that coming, Dean."
"Why do you think I had everything under my coat?" Not that it had done much good since Sam was torn up, but Dean felt some satisfaction that he'd shot her a couple of times. He was surprised that the charm Penelope gave Sam worked and was grateful that she'd been willing to hand it over. "Won't be happy until I have you behind the salt lines."
"Did you pick up my gun, Dean? It came out during the struggle." Sam's voice and body shook. He tried to force himself to calm down, but the image of Jess' face while she attacked him made the effort impossible. "She- I told her to get away from me. I never told her that before. Oh fuck."
"You had no choice, Sam. It's not really, Jess. You know that." Dean reached over and patted Sam's knee awkwardly before putting both hands back on the wheel. "I grabbed your gun, don't worry about it."
When Dean's hand left, Sam slid over to settle one bloody hand on Dean's leg, leaving a print. With the other, he fastened his belt and then grabbed a rag to clean off the worst of the damage. "It's whatever remains of her that Melissa brought back," he whispered.
"Which is not her. Even Penelope said you can't bring people back right - so, that was not Jess." Dean looked down at Sam's hand, gulping and trying not to think about it. Yeah, right...not think about Sam's hand on his leg for the second day in a row.
Sam swallowed hard and nodded, squeezing Dean's leg in thanks. "It's just a nightmare of a nightmare," he said. "Bad enough to dream of her burning on the ceiling, without adding her tormented spirit attacking me." He breathed out sharply. "We need that book, Dean. The thought of her stuck like this... it hurts worse than the physical attacks."
Dean sighed, hand coming down to pat Sam's. "We can go tonight, if you want. I just want this to be over for you."
Sam shook his head. "I need to finish putting together a plan from the building schematics I got today. And we need some ideas for how to get you in without being recognized." He turned his fingers to catch Dean's hand, entwining them together. "Tomorrow's Halloween."
Gulping again, Dean looked at Sam's hand and then back at the road. He curled his fingers slightly into Sam's and left them there, trying not to breathe faster at the touch. Sam hadn't held his hand since he was able to cross the street on his own, a good fifteen years before. "I'm not wearing a costume, Sam. So, get that right out of your mind."
Sam shook his head. "You showed up on Halloween, a year ago, to tear me out of my stupid little dreams." He stroked Dean's fingers with his own. "Gave me another reason to hate Halloween. And if we're lucky, tomorrow night, we can lay Jess to rest. And give me another reason."
Dean sighed, hating that so much bad had happened to Sam around this time of year. Jess burned the same day as their mother, so it was no wonder Sam wanted nothing to do with this time of year or their work. Dean decided to give considerable thought into leaving Sam to find a real life - something Dean was sure he wanted to do without Dean there to contaminate it. He'd keep tabs on Sam, like he did before, but knew he needed to be strong enough to leave his brother to a life he could find happiness in.
Sam straightened when they reached the motel, but kept his grip on Dean's hand. "Guess we're going to have to make a run for the motel room. Hope the salt lines keep her out."
"I want you to run first, Sam. Just get your ass in there and get inside those lines. Check them all." Dean pulled into the spot, parking and shutting off the car. "Take your gun and be ready, but get inside. I'll cover you from out here and follow. Okay?" He turned to look at his brother, fingers tightening to make him realize how serious Dean was.
Sam squeezed back and smiled a little for Dean. "Good plan, big bro." He took a deep breath, accepted his gun from Dean, threw open the car door and raced for the motel room. He fumbled momentarily with the lock, and then fell inside. Keeping his gun ready, he checked the salt lines and got out of the way so Dean could get in.
Surprised that Jess didn't show up, Dean took it for the blessing it was and ran backward into the room. He stepped over the lines and slammed the door shut. "Think we should be okay now, Sammy. She didn't like the salt in the guns, so she likely can't cross our lines. Get settled while I check them all to be sure they’re in place." Without waiting for agreement, Dean went straight for the window closest to him and started to double check their lines.
Sam sat on the bed, covered in blood and dead tired, but smiling at Dean’s fussing. He felt warm, cared for, and that pushed away the awful ache of Jess' haunting and the deaths of his friends. He had Dean and would never be alone. "Can you help me clean up?" he asked softly, knowing Dean seldom refused him anything. He didn't need help, but he wanted Dean's warm hands soothing the wounds.
Startled, Dean turned from the window, an excuse ready on his lips. He bit it back at the expression on Sam's face and nodded. "Of course, Sammy. Let me finish the lines." Once he was certain that he'd checked them all, completed them, Dean turned back to Sam and walked to his side. "Let me see what she did to you, Sam."
Sam lifted his face toward Dean. "You tell me what it looks like, Dean." He reached down and began pulling off his shirts, thinking of Jess' hands on and in his chest.
"You're looking a bit rough around the edges, but nothing we can't fix." Dean smiled, lopsided, and reached out a gentle hand to trail over the side of his face. He grunted when he saw the scorch marks on Sam's chest, worst at the edges away from the amulet. Reaching down to lightly skim the edge of the worst part of the burn, Dean pulled back to find the first aid kit and the burn cream they had.
Sam's eyes fluttered shut when Dean's fingers traced over his wounds. "Would you take care of them?" Sam asked, voice soft and hopeful.
"Of course." Dean moved back to the bed with the burn cream and bandages and placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Check your legs while I get a washcloth."
Sam glanced down at his legs and then removed his shoes, socks and pants. His legs were scratched and bruised, but nothing worse. "They're not bad, Dean. Just a few bruises and scratches. It's my face that hurts."
"Yeah, and it's going to for a bit." Dean called from the bathroom, yelling over the running water. "She really went for the cheekbones. They hurt like a bitch and bloom up colorful." He walked back to Sam, wet washcloth and a dry towel in hand. "You sure you don't want to get this on your own?"
Sam's eyes turned toward the floor. "Sure, if you prefer." He reached for the towels without expression.
Dean stopped Sam's hand, curling around it and bringing it back to rest in his lap. He reached out and tilted Sam's face up. "Don't do this because you think you should. If you want me to fix you up, I will." His smile was soft, caring, and just a bit exasperated by Sam's misunderstanding him.
Sam nudged his chin against Dean's gentle hand. "I want you to fix me up, Dean," he said softly. "Please."
Dean rubbed Sam's face gently and then pulled back to get the washcloth. He held Sam's chin, gently dabbed at the blood dotting Sam's face and then swiped the towel gently over his chest and arms before tossing the cloth in the general direction of the bathroom. Dean took the other towel and slowly dried Sam off, cleaning him up and then putting it to the side. "Doing okay so far?"
Sam sighed and rested his chin even more firmly in Dean's hand. "Yeah. Always feel better when you take care of me." He winced when the burn marks stung. "Burns are a bit painful."
"Yeah, they are." Dean reached down for the burn cream and opened the tube, slathering a decent layer over the burns on Sam's chest. They were red and inflamed, but hopefully light enough they wouldn't hurt Sam for too long. Jess had done a number on him, and Dean hoped he had a shot at her to pay her back for the damage. "Does that hurt too much?"
Sam sighed and pushed against the gentle touches, allowing himself to enjoy the sensation. "It feels good, Dean. Don't stop."
"Okay." Dean grinned and pulled his hands back to grab the bandages, taping a couple of them over the largest section of the chest burns. He took Sam's chin in his hand again, tilting his face left and right. "I don't think there's anything we can really do for your face. It's just a bunch of large bruises, no actual cuts. You want me to get you some raw steak, Sammy?”
Sam covered Dean's hand with his own and nuzzled into it slightly. "Nah, it's all right. I just want to curl up and sleep for awhile." He looked up at Dean and smiled. "After a shower."
Dean chuckled and stroked his thumb over Sam's cheek gently. "Yeah, you should get cleaned up...though maybe we should have had you do that before we bandaged you." Dean dropped his hand to his side and then backed up to tug off his boots.
"Oh." Sam blushed and felt stupid. "I guess I'll shower in the morning then." He stretched and winced slightly at the pull on his wounds. "I got lucky, Dean. Without this charm-" he fingered the amulet "-she would have ripped my heart right out. I think that's what she meant to do."
Wincing in empathy, Dean nodded. "Yeah, we’ll have to thank Penelope when this is all over." He stepped in and pressed his hand on Sam's shoulder, bringing him in for a gentle hug.
Startled and then warmed by the hug, Sam wrapped himself around Dean and hung on. He settled his forehead into Dean's shoulder and sighed once. "I don't want to go to bed alone, Dean."
"You don't...oh, okay. Sure. You want to slide into bed and then I'll climb in once I'm clean." Dean rubbed Sam's back, sliding his large hand up and down one of the few uninjured areas.
Sam sighed and released Dean, scooting up to rest his head on the pillows. He relaxed completely in Dean's presence. "I can't sleep unless you're with me, Dean."
Dean nodded. "Just rest for a minute, and I'll be back." He swiped a hand over Sam's foot before moving into the bathroom to get showered and into his sweat pants and tee shirt. When he came back out, he grinned at the way Sam snuggled into the bed. "You still awake, Sam?" he whispered.
Sam lifted his head and smiled sleepily at Dean. "Waiting for you, Dean. Come here?"
"Of course, Sammy.” Dean went to the door, double checked the lock and then flipped the light switch. He moved back to the bed and slid under the sheets, laying on his back and resting into the pillows. "I'm here."
Sam rolled over and laid his arm across Dean's chest, pulling himself close. He laid his head on Dean's shoulder and blew out a long breath of contentment. He kept his weight on his side, off the burns. "I couldn't survive without you, Dean.”
Blinking, Dean opened his mouth to deny it, but found himself stymied by Sam's arm around him. "You doing okay, Sammy?"
Sam's arm tightened in response. "No. It's been too much, stirring up everything that I wanted to forget. And on top of dad..." He choked softly and pressed his mouth to Dean's neck. "You're all I have, Dean."
Dean patted Sam's back, letting the arm under his brother curl around him to offer comfort and protection. "I'm sorry we had to come back here, Sam. That you had to deal with all of this." Dean's free hand waved at the room around them.
Sam shook his head and pressed his mouth against Dean's neck again, closer to the pulse point. "Not your fault either."
Dean shuddered, arm tightening around Sam in reflex at the feel of his breath and lips ghosting over Dean's skin. It was too much. Dean turned his head to rest his cheek on top of Sam's head. This wasn't something he could or would ever have, and Dean had to remind himself of that with every breath.
Sam put a hand on Dean's cheek and turned his face gently toward his own. "Dean. Let me." He pressed his mouth over Dean's nose, cheeks and lips.
Startling, Dean gasped, head tilting away from Sam. “Sam…what?”
"Dean, please?" Sam asked, voice trembling. He leaned forward to slide his lips over Dean's face again.
"What do you want, Sam?" Dean breathed out the question, heart slamming in his ribs at the way Sam dragged soft lips over the ragged stubble of Dean's chin.
"You, Dean. Want you." Sam nibbled on Dean's lower lip, before licking gently. He pressed closer to him, hips thrusting gently. "Please."
Dean went rigid, shocked at Sam's overtures, body shaking from the denial he forced himself into. "Sam...you don't want this. Not really." He shook, hands coming up to pull Sam's face from his and hold him slightly at bay. "You don't want me."
"I do. I do, Dean. Please." Sam turned his head to press kisses to Dean's hand and fingers. "Don't push me away." He rubbed his hands over Dean's back and sides.
Letting Sam touch him, Dean closed his eyes and drank in the sensations. It was something he'd wanted for years and years, something he knew he’d never get. Now, Sam was offering himself on a silver platter and all Dean felt was guilt, shame and fear. If he let Sam do this, Dean would lose him.
Mistaking the stillness for acceptance, Sam pressed forward and kissed in earnest- tongue, lips and teeth working in tandem. He hooked one leg over Dean's and pulled until they were flush. "Want you in me, Dean. Need you."
Dean let Sam kiss him, responding for a few moments. He allowed himself to enjoy what little he could before pulling away and rolling Sam onto his back. Leaning over Sam, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "Easy, Sam."
Sam stared up at Dean, trust and love in his eyes. He stroked his cheek with a big hand, enjoying the feel of stubble covering soft skin. His other spread over Dean's lower back, encouraging him to lie on top. "Dean?"
Dean held himself rigid, couldn't let himself sink into what Sam asked for. "Shhh," he breathed out, his hand stroking gently over Sam's bruised cheek.
Sam felt the way Dean held himself aloof and said, "What's wrong, Dean?" He nuzzled the hand on his cheek and kissed at the palm. "Come here."
"I can't, Sam. We can't." Dean stroked his cheek softly again. "You'll hate me in the morning if we do, and every day after that." He brushed a soft kiss over Sam's lips and then slid back, pulled away from Sam and off the bed.
Sam sat up, hand out to Dean. "I won't, Dean. I- I need this, need you." He scooted toward the end of the bed, after Dean. "Please."
Flinching at Sam's words, Dean stumbled back. "You don't want this or me. You had Jess and the life you wanted...there's no way you can want me.” Dean grabbed his jeans and coat off the chair, ducking to grab his boots. He turned for the door and let himself out of the room, breaking into a run to get to the car and away from Sam.
"Dean!" Sam vaulted off the bed and ran to the door, his lack of dress halting him at the frame. "Dean!" He watched as the Impala roared off into the night, leaving him alone, clutching at the wood in the middle of a ruined salt line. "Dean."
~~~~~~~
Sam used the iron knife to carefully pry open an air vent above the evidence lockers in the Palo Alto main police station. He peered down into the stillness, glad that the city did not have a higher crime rate. A few people wandered the halls below him, but if he timed himself correctly, he ought to be able to go unnoticed. If Jess cooperated.
**********
Dean entered the bar, striding directly to an open spot and ordering two shots of tequila, which he knocked back in easy succession. Wiping his hand over his mouth, Dean sighed and lifted his gaze to the rest of the patrons. No pool table, so hustling was out. He couldn't really afford to get in a fight, not with needing to be in top shape to fight Jess. There was one thing he could do, so Dean softened his gaze, breathed out easy and took another sweep of the room for a girl who might not be able to resist him.
**********
Sam waited until the hall cleared out for at least five minutes and then lowered his long frame from the vent, landing softly on the ground. He darted behind a post, knife at the ready. His breaths fell long and easy, as he forced himself to relax into the moment. He frowned at the jumbled array of lockers, hoping the police had some sort of manageable filing system so he could figure out how things were stored.
********** At first glance, there wasn't a girl in sight who wasn't with a guy or looked remotely interested in him. Dean ordered himself a beer and turned to lean against the bar while he sipped. A few minutes in, his gaze was caught by an attractive blonde; curvy in all the right places, but not so gorgeous that his attention would be expected or challenged. When she looked his way, Dean smiled at her. He could see the color bloom slightly on her cheek when she leaned in to tell her girlfriend.
**********
Sam picked the lock into the storage locker gate, ears pricked for the smallest sound. He slid in, closing the gate behind him, and kept low to the ground. He located a stuffed binder and opened it, grimacing at the scrawled notes inside. Sliding his finger down the list, he searched for Melissa's name. The clomp of footsteps, accompanied by voices, made him freeze and scoot behind one of the tall lockers. There were a few moments of noise and then the people moved on, a door shutting somewhere in the distance. He breathed out again and went back to his search.
**********
When she approached, Dean smiled his best seductive smile and turned his body to her, leaning with one elbow on the bar and legs crossed at the ankles. He ordered her a drink, another beer for himself and asked her name and since this was Palo Alto, her major. Dean was surprised to find that while she was smart and attractive, she was also funny and shy. It took him longer than normal, but he had her smiling and leaning toward him, eyes sparkling in invitation.
**********
Sam opened the evidence locker and gently pulled out the basket inside. He grimaced at the bagged blood- and dirt-stained clothes and carefully pushed them aside with his gloved hand. Just underneath lay a bag containing a book bound in red-stained leather. He lifted the bag out and smiled upon reading the title, ‘Pschyomantium.’ "There you are."
********** Her name was Lydia, and she pressed her chest against his arm before long, legs shifting to bring her closer to him when the crowd ostensibly closed in. When her hand landed on Dean's arm and she pressed up to murmur in his ear, Dean knew he'd struck gold. With a smile and a quick turn of his head, he breathed an invitation over her ear before nipping lightly at the lobe. Lydia turned bright eyes to him, slight hesitation in them, before nodding and gripping his forearm tighter.
**********
Sam tucked the book into his hoodie as he shut the door behind him. He crossed quickly toward the vent, figuring out how he would boost himself back up. A slightly sickish light flickered on behind him, and he turned with his knife drawn. "Hello, Jess," he whispered, just as she flew at him with a ragged scream.
********** Dean slid his arm around Lydia, shielding her from the crowd while he wove their way through the bar and out the front door. He wasn't planning on going far and the warmth of the California evening helped in that regard. Lydia pressed to his side, wrapped around him. Dean led her around the side of the building, back to the wall and leaned in for a kiss. He was careful at first, luring her in and relaxing her with a gentle, but thorough, exploration. It wasn't until she whimpered and pressed against him that he took the kiss deeper and harder, sliding one thigh between hers.
********** Sam swung the iron blade, cutting through Jess' apparition, which disappeared with another screech. He heard the pounding of running feet approach and abandoned his initial escape idea. Instead, he raced for one of the back windows, determined to use that as his method of exit. Jess helped him along by grabbing his right shoulder and propelling him headfirst through the glass.
********** Lydia moaned low, rubbing against Dean, hands clutching at his shoulders while she gave as good as she got. Dean arched into her, dragging the hard length of his cock along her hip before reaching down with both hands and hauling her higher against him. She brought her legs up around his waist and once he had her braced on the building, he brought one hand down between them to the seam of her jeans, pressing the rough edge against her body and rubbing fast and hard to hear her gasp.
********** Sam skidded across the pavement, but scrambled to his feet and sped down the street before even registering the pain of new injuries and reopened old ones. He heard yelling and sirens behind him and ducked into a nearby alley, skirting over a jagged fence and stumbling almost into Jess. He ducked her strike and redrew the blade, still too close to the station to risk his gun. His slice caught her arm just as her arm caught his face, and both recoiled-- Jess into nothingness and Sam into the building behind him.
********** Dean slammed his mouth over Lydia's when he felt her body arch into orgasm. He swallowed the noises while she trembled in his arms. It was heady the way she'd worked up as quickly as he had and then spun out of control. She panted in his arms, head forward and mouthing at his throat, kisses and nips until she brought liquid blue eyes to his. "Fuck me. Please. Want it." Groaning, he stole her breath with another kiss, before lowering her to the ground and attacking her jeans.
********** Groaning as his breath stuttered from his lungs, Sam heaved himself away from the building and staggered down the alley. By the time he reached the street, he felt recovered enough to sprint more naturally. The bright lights and crowds beckoned him as a way to avoid Jess, but he feared his appearance would draw too much attention. Instead, he stuck to the darkness, finally drawing his gun in case his former lover reappeared.
********** Lydia took over from Dean, undoing her jeans and shoving them down to reveal the tiniest of lacy panties. She turned and braced against the wall, her jeans around her ankles and back arched to thrust herself toward him. Dean's hands raced to rip open his button fly, grabbing a condom from his pocket before shoving his jeans down. He reached one hand out to trace over her ass, tugging the flimsy lace down to settle mid-thigh before slicking the condom on and sliding two fingers in and out of her heat.
********** Jess reappeared as Sam stumbled across one of the few vacant lots left in Palo Alto. He saw her from a distance and broke into a run, keeping an eye on her as she streaked toward him. Suddenly, she vanished and then reappeared right in front of him. Sam slammed on the brakes, but fell into her outstretched arms.
********** With a groan, Dean pulled his fingers out and then pressed forward into her, his hands gripping tight to her hips. She moaned low and tipped her head back, fingers digging at the side of the building. He pulled almost fully out before thrusting forward and burying himself on another groan. In and out, over and over, Dean repeated the strokes, his hands tugging her back so they were slamming together. Lydia cried out when Dean reached around and slicked his fingers over her clit. He played her expertly, wanting to see her come again, to feel her clenching around him when he lost it. They were almost there, and Dean leaned forward, growling in her ear and slamming into her body.
********** Sam's breath cut off with an 'hhhccck,' and he scrabbled to remove the ghostly hands from his neck. But even as darkness threatened the corners of his eyes, the amulet flared, stronger than before, and drove Jess away. He tumbled to the ground, gasping in and out like a dying fish.
********** Lydia arched and cried out, her body trembling against the wall while clenching tight around Dean. He rode out her orgasm, fingers working her clit to get a third one out of her body while he held back as long as he could. Dean finally gave in, hips stuttering from their rhythm with a few more hard strokes into her before he went rigid and flooded the condom with his release. Panting, he dropped a kiss to her shoulder and then nosed at her jaw until she turned to meet his mouth for a kiss.
********** Sam lifted his gun as Jess came after him again, hand steady and mind appallingly clear. He waited until he could see into the depths of her dead eyes, the disturbing emptiness behind them. And then he pulled the trigger, salt shattering right through her breast, the center of her now-still heart, even as he screamed his rage and sorrow into the night.
~~~~~~~
Title: Ain’t No Grave Gonna Hold My Body Down
Codes: Sam/Dean, Dean/OFC
Series: SPN
Rating: NC-17
Beta: Lyns from runedgirl
Summary: It’s almost Halloween, and Sam’s getting visions of his Stanford friends dying at the hands of a vengeful spirit. Worse yet, the spirit is Jess. Sam needs his brother’s support to fight and survive old ghosts, but Dean’s got troubles of his own.
Word Count: 25,111
Disclaimer: We don’t own them. We mean them no harm. We make no profit.
Posting: Please ask first!
Author's Notes: My annual Halloween fic, and the first with my lovely co-author, Rini! *hugs* This is our second foray into SPN. We hope you enjoy!
Body, mind and soul weary from the events of the past few days, Sam slipped into sleep almost instantly. For about four hours, he managed a deep, dreamless rest, but about one a.m., images began to fill his head. He shifted restlessly on the sheets, moaning softly. As the images became more vivid, Sam thrashed and cried out loudly.
Dean woke as soon Sam started thrashing. He pushed up in bed, rubbing a hand over his face and looking over to his brother's bed. "Sam? You okay, Sammy?"
Sam's body flopped around, tangling him in the sheets. His voice rose even louder, reverberating off the walls. The images intensified -- Jess reached for him from the ceiling, hands aflame. "Jess!"
Flying into action, Dean flung himself from his bed to Sam's, grabbing his brother by the shoulders and trying to hold on to him. "Sammy, wake up. C'mon, Sammy. It's just a nightmare, you need to wake up."
Jess grabbed him by the shoulders, tried to hold him down, set him aflame. Sam fought, trying to throw Jess off. "Please, Jess. Please! I'm sorry. Please!"
"Damn it, Sam! Wake up!" Dean held him tightly and then shook him hard. "C'mon and wake up now, Sammy!"
A familiar voice echoed in Sam's dreams, pulling him back toward reality. He struggled toward consciousness, away from his grisly dreams. Eyes dragging open, he found himself in his bed, wrapped in Dean's arms. "Dean. Oh God, Jess." He grabbed hold of Dean, squeezing his brother close.
Dean breathed out when Sam's eyes registered reality instead of dream and held tight to his brother while Sam clung to him. "It's okay. I've got you and the visions of Jess were just a nightmare." He rocked Sam a bit, slowly and unconsciously trying to get Sam to relax again.
Sam slid his hands down to grip Dean more tightly, burying his face in Dean's neck. "Dean," he said, “they're worse than before. Worse than ever. Don't leave me, Dean."
"I've got you, Sam. Not going anywhere. Right here." Dean murmured the words quietly, rocking Sam gently. He stroked one hand down Sam's back and held his shoulder in a fierce grip.
Sam sobbed into the warm skin, wrapping his legs around Dean to tighten his hold even more. "I killed her, Dean. It's my fault. I should let her get me."
Dean's heart broke all over again for Sam. "You didn't kill her...it's not your fault." He stroked Sam's back, hugging him tighter and thought of how he'd dispatch Jess to hell.
The words bounced out of Sam's ears, not making any sense to him in his current state. He just knew he needed Dean near, his only stability in a world gone mad. His fingers gripped into strong shoulders. "Don't go, Dean. Stay here?"
"Not leaving, Sam. Right here." Dean continued to rock, hoping his brother would calm enough to sink back into his bed.
Sam's lips brushed against Dean's neck when he pressed in tighter. "Can't take this much longer, Dean. Visions, nightmares, Jess' ghost killing our friends. I don't want this life."
Dean closed his eyes, breath shuddering out at the feel of Sam's lips on his skin. "I know, Sam. I wish you'd never had to live this life."
"You brought me back into it," Sam said without accusation. He sighed and settled back into the pillows, holding on to Dean. "And now I need you."
Opening his eyes, Dean simply nodded and settled onto the bed next to him. "I'm sorry, Sam," he murmured, tugging so that his brother lay curled into and around him. "I never meant for this to happen."
Sam nodded and huffed a warm breath over the moist spot he'd left a moment before. "I know, Dean. I know." He rolled until he was completely comfortable in Dean's arms. He rubbed his hands over and over Dean's back and side, drawing more comfort from the touches.
Dean huffed out a breath and closed his eyes again, hand stroking slow and gentle over Sam's back while praying that his brother was able to find some sleep. He'd stand guard and watch over him.
The hands on his back soothed Sam to the point where his body relaxed again, wanting more sleep. But even with Dean close, images of Jess haunted him when his eyes closed. "Dean?" he whispered softly. "Do you remember how you used to get me to sleep? When I was little."
Laughing softly, Dean nodded. "Yeah, course I do, Sammy-boy. It was the only way you'd go to sleep for a long, long time." He shifted slightly, just enough to be able to trace the letters of their names into Sam's lower back. For years, Dean had spelled out dad's name, mom's name and both of their names while singing their mother's favorite lullaby to Sam. He stopped wanting the sleep ritual somewhere about fourth or fifth grade, and Dean had missed it since then.
Sam sighed and pressed his mouth against Dean's skin again. He closed his eyes and let the feel of Dean's hands and the sound of his voice lull him into a warm sense of security. "You're the only one who can take care of me."
The thought both warmed and chilled Dean. He loved that he could care for Sam, but also hated that Sam felt so isolated and so incapable of being cared for by someone else. Dean knew that wasn't the case with Jess and there were times (especially now) when Dean wished that Sam still had that and had her and that Dean could have just continued to bury his feelings between the legs of the willing people he met on the road.
"Love you, Dean," Sam mumbled as his eyes slid closed, and he drifted into blissfully dreamless sleep.
~~~~~~~
Sam led Dean into the Sisters of Serenity's meeting place with trepidation. Despite his brother's promise not to make any remarks, he knew the crystal balls, gemstones, earth tones and statuary would tickle his brother's funny bone. And despite outward appearances, the Sisters were not to be taken lightly. They could and would bring down the whammy on anyone who riled them. "You promised."
Dean opened his mouth and then shut it with an audible clack. "Fine. I promised." He clenched his teeth and fisted his hands in his jean pockets. "I'll let you do all that talking."
Sam nodded and turned when a matronly figure dressed in a diaphanous gown swirled in. He smiled at her brightly, trying to broadcast how grateful they were for an audience. "I'm-"
"Sam and Dean Winchester," she said with a dreamy wave of her hand. "I am Penelope. You wish to know about your friend, Melissa, who has done a very terrible thing."
Watching Penelope swirl into the room, it took everything Dean had to not snort. When she brought out their and Melissa’s names, he tensed and furrowed his brows slightly.
"Yeah," Sam said with a nod. "She- uh, raised a friend of mine and seems to have brought her back wrong."
"There is no way to bring back the dead right, Sam Winchester. Melissa came to us some weeks ago to ask for a spell to raise the dead. We naturally told her that such things were not a part of the magic we practice." Penelope swirled to the other side of the room, picking up one of the crystals. "We specialize in bringing the world into harmony, not ripping it apart."
That caused Dean to snort, hands coming out of his pockets so he could cross his arms over his chest. He didn’t believe that magic could ever be used for good purposes.
Penelope shot Dean a glare and then arched an eyebrow. "A disbeliever, I see." She turned back to Sam. "We sent Melissa on her way, but there are other ways of gaining the knowledge she sought. People more interested in profit than the dangers of unleashing evil on this world."
Sam grimaced slightly at Dean's reaction and tried his best to look charming when Penelope returned her attention to him. "Do you know what spell she tried?"
Penelope nodded once. "We attempted to counteract the effects, but the Invocation of Balberith is a powerful spell. And one that even the most experienced spell caster would hesitate to attempt."
"Which is why Melissa is now dead, and Jess is taking others out left and right." Dean grumbled, uncrossing his arms and pacing slightly from her perch near the door.
Penelope merely nodded once. "She returned strong and angry. And to counteract the spell, you will need the ’Psychomantium.’ Only through its powers can your Jess be returned to her grave. Until then she has all the weaknesses of a normal spirit, except that you cannot salt and burn her remains."
Dean stopped at that and looked speculatively at Penelope. "You mean iron'll still work? And salt?"
"To temporarily drive her away, but no more than that. And your Sam will draw her as a fly to honey. His aura is further darkened and disturbed by her desire to destroy him." Penelope fiddled through the drawers of a small bureau and pulled out an amulet in the shape of a hand with a dull red stone inset in the middle. "This will slow her attacks, but she is powerful enough to destroy you despite the protection this offers." She held it out to Sam, who took it and slipped it over his head without question.
"Thank you," Sam said softly, running his hand over the amulet.
Glaring at the amulet around Sam's neck, Dean cleared his throat and looked at Penelope. "Why does she want to destroy him?"
"She is destroying all vestiges of her life. All those close to her. And who is closer than Sam? Who is closer than the one who brought death to her door?"
Sam hung his head and nodded once, accepting the words as truth.
"Damn it." Dean wheeled on them both. "It wasn't Sam's fault." He glowered at the suggestion that it might've been. "The only thing responsible is the demon."
Penelope smiled at him. "Always the brave protector. Ready to jump in front of any bullet aimed at your Sammy. Your aura is so much lighter than his and always has been." She folded her hands together. "Obtaining another copy of what you seek shall not be easy. The police keep the copy they found under lock and key, but that may yet be your best bet for obtaining the ’Psychomantium’."
Sam lifted his head and sighed. "I don't suppose you can make Dean's rap sheet go away?"
Penelope laughed and shook her head. "I fear such things are beyond our abilities. I can offer you nothing more than what has already been given. Take it with our blessings and wishes for luck. Bringing Jessica to rest will be a good deed for many a reason." Penelope inclined her head and disappeared back through the curtains.
Sam looked at Dean and gestured for them to leave. As they walked out the door, he said, "I have to get the book alone, Dean."
"No way, Sam, I'm not letting you take that chance." Dean looked back at the building they'd just left and sighed.
"You can't break into a police station. Murder charge sound familiar to you? Bad enough if I get caught but you..." Sam shook his head firmly. "And I'll take all the right protections, keep Jess away long enough to get the book."
Dean shook his head again. "There's no way either of us can go in there alone. We need to do this together...it's the best way to make sure it works out right."
Sam looked away, tension tight in his shoulders and back. "Twice as likely to get caught with two of us, too," he said. "I am not fucking losing you to a needle in your arm, Dean, not after surviving all this other crap!"
Sighing, Dean led Sam to the car, not exactly stomping, but not walking softly either. "The last thing I want is to go anywhere, Sam, but if you get caught alone, you’re vulnerable to Jess."
Sam banged his head against the Impala. Stalemate. His brother would never let him out of his sight while Jess hunted him. Which left them no option but to break in together and pray the police did not catch them. Jess would have every option to tear him to bits while he was unprotected in a holding cell, and no jury in the world would settle for anything less than the death penalty for Dean. "I really hate my life."
"Yeah, I know you do, Sam."
Sam lifted tired eyes to Dean's. "One break. Is that too much to ask?" He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I don't know how you manage it, Dean. Penelope said that your aura is light, pure. How do you get through all this crap without ending up as dark as I am?"
Dean blushed, rubbing at the back of his neck, and shrugged. "I don't have a clue what she was rambling about, Sammy." He moved to the driver's door and tugged it open, hand resting on the roof. "I'm just me, and I do what I have to do to get through it all.
Sam snorted and climbed into the car. "You were born for this, Dean. I just made sure you ended up here."
Wrinkling his brow, Dean slid into the car and shut the door. "None of it's your fault, Sam."
"For whatever reason, I bring the evil, Dean. Once you might wave off, but twice is too often. And because of the demon, dad went crazy and became a hunter and took us along for the ride. And you -- you were always all right with it all. But I've never been, not since I really understood what it meant." Sam sighed and wiped his eyes again. "But I won’t leave you out here all alone.”
And that was the reason Dean would have to leave without Sammy knowing. Once they'd dealt with the demon, he'd let Sam head off to his own life. “Maybe someday this'll all be over, Sammy. It's what we're trying to do."
"Evil won't vanish, Dean. It'll always be out there. And you'll always want to fight it." Sam leaned back in his seat, propping his chin in one hand. "And I'll always be tagging along with you."
Not if he could help it, Dean thought, but he knew better than to continue that conversation. "Back to the room, Sam? Or is there somewhere else we need to go?"
"We need to plan how to break into the police evidence lockers," Sam said, "and that's going to take me a hell of a lot of research. So, library. I jut hope they have some building plans."
Dean nodded, started the car, put it in gear and headed them toward the library.
~~~~~~~
Sam should have expected the attack, but when Jess appeared right next to him while they strolled back to the Impala after an insipid dinner at yet another greasy spoon, he merely gaped in shock. And went pile driving face first into the asphalt when she hit him with strength any defensive lineman would have killed for.
Dean trailed a few extra steps behind Sam, unable to resist winking at the waitress one more time and tucking the napkin with a phone number he'd never call into his pocket. He turned when Sam went skidding down, hollering to get Jessica’s attention. She never took her gaze off Sam.
Rolling over on his side, Sam reached for his gun, but ended up with empty air instead. He rolled to his feet, eyes desperately searching the ground and finding his gun lying across the pavement. Looking up at Dean, Sam opened his mouth to tell him that his gun had been lost, when Jess jabbed a fist right through his chest. He gasped in sick shock, the pain worse than the time the Woman in White had grabbed at his heart.
"Sam!" Dean tore across the pavement, fast as he could, gun drawn from the back of his pants and iron blade pulled from its sheath. "Sam! Drop! I need a clear shot." He leveled the gun and kept running, hoping that Sam could move out of his way.
The amulet flared suddenly, hot and sharp, and Jess shrieked, her hands yanking back from his chest. She struck him across the face, blood splattering the ground, even when he hit the asphalt again. "Shoot her, Dean!" he yelled through a mouthful of copper.
Dean didn't hesitate. As soon as Sam was out of range, he shot Jess square in the torso with a round of salt and watched her flicker out. He knew better than to assume that she was gone, not with one shot, so he loaded another round in the chamber and dropped to one knee to haul Sam to his feet. "Get in the car, Sam. Now!"
Sam didn’t bother to answer, just scrambled to his feet and made a beeline for the Impala. He made it twenty feet before Jess appeared again, beautiful face twisted with an even more insane rage than before. He dove for the ground, rolling under her strike and scrambled along on his hands and knees.
Shouting obscenities at Jess, Dean charged her and shot another round of rock salt at her, wincing when it sliced through her and into his car. That was going to hurt, and Dean would have to make it up to his baby later. “C’mon Sam, move. She’s not giving up easy, and I want you back at the motel.” Dean spun back around, moving backward toward the car with a full turn every so many feet to keep his eyes on their surroundings.
Sam winced and scrambled back up to his feet, sprinting full out for the Impala. He hated to see his brother blow chunks of salt through his beloved car and didn't want to give Jess another chance to attack. Vaulting across the hood, he grabbed for the handle and was struck in the side. Hitting the ground with Jess on top of him, clawing at his throat, Sam fought for his breath. He felt the amulet flare again, causing Jess to shriek and pull back. "Get away from me!" he yelled hoarsely, hating himself even as he did.
Rounding the car, Dean yelled for Sam to duck again and shot off another round of salt before yanking the door open and shoving Sam inside. He wasn't at all sure that his baby would protect Sam from Jess and wanted to get the hell out of there. With the door closed behind Sam, Dean sprinted to his door and slid behind the wheel. Dean had the car started and in gear in seconds, peeling out of the parking lot and hoping that Jess couldn't get at them now.
Sam slammed into the side of the door as Dean pulled out of the parking lot. His nose and mouth dripped blood freely, and he cupped his hands under them to prevent getting it all over the interior. "Fuck. Shoulda seen that coming, Dean."
"Why do you think I had everything under my coat?" Not that it had done much good since Sam was torn up, but Dean felt some satisfaction that he'd shot her a couple of times. He was surprised that the charm Penelope gave Sam worked and was grateful that she'd been willing to hand it over. "Won't be happy until I have you behind the salt lines."
"Did you pick up my gun, Dean? It came out during the struggle." Sam's voice and body shook. He tried to force himself to calm down, but the image of Jess' face while she attacked him made the effort impossible. "She- I told her to get away from me. I never told her that before. Oh fuck."
"You had no choice, Sam. It's not really, Jess. You know that." Dean reached over and patted Sam's knee awkwardly before putting both hands back on the wheel. "I grabbed your gun, don't worry about it."
When Dean's hand left, Sam slid over to settle one bloody hand on Dean's leg, leaving a print. With the other, he fastened his belt and then grabbed a rag to clean off the worst of the damage. "It's whatever remains of her that Melissa brought back," he whispered.
"Which is not her. Even Penelope said you can't bring people back right - so, that was not Jess." Dean looked down at Sam's hand, gulping and trying not to think about it. Yeah, right...not think about Sam's hand on his leg for the second day in a row.
Sam swallowed hard and nodded, squeezing Dean's leg in thanks. "It's just a nightmare of a nightmare," he said. "Bad enough to dream of her burning on the ceiling, without adding her tormented spirit attacking me." He breathed out sharply. "We need that book, Dean. The thought of her stuck like this... it hurts worse than the physical attacks."
Dean sighed, hand coming down to pat Sam's. "We can go tonight, if you want. I just want this to be over for you."
Sam shook his head. "I need to finish putting together a plan from the building schematics I got today. And we need some ideas for how to get you in without being recognized." He turned his fingers to catch Dean's hand, entwining them together. "Tomorrow's Halloween."
Gulping again, Dean looked at Sam's hand and then back at the road. He curled his fingers slightly into Sam's and left them there, trying not to breathe faster at the touch. Sam hadn't held his hand since he was able to cross the street on his own, a good fifteen years before. "I'm not wearing a costume, Sam. So, get that right out of your mind."
Sam shook his head. "You showed up on Halloween, a year ago, to tear me out of my stupid little dreams." He stroked Dean's fingers with his own. "Gave me another reason to hate Halloween. And if we're lucky, tomorrow night, we can lay Jess to rest. And give me another reason."
Dean sighed, hating that so much bad had happened to Sam around this time of year. Jess burned the same day as their mother, so it was no wonder Sam wanted nothing to do with this time of year or their work. Dean decided to give considerable thought into leaving Sam to find a real life - something Dean was sure he wanted to do without Dean there to contaminate it. He'd keep tabs on Sam, like he did before, but knew he needed to be strong enough to leave his brother to a life he could find happiness in.
Sam straightened when they reached the motel, but kept his grip on Dean's hand. "Guess we're going to have to make a run for the motel room. Hope the salt lines keep her out."
"I want you to run first, Sam. Just get your ass in there and get inside those lines. Check them all." Dean pulled into the spot, parking and shutting off the car. "Take your gun and be ready, but get inside. I'll cover you from out here and follow. Okay?" He turned to look at his brother, fingers tightening to make him realize how serious Dean was.
Sam squeezed back and smiled a little for Dean. "Good plan, big bro." He took a deep breath, accepted his gun from Dean, threw open the car door and raced for the motel room. He fumbled momentarily with the lock, and then fell inside. Keeping his gun ready, he checked the salt lines and got out of the way so Dean could get in.
Surprised that Jess didn't show up, Dean took it for the blessing it was and ran backward into the room. He stepped over the lines and slammed the door shut. "Think we should be okay now, Sammy. She didn't like the salt in the guns, so she likely can't cross our lines. Get settled while I check them all to be sure they’re in place." Without waiting for agreement, Dean went straight for the window closest to him and started to double check their lines.
Sam sat on the bed, covered in blood and dead tired, but smiling at Dean’s fussing. He felt warm, cared for, and that pushed away the awful ache of Jess' haunting and the deaths of his friends. He had Dean and would never be alone. "Can you help me clean up?" he asked softly, knowing Dean seldom refused him anything. He didn't need help, but he wanted Dean's warm hands soothing the wounds.
Startled, Dean turned from the window, an excuse ready on his lips. He bit it back at the expression on Sam's face and nodded. "Of course, Sammy. Let me finish the lines." Once he was certain that he'd checked them all, completed them, Dean turned back to Sam and walked to his side. "Let me see what she did to you, Sam."
Sam lifted his face toward Dean. "You tell me what it looks like, Dean." He reached down and began pulling off his shirts, thinking of Jess' hands on and in his chest.
"You're looking a bit rough around the edges, but nothing we can't fix." Dean smiled, lopsided, and reached out a gentle hand to trail over the side of his face. He grunted when he saw the scorch marks on Sam's chest, worst at the edges away from the amulet. Reaching down to lightly skim the edge of the worst part of the burn, Dean pulled back to find the first aid kit and the burn cream they had.
Sam's eyes fluttered shut when Dean's fingers traced over his wounds. "Would you take care of them?" Sam asked, voice soft and hopeful.
"Of course." Dean moved back to the bed with the burn cream and bandages and placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Check your legs while I get a washcloth."
Sam glanced down at his legs and then removed his shoes, socks and pants. His legs were scratched and bruised, but nothing worse. "They're not bad, Dean. Just a few bruises and scratches. It's my face that hurts."
"Yeah, and it's going to for a bit." Dean called from the bathroom, yelling over the running water. "She really went for the cheekbones. They hurt like a bitch and bloom up colorful." He walked back to Sam, wet washcloth and a dry towel in hand. "You sure you don't want to get this on your own?"
Sam's eyes turned toward the floor. "Sure, if you prefer." He reached for the towels without expression.
Dean stopped Sam's hand, curling around it and bringing it back to rest in his lap. He reached out and tilted Sam's face up. "Don't do this because you think you should. If you want me to fix you up, I will." His smile was soft, caring, and just a bit exasperated by Sam's misunderstanding him.
Sam nudged his chin against Dean's gentle hand. "I want you to fix me up, Dean," he said softly. "Please."
Dean rubbed Sam's face gently and then pulled back to get the washcloth. He held Sam's chin, gently dabbed at the blood dotting Sam's face and then swiped the towel gently over his chest and arms before tossing the cloth in the general direction of the bathroom. Dean took the other towel and slowly dried Sam off, cleaning him up and then putting it to the side. "Doing okay so far?"
Sam sighed and rested his chin even more firmly in Dean's hand. "Yeah. Always feel better when you take care of me." He winced when the burn marks stung. "Burns are a bit painful."
"Yeah, they are." Dean reached down for the burn cream and opened the tube, slathering a decent layer over the burns on Sam's chest. They were red and inflamed, but hopefully light enough they wouldn't hurt Sam for too long. Jess had done a number on him, and Dean hoped he had a shot at her to pay her back for the damage. "Does that hurt too much?"
Sam sighed and pushed against the gentle touches, allowing himself to enjoy the sensation. "It feels good, Dean. Don't stop."
"Okay." Dean grinned and pulled his hands back to grab the bandages, taping a couple of them over the largest section of the chest burns. He took Sam's chin in his hand again, tilting his face left and right. "I don't think there's anything we can really do for your face. It's just a bunch of large bruises, no actual cuts. You want me to get you some raw steak, Sammy?”
Sam covered Dean's hand with his own and nuzzled into it slightly. "Nah, it's all right. I just want to curl up and sleep for awhile." He looked up at Dean and smiled. "After a shower."
Dean chuckled and stroked his thumb over Sam's cheek gently. "Yeah, you should get cleaned up...though maybe we should have had you do that before we bandaged you." Dean dropped his hand to his side and then backed up to tug off his boots.
"Oh." Sam blushed and felt stupid. "I guess I'll shower in the morning then." He stretched and winced slightly at the pull on his wounds. "I got lucky, Dean. Without this charm-" he fingered the amulet "-she would have ripped my heart right out. I think that's what she meant to do."
Wincing in empathy, Dean nodded. "Yeah, we’ll have to thank Penelope when this is all over." He stepped in and pressed his hand on Sam's shoulder, bringing him in for a gentle hug.
Startled and then warmed by the hug, Sam wrapped himself around Dean and hung on. He settled his forehead into Dean's shoulder and sighed once. "I don't want to go to bed alone, Dean."
"You don't...oh, okay. Sure. You want to slide into bed and then I'll climb in once I'm clean." Dean rubbed Sam's back, sliding his large hand up and down one of the few uninjured areas.
Sam sighed and released Dean, scooting up to rest his head on the pillows. He relaxed completely in Dean's presence. "I can't sleep unless you're with me, Dean."
Dean nodded. "Just rest for a minute, and I'll be back." He swiped a hand over Sam's foot before moving into the bathroom to get showered and into his sweat pants and tee shirt. When he came back out, he grinned at the way Sam snuggled into the bed. "You still awake, Sam?" he whispered.
Sam lifted his head and smiled sleepily at Dean. "Waiting for you, Dean. Come here?"
"Of course, Sammy.” Dean went to the door, double checked the lock and then flipped the light switch. He moved back to the bed and slid under the sheets, laying on his back and resting into the pillows. "I'm here."
Sam rolled over and laid his arm across Dean's chest, pulling himself close. He laid his head on Dean's shoulder and blew out a long breath of contentment. He kept his weight on his side, off the burns. "I couldn't survive without you, Dean.”
Blinking, Dean opened his mouth to deny it, but found himself stymied by Sam's arm around him. "You doing okay, Sammy?"
Sam's arm tightened in response. "No. It's been too much, stirring up everything that I wanted to forget. And on top of dad..." He choked softly and pressed his mouth to Dean's neck. "You're all I have, Dean."
Dean patted Sam's back, letting the arm under his brother curl around him to offer comfort and protection. "I'm sorry we had to come back here, Sam. That you had to deal with all of this." Dean's free hand waved at the room around them.
Sam shook his head and pressed his mouth against Dean's neck again, closer to the pulse point. "Not your fault either."
Dean shuddered, arm tightening around Sam in reflex at the feel of his breath and lips ghosting over Dean's skin. It was too much. Dean turned his head to rest his cheek on top of Sam's head. This wasn't something he could or would ever have, and Dean had to remind himself of that with every breath.
Sam put a hand on Dean's cheek and turned his face gently toward his own. "Dean. Let me." He pressed his mouth over Dean's nose, cheeks and lips.
Startling, Dean gasped, head tilting away from Sam. “Sam…what?”
"Dean, please?" Sam asked, voice trembling. He leaned forward to slide his lips over Dean's face again.
"What do you want, Sam?" Dean breathed out the question, heart slamming in his ribs at the way Sam dragged soft lips over the ragged stubble of Dean's chin.
"You, Dean. Want you." Sam nibbled on Dean's lower lip, before licking gently. He pressed closer to him, hips thrusting gently. "Please."
Dean went rigid, shocked at Sam's overtures, body shaking from the denial he forced himself into. "Sam...you don't want this. Not really." He shook, hands coming up to pull Sam's face from his and hold him slightly at bay. "You don't want me."
"I do. I do, Dean. Please." Sam turned his head to press kisses to Dean's hand and fingers. "Don't push me away." He rubbed his hands over Dean's back and sides.
Letting Sam touch him, Dean closed his eyes and drank in the sensations. It was something he'd wanted for years and years, something he knew he’d never get. Now, Sam was offering himself on a silver platter and all Dean felt was guilt, shame and fear. If he let Sam do this, Dean would lose him.
Mistaking the stillness for acceptance, Sam pressed forward and kissed in earnest- tongue, lips and teeth working in tandem. He hooked one leg over Dean's and pulled until they were flush. "Want you in me, Dean. Need you."
Dean let Sam kiss him, responding for a few moments. He allowed himself to enjoy what little he could before pulling away and rolling Sam onto his back. Leaning over Sam, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "Easy, Sam."
Sam stared up at Dean, trust and love in his eyes. He stroked his cheek with a big hand, enjoying the feel of stubble covering soft skin. His other spread over Dean's lower back, encouraging him to lie on top. "Dean?"
Dean held himself rigid, couldn't let himself sink into what Sam asked for. "Shhh," he breathed out, his hand stroking gently over Sam's bruised cheek.
Sam felt the way Dean held himself aloof and said, "What's wrong, Dean?" He nuzzled the hand on his cheek and kissed at the palm. "Come here."
"I can't, Sam. We can't." Dean stroked his cheek softly again. "You'll hate me in the morning if we do, and every day after that." He brushed a soft kiss over Sam's lips and then slid back, pulled away from Sam and off the bed.
Sam sat up, hand out to Dean. "I won't, Dean. I- I need this, need you." He scooted toward the end of the bed, after Dean. "Please."
Flinching at Sam's words, Dean stumbled back. "You don't want this or me. You had Jess and the life you wanted...there's no way you can want me.” Dean grabbed his jeans and coat off the chair, ducking to grab his boots. He turned for the door and let himself out of the room, breaking into a run to get to the car and away from Sam.
"Dean!" Sam vaulted off the bed and ran to the door, his lack of dress halting him at the frame. "Dean!" He watched as the Impala roared off into the night, leaving him alone, clutching at the wood in the middle of a ruined salt line. "Dean."
~~~~~~~
Sam used the iron knife to carefully pry open an air vent above the evidence lockers in the Palo Alto main police station. He peered down into the stillness, glad that the city did not have a higher crime rate. A few people wandered the halls below him, but if he timed himself correctly, he ought to be able to go unnoticed. If Jess cooperated.
**********
Dean entered the bar, striding directly to an open spot and ordering two shots of tequila, which he knocked back in easy succession. Wiping his hand over his mouth, Dean sighed and lifted his gaze to the rest of the patrons. No pool table, so hustling was out. He couldn't really afford to get in a fight, not with needing to be in top shape to fight Jess. There was one thing he could do, so Dean softened his gaze, breathed out easy and took another sweep of the room for a girl who might not be able to resist him.
**********
Sam waited until the hall cleared out for at least five minutes and then lowered his long frame from the vent, landing softly on the ground. He darted behind a post, knife at the ready. His breaths fell long and easy, as he forced himself to relax into the moment. He frowned at the jumbled array of lockers, hoping the police had some sort of manageable filing system so he could figure out how things were stored.
********** At first glance, there wasn't a girl in sight who wasn't with a guy or looked remotely interested in him. Dean ordered himself a beer and turned to lean against the bar while he sipped. A few minutes in, his gaze was caught by an attractive blonde; curvy in all the right places, but not so gorgeous that his attention would be expected or challenged. When she looked his way, Dean smiled at her. He could see the color bloom slightly on her cheek when she leaned in to tell her girlfriend.
**********
Sam picked the lock into the storage locker gate, ears pricked for the smallest sound. He slid in, closing the gate behind him, and kept low to the ground. He located a stuffed binder and opened it, grimacing at the scrawled notes inside. Sliding his finger down the list, he searched for Melissa's name. The clomp of footsteps, accompanied by voices, made him freeze and scoot behind one of the tall lockers. There were a few moments of noise and then the people moved on, a door shutting somewhere in the distance. He breathed out again and went back to his search.
**********
When she approached, Dean smiled his best seductive smile and turned his body to her, leaning with one elbow on the bar and legs crossed at the ankles. He ordered her a drink, another beer for himself and asked her name and since this was Palo Alto, her major. Dean was surprised to find that while she was smart and attractive, she was also funny and shy. It took him longer than normal, but he had her smiling and leaning toward him, eyes sparkling in invitation.
**********
Sam opened the evidence locker and gently pulled out the basket inside. He grimaced at the bagged blood- and dirt-stained clothes and carefully pushed them aside with his gloved hand. Just underneath lay a bag containing a book bound in red-stained leather. He lifted the bag out and smiled upon reading the title, ‘Pschyomantium.’ "There you are."
********** Her name was Lydia, and she pressed her chest against his arm before long, legs shifting to bring her closer to him when the crowd ostensibly closed in. When her hand landed on Dean's arm and she pressed up to murmur in his ear, Dean knew he'd struck gold. With a smile and a quick turn of his head, he breathed an invitation over her ear before nipping lightly at the lobe. Lydia turned bright eyes to him, slight hesitation in them, before nodding and gripping his forearm tighter.
**********
Sam tucked the book into his hoodie as he shut the door behind him. He crossed quickly toward the vent, figuring out how he would boost himself back up. A slightly sickish light flickered on behind him, and he turned with his knife drawn. "Hello, Jess," he whispered, just as she flew at him with a ragged scream.
********** Dean slid his arm around Lydia, shielding her from the crowd while he wove their way through the bar and out the front door. He wasn't planning on going far and the warmth of the California evening helped in that regard. Lydia pressed to his side, wrapped around him. Dean led her around the side of the building, back to the wall and leaned in for a kiss. He was careful at first, luring her in and relaxing her with a gentle, but thorough, exploration. It wasn't until she whimpered and pressed against him that he took the kiss deeper and harder, sliding one thigh between hers.
********** Sam swung the iron blade, cutting through Jess' apparition, which disappeared with another screech. He heard the pounding of running feet approach and abandoned his initial escape idea. Instead, he raced for one of the back windows, determined to use that as his method of exit. Jess helped him along by grabbing his right shoulder and propelling him headfirst through the glass.
********** Lydia moaned low, rubbing against Dean, hands clutching at his shoulders while she gave as good as she got. Dean arched into her, dragging the hard length of his cock along her hip before reaching down with both hands and hauling her higher against him. She brought her legs up around his waist and once he had her braced on the building, he brought one hand down between them to the seam of her jeans, pressing the rough edge against her body and rubbing fast and hard to hear her gasp.
********** Sam skidded across the pavement, but scrambled to his feet and sped down the street before even registering the pain of new injuries and reopened old ones. He heard yelling and sirens behind him and ducked into a nearby alley, skirting over a jagged fence and stumbling almost into Jess. He ducked her strike and redrew the blade, still too close to the station to risk his gun. His slice caught her arm just as her arm caught his face, and both recoiled-- Jess into nothingness and Sam into the building behind him.
********** Dean slammed his mouth over Lydia's when he felt her body arch into orgasm. He swallowed the noises while she trembled in his arms. It was heady the way she'd worked up as quickly as he had and then spun out of control. She panted in his arms, head forward and mouthing at his throat, kisses and nips until she brought liquid blue eyes to his. "Fuck me. Please. Want it." Groaning, he stole her breath with another kiss, before lowering her to the ground and attacking her jeans.
********** Groaning as his breath stuttered from his lungs, Sam heaved himself away from the building and staggered down the alley. By the time he reached the street, he felt recovered enough to sprint more naturally. The bright lights and crowds beckoned him as a way to avoid Jess, but he feared his appearance would draw too much attention. Instead, he stuck to the darkness, finally drawing his gun in case his former lover reappeared.
********** Lydia took over from Dean, undoing her jeans and shoving them down to reveal the tiniest of lacy panties. She turned and braced against the wall, her jeans around her ankles and back arched to thrust herself toward him. Dean's hands raced to rip open his button fly, grabbing a condom from his pocket before shoving his jeans down. He reached one hand out to trace over her ass, tugging the flimsy lace down to settle mid-thigh before slicking the condom on and sliding two fingers in and out of her heat.
********** Jess reappeared as Sam stumbled across one of the few vacant lots left in Palo Alto. He saw her from a distance and broke into a run, keeping an eye on her as she streaked toward him. Suddenly, she vanished and then reappeared right in front of him. Sam slammed on the brakes, but fell into her outstretched arms.
********** With a groan, Dean pulled his fingers out and then pressed forward into her, his hands gripping tight to her hips. She moaned low and tipped her head back, fingers digging at the side of the building. He pulled almost fully out before thrusting forward and burying himself on another groan. In and out, over and over, Dean repeated the strokes, his hands tugging her back so they were slamming together. Lydia cried out when Dean reached around and slicked his fingers over her clit. He played her expertly, wanting to see her come again, to feel her clenching around him when he lost it. They were almost there, and Dean leaned forward, growling in her ear and slamming into her body.
********** Sam's breath cut off with an 'hhhccck,' and he scrabbled to remove the ghostly hands from his neck. But even as darkness threatened the corners of his eyes, the amulet flared, stronger than before, and drove Jess away. He tumbled to the ground, gasping in and out like a dying fish.
********** Lydia arched and cried out, her body trembling against the wall while clenching tight around Dean. He rode out her orgasm, fingers working her clit to get a third one out of her body while he held back as long as he could. Dean finally gave in, hips stuttering from their rhythm with a few more hard strokes into her before he went rigid and flooded the condom with his release. Panting, he dropped a kiss to her shoulder and then nosed at her jaw until she turned to meet his mouth for a kiss.
********** Sam lifted his gun as Jess came after him again, hand steady and mind appallingly clear. He waited until he could see into the depths of her dead eyes, the disturbing emptiness behind them. And then he pulled the trigger, salt shattering right through her breast, the center of her now-still heart, even as he screamed his rage and sorrow into the night.
~~~~~~~