FIC: The Wandering Kind (SPN, Sam/Dean) (7/7)
ONE/ TWO/ THREE/ FOUR/ FIVE/ SIX/
CHAPTER SEVEN: Sun's Been Known to Shine
Dean still had his gun in his hand and was ready to use it, but Jo snapped her fingers and the gun was torn from his grip. It hurtled across the tent and came to rest in the corner, far from Dean's reach.
"Now, Dean, that's not very nice," Jo admonished. "Trying to shoot a poor, defenseless girl like that. I mean hell, Dean, we're practically family."
Dean stood his ground. "Who the fuck are you?"
The thing inside Jo shrugged, and its lizard-golden eyes gleamed. A demon, obviously, but not one like Dean had seen before. "Let's just say we have a common interest," said Jo.
"I don't know what you mean." Dean glanced at Bobby's still form and hoped like hell that Sam wouldn't wonder what was keeping them and blunder into this mess.
"I think you do," said the demon. "I think you know exactly what I mean." She shook her mud-streaked blonde hair away from her face and smiled. "Your beloved brother, Samuel Winchester. Or, wait, he's going by a different name now. How precious. Would you rather I called him Harvelle? Would that make you feel better about fucking him?"
Dean cast a glance around the tent, looking for something, anything he could use as a weapon. "Shut up," he said. "I didn't know."
"But now you know, and yet, you still want to," said the demon. "That's the real kicker, isn't it? It's what made me decide I had to meet you. Such an interesting piece of the puzzle."
"You son of a bitch. What do you want with Sam?" Dean abandoned his search for a weapon and faced her, hands fisted at his sides. "That's you, isn't it? The yellow-eyed motherfucker who killed my father?"
"Your father was weak. I have more faith in you." The demon licked its lips slowly, considering. "I want to make a deal, Dean Winchester."
Dean stared. "What? No."
"I think you'll change your mind when you hear what I have to offer," it said, smiling sharply with Jo's mouth. "All I want is your cooperation."
"And I'm telling you, no."
"I can give you your father back. Just the way he was." Jo took a few steps forward and tapped her fingertips along Dean's arm. "He won't remember hell. He'll be just as you remember him. You remember the last thing he said to you?" She leaned closer. "'I'm proud of you, boy.' His goodbye." Yellow eyes glinting up at Dean, clashing horribly with the gold of Jo's hair. "But it doesn't have to be."
Dean's throat closed up. He stepped back, breaking contact with the demon, and forced himself to laugh. "Right. And the catch?"
"No catch." Jo lifted her chin. "All you have to do is walk away. Leave baby brother to his real family, where he'll be safe. There's a reason you were never supposed to meet; John knew that you would only get him killed."
"That's not true." Dean edged toward the tent flap and cast another look at Bobby. Still unconscious, and looking to stay that way.
"You know it is. You and your daddy were flawed, too wrapped up in yourselves. Good soldiers. How would little Sammy have fared in that life?" The demon shrugged, the motion matching, rather disconcertingly, that of a teenage girl. "I only have Sammy's best interests in mind," it said. "It's scary out there."
"Scary. Like you and your kind weren't the ones to make it that way?"
Jo-the demon-grinned. "Why, I'm flattered you've noticed. It's quite an accomplishment, isn't it? The world's breaking down. Little pieces of reality flaking off and falling into hell. We're years ahead of schedule, even without your brother's help."
The demon noticed Dean's startled reaction. "Oh, didn't you know about Sammy?" A cruel, cocky grin. "He's not all sunshine and unicorns, if you know what I mean. The poor boy didn't really come back…right. He gets that from his mother's side."
"Don't talk about my mother," Dean snapped.
The demon stared at him for a moment, then let out a sudden cackle. "You mean, you don't know? Daddy never told you that I was there?" It grew serious, Jo's face smoothing into a mask. "I'm the reason you're an orphan, boy. You want to see how she died? Screaming, crying, roasting on the ceiling like a rotisserie chicken?"
"Fuck you." Dean was in front of the tent flap now and just had to hope that he could outrun a demon, or at least get to a gun before his intestines were ripped from his body. "I don't believe you." But Dean's mother had died in a burning nursery-and his father had thought this demon had a plan for Sam. Dean felt dizzy, and wondered how much of this was in the notes that his father had left him.
"Your loss," said the demon.
Its flippancy gave Dean new resolve. "No deal," he said harshly. "Did you honestly think I'd ever listen to you? Not to mangle Alice Cooper, but: you're fucking poison."
"Of course I knew you wouldn't deal," the demon said, leaning casually against the table. "But a girl has to give it her best shot." It paused, cocked its head. "And speaking of 'shot'…"
Dean threw himself to the side, trying to dive through the tent flap, but he wasn't quick enough. The sound of the gunshot was loud, and Dean spared a second to think of the unwanted attention the noise would draw, but then the pain kicked in and he didn't really think of anything else for a while.
*
Dean woke up in the woods, slumped next to Bobby's truck. Bobby himself was sitting next to Dean, peering at his face.
"Sam?" Dean gasped. "Where's-"
"Right here, you jackass." Sam pressed a wadded piece of cloth to the wound in Dean's shoulder. "Stop squirming, you're losing blood."
Dean shook his head, gritting his teeth against the pain. "Sam, I'm sorry… Jo-"
"Possessed," Sam interrupted. "Yeah. Bobby told me."
"Bobby." Dean rolled his head to look at him. Another wave of pain rolled through him, but he ignored it. "What happened?"
Bobby shrugged. "Once I came to, I played dead and waited for an opening. When she tried to shoot you, I knocked her off target and doused her with some holy water. It was a close call. I had to drag you out of there and we barely got away in time."
Sam added, "The other hunters that Bobby called finally showed up, and they're working on rounding up the cult members." He paused. "Jo's gone, though. No one can find her."
"It was the demon," Dean said quietly. "The one that Dad was looking for. The one he made a deal with."
Bobby swore under his breath. Sam just looked at Dean, his face unreadable. His hands were streaked with red from Dean's shoulder.
Dean squeezed his eyes shut. "Hey," he said shakily. "What's a guy gotta do to get some stitches around here?"
*
Dean dreamed-
"What if I want to do it again," Sam whispers. His bloody mouth twists, and he blinks up at Dean with eyes the color of lemon-peel.
-and jolted awake. It was night, the room dark, with pale light from the moon shining dimly through the curtains. He was lying on the fold-out cot at Bobby's house, and his shoulder was throbbing like a motherfucker. Sam was there beside him, sitting silently, his long legs tucked up under him in the recliner.
"You awake?" Sam spoke quietly, just in case Dean might not be.
Dean nodded. Sam wordlessly offered him a glass of water, and then helped him drink it when sitting up proved to be too painful a task.
"What are you doing up?" Dean's voice was hoarse, and he coughed a little to clear it. "You should be getting some sleep."
"I've been thinking." Sam bit his lip and looked down. "Bobby and I had a long talk. We agreed that I, uh, I can't really go home."
"Shit. Sammy…" Dean, his jealousy forgotten, reached out a hand and was mildly amazed when Sam took it. Sam gave his fingers a squeeze and then let go.
"Yeah. But with Mom not knowing I'm alive, and Jo off who knows where… it's safer for them. Bobby's going to make sure Mom knows there's danger, just not why. I'm sure that'll drive her crazy, but-" Sam broke off.
"How'd she take the news about Jo?" Dean asked gently.
"Shit, Dean." Sam's face crumpled a little. "She's all alone now. What happens to her if-if Jo doesn't come back? I mean, we don't even know where to find this demon. We don't know if… it might just kill Jo."
Dean shook his head slowly. "I don't think it will."
Sam's head snapped up. "What?"
"It wants you, Sam. Jo getting captured, hell, that whole mess-I think it was some sort of test. For you."
Sam's mouth thinned. "What makes you think the test wasn't for you?"
Maybe Sam was right. Maybe it had been. Dean didn't say that. He just said: "Get some rest."
"I will," said Sam, and made no attempt to move. He was still sitting there in the dark when Dean finally fell back to sleep.
*
Bobby agreed to let them stay at his place until both Dean and the Impala were fixed up. As soon as Dean could handle a wrench, he was out in the auto yard, trying to whip his girl back into shape. On the other hand, Sam, with the exception of the night they had spoken, usually avoided Dean and tended to communicate in grunts like a sullen teenager. Which he was, Dean had to keep reminding himself, but it was such a change from the Sam he had known that sometimes Dean wondered if Sam was just trying to play the role of annoying kid brother. Maybe he was just trying to make this easier on them both.
Dean figured that his contribution to making it easier was to get his car road-worthy again. Once the Impala was back to her usual self, then everything else would have to fall into shape, too. Dean would take off-either alone or with Sam, although the former was looking more and more likely.
Then, about half-an-hour after Bobby drove into town on an errand run, Sam swung open the door to the Impala and slouched down in the passenger seat. When Dean looked over from where he had been buffing the steering wheel, Sam's face was blank.
"What if I want to do it again?" Sam asked.
Dean got a weird feeling of déjà vu, but shook it off. He sighed. "Sam. It's not gonna work."
"Listen." Sam squared his shoulders and sat a little bit straighter. "I know this is weird. But… I've already died once. I lost my family. I found a brother I didn't know I had. There's a demon after me for who-knows-what reason. The world is ending. And I miss you."
Dean stared at him for a long moment, then said, "Well, then I guess that makes incest all hunky-dory, doesn't it? Call up Donny and Marie."
"Fuck, Dean." Sam drove a fist into the dashboard and turned to Dean, eyes dark and angry. "Does everything have to be a goddamned pop culture reference-"
"Yes!" yelled Dean. "Look, I'm trying, okay?"
"What are you trying, Dean? Because I'm sitting here, I'm trying to tell you I want you, and you're just shutting me down-"
"I'm trying to be your brother, all right?" Dean's voice came out too loud, too angry, and Sam fell silent and turned his face away. "Shit. Sammy-"
"Don't call me that." Sam sniffed, but when he turned back to Dean, his eyes were dry. "I don't care if it's wrong, okay? And maybe that means I'm wrong, or I'm sick somehow-"
"You're not," said Dean fiercely. "You're not wrong. You're fine."
Sam's voice sounded young and broken. "I don't feel fine."
Dean couldn't deal with this. He stared at the steering wheel. He stared at the gearshift, at the candy wrappers shoved in the ashtray. Everywhere but at Sam. His brother. His family. His-
"Please, Dean," said Sam. "What's it gonna take? Tell me now. And if it's not going to work, just tell me so, and I can leave you alone."
"You don't have to do that," Dean said.
"Just tell me what you want. If you want me to leave, I can leave." He paused. "If you want me to stay…"
Dean floundered, lost. Shook his head and looked blindly out the windshield. He needed air. He popped the door handle and stumbled out of the Impala into the dusty yard, the sunlight, the crisp breeze of late fall. Dean didn't even know what month it was. Was he going nuts again?
Dean walked over to the house and sank down on Bobby's splintered wooden porch steps. His hands shook.
After a few minutes, Sam came over and sat beside him. Dean still didn't know what the hell he was doing, but when Sam touched his knee, Dean turned and met Sam halfway, breathing out against Sam's mouth.
*
Dean woke. The morning was gray and cloudy, still dark with the onset of winter. A chill was creeping in through the crack in the window frame.
He twisted in bed, suddenly paranoid - but Sam was still there, sprawled out on the other cot beneath a pile of blankets. Dean could hear the faint whistle of a snore as Sam breathed.
As Dean lay there, he could hear other noises: wind outside, an occasional shift and creak. There was a sudden clatter from the kitchen, which mean Bobby was probably in the process of cooking some breakfast that he'd feed to the dogs if Dean and Sam didn't get there in time. And there was a song stuck in Dean's head.
I've traveled every road in this here land-
Dean hummed, his voice scratchy. "'I've been everywhere, man. Crossed the deserts bare, man. Of travel I've had my share'…" He trailed off, leaving Johnny Cash's words to the hazy time between night and day, where they belonged. Then he reached over and shook Sam's foot to wake him. Sam grumbled. "Whatever, sleepyhead. Rise and shine."
"Mm-like I'm twelve, Dean, come on," Sam grumbled.
"What, do you prefer 'we kindly request the pleasure of your presence downstairs'?"
Sam blinked up at him, obviously still half-asleep, then suddenly grinned bright. "I don't know - I'm fine with giving you the pleasure of my presence, but Bobby might find that awkward." Sam's eyes glittered and Dean swallowed.
"You little bitch," he said helplessly, and Sam laughed, tugged at Dean until his knees hit the bedframe. Dean leaned over and kissed him, even though Sam's mouth was stale from sleep. When the kiss finally broke, Dean didn't move away, content to spend just a moment breathing the same air, recycled from Sam's lungs to his.
Even if they never again had more than this, here, this was enough. Rough fabric of the bedspread, Sam's body warm beneath. Dean's chest ached until he gave in and fumbled his hand under the blankets, rucking up Sam's T-shirt and tracing his fingertips along the smooth skin of his side.
"Hey." Sam reached out and touched Dean's cheek. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good." Dean grinned. "But freaking starving, man. Bobby's gonna feed all the bacon to the mutts."
Sam just kept looking at him, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Can you miss someone you've never met?" he asked quietly. "Do you think that ever happens?"
Dean's grin faded. For a second, he wanted to pull away, but the feeling passed and instead he moved closer. He leaned his forehead against Sam's, feeling Sam's breath against his cheek. Wind outside, a clatter from the kitchen. A storm on its way, maybe, but still a long way off.
"Yeah, it happens," said Dean.
END
CHAPTER SEVEN: Sun's Been Known to Shine
Dean still had his gun in his hand and was ready to use it, but Jo snapped her fingers and the gun was torn from his grip. It hurtled across the tent and came to rest in the corner, far from Dean's reach.
"Now, Dean, that's not very nice," Jo admonished. "Trying to shoot a poor, defenseless girl like that. I mean hell, Dean, we're practically family."
Dean stood his ground. "Who the fuck are you?"
The thing inside Jo shrugged, and its lizard-golden eyes gleamed. A demon, obviously, but not one like Dean had seen before. "Let's just say we have a common interest," said Jo.
"I don't know what you mean." Dean glanced at Bobby's still form and hoped like hell that Sam wouldn't wonder what was keeping them and blunder into this mess.
"I think you do," said the demon. "I think you know exactly what I mean." She shook her mud-streaked blonde hair away from her face and smiled. "Your beloved brother, Samuel Winchester. Or, wait, he's going by a different name now. How precious. Would you rather I called him Harvelle? Would that make you feel better about fucking him?"
Dean cast a glance around the tent, looking for something, anything he could use as a weapon. "Shut up," he said. "I didn't know."
"But now you know, and yet, you still want to," said the demon. "That's the real kicker, isn't it? It's what made me decide I had to meet you. Such an interesting piece of the puzzle."
"You son of a bitch. What do you want with Sam?" Dean abandoned his search for a weapon and faced her, hands fisted at his sides. "That's you, isn't it? The yellow-eyed motherfucker who killed my father?"
"Your father was weak. I have more faith in you." The demon licked its lips slowly, considering. "I want to make a deal, Dean Winchester."
Dean stared. "What? No."
"I think you'll change your mind when you hear what I have to offer," it said, smiling sharply with Jo's mouth. "All I want is your cooperation."
"And I'm telling you, no."
"I can give you your father back. Just the way he was." Jo took a few steps forward and tapped her fingertips along Dean's arm. "He won't remember hell. He'll be just as you remember him. You remember the last thing he said to you?" She leaned closer. "'I'm proud of you, boy.' His goodbye." Yellow eyes glinting up at Dean, clashing horribly with the gold of Jo's hair. "But it doesn't have to be."
Dean's throat closed up. He stepped back, breaking contact with the demon, and forced himself to laugh. "Right. And the catch?"
"No catch." Jo lifted her chin. "All you have to do is walk away. Leave baby brother to his real family, where he'll be safe. There's a reason you were never supposed to meet; John knew that you would only get him killed."
"That's not true." Dean edged toward the tent flap and cast another look at Bobby. Still unconscious, and looking to stay that way.
"You know it is. You and your daddy were flawed, too wrapped up in yourselves. Good soldiers. How would little Sammy have fared in that life?" The demon shrugged, the motion matching, rather disconcertingly, that of a teenage girl. "I only have Sammy's best interests in mind," it said. "It's scary out there."
"Scary. Like you and your kind weren't the ones to make it that way?"
Jo-the demon-grinned. "Why, I'm flattered you've noticed. It's quite an accomplishment, isn't it? The world's breaking down. Little pieces of reality flaking off and falling into hell. We're years ahead of schedule, even without your brother's help."
The demon noticed Dean's startled reaction. "Oh, didn't you know about Sammy?" A cruel, cocky grin. "He's not all sunshine and unicorns, if you know what I mean. The poor boy didn't really come back…right. He gets that from his mother's side."
"Don't talk about my mother," Dean snapped.
The demon stared at him for a moment, then let out a sudden cackle. "You mean, you don't know? Daddy never told you that I was there?" It grew serious, Jo's face smoothing into a mask. "I'm the reason you're an orphan, boy. You want to see how she died? Screaming, crying, roasting on the ceiling like a rotisserie chicken?"
"Fuck you." Dean was in front of the tent flap now and just had to hope that he could outrun a demon, or at least get to a gun before his intestines were ripped from his body. "I don't believe you." But Dean's mother had died in a burning nursery-and his father had thought this demon had a plan for Sam. Dean felt dizzy, and wondered how much of this was in the notes that his father had left him.
"Your loss," said the demon.
Its flippancy gave Dean new resolve. "No deal," he said harshly. "Did you honestly think I'd ever listen to you? Not to mangle Alice Cooper, but: you're fucking poison."
"Of course I knew you wouldn't deal," the demon said, leaning casually against the table. "But a girl has to give it her best shot." It paused, cocked its head. "And speaking of 'shot'…"
Dean threw himself to the side, trying to dive through the tent flap, but he wasn't quick enough. The sound of the gunshot was loud, and Dean spared a second to think of the unwanted attention the noise would draw, but then the pain kicked in and he didn't really think of anything else for a while.
*
Dean woke up in the woods, slumped next to Bobby's truck. Bobby himself was sitting next to Dean, peering at his face.
"Sam?" Dean gasped. "Where's-"
"Right here, you jackass." Sam pressed a wadded piece of cloth to the wound in Dean's shoulder. "Stop squirming, you're losing blood."
Dean shook his head, gritting his teeth against the pain. "Sam, I'm sorry… Jo-"
"Possessed," Sam interrupted. "Yeah. Bobby told me."
"Bobby." Dean rolled his head to look at him. Another wave of pain rolled through him, but he ignored it. "What happened?"
Bobby shrugged. "Once I came to, I played dead and waited for an opening. When she tried to shoot you, I knocked her off target and doused her with some holy water. It was a close call. I had to drag you out of there and we barely got away in time."
Sam added, "The other hunters that Bobby called finally showed up, and they're working on rounding up the cult members." He paused. "Jo's gone, though. No one can find her."
"It was the demon," Dean said quietly. "The one that Dad was looking for. The one he made a deal with."
Bobby swore under his breath. Sam just looked at Dean, his face unreadable. His hands were streaked with red from Dean's shoulder.
Dean squeezed his eyes shut. "Hey," he said shakily. "What's a guy gotta do to get some stitches around here?"
*
Dean dreamed-
"What if I want to do it again," Sam whispers. His bloody mouth twists, and he blinks up at Dean with eyes the color of lemon-peel.
-and jolted awake. It was night, the room dark, with pale light from the moon shining dimly through the curtains. He was lying on the fold-out cot at Bobby's house, and his shoulder was throbbing like a motherfucker. Sam was there beside him, sitting silently, his long legs tucked up under him in the recliner.
"You awake?" Sam spoke quietly, just in case Dean might not be.
Dean nodded. Sam wordlessly offered him a glass of water, and then helped him drink it when sitting up proved to be too painful a task.
"What are you doing up?" Dean's voice was hoarse, and he coughed a little to clear it. "You should be getting some sleep."
"I've been thinking." Sam bit his lip and looked down. "Bobby and I had a long talk. We agreed that I, uh, I can't really go home."
"Shit. Sammy…" Dean, his jealousy forgotten, reached out a hand and was mildly amazed when Sam took it. Sam gave his fingers a squeeze and then let go.
"Yeah. But with Mom not knowing I'm alive, and Jo off who knows where… it's safer for them. Bobby's going to make sure Mom knows there's danger, just not why. I'm sure that'll drive her crazy, but-" Sam broke off.
"How'd she take the news about Jo?" Dean asked gently.
"Shit, Dean." Sam's face crumpled a little. "She's all alone now. What happens to her if-if Jo doesn't come back? I mean, we don't even know where to find this demon. We don't know if… it might just kill Jo."
Dean shook his head slowly. "I don't think it will."
Sam's head snapped up. "What?"
"It wants you, Sam. Jo getting captured, hell, that whole mess-I think it was some sort of test. For you."
Sam's mouth thinned. "What makes you think the test wasn't for you?"
Maybe Sam was right. Maybe it had been. Dean didn't say that. He just said: "Get some rest."
"I will," said Sam, and made no attempt to move. He was still sitting there in the dark when Dean finally fell back to sleep.
*
Bobby agreed to let them stay at his place until both Dean and the Impala were fixed up. As soon as Dean could handle a wrench, he was out in the auto yard, trying to whip his girl back into shape. On the other hand, Sam, with the exception of the night they had spoken, usually avoided Dean and tended to communicate in grunts like a sullen teenager. Which he was, Dean had to keep reminding himself, but it was such a change from the Sam he had known that sometimes Dean wondered if Sam was just trying to play the role of annoying kid brother. Maybe he was just trying to make this easier on them both.
Dean figured that his contribution to making it easier was to get his car road-worthy again. Once the Impala was back to her usual self, then everything else would have to fall into shape, too. Dean would take off-either alone or with Sam, although the former was looking more and more likely.
Then, about half-an-hour after Bobby drove into town on an errand run, Sam swung open the door to the Impala and slouched down in the passenger seat. When Dean looked over from where he had been buffing the steering wheel, Sam's face was blank.
"What if I want to do it again?" Sam asked.
Dean got a weird feeling of déjà vu, but shook it off. He sighed. "Sam. It's not gonna work."
"Listen." Sam squared his shoulders and sat a little bit straighter. "I know this is weird. But… I've already died once. I lost my family. I found a brother I didn't know I had. There's a demon after me for who-knows-what reason. The world is ending. And I miss you."
Dean stared at him for a long moment, then said, "Well, then I guess that makes incest all hunky-dory, doesn't it? Call up Donny and Marie."
"Fuck, Dean." Sam drove a fist into the dashboard and turned to Dean, eyes dark and angry. "Does everything have to be a goddamned pop culture reference-"
"Yes!" yelled Dean. "Look, I'm trying, okay?"
"What are you trying, Dean? Because I'm sitting here, I'm trying to tell you I want you, and you're just shutting me down-"
"I'm trying to be your brother, all right?" Dean's voice came out too loud, too angry, and Sam fell silent and turned his face away. "Shit. Sammy-"
"Don't call me that." Sam sniffed, but when he turned back to Dean, his eyes were dry. "I don't care if it's wrong, okay? And maybe that means I'm wrong, or I'm sick somehow-"
"You're not," said Dean fiercely. "You're not wrong. You're fine."
Sam's voice sounded young and broken. "I don't feel fine."
Dean couldn't deal with this. He stared at the steering wheel. He stared at the gearshift, at the candy wrappers shoved in the ashtray. Everywhere but at Sam. His brother. His family. His-
"Please, Dean," said Sam. "What's it gonna take? Tell me now. And if it's not going to work, just tell me so, and I can leave you alone."
"You don't have to do that," Dean said.
"Just tell me what you want. If you want me to leave, I can leave." He paused. "If you want me to stay…"
Dean floundered, lost. Shook his head and looked blindly out the windshield. He needed air. He popped the door handle and stumbled out of the Impala into the dusty yard, the sunlight, the crisp breeze of late fall. Dean didn't even know what month it was. Was he going nuts again?
Dean walked over to the house and sank down on Bobby's splintered wooden porch steps. His hands shook.
After a few minutes, Sam came over and sat beside him. Dean still didn't know what the hell he was doing, but when Sam touched his knee, Dean turned and met Sam halfway, breathing out against Sam's mouth.
*
Dean woke. The morning was gray and cloudy, still dark with the onset of winter. A chill was creeping in through the crack in the window frame.
He twisted in bed, suddenly paranoid - but Sam was still there, sprawled out on the other cot beneath a pile of blankets. Dean could hear the faint whistle of a snore as Sam breathed.
As Dean lay there, he could hear other noises: wind outside, an occasional shift and creak. There was a sudden clatter from the kitchen, which mean Bobby was probably in the process of cooking some breakfast that he'd feed to the dogs if Dean and Sam didn't get there in time. And there was a song stuck in Dean's head.
I've traveled every road in this here land-
Dean hummed, his voice scratchy. "'I've been everywhere, man. Crossed the deserts bare, man. Of travel I've had my share'…" He trailed off, leaving Johnny Cash's words to the hazy time between night and day, where they belonged. Then he reached over and shook Sam's foot to wake him. Sam grumbled. "Whatever, sleepyhead. Rise and shine."
"Mm-like I'm twelve, Dean, come on," Sam grumbled.
"What, do you prefer 'we kindly request the pleasure of your presence downstairs'?"
Sam blinked up at him, obviously still half-asleep, then suddenly grinned bright. "I don't know - I'm fine with giving you the pleasure of my presence, but Bobby might find that awkward." Sam's eyes glittered and Dean swallowed.
"You little bitch," he said helplessly, and Sam laughed, tugged at Dean until his knees hit the bedframe. Dean leaned over and kissed him, even though Sam's mouth was stale from sleep. When the kiss finally broke, Dean didn't move away, content to spend just a moment breathing the same air, recycled from Sam's lungs to his.
Even if they never again had more than this, here, this was enough. Rough fabric of the bedspread, Sam's body warm beneath. Dean's chest ached until he gave in and fumbled his hand under the blankets, rucking up Sam's T-shirt and tracing his fingertips along the smooth skin of his side.
"Hey." Sam reached out and touched Dean's cheek. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good." Dean grinned. "But freaking starving, man. Bobby's gonna feed all the bacon to the mutts."
Sam just kept looking at him, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Can you miss someone you've never met?" he asked quietly. "Do you think that ever happens?"
Dean's grin faded. For a second, he wanted to pull away, but the feeling passed and instead he moved closer. He leaned his forehead against Sam's, feeling Sam's breath against his cheek. Wind outside, a clatter from the kitchen. A storm on its way, maybe, but still a long way off.
"Yeah, it happens," said Dean.
END