Their Blood Gets Thicker than Water - Chapter Seven
Title: Their Blood Gets Thicker Than Water- Chapter Seven
Author: writersmirth
Pairing: Sam/Blair
Word Count: ~2148
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Dean decides to check out the local occult store for some supplies, but what he finds may bring him closer to discovering the truth more than he even anticipated.
Disclaimer: All Supernatural characters are the brain children of Erik Kripke, and are used here solely for entertainment purposes. No profit comes from the posting of this story. No copyright infringement intended.
Warning(s): Incest, Siblings, Personal Insertion,
A/N: I can no longer control my dirty mind.
This is what it is. This is who I am. This is where I finally take my stand - Newboys
Dean turned up the volume. Each decibel; sending all thoughts of Sam out the window along with each passing song. Deep Purples, Smoke on the Water vibrated through the Impala, and Dean could feel his fingers moving through the music, faster and harder until he found himself drumming along with the beats. For the first time, in a long time he let his frustration flow through his body by belting out each line as with as much conviction as he could muster. His chest rose, his back straightened and he dared to smile a cheeky smile, admiring himself in the mirror. A moment, passing by in a flash, but a moment of peace captured in the lyrics of a classic song.
“These are the moments worth living for Sammy,” he said, taking his attention away from the road as he stopped at a red light. His eyes met with the empty seat, and through the window he saw nothing but town signs and a few houses scattered distances apart. Then it all came back to him. Sammy, Blair, their heated- what - a moment? Had it been a lapse of consciousness? No, it was anything but. The light flashed yellow and then green. A car behind him honked his horn and Dean swore through the blaring music. He reached forward, switching it off and sped quickly, entering the town.
The country gave way to a line of either side of the road packed with shops. Each one was getting brighter and new with every passing second. It was like driving through the older parts of a town, down town where all the crime and grunge of buildings gave way to a different breed of people. As Dean pulled up outside the store he had found on Google, he took in the distinguishing characteristics of the new generation of kids. Every one of them walked down the street, head down with phones in their hands while their parents did the same. Even the elderly folk who sat outside in the boutique cafes sipping on their coffees or on park benches to were all heads down, staring at their phones.
Dean stopped the engine and tightened his grip around the steering wheel. Taking a minute for himself he breathed in deeply wondering not for the first time whether it was worth the hassle trying to save the world when people were turning more into zombies than the monsters they hunted. “If I don’t who will?”He said, questioning himself and whoever else was listening. When he exhaled he pulled away from the steering wheel and opened the door, stepping out into the now bustling center street of town.
[Rounding the car, he stepped onto the pavement and passed a couple who walked hand in hand, heads up and backs straight, their smiles on each other and their eyes taking in every beauty around them. There was a brief time in his life when he had stopped to smell the roses and sniff the trees, but as he stepped inside the open door and the curtained occult shop and passed brushed his head against a dream catcher, he was reminded that even despite their being beauty to be seen, it was not his time or place to see it, and his siblings had made sure of that.]
At the front of the store behind a glass framed desk covered in posters and long stuck slickers, a young man stood hunched over a series of documents spread out over the counter top. When Dean stepped forward, he raised his head and tucked his long, curling black hair behind his ears before his deep brown eyes met with Dean’s and he spoke the words that Dean longed to hear.
“What is it that you seek,” the young man said, whipping his cape around his shoulders like a practiced magician. When he smiled, he flashed a dazzling set of pearly whites, all bar two silver capped teeth at the front. Ribbon hung from around his cape, beads dangled to and fro as he moved to the side, shuffling papers and knick-knacks across the counter. He leaned forward, taking a deep sniff that tickled his nose and his grin tugged at his cheeks, making them wider and aging him dramatically.
Dean almost wondered if this was part of his act, and whether the man who stood before him who looked to be in his mid-thirties, wasn’t really pulling some woo doo shit and was really a sixty year old man. As he pondered the man’s appearance the smell, a familiar scent of incense filtered through the air, lingering in a spiral of spoke that danced underneath his nose and brought him back to the question the man had posed, the real reason he was here and it wasn’t to flirt with Merlin the coke head. “I see the truth,” Dean said, taking a stance, the scent tickled his nose, made the hairs stand on end, but he prevailed and crossed his arms over his chest, a gesture of impatience. There was something of about this man.
“Ah yes Dean Winchester, you seek the truth. You want to know if your blessed blood siblings are shall we say engaged romantically and more so,” he said pausing to lick his lips. “Fucking as you would say nowadays, am I correct?”
The man’s words made Dean Shift uncomfortably, more so than him knowing his name. Quick to act he reached for his gun tucked in the back of his belt and stepped closer to the counter. “In not to many words, now-“ he said stopping to withdraw the gun. “You’re going to tell me how you know my name and don’t even try to lie to me because I will know if you’re loading me with bullshit.”
Merlin stepped away from the counter, a perfect display of patience and unwavering confidence. He walked towards Dean, letting his gimmick cape drag along the floor until his eyes met with the muzzle of Dean’s gun. “Boy you can kill me a thousand times and I will still come back, but you will only get one chance to slip that toy back into your sponge bob boxer shorts and listen to what I have to say. So you can either sit your ass down on that chair, and shut up or you can shoot me and see how long you have to wait to seek your truth.”
Dean, taken back by the man’s direct words moved his gun away from the man’s face and held it by his right thigh. “How do you know my name, and how do you know about-“he said, pausing to find the right words to describe what he did not want to repeat.
“About your brother and sister fucking?” the man said bluntly again, this time with no real feeling behind it, just fact. As if he too wanted to open Dean’s wounds, tear away the skin and look deeper inside for the truth. “Or how you feel like you have failed them somehow, that it’s the only real explanation you can see that would cause them to lose their way from you, from everything so normal in your lives? Am I hitting close to home yet Dean?”
Dean nodded, his body suddenly growing tense as if his muscles shifted beneath his skin, crawling at the very mention of the contact his siblings had made and the lines they had crossed. He walked over to the chair the man was pointing to and with his gun still in hand sat down and waited for his thoughts to calm before he continued the conversation. “I get the point, you know what I am here for, and you can see it ain’t pretty. But that still doesn’t explain how you know me, and my siblings.”
“I would tell you to be patient and that all things worth knowing come in good time, but with you Dean, as with your father and his father, there is no such thing as a good time; only opportunity, but it’s like wishing for stability. None of these things has ever, or will ever be apparent to you. You spend your life fighting to be different, fighting to be free while Sam fights for normalcy and your sister for the love she can never have with another man, just like you and Sam can’t with another woman. I knew your father, he came down these parts a few times in my life when I was young and he would always speak of his three kids. His biggest disappointment was that despite his need to continue the legacy he instilled in you, he wanted most for you to feel what he felt for your mother.”
“So you know about me, you don’t know me?” Dean questioned, the unsettling feeling growing heavier in his chest. It sank deeper, crawling, moving like a cancer growing in his body. Every nerve ending turned numb with the man’s next words; His next request. He felt his fingers tighten around his gun. Felt the coldness of the steel warm beneath his palms that were slowly starting to sweat. The man looked at him, straight at him with a gleam in his eyes and spoke.
“It need not matter who knows who or what or why, but for you to know the truth Dean you have to be willing to take the risks. You have to be willing to take the bullet. To have your cake and eat the damn thing and be able to live with what you discover at the end of the day, and boy not everything you see will make you a believer and not everything you see with your ‘normal eyes’,” the man said paraphrasing his words. “Will be what you want to see, and once you see it; you will never be able to turn away from it. It will always exist.”
“What are you suggesting,” Dean said, feeling for once in a long time anxiety crawling beneath the surface. It was all becoming too much. He had to draw his focus back, be strong. He let his arm fall to his side, lowering the gun to the arm of the chair, but kept it still; aimed in the man’s direction. “What have you got in your big old bag of magic tricks?”
The man stepped forward, and undid the ribbon keeping his cape around his shoulder blades. Dean watched it fall to the floor and came face to face with a man whose every available piece of flesh was marked with some kind of protecting symbol. Blank ink marred his skin, and to his left, on his clavicle a red raw mark like a branded number glowed beneath the surface of his skin like ET’S phone home signal.
Dean formed the words in his head, ready to ask the stupid questions, but before he had a chance the glowing stopped and the ink disappeared, bleeding into the man’s skin, as if it had never been there in the first place. To be replaced with his clean, ivory chest and a shirtless torso.
“There’s no such thing as tricks in this lifetime. Nor is there room for cheap gimmicks,” he said waving his hands around the room as if proving his point. More than dream catchers hung from the ceiling. More than beads swayed in the gentle breeze drifting in through the door. “There is only space and time for illusions and it is an illusion we must create to extract the truth from Blair and Sam.
“And how do you suggest we do that?” Dean asked incredulous. “Sam isn’t a fool and neither is Blair. They trained with the best. They give their best.”
“And don’t we know it,” the man said winking. “My boy we need a plan and I hear from my sources, be they speak the truth that you are one hell of a strategist. So I suggest you grab one of those caps from over there and start strategizing. The shop closes in three hours, and by that time it might be too late to learn the truth and be it may; save your blessed bloods from falling even deeper into the abyss.