Samsara 3/?
Title: Samsara 3/?
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Warnings: Dub-con, Violence
Summary: 200 years ago, Dean Winchester lost his brother to murder. Desperate to retrieve the only person he ever loved, he accepted the offer of a very powerful vampire and was made immortal. Now, after years of searching, he has finally found Samuel's soul once again. But trying to convince Sam to accept his offer of eternal life may prove harder than he ever thought possible.
August 3rd, 1813
Two hundred years ago, underneath the scorching heat of the Louisiana sun, Dean wiped the sweat off his brow as he worked the fields of his family's land while his brother Samuel sat in an old rickety chair on the front porch of their southern plantation, his nimble fingers turning the pages of a leather-bound book that had captured his attention for the last five and a half days. Dean watched his brother's eyebrows contort in sadness, his bottom lip trembling as he absorbed himself in the heartbreak written within the contents of his brown tome. Sunlight cast its shine on the brown bangs plastered to his forehead, clinging to tanned skin Dean wanted so badly to feel beneath his fingertips. Crystal droplets fell down scarlet cheeks, and the way the boy clasped desperately to the inanimate object in his hands had Dean burning with a hidden envy no amount of sunshine could ever hope to emulate.
He spends more time with that thing than he does his own flesh and blood, Dean thought jealously.
As if by some form of magic binding their emotions together, the pensive boy suddenly glanced up from his book to peer curiously at his scowling brother. A knowing little smile upturned his lips, and before Dean knew what was happening, his precious Samuel was gathering him up in a bone crushing bear hug, the strength of the boy's embrace absolving his lungs of their life-sustaining responsibilities. Dean's arms found their way around Samuel's middle, reveling in the feel of their bodies pressed as close as he would ever allow, though he'd be a liar if he said he didn't desire more than what he was willing to take. Samuel's scent was intoxicating, a collaborative blend of raindrops and coconut that sent his senses into overdrive, forcing his nose into the soft wisps of curls situated at the top of his brother's head. He felt the boy smile at the action, and he pulled away to drown in the depths of dark hazel eyes made bright by the amber rays of the mid afternoon sun.
"You were reading," he murmured dreamily.
"You noticed?" Samuel teased.
"What I meant was that your reading has deprived me of your presence, sweet Samuel."
"But I'm right here," he replied.
"Are you? You seem so far away to me."
"I've neglected you," Samuel stated matter-of-factly.
Dean smiled. "Just a bit. But you can spend the rest of the day making it up to me, if you like."
Samuel tilted his head and mouth to the side in opposite directions, squinting up at the sky as if deep in thought. This elaborate display of simulated cogitation allowed Dean's true feelings to form through an influx of facial expressions which until now had managed to stay hidden from view. Had the boy decided to turn his head back in his brother's direction a split second before he actually did, he would have seen a salacious craving reflecting through Dean's hungry eyes, darkening the green orbs eagerly devouring his sinewy form. But fate was kind to Dean, and he was able to school his features into something he hoped resembled impassiveness by the time Samuel refocused his attentions on his love stricken admirer. Grabbing Dean by the hand, Samuel guided him away from the house until he found himself walking along a dirt road leading to the heart of town.
"I suppose I could be persuaded to put aside my book," Samuel responded. "If you agree to read it when I'm done."
Dean made a face, sensing their playful banter was coming to an end. "You know I don't like romances, brother. Too much emotion is a terrible thing. It makes you weak."
"That's our father speaking through you, you know."
"This has nothing to do with John. It's the truth. Think of what would happen if we were taken hostage by the infamous Phoenix brothers. I would be at a loss about what to do because you'd be there. My emotions would cloud my judgment."
Samuel grinned. "Does this mean you love me, big brother?"
Dean sighed in feigned annoyance. "I suppose so, yes."
Samuel laughed, the sound as beautiful to Dean's ears as the music his mother used to sing to him when he was a child. He got so lost in his brother's voice that it took him a minute to realize they were no longer moving. Somewhere along the line, Samuel had stopped walking, and his happy smile transformed into a scowl at something in the distance.
"Great," Samuel muttered. "Father's here."
Dean followed his gaze and groaned. He recognized the scar of one of the horses, a long line going from the eye all the way to the nose. This ominous deformity signaled the arrival of a man whose disposition equaled that of a roaring lion; loud and dangerous.
Dean stepped in front of his brother as the carriage carrying John came to a stop beside them, shielding him from the older man's critical stare. Poking his head out of the window, John growled at his oldest son.
"What the hell are you two doing out here? Don't you both know there are robbers on the loose?"
"We're sorry, sir. It's my fault. I wanted to go for a walk."
John's eyes narrowed. "You wanted to go for a walk, eh? You sure the idea didn't belong to the boy behind you?"
Dean ignored the clenching of Samuel's fists as he squeezed the life out of his brother's white shirt, unable to soothe the boy when confronted with a building rage he could see simmering beneath the surface of his father's cracked veneer.
"Samuel had nothing to do with this, sir. Like I said, it was my fault. He was only accompanying me because I asked him to."
John didn't seem completely satisfied with Dean's answer, but waved his hand dismissively all the same. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get inside, both of you. I'm on my way home and these roads are no place for a teenage boy and his idiotic older brother."
Samuel made a move to confront his father, but Dean stopped him.
"Please, don't make this worse," he whispered. "Let's just go home."
Samuel looked like he was going to say something, but cut himself off at the last minute. Nodding reluctantly, he followed his brother into the carriage that would take them to the one place he never seemed to want to be: home.
"Dammit, Dean! Why do you always follow John's ridiculous orders? Why can't you ever just side with me?"
Dean kept his back to Samuel as the door slammed shut behind him, unable to bear the torment in his brother's face. "You know I hate it when you call him by his name. I know he's a pain in the ass, but he's the only father we've got."
"No. As far as I'm concerned, Robert is the closest thing I've ever had to an actual father. The entire time he screamed at me, you didn't so much as flinch. Not once! You didn't stick up for me, you didn't defend me. All you did was nod like a good little soldier every time he gave you a direct order. And what is up with you agreeing to keep me locked up here, huh? What are you gonna do? Tie me to the bedpost so I can't leave? You agreed to keep me a prisoner in my own house!"
Dean whipped around to face his brother, recoiling as if he'd been slapped in the face. He knew Samuel was mad at him, but being yelled at by the only thing in this world that mattered to him, and then having his sweet Samuel imply that he didn't care about his welfare, was too much for him to handle. Blowing out a shaky breath through his nose, he slowly advanced on his brother, pain travelling through every nerve ending before implanting itself into his aching heart.
"So, Robert's the closest thing you've ever had to a father, huh? What about me? Have I not devoted my entire life to your happiness? Have I not done everything in my power to make you comfortable, Samuel? I sacrificed my entire childhood for you. Trust me, if I agreed to anything that I thought for one second might upset you, there was a reason for it."
"Really?" Samuel asked, anger only marginally deflating at the sight of his brother's anguish. "And, pray, tell me what might that be? Because I've tried to come up with every possible scenario that could justify you betraying me the way you just did, and I haven't been able to conjure up a goddamn thing! How could you do this to me, De? How?!"
"Samuel, I know you don't want to hear this, but John is right. We have no business being out when those bastards are still roaming the streets! Plus, I knew that defying father would inevitably cause more harm than good, and I wanted to spare you from the wrath I knew he would have inflicted upon you had I not interceded on your behalf. Having you here makes it easier for me to protect you."
"I don't need protecting! I can take care of myself! I'm so sick of everyone here treating me as if I'm some fragile being who can't make my own decisions. This is just an excuse you've conjured up in the hopes that I'll be naïve enough to believe that you did this for my own good. I know the real reason behind all of this, and it's that son of a bitch you call a father. You just can't find it in your heart to stick up to him, can you? Does his approval really mean that much to you that you would turn against your own brother to appease your childish need for daddy's approval?"
Dean took a cup off the nightstand and threw it on the floor, shattering the glass into tiny fragments. "Goddamn you, Samuel! I have had just about enough of your bullshit. All I ever do is hear you bitch and moan about father. Did you ever stop to think about how that could be effecting me? You two are all I have in this world and all you ever do is fight. I don't understand what more you want from me, Samuel."
"I want you to put me first!" Samuel yelled.
Dean stared at his brother incredulously. "Put you first? When you were a child and our house burnt down, I was four years old. Father placed you in my arms and declared me your guardian. From that moment on, you were my responsibility. I didn't even have time to mourn the loss of our mother because I was too busy caring for you. The fact that I was a child myself didn't seem to faze father. He'd come home in a drunken stupor, grab me by the collar and tell me to watch out for you. Everywhere I went, I could hear John's voice like an echo in my brain. 'Watch out for Sammy, boy. Take care of your little brother. He belongs to you now.' Twenty one years on this earth and the ONLY thing I have to show for it is you. It's always been about you, so don't you dare tell me I don't put you first because I do. I always do."
Samuel's shoulders slumped in defeat as Dean's words lingered between them, turning to gaze at himself through the long mirror leaning against the bedroom wall.
"I'm sorry," he whispered miserably.
Dean sighed in regret, hating himself for making his brother so unhappy. In that moment, he couldn't think of anyone on God's green earth that he resented more than his father. John always had the uncanny ability to put a great amount of distance between Dean and Samuel, making it that much harder for Dean to breathe. His source of pleasure and pain stood before him a broken boy, and Dean feared that not even he could repair the damage done to his beloved Samuel. It was an unsettling feeling, one that Dean couldn't bear to live with. He knew he had to do something to make his brother see reason. Otherwise, he'd be lost to him forever.
With the most cautious of steps, Dean slowly approached the love of his life with shaking hands, wrapping his fingers around slender arms he could still feel surrounding him the way they did just hours before. He locked gazes with Samuel through the glass, brushing his lips against the boy's neck as he spoke.
"The amulet you gave me when we were children; I still carry it over my heart. Do you know why?"
Samuel shook his head, brows furrowing in confusion.
"Because you gave it to me. Because I love you so damn much I feel like I can't breathe without you. I can't think without you. I can't exist without you."
Dean's breaths quickened with desire, his whispers becoming shaky with the force of his passion.
"You and I are one, Samuel. There's nowhere you can hide from me. You belong to me, and I'll never let you go. I keep this amulet over my heart because that's your home, Sammy. Whenever we're apart, you're never really gone. You're always right there"-Dean's right hand slid inside his brother's open shirt, resting his palm over Samuel's heart-"and I'm right here. I'll always be with you, beside you...inside you."
Samuel smiled at Dean in the mirror through tear-stained eyes, completely oblivious to the lust mingled in with his brother's gesture of affection.
"I love you, Dean," he whispered.
Dean forced his incestuous feelings to the deepest recesses of his tortured soul, returning Samuel's smile with an intensity that alarmed him.
This boy is mine. He'll always be mine.
"I love you too, Sammy. Always."
Present Day
The swamps of the Louisiana bayou rippled with the strokes of alligators as they swam menacingly in the murky waters of New Orléans, their bony plated bodies protruding to let their master know of their ominous presence. Piercing eyes the color of bronze watched with an almost morbid fascination, the long piece of bark he used as a walking stick twirling relentlessly between long, bony fingers. The multicolored feathers framing his head, combined with the blue eye shadow and white lipstick painting his face, conspired to give him an extremely exotic appearance that made people think of the Aboriginal tribes of Australia, a comparison that never failed to make him grin in amusement. The strips of brown cloth hanging loosely on his hips were the only clothing he owned, leaving his chocolate skin exposed to the elements. It was with this look of wild abandon that he made his mark on the world, earning himself a grim reputation as the town nut job.
But while he seemed to be less than popular among his fellow residents, he still obtained a fair amount of visitors in his quaint little swamp, each person who dared step foot on his land begging him for something he gladly provided in exchange for an object of value from whoever came seeking his help. Everything he offered almost always came with a price. However, there was one person who remained an almost irritating exception to this rule, calling on him when he least expected it and turning his peaceful existence upside down. It was this person that inevitably disrupted the peace and quiet good ol' Pachenka was trying to enjoy in the sweltering heat of the Louisiana bayou, causing an incessant ringing to erupt from the cell phone residing inside his log cabin.
Approaching the front door with cautious steps, Pachenka breached the entranceway and grinned wickedly at the phone before picking it up and answering in as civil a tone as a crazy man like him could manage.
"Yeees?"
"Pachenka? Find someplace quiet where you can talk. I've got a problem."
"This is as quiet a place as any, sir."
A scoff registered on the other end of the line. "So . . . not out preaching of your clairvoyance, I take it."
"This is a city of wonderment, dear Ambrose. You'd be surprised at just how spiritual the locals are here."
"Humph. They'd have to be to listen to a crazy old loon like you. But that's not important to me now. You see, I've got a problem that might require your assistance, if you catch my drift."
Pachenka smiled. "What is it you need? Pig's blood? A book of spells? Perhaps a bit of good old fashion advice?"
"Actually, I was thinking of something more along the lines of a special potion. One that could-oh, I don't know-keep a person from dreaming?"
"Ah! This is for the boy, I take it?"
"You think you've got me all figured out, don't you?" Ambrose growled.
"Of course. I'm a prophet, sir. I see all. That being said, I think I can help you. Might I make a little suggestion?"
"What?"
"I think you should bring the boy here."
Pachenka imagined the disbelieving look his master was probably giving him over the phone at that very moment, the thought making him smile mischievously.
"Bring the boy there? You honestly expect me to take him to the place where it all began? Do you have any idea how dangerous that could be? What if he remembers what happened to him? What if he remembers his true identity? More importantly, what's going to happen if that bloodsucker finds him? It's too great a risk, Pachenka."
"Maybe, but at least I can help you. It's easier if you're right here, you see. Besides, it doesn't really matter where you bring the boy, now does it?"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"The vampire you seek will come after the boy, Ambrose. It doesn't matter where you go or what you do. It'll be a cold day in hell before he allows that child to slip through his fingers again. I've sensed his presence for a while now. He's getting stronger, master. He's biding his time and let me tell you; when the opportunity presents itself, he will come for Samuel, and there's not a damn thing you'll be able to do about it."
Pachenka could hear something being slammed down on a hard surface, a sign of his master's growing anger.
"I don't care how powerful he is, Pachenka! I want that potion and I want it now! I will do what it takes to persuade Sam to come with me to the bayou, for you just may be right when it comes to us being closer to each other. There is strength in numbers, after all. But I'll be damned if that bastard is going to take Sam away from me. I have worked too long to let all this slip away. That boy will be mine, Pachenka. Mark my words."
Pachenka chuckled as a loud click resounded in his abused ear, putting the phone down with great care before glancing out the window at his toothy companions. The alligators were circling around a fish that had ventured into their part of the swap, diving in as one and ripping it apart. Their act of violence stained the green waters red, the carnage reminding the bayou owner of the upcoming war he could feel brewing between the Kalek and the Shintari. He should have known the ancient feud would extinguish any hope of retaining the truce put in place over 10,000 years ago. This tug of war for the Colt boy was nothing more than a catalyst for something bigger, a battle of epic proportions that would start with two vampires intent on claiming ownership of a mere mortal on the verge of achieving nirvana. It looked like things were beginning to turn out just as he'd imagined it, making him realize that there was only one thing left for him to do.
Snatching the phone back from the table on which it sat, he dialed a number he'd been given for a special purpose and waited patiently until the growling voice of a very grumpy vampire answered on the third ring. Pachenka grinned as he walked outside, sitting on a dilapidated wooden chair and looking out at the great expanse of his beloved bayou.
"Oh, vampire? Not to be the bearer of bad news, but I think it's imperative that you get your ass down here right away."
There was a rustling on the other end of the line as Dean shot straight up in bed. "What's wrong?"
"He's found you out," Pachenka replied, watching the rippling water bubble from the breaths of his prized gator. "It's time."
Dean growled low in his throat before hanging up, leaving a chuckling Pachenka to bask in his own glee.
Well, he thought to himself. Looks like things are finally starting to get interesting.