Merry Go Rounds and Burial Grounds Are All The Same To Me (6/?)
Title: Merry Go Rounds and Burial Grounds Are All The Same To Me
Author:whreflections
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Word Count: will probably finish out around 150k or so. At present it’s a 88k WIP, but don’t let that discourage you from starting it because I’ve written that much in a month(this was supposed to a Big Bang that I realized I wouldn’t be able to finish in time. *sigh*), and I’ll be writing on this steadily every day so I’ll stay plenty ahead of where I’m at chapter posting wise and I plan to post every other day. ^^
Word Count for this chapter: 7,176
Genre: Little bit of everything. There’s romance and boys desperately in love and there’s crazy amounts of angst in places and drama and action and family and…just all over the place. But the boys in love thing, that’s the heart. <3
Spoilers: Need to have seen through 5.16
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: After getting back from heaven, Sam feels like he’s hit a dead end. They seem to have finally drifted far enough apart that Dean’s unreachable, and he’s staring down the fact that it’s hard to keep the faith when you’re the only doing it, and that at this point they’re probably screwed no matter what he tries to fix. But if Ash is right then him and his brother are soulmates, and that gives him a little bit of something to hold onto, tells him that what he’s felt for his brother all along might not be so wrong. In a last ditch effort to do the right thing he sells his soul to hell to get Crowley to send him back to 6 years before the apocalypse on the night he left for Stanford, giving him the chance to not only fix his relationship with his brother, but to just maybe fix everything else too. Of course, all that hinges on just how inevitable fate really is, and if he fails, he’ll end up right where Lucifer wants him.
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Sam jerked awake, sitting up in bed as his heart jackhammered in his chest. It was beating so hard it hurt, pounding harshly against his ribs. Fuck, he was gonna throw up. He jerked the covers off and practically bolted to the bathroom, collapsing on the tile and heaving over the bowl. He hadn’t really had dinner the night before so there wasn’t much for him to lose but his muscles quaked and shivered with the force of trying, Dean still looking down on him from behind his eyes.
This wasn’t supposed to happen, not like this, not now. Azazel had told him before that he’d killed Jess because he was going to settle down with her and he needed him sharp, needed him hunting, but maybe that wasn’t it at all. Maybe it had something to do with settling down in any form, even if it was settling into this life with his brother. Or maybe it was sheer vindictive hatred, animosity for the fact that Sam loved him. It could be anything or nothing at all, because he’d learned a long time ago demons didn’t have to have a reason to fuck you over.
He dragged himself to his feet, smacking at the handle to flush before bending nearly in half over the sink, dousing his face with cold water.
“Sam?” Dean’s voice came from the doorway, and the sound of it all soft and rough with sleep drew him like hooks through his chest.
“Yeah, sorry. I just…” He gestured, lost all hope for making any kind of sense. It was a miracle he wasn’t fucking shaking like a leaf. He stopped in the doorway, kissed Dean’s forehead and wrapped him in as desperate of a hug as he could before Dean recovered enough from the shock to try to reciprocate. He pulled away then, looking away from the confusion in Dean’s eyes. “I gotta…” Go panic now, no big deal. “Gotta get some air. Just go back to sleep; I won’t be long.”
He didn’t look back after he brushed past him, just snatched his room key off the table and slipped out the door into the night. The parking lot was nearly empty, the Impala there right in front of the motel room door. He’d thought to take a walk, maybe, but he didn’t make it any further than the hood. He settled back against it, half sitting half leaning, and he tilted his head back, shutting his eyes. The cool wind felt good on his face but the rest of him was freezing, shivering from the cold and the memory of the dream, still razor sharp and cutting at him.
It might’ve been stupid, hell it was probably really stupid, but he’d honestly been sure this part wasn’t going to happen. It had involved Jess and another life where he settled down away from hunting, so he’d thought that this at least was one of those things he wasn’t going to have to worry about. Hell, he hadn’t been sure what his first vision was gonna be this time around but he’d figured it probably wouldn’t be until Max Miller.
In hindsight, he really should’ve known better, should’ve at least let it cross his mind that in doing this, he might’ve made Dean a target. Now, he was going to have to take action. He needed to find the Colt, and he needed it yesterday because there was no way in hell he was gonna be caught unprepared if Azazel was coming for Dean. He wasn’t gonna lay a fucking hand on his brother, that was for damn sure.
Getting the Colt meant a trip to Colorado was in their future, and he was going to have to find a way to explain it to Dean other than ‘I just know’, because even trusting him, Dean wasn’t gonna be willing to go cross country on that.
He heard the door click open, and even though he wasn’t surprised he still jerked when he felt Dean’s hands against his thighs as he stepped up to stand between his legs against the car. Dean brought one hand up, brushing hair back from his eyes.
“Sammy?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Look at me, man.” He didn’t really want to do that, because the minute Dean saw his eyes, he was gonna see the panic, and that just…that just wouldn’t help. Of course, hesitating was gonna tell him enough anyway. He opened his eyes, blinked at the sudden fluorescent parking lot light for a moment before his eyes flickered over Dean’s.
“I’m fine, Dean, it’s nothing, really.”
“Yeah, cause you’re acting so normal.” The worry was thicker in his voice now, and his hand curved to Sam’s jaw, rubbing his thumb over his skin. “Sam, you’re scarin’ me, what the hell’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” In all likihood, the more he said it he was actually gonna hurt Dean eventually by not answering, but better that than to tell him the full truth. That one would probably hurt a hell of a lot more.
“Yeah, well I’m not buyin’ it.” Dean’s right hand slid over his thigh, gentle and comforting. “Why won’t you tell me what’s goin’ on?”
“I just…” The vision had already stretched him too thin and there was something in Dean’s eyes, that familiar big brother look he’d seen so many times. The fear was pressing hard on him and he crumbled under it, pulling Dean suddenly close and burying his face against his neck. The scent of the road and the car and everything else from the day had worn off him and he just smelled like Dean, and Sam breathed him in. Every single thing he’d ever faced in his life, from scraped knees all the way up to Lucifer, this was the only thing that ever managed to always feel safe. Dean was his brother, strong and steady and warm, and with Dean’s arms around him he’d always felt safe. Even when he wasn’t.
Dean held on just as tight, hands rubbing against his back over his t-shirt. He whispered against Sam’s ear, his voice low and easy but a little apprehensive, like he was afraid of spooking him. “You know I’ll help you, soon as I know what’s goin’ on. Just let me help you, Sammy, please…I don’t know what to say if I don’t know-“
“It’s nothing.” He held on tighter before Dean could contradict him, his fingers fisting in the back of Dean’s shirt. “Just a stupid dream. That’s all.” If only.
Dean turned his head, kissed soft skin just below Sam’s ear. “This job, those can get rough sometimes. You wanna tell me about it?”
No. No he absolutely didn’t. He shook his head.
“Think it might help.”
Not at all.
Dean shifted against the car, one hand sliding higher to cup the back of Sam’s neck. “Well no matter what it was, it’s just a dream, Sammy. You know I’d never let anything happen to you.”
Yeah, but that absolutely wasn’t what he was worried about. Well, maybe a little down the road, but that was more in the sense of all the things Dean would do rather than let something happen to him than the thought of something actually happening to him. That didn’t scare him at all, really. Still, it was something Dean had said all his life, something he’d repeated since Sam was four and having nightmares about clowns.
Doesn’t matter, Sammy, I won’t let it get you. You know I’d never let anything happen to you.
He swallowed, eyes burning with the sting of tears.
Just once, he wanted to be the one who could say that to Dean.
Don’t worry, it doesn’t matter what’s supposed to happen, what I saw. I won’t ever let anything happen to you.
That sounded about right. As far as he was concerned, Azazel could just go back to hell.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
He broke into the truck that week. He waited until dad was asleep, and he sent Dean out for food. Technically he didn’t think it should count as breaking in because he swiped the keys and used those, but he did have to pick the lock on the glove box to get what he needed.
It was shocking how much of it was actually there. The weather patterns, 90% of the signs and omens he could still mostly remember from before…it was all there. Clearly, Azazel was already well on the move. Based off of everything he knew, dad would follow him in November, just in time for him to hit Palo Alto. Except this time…this time he’d be heading to wherever he and Dean were, and while he wasn’t sure if that meant dad wouldn’t be leaving right on cue, he wasn’t going to wait around and see.
They needed the Colt and they needed it then, because if that fucker came for Dean, he was gonna be ready for him.
He sketched down a few notes on a pad of paper he’d stolen from the hotel drawer, and he shoved it all back into the glove box again before Dean could get back. They ate together and went to take their shift doing guard duty on the building, and when they saw an actual manifestation of the spirit they fought it off and saved the night guard, spent the next six hours digging up the corpse of Erik Johnson for a salt and burn.
They were just covering the grave back up when Dean reminded him just why he’d never been able to pull anything over on his brother.
“So…” He stabbed the shovel into the ground, leaning on it as he looked over at Sam. “I am really tired of waitin’. Seriously. So if you could tell me what the hell’s got you jumpin’ at fuckin’ cigarette lighters and not sleeping and just get it over with, I’d appreciate it, because there is something seriously wrong with you, and it’s drivin’ me crazy tryin’ to figure out what it is.” He had just opened his mouth when Dean held his hand out, stopping. “And if you say ‘nothing’ again, so help me, Sam, I’m gonna…” He trailed off, shaking his head. The past few years, Dean had been just a little less willing to punch him. Even if they were brothers still, something about their dynamic had irrevocably changed, but even if Dean didn’t want to hit him, Sam was still pretty sure that if he got mad enough at him, he would anyway.
He leaned hard on his own shovel, reaching up to wipe sweat out of his eyes. “Dean, I don’t know what to tell you. I told you, I haven’t been sleeping well, it’s nothing, ok? I’m…sure I’ll be fine in a week or so. I’m just tired.” And honestly, he hadn’t slept more than an hour at a time since he’d had the vision. He hadn’t seen it again, but yesterday he’d had a regular old fashioned nightmare about it, and that had been bad enough. Mostly he watched Dean sleep or he planned, running everything over a thousand times in his head.
Dean laughed, short and angry. “Wow. Yeah, ok. Whatever, Sam.” He shifted his grip on the shovel, shoving it with a little more force than necessary into the pile of dirt still left to the side.
He sounded so closed down it hurt, and Sam swallowed hard. “Dean, I-“
“Just forget it. You sure as hell don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to, I don’t know why I-“
“Dean-“ He reached out, catching his arm, startled when Dean jerked back. Dean had never pulled away from him, not like this, and it cut him, his hand stinging at the loss. “Come on, Dean, I-“
“You can finish up here, right? I’ll tell dad where to pick you up.”
Watching him walk away hurt too much for Sam to even have the presence of mind to follow him.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
Sam tossed the shovel and his bag in the back of the truck, pulling himself up into the passenger seat. The radio was turned down low but he recognized Zeppelin. Kashmir. That one he’d known ever since he was little, since dad had told them it had been mom’s favorite Zeppelin song.
“You been done long?”
“No sir. Just…I dunno, half hour maybe.”
He nodded, looking back over his shoulder out the window as he pulled the truck back over onto the main road. “You boys did a good job finding Erik. I was startin’ to think he was into somethin’ else, enough to curse the damn place.” He shifted the wheel into one hand the way Dean sometimes did, his eyes cutting off the road to look over at Sam. “What are you and your brother fightin’ about, Sammy?”
Because if I tell him what I did, he’ll never forgive me and getting this…it’ll half be for nothing.
Of course, he couldn’t exactly say that. He shrugged, looked out the window into the dark. “I hurt him. He thinks…he tried to talk to me about somethin’, and I turned him down.” That was it, at its most basic, and the more he’d thought about it while he finished filling in the grave the more he’d felt like shit. Dean had started to really open up to him the past couple years, to be comfortable enough with him to give and take however much affection he wanted so long as there wasn’t anyone around who knew they were brothers, to not be afraid to talk to him about things that were important without dragging his heels too bad first. It had been great and improving and now, it looked like he was ruining it.
“That’s not how he told it.”
Sam turned his head at that, shocked. “What’d he say?”
“Said he pushed you when he shouldn’t have. Seemed pretty pissed at himself to me, and I told him I thought he should come back and get you himself and talk it out but…well, I kinda wanted to talk to you for a minute anyway, so maybe it’s good he thought you wouldn’t want to see him right away.”
Dean had thought he wouldn’t want to see him? Jesus. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, tried to get a handle on the jumble of relief and hurt in his chest. At least Dean wasn’t furious at him anymore, and that was something, but it all came back to everything about Dean that had been forced into him from the age of the four. His fear of being a burden, of pushing the people he loved away or letting them down, all of it had been hammered into him by the life he led. The angels preyed on it as heavily as the demons, and every time Dean was the one who paid the price. Sam had been trying to be the one fucking person to break through it, the one Dean could trust to be there for him because he wanted to be, no matter what, but apparently even that wasn’t sinking in as well as he’d hoped it might be.
“I just, uh…well, been meaning to talk to you about this for a long time, but…I just wanted you to know, I’ve been real proud of you these last few years.” He’d been so hung up on what he’d said about Dean, he’d almost forgotten dad had mentioned wanting to talk to him in there too. “I know this hasn’t always been what you wanted, and-“
“No, dad, I-“
“Just let me finish, Sammy, ok?” He was smiling, and Sam nodded, letting him talk. “I know you coulda had a better life if you left, and honestly part of me wanted that for you. But I’m glad you stayed, and you and Dean, I couldn’t be more proud of you. Ok?”
“Yeah, dad, I…I’m glad I stayed too.”
He was too shocked by it and too still half focused on Dean to think clear just then, but after he got out of the car he couldn’t help thinking there was a hell of a lot more he should’ve said, and that if he was looking for a chance to tell his dad that he loved him and he’d forgiven him, that had probably been it.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
When he came in, it was clear Dean was tryin’ to pretend not to have been staring at the door. Sam let him, and he turned his back to toss his bags down next to the table by the window. “Dad’s goin’ out. Said he heard from Caleb about what might be a new case, Caleb’s just an hour out so he’s gonna meet up with him. Said he’ll call and let us know if we’re takin’ it, that we can meet him there.”
“Sam, I’m sorry.”
He sounded it too, tired and wounded and like he really had been worried Sam wasn’t gonna want to see him. Sam shook his head. “Dean, I’m not mad. Look, I’m the one that-“ He stopped, startled out of his thoughts by Dean’s hand against his shoulder, his touch light and tentative. He turned to face him, glad when Dean left his hand where it was. “I’m sorry, ok? I just need you to trust me here.” Fuck, it hurt to say it, because really, this was the opposite of that. He needed Dean to trust him, yeah, and for the most part Dean did, implicitly. Even now, when he was lying to him. He’d had more than enough of the sick feeling he got lying to Dean to last him a lifetime. It never got easier, only worse.
“You know I do. It’s just…knowing somethin’s wrong, and you won’t tell me what it is? That fuckin’ scares me, Sam, you gotta know that. But-“ The hand on his shoulder tightened, holding on. “But I get it. You wanna keep it to yourself so…I mean if you change your mind…” Dean gave up, looking away and shaking his head. “Dammit, you know what I’m tryin’ to say. I’m sorry, and I’m here if you change your mind, but I’m not gonna try to make you do anything, you just-“
“Dean, it’s not that-“
“Can we not talk about this anymore? Huh? Just…c’mere.” He reached up and pulled Sam down into a kiss, his tongue stroking along Sam’s lower lip looking for permission he hadn’t even bothered to ask for for a long time. Sam opened to him easily, his arms automatically wrapping around him. He walked them back, pushing until he had Dean up against the wall, braced on one hand as they kissed. Dean had kept control and he was more than willing to let him, moaning at the hungry way Dean was tasting him, like Sam’s absence even for the past couple hours had driven him crazy. Sam could easily understand.
When they broke for air he whispered against Dean’s lips, nuzzling against him. “Thought you were still gonna be pissed.”
“Wasn’t pissed anymore the minute I left.” His hands tightened in the front of Sam’s shirt, hauling him closer. “Never wanna see you look at me like that again.”
Sam pressed him up against the wall, right leg slipping between Dean’s, chest to chest. “Then don’t leave. Don’t leave me.” God, please, Dean, don’t ever leave me. That was the one thing he feared, more than hell and more than Lucifer, and it was part of the jumbled mess that had sent him back here in the first place. If Dean left him, he wouldn’t be able to go on. Not then, and certainly not now.
Dean kissed him again, sucked lightly at Sam’s tongue until he drew just the sound out of him that he was looking for. “I won’t. You know I won’t, I can’t. Told you that to begin with, remember? Just me and you.” He didn’t give him time to answer, just claimed his lips again and jerked a little harder on Sam’s shirt, not letting him back up an inch. Not that he’d wanted to.
He flexed his hand against Dean’s neck, felt the answering shift in the muscles under his fingers. Sam pressed him against the wall, breathing hard between kisses that hardly let up, and when he shifted his thigh a little higher Dean thrust against it, crying out softly as his head knocked back against the wall, baring his throat.
Beyond the whole doing his brother thing it was probably a little wrong that he never failed to be turned on by the way Dean just submitted to him, but he couldn’t help it. He was pretty sure he couldn’t be this way with everyone(or maybe Sam just hoped), because he could be damn forceful when he wanted to, but this was Dean at his most open and honest, the kind of thing they had most of the time when it wasn’t just getting off or fucking or anything else but them.
Dean’s eyes were closed, and when Sam looked up at from under his own eyelashes, he could see Dean’s eyelids flutter as Sam sucked on his neck. He was gentle about it, not leaving a mark, and when he tongued the spot slowly as he pulled away Dean whined in a way that went more to his heart than his cock, and that was saying a lot.
It was good like this, the press of his body against Dean’s, letting Dean ride against his thigh as they kissed so desperately they were hardly even taking a breath apart, but just then there was something else he wanted. He slid to his knees, quick, and he pushed Dean’s hands back when they tried to hook under his shoulders at first and pull him back to his feet.
He nuzzled against the front of Dean’s jeans, and Dean stopped trying to get him back on his level. His breath went just a little more ragged, his fingers stroking through Sam’s hair in way that was far more loving than grabby.
“Sammy…Sammy, yeah, please, want you to-“
“Shhh.” He unfastened his pants, yanked them just low enough around his thighs that he could get at what he wanted. He meant to suck him down all at once, really; surprise him. He couldn’t. There was a drop of moisture already beading at the tip, and Sam curled his tongue just around the head, suckling it off. Dean swore, and though he heard his head hit pretty hard against the wall his grip on Sam’s hair didn’t tighten and he didn’t push. Sam pulled back to lick his lips, indulged himself again by running his tongue up along the underside. Dean felt so good on his tongue, thick and hard and full, but even better was the way he trembled, the broken, hitched way he moaned like Sam was taking him apart. As long as he was the one doing it, Sam could handle that. He was the only one that knew how all the pieces went back together anyway. Castiel had said he fixed him, built him again from the ground up and Sam had always resented him for that. No angel knew the way Dean worked better than he did. Not even one who’d seen him in hell.
He slipped a hand into his own pants, started working himself over as he stretched his mouth open, sucking in earnest. He couldn’t take him all the way, he still had trouble with that, but he went as far as he could, his tongue lapping and stroking in just the ways he knew from experience could make Dean come hard and fast.
“Sam…oh God, Sammy, fuck…” It was a warning he didn’t need. He knew Dean’s other signs well enough, like the way his hips started to thrust forward a little because he was so fucking close on he just couldn’t help it anymore. He moaned around him, and he wasn’t surprised when Dean’s hips bucked forward at the vibration, spilling over into his mouth. He swallowed everything he could and lapped up what he couldn’t, loving the way Dean’s cock still twitched when he coaxed the last bit of moisture from the tip. He shifted to the side and pressed his forehead against Dean’s hip, coming over his own fingers with a soft gasp.
Dean slid to the ground in front of him then, his knees weak, and before he even tucked himself in and zipped up his jeans he pulled Sam forward into a kiss, soft little satisfied sounds rising from his throat as he tasted himself on Sam’s tongue.
In the space he had to breath, Sam laughed, and Dean pulled back just enough to give a look that was half still spaced out and half ‘what the hell?’.
“It’s just…we haven’t really fought. I mean, not like this, not since we…” He gestured between them, always at a loss as to what to call them. Dean didn’t know about the whole soulmates thing yet, and it’d sound weird and crazy in conversation anyway. “Think I like the whole make up sex thing.”
Dean rolled his eyes, still a little out of breath as he reached down to zip up his jeans and buckle his belt. “Yeah, well don’t get used to it.”
No, he never wanted to. No matter what ‘good’ might come out of it, fighting with Dean was nothing short of hell. “Wouldn’t want to.” He took a deep breath, settled back on his heels to button up his own pants. “So…we’re ok?”
Dean’s hand slid across his cheek, resting briefly at the back of his neck and squeezing hard. “Yeah, Sam. We’re ok.”
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
At first, Sam’s goal had been not to panic. And he’d tried really fucking hard. Really. But now he’d called dad 15 fucking times and gotten no answer and…
Yeah. Full on panicking.
It was only June for God’s sakes! He was on a hunt with Dean in Tennessee, and it had wrapped up fast so he’d been planning that tomorrow they’d set off cross country, hit up the Roadhouse and the Colt on the way. He’d had the vision twice more, and though he’d woken up sweating and shaking both times and screaming once, he’d noticed a little more. He knew the nightstand now, he knew the clock and the pattern on the comforter. The minute he saw that godforsaken room, he’d be ready, and if Azazel wanted to try it anyway, he’d shoot him. Plain and simple.
Not that he wasn’t taking precautions anyway. They’d gone through so much salt Dean had briefly complained, but it had only been a couple muttered words. Dean hadn’t pushed him again and for that he was glad, but it made him more than a little sick to think he was probably doing it more because he didn’t want to fight than because he wasn’t still worried because that much was damn obvious.
He’d woken up from a fitful sleep just a couple days before to find Dean rolled over on his side, watching him sleep. He’d looked troubled, but the minute Sam’s eyes were open all the way he’d just leaned in for a kiss, smacked him on the chest and told him he needed to brush his teeth, and that there was coffee.
He’d seen that almost resigned ‘I guess I won’t even ask’ look in Dean’s eyes before, and keeping this from him now was nearly killing him, but every time he almost cracked he convinced himself how much worse it’d be if Dean knew the truth.
Dealing with all of that on top of the visions…that had been far more than enough.
And now, five fucking months before this was supposed to happen…
This is John Winchester; I can’t be reached. If this is an emergency, call my boys, Sam and Dean. They can help. You can reach them at 866-907-3235 or 866-555-8612.
No. Just…no. it couldn’t be, it was wrong, it hadn’t been this soon before, it hadn’t been like this. It was November and Dean was in Lousiana and it couldn’t, it just couldn’t be happening. Not yet.
By the 20th call, he threw the phone down.
He was feeling just on the edge of what was probably some kind of nervous breakdown when Dean came in, and the first few words he said all ran together, but the ‘Sammy!’ he heard as Dean crouched down in front of him and took his wrists in his hands got his attention.
“He’s gone. It’s not…I wasn’t ready, Dean, it’s not…this wasn’t supposed to…” The fear choked him, and he struggled for a breath. “I’ve fucked up. I don’t even…”
“Hey, hey, hey.” Dean’s hands framed his face, stabilizing. “Can we back and up and start from the beginning? Please? Cause it might help if I knew what the hell we were talkin’ about.”
As much as he hated the thought, it sounded pretty damn nice too. He was in over his head and he needed help, needed Dean and…God, he felt sick. He swallowed hard, his thoughts racing over a dozen different places to begin. “Dean, it’s…I’m sorry.” He slid off the edge of the bed to settle down on the floor but Dean didn’t let go and he sat down in front of him, his hands sliding down Sam’s shoulders to rest on his arms.
“It’s ok. It’s ok. Just tell me. Whatever it is, we’ll figure somethin’ out, I promise.”
He licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry, and he pulled away a little, drawing one knee up against his chest. Dean’s right hand slid a little farther down, thumb rubbing over the inside of his wrist. “I…” Fuck, where could he start? It was too big, too much information and telling any of it was rough. “There was something, a few weeks ago.” That seemed as good a place to start as any.
“So far you’re not tellin’ me anything I don’t already know.”
Sam laughed, short and nervous. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. But um…it’s this thing I…it’s kind of hard to explain.”
“Well, I’m listening.”
“I know why the fire started, why that thing came to our house in Lawrence.” He bit his lip, hating the way he could feel Dean’s anticipation. “It was after me.” Dean’s hand tightened on his arm and he got as far as ‘Sam, no-‘ before he cut him off. “Look, I know I’m right, ok? This isn’t me feeling guilty, here, this is…this is just how it was. It’s a demon, his name’s Azazel, and he wants to bring on the apocalypse.” Which seemed to be zooming in their direction all of a sudden, 2009 already looming over him. “So he goes after these kids, and he gives them his blood to get them ready. Always 6 months, like me, and if he’s interrupted, then he kills whoever saw him. In a fire on the ceiling.”
“Look, wherever you heard this, if you tell dad-“
“Dad already knows, Dean. He knows, and I think he’s known for a really long time, but thing is I um…” He bit his lip until he tasted iron. “Do you remember the night I didn’t go to Standford?”
Dean’s fingers tightened, encircling his wrist and for the first time, it made him feel worse rather than better. “Course I do, Sam. It was hell, and then…” Then you came back. It was clear in his eyes, in the air between them and everything he didn’t say.
“See the thing is…” Fuck. He shifted, sitting forward and crossing his legs, finally moving enough to break Dean’s grip even though Dean seemed reluctant to let him go. He linked his own hands together, pressed them hard against his lips as he thought. “Dean this…this is gonna sound crazy.”
“At this point in my life I’m pretty sure there’s nothin’ you can tell me that sounds crazy.”
“This will. It’s…it’s fuckin’ crazy.” Best way to do it from here on out was probably just to bite the bullet. “So um…I came back to that night. From the future. 8 years into it, honestly.” Dean had to believe him on that, because everything else hinged on it.
First, Dean just blinked. “Like…seriously? The future?”
“Look, I told you it was crazy, but you gotta believe me-“
“Was it awesome? I mean like, flying cars and shit?” Dean was trying to smile, but he really just wasn’t in the mood.
“Dammit, Dean, this is serious! I wouldn’t be telling you any of this if I didn’t-“
“Hey, ok, don’t get so touchy! I believe you, just…lighten up a little. You know if you’re tellin’ me it’s true, I’m gonna believe you no matter what, even if it’s crazy, and this? Gotta tell you, Sam, this is all kinds of crazy. But if it’s true, then…then ok.” He took a deep breath, wiped the smirk off his face. “Ok, so…the future. How? And what for? And…are you still…I mean, was it like you just did it for one night or-“
“No, no it’s…” Harder than he thought, and that was saying quite a bit. “The apocalypse was going on-“
“Whoa, what?!”
“Dean, just listen!” If he didn’t get this all out, it’d take forever to explain every little piece of it. “It was the apocalypse, honestly the end of the world, and things were…they were bad. Seriously bad. So, I found a way to come back here, try and change things, fix a lot of times I fucked up.” Even knowing he hadn’t done it this time around, telling Dean he’d once left him wasn’t something he’d ever really wanted to do. He looked up and met his eyes, watching as he said it. “Starting with the first big mistake I made.”
Just like he’d thought, he could see it, the way the hurt crept into his eyes until he shoved it back. If he hadn’t still been half freaking out, that would have been enough to make him want to stop everything right there, to push Dean back on the floor and remind him just how badly he wanted to be right there at his side, how much Dean was everything he could never lose.
“You left. Went to Stanford.”
He cleared his throat, looked away as he nodded. “I did, yeah. And even though we ended up back together eventually, I screwed up a lot of other shit too. Not to mention, I never…we never…” He shook his head. “I was stupid enough to think it was just me, that you wouldn’t want this. So we were never together, and it nearly drove me crazy a hundred times and you must’ve been thinking the same but neither one of us ever brought it up we just…kept goin’.”
“So this…what’re you tryin’ to tell me here? Is this about the apocalypse or about us, Sammy?” Honestly, he sounded like he was afraid to know.
“Right now it’s about neither, sort of. But in the long run, it was both.” Right now just didn’t seem like the time for Lucifer and Michael and demon blood and hell and…this much, this was more than enough. “Something happened that made me think that I was wrong to never try to make this right with us and the rest of it…it’s really complicated.”
“More complicated than springing the whole Marty McFly thing on me?” There was still something he couldn’t place in Dean’s voice, and he just barely kept himself from flinching. “I don’t know, Sam. Pretty sure after that, I can keep up.”
“Guess that’s good, cause I’m not done.” Not hardly, but he wasn’t gonna go into anything but the basics just now. “Dean, I mean you-“
“Look, I believe you ok? I just…this is nuts, Sam, and I’m still tryin’ to understand it but…just go, just finish, it’s ok.”
No, not really. “Everything I was tellin’ you about Azazel, that’s the important part. I have…demon blood.” Even now a few years removed from it, it was fucking hard to say. “And I have these visions and…they almost always come true. Sometimes I can stop them. That’s what the whole…everything a few weeks ago, that’s what that was about. But right now, Dad’s missing.” Throwing it in at the ending like that, he’d hoped it wouldn’t sound quite so horrifying.
With news like that, though, there was really no dampening it.
“Wait, what? What do you mean missing, are you sayin’ you saw-“
“No, Dean, I’m sayin’ I’ve called his phone 20 times and listened to what’s nearly the same goddamn message he put up when he left you before.” He could still hear it, could still remember the first time he’d listened it to just off of an airport runway. “He’s gone after the demon, and he’s doin’ it alone cause he thinks he needs to protect us but it’s dangerous, and we need to be with him. Only I thought when this happened I’d know where to find him because it’d happen the same way as before, but it’s not…this is months too early, and I’m guessing he left us because he’s less worried about us together than he was about you alone and…” His words were running together, voice rising, and he cut himself off, hiding his face in his hands. “We need to go to Colorado first. Then Nebraska.”
“What makes you think he’s gonna be there? Is that where the demon is?”
“Dean, I don’t know where the fuck the demon is. That’s why we’re goin’ to Nebraska, ok, we’ve got…we will have some friends there, and I’m pretty sure that if we ask just the right way one of them’ll help us with this. And Colorado because I need something that’s there. Something we’re gonna kill that son of a bitch with.”
“Sam if dad’s missing, shouldn’t we try to find him first? I mean, this demon sounds serious and he’s gonna need us there to watch his back. We can’t let it surprise him.“
Why the hell did this sound so familiar? Oh yeah, probably the thousand or so times he’d told Dean they needed to just strike out into the unknown, grasping at straws and looking for dad around every corner. Argument was a little different, but still. “He’ll be where the demon is, trust me. And he doesn’t want to be found. Quickest way to do this is just to figure out where the bastard’s gonna be next and try and cut him off. He’s going to homes again, giving his blood to the kids on the night of their 6 month birthday.”
“Yeah, and that’s another thing, can we-“
“No.” Sure, he’d sort of been the one to start this conversation, but there was a point where it was gonna have to stop. He couldn’t tell everything, certainly not all at once like that. This had been maddening enough as it was.
“Excuse me, ‘no’? Sam, you’re tellin’ me you’re from the future and this demon has some kind of top secret plan for you and-“
“Dean, please.” He knew by the way Dean really looked at him then that it was the tone of his voice that got him, pleading and so fucking desperate. Honestly, he hadn’t even tried. “Can we please not talk about this anymore? Just not right now, please, because Dean, I’m…I’m freaking out here, ok? This wasn’t supposed to happen like this, and it just…” There weren’t words. Because if this could change, so could everything else, and if this was any indication, that might not be as wholly good of an idea as he’d thought it would be. He’d known it wouldn’t be perfect or easy sure, but this…this didn’t look good.
Dean wiped a hand across his mouth, scraping at the stubble on his jaw. There were a million questions still in his eyes, and he got up and paced the room twice before he threw Sam’s bag onto the bed behind him.
“Where?”
Sam was still in the process of trying to make himself get up off the floor. “Where what?”
“Where in Colorado? I gotta know where I’m going.”
Thank God.
“Uh…Manning. I think. I’ll know once I see it.” Once they were there, then he’d cross the hurdle of explaining why the hell he was taking an antique gun from another hunter.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
Dean gave him a good four hours before he questioned him again.
They were in the car and he was driving, and Dean let him think he was nearly asleep when he sprung it on him.
“So this whole ‘back to the future’ thing…seriously, what the hell, man? I mean, I feel like at this point we’ve heard of pretty much everything under the sun, and I don’t know shit about this one.”
“We haven’t.” Out of the corner of his eye he could feel Dean staring at him and he shifted his grip on the wheel, still staring straight out the windshield.
“Haven’t what?”
“Heard of everything yet. We’ll find out vampires are real next year. Or, maybe sooner, who knows.” He could practically feel from Dean’s stare that no, he wasn’t distracted. Sam cleared his throat, tried not to look like he was scrambling. “I had some help from this guy.”
“This guy.” Dean’s voice was flat, sarcastic and a little irritated. “Wow, Sam, thanks, that clears it right up.”
“Will you shut up for a minute?” He sighed, bit his lip and tried to think faster. Obviously, he couldn’t tell Dean the truth. If he could work this the way he wanted Dean wasn’t going to know about the deal he’d made, ever. “There was this guy, Crowley, and he was into some really deep stuff, incredibly ancient rituals among other things. I mean, he has some serious mojo, Dean. He was helping us out with the apocalypse, trying to help us kill the devil, and when things got really bad I told him my plan and he agreed it was worth a shot.”
“Well, great, if he’s that tough why don’t we go to him now? Maybe he can help us kill this Azazel and stop it all before it starts.”
Shit. “Dunno where he is. He came to us. He keeps himself off the radar unless he wants to contact someone, no way in hell we’d ever be able to find him.”
Dean was pretty quiet then, and Sam glanced over at him nervously, trying to gauge the look on his face as best he could from a couple stolen glances.
“Crowley, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh. Alright. Well, we should be on the lookout for him, then. If he wants to help us, maybe we’ll hear from him or at least run into someone who has.”
“Yeah. Yeah, maybe, that’s a good idea.”
An even better one would be if Dean would just drop the whole damn subject.
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Master post is here.
Author:whreflections
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Word Count: will probably finish out around 150k or so. At present it’s a 88k WIP, but don’t let that discourage you from starting it because I’ve written that much in a month(this was supposed to a Big Bang that I realized I wouldn’t be able to finish in time. *sigh*), and I’ll be writing on this steadily every day so I’ll stay plenty ahead of where I’m at chapter posting wise and I plan to post every other day. ^^
Word Count for this chapter: 7,176
Genre: Little bit of everything. There’s romance and boys desperately in love and there’s crazy amounts of angst in places and drama and action and family and…just all over the place. But the boys in love thing, that’s the heart. <3
Spoilers: Need to have seen through 5.16
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: After getting back from heaven, Sam feels like he’s hit a dead end. They seem to have finally drifted far enough apart that Dean’s unreachable, and he’s staring down the fact that it’s hard to keep the faith when you’re the only doing it, and that at this point they’re probably screwed no matter what he tries to fix. But if Ash is right then him and his brother are soulmates, and that gives him a little bit of something to hold onto, tells him that what he’s felt for his brother all along might not be so wrong. In a last ditch effort to do the right thing he sells his soul to hell to get Crowley to send him back to 6 years before the apocalypse on the night he left for Stanford, giving him the chance to not only fix his relationship with his brother, but to just maybe fix everything else too. Of course, all that hinges on just how inevitable fate really is, and if he fails, he’ll end up right where Lucifer wants him.
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Sam jerked awake, sitting up in bed as his heart jackhammered in his chest. It was beating so hard it hurt, pounding harshly against his ribs. Fuck, he was gonna throw up. He jerked the covers off and practically bolted to the bathroom, collapsing on the tile and heaving over the bowl. He hadn’t really had dinner the night before so there wasn’t much for him to lose but his muscles quaked and shivered with the force of trying, Dean still looking down on him from behind his eyes.
This wasn’t supposed to happen, not like this, not now. Azazel had told him before that he’d killed Jess because he was going to settle down with her and he needed him sharp, needed him hunting, but maybe that wasn’t it at all. Maybe it had something to do with settling down in any form, even if it was settling into this life with his brother. Or maybe it was sheer vindictive hatred, animosity for the fact that Sam loved him. It could be anything or nothing at all, because he’d learned a long time ago demons didn’t have to have a reason to fuck you over.
He dragged himself to his feet, smacking at the handle to flush before bending nearly in half over the sink, dousing his face with cold water.
“Sam?” Dean’s voice came from the doorway, and the sound of it all soft and rough with sleep drew him like hooks through his chest.
“Yeah, sorry. I just…” He gestured, lost all hope for making any kind of sense. It was a miracle he wasn’t fucking shaking like a leaf. He stopped in the doorway, kissed Dean’s forehead and wrapped him in as desperate of a hug as he could before Dean recovered enough from the shock to try to reciprocate. He pulled away then, looking away from the confusion in Dean’s eyes. “I gotta…” Go panic now, no big deal. “Gotta get some air. Just go back to sleep; I won’t be long.”
He didn’t look back after he brushed past him, just snatched his room key off the table and slipped out the door into the night. The parking lot was nearly empty, the Impala there right in front of the motel room door. He’d thought to take a walk, maybe, but he didn’t make it any further than the hood. He settled back against it, half sitting half leaning, and he tilted his head back, shutting his eyes. The cool wind felt good on his face but the rest of him was freezing, shivering from the cold and the memory of the dream, still razor sharp and cutting at him.
It might’ve been stupid, hell it was probably really stupid, but he’d honestly been sure this part wasn’t going to happen. It had involved Jess and another life where he settled down away from hunting, so he’d thought that this at least was one of those things he wasn’t going to have to worry about. Hell, he hadn’t been sure what his first vision was gonna be this time around but he’d figured it probably wouldn’t be until Max Miller.
In hindsight, he really should’ve known better, should’ve at least let it cross his mind that in doing this, he might’ve made Dean a target. Now, he was going to have to take action. He needed to find the Colt, and he needed it yesterday because there was no way in hell he was gonna be caught unprepared if Azazel was coming for Dean. He wasn’t gonna lay a fucking hand on his brother, that was for damn sure.
Getting the Colt meant a trip to Colorado was in their future, and he was going to have to find a way to explain it to Dean other than ‘I just know’, because even trusting him, Dean wasn’t gonna be willing to go cross country on that.
He heard the door click open, and even though he wasn’t surprised he still jerked when he felt Dean’s hands against his thighs as he stepped up to stand between his legs against the car. Dean brought one hand up, brushing hair back from his eyes.
“Sammy?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Look at me, man.” He didn’t really want to do that, because the minute Dean saw his eyes, he was gonna see the panic, and that just…that just wouldn’t help. Of course, hesitating was gonna tell him enough anyway. He opened his eyes, blinked at the sudden fluorescent parking lot light for a moment before his eyes flickered over Dean’s.
“I’m fine, Dean, it’s nothing, really.”
“Yeah, cause you’re acting so normal.” The worry was thicker in his voice now, and his hand curved to Sam’s jaw, rubbing his thumb over his skin. “Sam, you’re scarin’ me, what the hell’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” In all likihood, the more he said it he was actually gonna hurt Dean eventually by not answering, but better that than to tell him the full truth. That one would probably hurt a hell of a lot more.
“Yeah, well I’m not buyin’ it.” Dean’s right hand slid over his thigh, gentle and comforting. “Why won’t you tell me what’s goin’ on?”
“I just…” The vision had already stretched him too thin and there was something in Dean’s eyes, that familiar big brother look he’d seen so many times. The fear was pressing hard on him and he crumbled under it, pulling Dean suddenly close and burying his face against his neck. The scent of the road and the car and everything else from the day had worn off him and he just smelled like Dean, and Sam breathed him in. Every single thing he’d ever faced in his life, from scraped knees all the way up to Lucifer, this was the only thing that ever managed to always feel safe. Dean was his brother, strong and steady and warm, and with Dean’s arms around him he’d always felt safe. Even when he wasn’t.
Dean held on just as tight, hands rubbing against his back over his t-shirt. He whispered against Sam’s ear, his voice low and easy but a little apprehensive, like he was afraid of spooking him. “You know I’ll help you, soon as I know what’s goin’ on. Just let me help you, Sammy, please…I don’t know what to say if I don’t know-“
“It’s nothing.” He held on tighter before Dean could contradict him, his fingers fisting in the back of Dean’s shirt. “Just a stupid dream. That’s all.” If only.
Dean turned his head, kissed soft skin just below Sam’s ear. “This job, those can get rough sometimes. You wanna tell me about it?”
No. No he absolutely didn’t. He shook his head.
“Think it might help.”
Not at all.
Dean shifted against the car, one hand sliding higher to cup the back of Sam’s neck. “Well no matter what it was, it’s just a dream, Sammy. You know I’d never let anything happen to you.”
Yeah, but that absolutely wasn’t what he was worried about. Well, maybe a little down the road, but that was more in the sense of all the things Dean would do rather than let something happen to him than the thought of something actually happening to him. That didn’t scare him at all, really. Still, it was something Dean had said all his life, something he’d repeated since Sam was four and having nightmares about clowns.
Doesn’t matter, Sammy, I won’t let it get you. You know I’d never let anything happen to you.
He swallowed, eyes burning with the sting of tears.
Just once, he wanted to be the one who could say that to Dean.
Don’t worry, it doesn’t matter what’s supposed to happen, what I saw. I won’t ever let anything happen to you.
That sounded about right. As far as he was concerned, Azazel could just go back to hell.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
He broke into the truck that week. He waited until dad was asleep, and he sent Dean out for food. Technically he didn’t think it should count as breaking in because he swiped the keys and used those, but he did have to pick the lock on the glove box to get what he needed.
It was shocking how much of it was actually there. The weather patterns, 90% of the signs and omens he could still mostly remember from before…it was all there. Clearly, Azazel was already well on the move. Based off of everything he knew, dad would follow him in November, just in time for him to hit Palo Alto. Except this time…this time he’d be heading to wherever he and Dean were, and while he wasn’t sure if that meant dad wouldn’t be leaving right on cue, he wasn’t going to wait around and see.
They needed the Colt and they needed it then, because if that fucker came for Dean, he was gonna be ready for him.
He sketched down a few notes on a pad of paper he’d stolen from the hotel drawer, and he shoved it all back into the glove box again before Dean could get back. They ate together and went to take their shift doing guard duty on the building, and when they saw an actual manifestation of the spirit they fought it off and saved the night guard, spent the next six hours digging up the corpse of Erik Johnson for a salt and burn.
They were just covering the grave back up when Dean reminded him just why he’d never been able to pull anything over on his brother.
“So…” He stabbed the shovel into the ground, leaning on it as he looked over at Sam. “I am really tired of waitin’. Seriously. So if you could tell me what the hell’s got you jumpin’ at fuckin’ cigarette lighters and not sleeping and just get it over with, I’d appreciate it, because there is something seriously wrong with you, and it’s drivin’ me crazy tryin’ to figure out what it is.” He had just opened his mouth when Dean held his hand out, stopping. “And if you say ‘nothing’ again, so help me, Sam, I’m gonna…” He trailed off, shaking his head. The past few years, Dean had been just a little less willing to punch him. Even if they were brothers still, something about their dynamic had irrevocably changed, but even if Dean didn’t want to hit him, Sam was still pretty sure that if he got mad enough at him, he would anyway.
He leaned hard on his own shovel, reaching up to wipe sweat out of his eyes. “Dean, I don’t know what to tell you. I told you, I haven’t been sleeping well, it’s nothing, ok? I’m…sure I’ll be fine in a week or so. I’m just tired.” And honestly, he hadn’t slept more than an hour at a time since he’d had the vision. He hadn’t seen it again, but yesterday he’d had a regular old fashioned nightmare about it, and that had been bad enough. Mostly he watched Dean sleep or he planned, running everything over a thousand times in his head.
Dean laughed, short and angry. “Wow. Yeah, ok. Whatever, Sam.” He shifted his grip on the shovel, shoving it with a little more force than necessary into the pile of dirt still left to the side.
He sounded so closed down it hurt, and Sam swallowed hard. “Dean, I-“
“Just forget it. You sure as hell don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to, I don’t know why I-“
“Dean-“ He reached out, catching his arm, startled when Dean jerked back. Dean had never pulled away from him, not like this, and it cut him, his hand stinging at the loss. “Come on, Dean, I-“
“You can finish up here, right? I’ll tell dad where to pick you up.”
Watching him walk away hurt too much for Sam to even have the presence of mind to follow him.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
Sam tossed the shovel and his bag in the back of the truck, pulling himself up into the passenger seat. The radio was turned down low but he recognized Zeppelin. Kashmir. That one he’d known ever since he was little, since dad had told them it had been mom’s favorite Zeppelin song.
“You been done long?”
“No sir. Just…I dunno, half hour maybe.”
He nodded, looking back over his shoulder out the window as he pulled the truck back over onto the main road. “You boys did a good job finding Erik. I was startin’ to think he was into somethin’ else, enough to curse the damn place.” He shifted the wheel into one hand the way Dean sometimes did, his eyes cutting off the road to look over at Sam. “What are you and your brother fightin’ about, Sammy?”
Because if I tell him what I did, he’ll never forgive me and getting this…it’ll half be for nothing.
Of course, he couldn’t exactly say that. He shrugged, looked out the window into the dark. “I hurt him. He thinks…he tried to talk to me about somethin’, and I turned him down.” That was it, at its most basic, and the more he’d thought about it while he finished filling in the grave the more he’d felt like shit. Dean had started to really open up to him the past couple years, to be comfortable enough with him to give and take however much affection he wanted so long as there wasn’t anyone around who knew they were brothers, to not be afraid to talk to him about things that were important without dragging his heels too bad first. It had been great and improving and now, it looked like he was ruining it.
“That’s not how he told it.”
Sam turned his head at that, shocked. “What’d he say?”
“Said he pushed you when he shouldn’t have. Seemed pretty pissed at himself to me, and I told him I thought he should come back and get you himself and talk it out but…well, I kinda wanted to talk to you for a minute anyway, so maybe it’s good he thought you wouldn’t want to see him right away.”
Dean had thought he wouldn’t want to see him? Jesus. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, tried to get a handle on the jumble of relief and hurt in his chest. At least Dean wasn’t furious at him anymore, and that was something, but it all came back to everything about Dean that had been forced into him from the age of the four. His fear of being a burden, of pushing the people he loved away or letting them down, all of it had been hammered into him by the life he led. The angels preyed on it as heavily as the demons, and every time Dean was the one who paid the price. Sam had been trying to be the one fucking person to break through it, the one Dean could trust to be there for him because he wanted to be, no matter what, but apparently even that wasn’t sinking in as well as he’d hoped it might be.
“I just, uh…well, been meaning to talk to you about this for a long time, but…I just wanted you to know, I’ve been real proud of you these last few years.” He’d been so hung up on what he’d said about Dean, he’d almost forgotten dad had mentioned wanting to talk to him in there too. “I know this hasn’t always been what you wanted, and-“
“No, dad, I-“
“Just let me finish, Sammy, ok?” He was smiling, and Sam nodded, letting him talk. “I know you coulda had a better life if you left, and honestly part of me wanted that for you. But I’m glad you stayed, and you and Dean, I couldn’t be more proud of you. Ok?”
“Yeah, dad, I…I’m glad I stayed too.”
He was too shocked by it and too still half focused on Dean to think clear just then, but after he got out of the car he couldn’t help thinking there was a hell of a lot more he should’ve said, and that if he was looking for a chance to tell his dad that he loved him and he’d forgiven him, that had probably been it.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
When he came in, it was clear Dean was tryin’ to pretend not to have been staring at the door. Sam let him, and he turned his back to toss his bags down next to the table by the window. “Dad’s goin’ out. Said he heard from Caleb about what might be a new case, Caleb’s just an hour out so he’s gonna meet up with him. Said he’ll call and let us know if we’re takin’ it, that we can meet him there.”
“Sam, I’m sorry.”
He sounded it too, tired and wounded and like he really had been worried Sam wasn’t gonna want to see him. Sam shook his head. “Dean, I’m not mad. Look, I’m the one that-“ He stopped, startled out of his thoughts by Dean’s hand against his shoulder, his touch light and tentative. He turned to face him, glad when Dean left his hand where it was. “I’m sorry, ok? I just need you to trust me here.” Fuck, it hurt to say it, because really, this was the opposite of that. He needed Dean to trust him, yeah, and for the most part Dean did, implicitly. Even now, when he was lying to him. He’d had more than enough of the sick feeling he got lying to Dean to last him a lifetime. It never got easier, only worse.
“You know I do. It’s just…knowing somethin’s wrong, and you won’t tell me what it is? That fuckin’ scares me, Sam, you gotta know that. But-“ The hand on his shoulder tightened, holding on. “But I get it. You wanna keep it to yourself so…I mean if you change your mind…” Dean gave up, looking away and shaking his head. “Dammit, you know what I’m tryin’ to say. I’m sorry, and I’m here if you change your mind, but I’m not gonna try to make you do anything, you just-“
“Dean, it’s not that-“
“Can we not talk about this anymore? Huh? Just…c’mere.” He reached up and pulled Sam down into a kiss, his tongue stroking along Sam’s lower lip looking for permission he hadn’t even bothered to ask for for a long time. Sam opened to him easily, his arms automatically wrapping around him. He walked them back, pushing until he had Dean up against the wall, braced on one hand as they kissed. Dean had kept control and he was more than willing to let him, moaning at the hungry way Dean was tasting him, like Sam’s absence even for the past couple hours had driven him crazy. Sam could easily understand.
When they broke for air he whispered against Dean’s lips, nuzzling against him. “Thought you were still gonna be pissed.”
“Wasn’t pissed anymore the minute I left.” His hands tightened in the front of Sam’s shirt, hauling him closer. “Never wanna see you look at me like that again.”
Sam pressed him up against the wall, right leg slipping between Dean’s, chest to chest. “Then don’t leave. Don’t leave me.” God, please, Dean, don’t ever leave me. That was the one thing he feared, more than hell and more than Lucifer, and it was part of the jumbled mess that had sent him back here in the first place. If Dean left him, he wouldn’t be able to go on. Not then, and certainly not now.
Dean kissed him again, sucked lightly at Sam’s tongue until he drew just the sound out of him that he was looking for. “I won’t. You know I won’t, I can’t. Told you that to begin with, remember? Just me and you.” He didn’t give him time to answer, just claimed his lips again and jerked a little harder on Sam’s shirt, not letting him back up an inch. Not that he’d wanted to.
He flexed his hand against Dean’s neck, felt the answering shift in the muscles under his fingers. Sam pressed him against the wall, breathing hard between kisses that hardly let up, and when he shifted his thigh a little higher Dean thrust against it, crying out softly as his head knocked back against the wall, baring his throat.
Beyond the whole doing his brother thing it was probably a little wrong that he never failed to be turned on by the way Dean just submitted to him, but he couldn’t help it. He was pretty sure he couldn’t be this way with everyone(or maybe Sam just hoped), because he could be damn forceful when he wanted to, but this was Dean at his most open and honest, the kind of thing they had most of the time when it wasn’t just getting off or fucking or anything else but them.
Dean’s eyes were closed, and when Sam looked up at from under his own eyelashes, he could see Dean’s eyelids flutter as Sam sucked on his neck. He was gentle about it, not leaving a mark, and when he tongued the spot slowly as he pulled away Dean whined in a way that went more to his heart than his cock, and that was saying a lot.
It was good like this, the press of his body against Dean’s, letting Dean ride against his thigh as they kissed so desperately they were hardly even taking a breath apart, but just then there was something else he wanted. He slid to his knees, quick, and he pushed Dean’s hands back when they tried to hook under his shoulders at first and pull him back to his feet.
He nuzzled against the front of Dean’s jeans, and Dean stopped trying to get him back on his level. His breath went just a little more ragged, his fingers stroking through Sam’s hair in way that was far more loving than grabby.
“Sammy…Sammy, yeah, please, want you to-“
“Shhh.” He unfastened his pants, yanked them just low enough around his thighs that he could get at what he wanted. He meant to suck him down all at once, really; surprise him. He couldn’t. There was a drop of moisture already beading at the tip, and Sam curled his tongue just around the head, suckling it off. Dean swore, and though he heard his head hit pretty hard against the wall his grip on Sam’s hair didn’t tighten and he didn’t push. Sam pulled back to lick his lips, indulged himself again by running his tongue up along the underside. Dean felt so good on his tongue, thick and hard and full, but even better was the way he trembled, the broken, hitched way he moaned like Sam was taking him apart. As long as he was the one doing it, Sam could handle that. He was the only one that knew how all the pieces went back together anyway. Castiel had said he fixed him, built him again from the ground up and Sam had always resented him for that. No angel knew the way Dean worked better than he did. Not even one who’d seen him in hell.
He slipped a hand into his own pants, started working himself over as he stretched his mouth open, sucking in earnest. He couldn’t take him all the way, he still had trouble with that, but he went as far as he could, his tongue lapping and stroking in just the ways he knew from experience could make Dean come hard and fast.
“Sam…oh God, Sammy, fuck…” It was a warning he didn’t need. He knew Dean’s other signs well enough, like the way his hips started to thrust forward a little because he was so fucking close on he just couldn’t help it anymore. He moaned around him, and he wasn’t surprised when Dean’s hips bucked forward at the vibration, spilling over into his mouth. He swallowed everything he could and lapped up what he couldn’t, loving the way Dean’s cock still twitched when he coaxed the last bit of moisture from the tip. He shifted to the side and pressed his forehead against Dean’s hip, coming over his own fingers with a soft gasp.
Dean slid to the ground in front of him then, his knees weak, and before he even tucked himself in and zipped up his jeans he pulled Sam forward into a kiss, soft little satisfied sounds rising from his throat as he tasted himself on Sam’s tongue.
In the space he had to breath, Sam laughed, and Dean pulled back just enough to give a look that was half still spaced out and half ‘what the hell?’.
“It’s just…we haven’t really fought. I mean, not like this, not since we…” He gestured between them, always at a loss as to what to call them. Dean didn’t know about the whole soulmates thing yet, and it’d sound weird and crazy in conversation anyway. “Think I like the whole make up sex thing.”
Dean rolled his eyes, still a little out of breath as he reached down to zip up his jeans and buckle his belt. “Yeah, well don’t get used to it.”
No, he never wanted to. No matter what ‘good’ might come out of it, fighting with Dean was nothing short of hell. “Wouldn’t want to.” He took a deep breath, settled back on his heels to button up his own pants. “So…we’re ok?”
Dean’s hand slid across his cheek, resting briefly at the back of his neck and squeezing hard. “Yeah, Sam. We’re ok.”
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
At first, Sam’s goal had been not to panic. And he’d tried really fucking hard. Really. But now he’d called dad 15 fucking times and gotten no answer and…
Yeah. Full on panicking.
It was only June for God’s sakes! He was on a hunt with Dean in Tennessee, and it had wrapped up fast so he’d been planning that tomorrow they’d set off cross country, hit up the Roadhouse and the Colt on the way. He’d had the vision twice more, and though he’d woken up sweating and shaking both times and screaming once, he’d noticed a little more. He knew the nightstand now, he knew the clock and the pattern on the comforter. The minute he saw that godforsaken room, he’d be ready, and if Azazel wanted to try it anyway, he’d shoot him. Plain and simple.
Not that he wasn’t taking precautions anyway. They’d gone through so much salt Dean had briefly complained, but it had only been a couple muttered words. Dean hadn’t pushed him again and for that he was glad, but it made him more than a little sick to think he was probably doing it more because he didn’t want to fight than because he wasn’t still worried because that much was damn obvious.
He’d woken up from a fitful sleep just a couple days before to find Dean rolled over on his side, watching him sleep. He’d looked troubled, but the minute Sam’s eyes were open all the way he’d just leaned in for a kiss, smacked him on the chest and told him he needed to brush his teeth, and that there was coffee.
He’d seen that almost resigned ‘I guess I won’t even ask’ look in Dean’s eyes before, and keeping this from him now was nearly killing him, but every time he almost cracked he convinced himself how much worse it’d be if Dean knew the truth.
Dealing with all of that on top of the visions…that had been far more than enough.
And now, five fucking months before this was supposed to happen…
This is John Winchester; I can’t be reached. If this is an emergency, call my boys, Sam and Dean. They can help. You can reach them at 866-907-3235 or 866-555-8612.
No. Just…no. it couldn’t be, it was wrong, it hadn’t been this soon before, it hadn’t been like this. It was November and Dean was in Lousiana and it couldn’t, it just couldn’t be happening. Not yet.
By the 20th call, he threw the phone down.
He was feeling just on the edge of what was probably some kind of nervous breakdown when Dean came in, and the first few words he said all ran together, but the ‘Sammy!’ he heard as Dean crouched down in front of him and took his wrists in his hands got his attention.
“He’s gone. It’s not…I wasn’t ready, Dean, it’s not…this wasn’t supposed to…” The fear choked him, and he struggled for a breath. “I’ve fucked up. I don’t even…”
“Hey, hey, hey.” Dean’s hands framed his face, stabilizing. “Can we back and up and start from the beginning? Please? Cause it might help if I knew what the hell we were talkin’ about.”
As much as he hated the thought, it sounded pretty damn nice too. He was in over his head and he needed help, needed Dean and…God, he felt sick. He swallowed hard, his thoughts racing over a dozen different places to begin. “Dean, it’s…I’m sorry.” He slid off the edge of the bed to settle down on the floor but Dean didn’t let go and he sat down in front of him, his hands sliding down Sam’s shoulders to rest on his arms.
“It’s ok. It’s ok. Just tell me. Whatever it is, we’ll figure somethin’ out, I promise.”
He licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry, and he pulled away a little, drawing one knee up against his chest. Dean’s right hand slid a little farther down, thumb rubbing over the inside of his wrist. “I…” Fuck, where could he start? It was too big, too much information and telling any of it was rough. “There was something, a few weeks ago.” That seemed as good a place to start as any.
“So far you’re not tellin’ me anything I don’t already know.”
Sam laughed, short and nervous. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. But um…it’s this thing I…it’s kind of hard to explain.”
“Well, I’m listening.”
“I know why the fire started, why that thing came to our house in Lawrence.” He bit his lip, hating the way he could feel Dean’s anticipation. “It was after me.” Dean’s hand tightened on his arm and he got as far as ‘Sam, no-‘ before he cut him off. “Look, I know I’m right, ok? This isn’t me feeling guilty, here, this is…this is just how it was. It’s a demon, his name’s Azazel, and he wants to bring on the apocalypse.” Which seemed to be zooming in their direction all of a sudden, 2009 already looming over him. “So he goes after these kids, and he gives them his blood to get them ready. Always 6 months, like me, and if he’s interrupted, then he kills whoever saw him. In a fire on the ceiling.”
“Look, wherever you heard this, if you tell dad-“
“Dad already knows, Dean. He knows, and I think he’s known for a really long time, but thing is I um…” He bit his lip until he tasted iron. “Do you remember the night I didn’t go to Standford?”
Dean’s fingers tightened, encircling his wrist and for the first time, it made him feel worse rather than better. “Course I do, Sam. It was hell, and then…” Then you came back. It was clear in his eyes, in the air between them and everything he didn’t say.
“See the thing is…” Fuck. He shifted, sitting forward and crossing his legs, finally moving enough to break Dean’s grip even though Dean seemed reluctant to let him go. He linked his own hands together, pressed them hard against his lips as he thought. “Dean this…this is gonna sound crazy.”
“At this point in my life I’m pretty sure there’s nothin’ you can tell me that sounds crazy.”
“This will. It’s…it’s fuckin’ crazy.” Best way to do it from here on out was probably just to bite the bullet. “So um…I came back to that night. From the future. 8 years into it, honestly.” Dean had to believe him on that, because everything else hinged on it.
First, Dean just blinked. “Like…seriously? The future?”
“Look, I told you it was crazy, but you gotta believe me-“
“Was it awesome? I mean like, flying cars and shit?” Dean was trying to smile, but he really just wasn’t in the mood.
“Dammit, Dean, this is serious! I wouldn’t be telling you any of this if I didn’t-“
“Hey, ok, don’t get so touchy! I believe you, just…lighten up a little. You know if you’re tellin’ me it’s true, I’m gonna believe you no matter what, even if it’s crazy, and this? Gotta tell you, Sam, this is all kinds of crazy. But if it’s true, then…then ok.” He took a deep breath, wiped the smirk off his face. “Ok, so…the future. How? And what for? And…are you still…I mean, was it like you just did it for one night or-“
“No, no it’s…” Harder than he thought, and that was saying quite a bit. “The apocalypse was going on-“
“Whoa, what?!”
“Dean, just listen!” If he didn’t get this all out, it’d take forever to explain every little piece of it. “It was the apocalypse, honestly the end of the world, and things were…they were bad. Seriously bad. So, I found a way to come back here, try and change things, fix a lot of times I fucked up.” Even knowing he hadn’t done it this time around, telling Dean he’d once left him wasn’t something he’d ever really wanted to do. He looked up and met his eyes, watching as he said it. “Starting with the first big mistake I made.”
Just like he’d thought, he could see it, the way the hurt crept into his eyes until he shoved it back. If he hadn’t still been half freaking out, that would have been enough to make him want to stop everything right there, to push Dean back on the floor and remind him just how badly he wanted to be right there at his side, how much Dean was everything he could never lose.
“You left. Went to Stanford.”
He cleared his throat, looked away as he nodded. “I did, yeah. And even though we ended up back together eventually, I screwed up a lot of other shit too. Not to mention, I never…we never…” He shook his head. “I was stupid enough to think it was just me, that you wouldn’t want this. So we were never together, and it nearly drove me crazy a hundred times and you must’ve been thinking the same but neither one of us ever brought it up we just…kept goin’.”
“So this…what’re you tryin’ to tell me here? Is this about the apocalypse or about us, Sammy?” Honestly, he sounded like he was afraid to know.
“Right now it’s about neither, sort of. But in the long run, it was both.” Right now just didn’t seem like the time for Lucifer and Michael and demon blood and hell and…this much, this was more than enough. “Something happened that made me think that I was wrong to never try to make this right with us and the rest of it…it’s really complicated.”
“More complicated than springing the whole Marty McFly thing on me?” There was still something he couldn’t place in Dean’s voice, and he just barely kept himself from flinching. “I don’t know, Sam. Pretty sure after that, I can keep up.”
“Guess that’s good, cause I’m not done.” Not hardly, but he wasn’t gonna go into anything but the basics just now. “Dean, I mean you-“
“Look, I believe you ok? I just…this is nuts, Sam, and I’m still tryin’ to understand it but…just go, just finish, it’s ok.”
No, not really. “Everything I was tellin’ you about Azazel, that’s the important part. I have…demon blood.” Even now a few years removed from it, it was fucking hard to say. “And I have these visions and…they almost always come true. Sometimes I can stop them. That’s what the whole…everything a few weeks ago, that’s what that was about. But right now, Dad’s missing.” Throwing it in at the ending like that, he’d hoped it wouldn’t sound quite so horrifying.
With news like that, though, there was really no dampening it.
“Wait, what? What do you mean missing, are you sayin’ you saw-“
“No, Dean, I’m sayin’ I’ve called his phone 20 times and listened to what’s nearly the same goddamn message he put up when he left you before.” He could still hear it, could still remember the first time he’d listened it to just off of an airport runway. “He’s gone after the demon, and he’s doin’ it alone cause he thinks he needs to protect us but it’s dangerous, and we need to be with him. Only I thought when this happened I’d know where to find him because it’d happen the same way as before, but it’s not…this is months too early, and I’m guessing he left us because he’s less worried about us together than he was about you alone and…” His words were running together, voice rising, and he cut himself off, hiding his face in his hands. “We need to go to Colorado first. Then Nebraska.”
“What makes you think he’s gonna be there? Is that where the demon is?”
“Dean, I don’t know where the fuck the demon is. That’s why we’re goin’ to Nebraska, ok, we’ve got…we will have some friends there, and I’m pretty sure that if we ask just the right way one of them’ll help us with this. And Colorado because I need something that’s there. Something we’re gonna kill that son of a bitch with.”
“Sam if dad’s missing, shouldn’t we try to find him first? I mean, this demon sounds serious and he’s gonna need us there to watch his back. We can’t let it surprise him.“
Why the hell did this sound so familiar? Oh yeah, probably the thousand or so times he’d told Dean they needed to just strike out into the unknown, grasping at straws and looking for dad around every corner. Argument was a little different, but still. “He’ll be where the demon is, trust me. And he doesn’t want to be found. Quickest way to do this is just to figure out where the bastard’s gonna be next and try and cut him off. He’s going to homes again, giving his blood to the kids on the night of their 6 month birthday.”
“Yeah, and that’s another thing, can we-“
“No.” Sure, he’d sort of been the one to start this conversation, but there was a point where it was gonna have to stop. He couldn’t tell everything, certainly not all at once like that. This had been maddening enough as it was.
“Excuse me, ‘no’? Sam, you’re tellin’ me you’re from the future and this demon has some kind of top secret plan for you and-“
“Dean, please.” He knew by the way Dean really looked at him then that it was the tone of his voice that got him, pleading and so fucking desperate. Honestly, he hadn’t even tried. “Can we please not talk about this anymore? Just not right now, please, because Dean, I’m…I’m freaking out here, ok? This wasn’t supposed to happen like this, and it just…” There weren’t words. Because if this could change, so could everything else, and if this was any indication, that might not be as wholly good of an idea as he’d thought it would be. He’d known it wouldn’t be perfect or easy sure, but this…this didn’t look good.
Dean wiped a hand across his mouth, scraping at the stubble on his jaw. There were a million questions still in his eyes, and he got up and paced the room twice before he threw Sam’s bag onto the bed behind him.
“Where?”
Sam was still in the process of trying to make himself get up off the floor. “Where what?”
“Where in Colorado? I gotta know where I’m going.”
Thank God.
“Uh…Manning. I think. I’ll know once I see it.” Once they were there, then he’d cross the hurdle of explaining why the hell he was taking an antique gun from another hunter.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
Dean gave him a good four hours before he questioned him again.
They were in the car and he was driving, and Dean let him think he was nearly asleep when he sprung it on him.
“So this whole ‘back to the future’ thing…seriously, what the hell, man? I mean, I feel like at this point we’ve heard of pretty much everything under the sun, and I don’t know shit about this one.”
“We haven’t.” Out of the corner of his eye he could feel Dean staring at him and he shifted his grip on the wheel, still staring straight out the windshield.
“Haven’t what?”
“Heard of everything yet. We’ll find out vampires are real next year. Or, maybe sooner, who knows.” He could practically feel from Dean’s stare that no, he wasn’t distracted. Sam cleared his throat, tried not to look like he was scrambling. “I had some help from this guy.”
“This guy.” Dean’s voice was flat, sarcastic and a little irritated. “Wow, Sam, thanks, that clears it right up.”
“Will you shut up for a minute?” He sighed, bit his lip and tried to think faster. Obviously, he couldn’t tell Dean the truth. If he could work this the way he wanted Dean wasn’t going to know about the deal he’d made, ever. “There was this guy, Crowley, and he was into some really deep stuff, incredibly ancient rituals among other things. I mean, he has some serious mojo, Dean. He was helping us out with the apocalypse, trying to help us kill the devil, and when things got really bad I told him my plan and he agreed it was worth a shot.”
“Well, great, if he’s that tough why don’t we go to him now? Maybe he can help us kill this Azazel and stop it all before it starts.”
Shit. “Dunno where he is. He came to us. He keeps himself off the radar unless he wants to contact someone, no way in hell we’d ever be able to find him.”
Dean was pretty quiet then, and Sam glanced over at him nervously, trying to gauge the look on his face as best he could from a couple stolen glances.
“Crowley, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh. Alright. Well, we should be on the lookout for him, then. If he wants to help us, maybe we’ll hear from him or at least run into someone who has.”
“Yeah. Yeah, maybe, that’s a good idea.”
An even better one would be if Dean would just drop the whole damn subject.
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Master post is here.