Big Bang 2012: The Iron Tongue of Midnight
Part Fifteen
May 1st 2002 (cont…)
Dean felt soft and warm and safe. He breathed deeply and rejoiced at the clean, fresh air that filled his lungs, enjoying the faint smell of freshly cut grass and sea water. Sighing contentedly Dean opened his eyes. He was lying in a four poster bed, covered with a soft, white comforter, and surrounded by a billowing white gauze curtain. Peaseblossom sat cross-legged at his side, holding his hand.
“Welcome back,” she smiled.
“How,” Dean cleared his raspy throat. “How long was I out?”
“About an hour. How do you feel?”
Dean considered the question. He felt content; almost euphoric. Which was odd, considering.
“Am I drugged?” he asked.
Peaseblossom inclined her head and looked at him thoughtfully. “Your soul was entwined with that of a goddess. It can leave you feeling a little…enraptured.”
“Enraptured. Right,” Dean frowned. “I feel a little numb too.”
Peaseblossom ducked her head. “That was me,” she confessed. “We have some healing capacity; but it is limited to small, simple things. Our king…was not gentle with you. And when the goddess tore him from your body...” Peaseblossom sighed. “Dean, I have done my best, but you will be sore for several days. I am keeping your pain at bay for the moment, but it will return.”
Dean closed his eyes briefly. “So, uh. What’s the score here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Am I a prisoner? Is the king pissed at me? Is he gonna have me killed? Or torture me ‘til I’m insane? What?”
Peaseblossom fiddled with the edge of the comforter. “You are not a prisoner,” she said. “The king…” she sighed again. “Please do not think too badly of our king-” Dean snorted and she looked up at him, her face fierce and beautiful. “I understand how you feel,” she said, “the king has done great wrong, and not just to you. I have been trying for centuries to stop this, but I needed the help of the designated channel and I couldn’t outright ask for it without letting the king know what I was trying to do,” she shook her head. “But when I heard that we had found a Golau-llachar, and one who was a hunter no less, I just knew that you would be the one who could help us. Thank you, Dean.”
Dean acknowledged her thanks with a slight chin nod. “Peaseblossom,” he said tentatively, “what do you know about Golau-Ilachars? I mean, I know it means I’ve got a bright, shiny soul but…the Goddess showed me something when she was…you know…in me. And…honestly? I didn’t really get it.”
The Faerie’s eyes were bright with interest. “What did she show you?”
“A lot of stuff. I think most of it was family history. But she showed me this one part where my mom summoned some dude with big, shadowy wings and he touched my chest…at least, I think it was me…and all this white light flared around us.”
Peaseblossom nodded. “A Golau-Ilachar is created when an angel joins its grace to the soul of a human.”
Dean gaped at her. “A what? Tell me you’re joking!”
The Faerie looked at him steadily. “There are many gods and goddesses,” she said, “all vying for supremacy. One particular God created angels. They are real. They exist. And one of them has shared his grace with you.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother asked it of him, I assume for your protection. Other than that, his reasons are his own.”
Dean struggled into a sitting position, wincing at the odd feeling of pressure in his ass and then shuddered with revulsion when he felt something cold and slimy trickle out of him and down his thigh. He swore softly and closed his eyes against the humiliation of it all.
“I bathed you afterwards,” Peaseblossom said quietly, “but I did not wish to cause you further damage so I did not...go inside…”
Dean felt something soft and wet nudge at his fingers and he closed his hand around a warm, wet cloth. He reached under the covers, cleaned himself quickly and then dumped the cloth on the floor, before opening his eyes and looking at the Faerie beside him.
“So what does it mean,” he said, not willing to discuss or even acknowledge what had just happened, “me having an angel’s grace fused with my soul?”
Peaseblossom shrugged. “I am not an expert. As I understand it, no demon may possess you, you are immune to certain supernatural diseases and most races-humankind, demons, Faeries-will find you very sexually attractive. You will also have a hard road ahead of you. Angels are warriors and so shall you be. You will always be drawn to protect the weak and to go into battle for what is right, no matter the personal cost. Which is why I knew that you would be the one to help us. Our king is not evil, Dean. He has been grieving and thirsting for revenge. And you know, perhaps better than anyone, how the drive to seek revenge can lead a man to behave recklessly and put his loved ones in danger. You need only look at your own father-”
Dean’s eyes shot up. “My dad! Oh fuck!” he swallowed. “My dad was there…he saw everything.” He put his face in his hands. “Just shoot me now.”
Peaseblossom put a hand to his arm.
“Your father is safe. He has been returned to the mortal realm.”
Dean lowered his hands and looked at the Faerie with big, sad eyes. “Did he say anything? About me?”
Peaseblossom shook her head. “He was understandably angry with Gwyn Ap Nudd and concerned for your well-being. He did not say anything specifically, although it was apparent that he was…embarrassed…by what he had seen. You humans are very strange about sex.”
Dean raised his eyebrows. “It’s meant to be a private thing!”
“Like I said; strange.”
Dean shook his head. “So if I’m not a prisoner, can I go home now?”
Peaseblossom nodded. She pushed back the curtains surrounding the bed and flitted out into the room, coming back a moment later carrying Dean’s clothes in a neat pile. “Please dress,” she said, “and I shall send you back.”
“Could you turn around please?”
Peaseblossom rolled her eyes. “It’s not as if I haven’t seen you naked before,” she said, “and you really have a beautiful body, Dean, you have no need to feel shame.”
“Humor me?”
Peaseblossom turned her back on him with a sigh.
Suited and booted again, Dean felt just a little more like his old, confident self.
“I’m ready,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Peaseblossom took his hands in hers. “Remember,” she said, “as soon as you are away from my influence, your pain will return.”
Dean nodded.
“I cannot thank you enough for the assistance you have given us,” she continued. “Our sacred rites are back on track now, thanks to you, and our king is back on track too. If you ever need my help, Dean, you need only ask for it.” She pressed a small silver bell into his hand. “Ring it three times and I will come.”
“Thanks,” Dean said, “for, you know, doin’ what you could. I wish we’d met in better circumstances.”
Peaseblossom smiled at him and then let go of his hands, spoke a word, and made a gesture. Once again Dean’s world dropped away, his body felt as if it had been turned inside out, he shivered with cold and then he collapsed onto the hard bitumen of the alley that he and Sam had been cutting through on their way to the diner when the Faeries had turned up to collect him. Dean groaned as agonizing pain slammed into him, and tried to curl into a fetal position, his hands clutched across his belly which was cramping badly. His ass felt as if someone had rammed a baseball bat up it for several hours straight and he felt dizzy and nauseous.
“Hey!” A loud, harsh voice made Dean wince. Somebody kicked at his foot. “Get outta here you bum!”
Dean cracked his eyes open. A middle-aged Italian-looking man was dumping a load of flattened boxes in the dumpster behind his office.
“C’mon. Beat it! You can’t sleep here!” The guy kicked at his foot again and Dean rolled up onto his hands and knees and threw up.
“Jesus Christ,” the man swore. “God damn worthless junkie whores.”
He grabbed the back of Dean’s shirt and hauled him into a standing position.
“Get outta here! Go on…beat it! An’ think yourself lucky I don’t call the cops on your sorry ass!”
He shoved Dean hard and Dean staggered forward and then figured he may as well keep staggering, down the alley toward Daisy’s Diner. He was in no condition to walk all the way home unassisted and at least at the diner he could curl up in a booth; maybe get a cup of coffee. The entry bell jangled noisily as Dean opened the diner’s door and stumbled through it. He lurched toward the section where the booths were located and fell into one. Holy fuck! Dean hissed in pain. That baseball bat? Clearly still in his ass. He folded his arms on the table and then rested his head on them with a groan. A moment later he smelled a sweet, floral perfume and felt the cushion of the bench seat depress a little. A soft arm wrapped itself around his shoulders and squeezed him gently.
“Looks like that was a rough one,” Daisy said gently, “but you’re alright now, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”
Dean’s face flushed with humiliation. And the most humiliating thing? The fact that Daisy wasn’t that far off the mark in thinking he’d just taken a rough trick.
“Is there someone you can call?” Daisy asked.
“Yeah.” Dean sat up and reached into his pocket for his cell phone.
-X-
Sam hadn’t slept. How could he sleep, knowing what Dean was going through? He’d come back to the motel room and then prowled around it like a caged tiger. He’d thought about getting drunk, but had decided against it. Dean would need him, when he got back. And besides, it seemed as disloyal to get wasted as it seemed to sleep.
Sam watched a couple of sappy late night movies on the Hallmark channel. Then he watched infomercials. He watched the clock constantly. He curled up in a ball on Dean’s bed…the bed they’d been sleeping in together, and wrapped himself in a couple of Dean’s shirts. Dean needed to do some laundry, but at least the shirts smelled of him and Sam found that comforting.
At a little after five am a tall, broad-shouldered man materialized in the room and Sam scrambled to his feet and lunged for the nearest bottle of holy water. The man’s clothes were rumpled and he had the beginnings of a scruffy, unkempt beard. He looked dazed and it gave Sam the time he needed to pop the cap on the holy water and throw a whole lot of it in the man’s face. The man jerked back and wiped at his wet face. He stared at Sam and then looked slowly around the room.
“Okay,” said Sam. “So you’re not a demon. And you’re sure as shit not a Faerie. Who are you?”
“I’m John Winchester. Who the hell are you?”
Sam put the bottle of holy water down and held out his hand.
“Sam Remington, sir. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Uh huh. What are you doing in my motel room?”
“I’m a student up at the university. Mythology. I’ve been helping Dean figure out how to get you back from the Faeries.”
John Winchester moved fast at Sam, grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall. “Nice job with that,” he hissed. “Do you know what they made him do?”
“Yeah,” Sam rasped. “Is he okay?”
John deflated like a pricked balloon. “I don’t know,” he said. He let go of Sam’s throat and stepped over to the table. He sat down heavily and then picked up a glass and the bottle of whiskey and poured himself a shot. “He was possessed for at least part of it.” John threw back the shot and poured himself another. “If he was lucky, maybe he was out of it for the whole thing.” He shuddered. “What that asshole did to him…God.”
Sam edged away from the wall and sat back down on the bed. “Hieros Gamos, right?” he said. “Ritual sex?”
John glanced up, scanned the room again, and then nodded. “He collapsed afterwards. They took him away; said they’d send him back here when he’d…recovered.” John shuddered again and slammed back another glass of whiskey. “What’s with the devil’s trap above the door?”
“Bobby said we had a demon on our tail.”
John startled and then looked hard at Sam.
“You’ve been in contact with Bobby Singer? He knows what’s been happening?”
Sam nodded. “Yes sir.”
John got his cell phone out and hit a button.
“This was the best plan you could come up with, Singer?” John didn’t bother with any niceties, just launched straight into it. “I figured this hare-brained scheme had to be cobbled together by Dean and this long-haired college kid, and then I hear you know all about it... Yes I’ve met Sam; he was here in the room when I got back…No, not yet…” John ran a hand across his stubbled chin. “He’s a tough kid, Bobby, he’ll be fine. Look, I hear I got a demon on my tail.” John frowned. “Never mind all that. Is-” John stood and began to pace, agitation oozing from every pore. Sam could hear Bobby talking urgently on the other end of the phone, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. “Bobby, enough,” John pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t need to know-” he broke off and swallowed hard and Sam followed his gaze.
Nightstand; condoms; lube. Oh. John turned his back on it and studiously ignored Sam. “Bobby,” he said urgently, “Is this the demon you’ve been tracking for me or not?” John listened to Bobby’s reply and then hung up with a brusque thank you.
He stood for a moment staring out into space and rubbing a hand against the back of his neck, and then he moved abruptly, picking up a duffel bag and going through the room, rapidly throwing things into it.
“What are you doing?” Sam asked.
“What’s it look like, Einstein?”
“Looks like you’re packing. You are gonna wait for Dean to get back, right?”
John picked up a pair of socks, sniffed at them and then threw them into his duffel. “Probably better if I get on the road; lead the demon away from here. I’ll leave Dean the car. Been wanting to buy myself a truck for a while anyway. Besides,” he looked up at Sam, “I’m sure he doesn’t want to look me in the eye after…”
“So you’re running out on him?” Sam couldn’t keep the criticism out of his tone.
“You watch your mouth, son,” John growled. “You’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”
Sam pulled himself up to his full height and went toe-to-toe with the man. “Oh, I know plenty about asshole parents who run out on their kids. He needs you right now, goddamn it, but you’re too chicken-shit to give him what he needs. You can’t look him in the eye cuz you saw him having sex with another guy. Admit it.”
“That’s not-”
“Oh, cut the crap. He told me that you caught him with a girl in the back of the Impala once. You’ve been looking him in the face just fine since then. But go ahead, tell me I’m wrong, tell me you’d still be doing this if he’d done the ritual with a female Faerie.”
John lowered his head and then looked up and met Sam’s eyes.
“I need to lead the demon away from him. I don’t know what Dean’s told you, but this demon…it killed his mother and his baby brother. I won’t have it anywhere near my boy. It’ll follow me, I know it will. It knows I’m on its trail; knows I’m a threat.” John’s eyes were blazing with fierce determination and Sam believed him; he wanted to protect his son, no question, but he was also being a coward. John could wait to leave until Dean came back, but he didn’t want to. Sam folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow. John glowered and then ran a hand over his chin again. “Okay,” he said grudgingly. “You’re right. I can’t face him right now. And he probably doesn’t want to face me either,” John fiddled with the strap of his duffel. “Look, I’m not stupid, kid. It’s five am; you’re here, waiting for Dean, in his bed. You’ve obviously been here for days; your clothes are spread all around the room and my bed hasn’t been slept in. There’s also a box of condoms and a bottle of lube on the nightstand next to Dean’s bed. I didn’t know he swung that way and I can’t say that I’m happy about it,” John drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Dean’s my son and I love him. But…I need a little time. The best thing I can do for all of us, right now, is to go and deal with this demon.”
John picked up his duffel bag and headed to the door. “Tell him…any damn thing you want,” he sighed. “Tell him I’ll call.”
John Winchester let himself out of the motel room and Sam stared after him, bitterly disappointed. After everything Dean had done to get the man back, he was just going to abandon him? Sam was furious. He was beyond furious. He had half a mind to follow John Winchester out of the motel room and start throwing punches…except if John was anything like his son, Sam would probably come off second best in that encounter and possibly end up in handcuffs. He settled for punching the wall, and then spent the next hour pacing the floor. When his cell phone rang he snatched it up, not even pausing to look at the caller ID.
“Dean?”
“Sammy?”
Relief washed through his veins like opium. “Thank god! Where are you?”
On the other end of the phone there was only silence.
“Dean?”
“Sammy?” said a familiar female voice. “Is that you?”
“Daisy?”
“Hey honey. Dean’s here at the diner. You think maybe you can come get him? He’s not doin’ too good.”
“Is…is he alright?”
“Looks like he picked up a rough trick. Nothing that won’t mend, I guess, but he’s pretty shell-shocked. And he seems to be in a lotta pain.”
“Don’t let him leave,” Sam said, “I’m coming now.”
-X-
Sam burst through the door of the diner at a flat out run, his eyes scanning rapidly for Dean. The hunter was sitting gingerly in one of the booths, eating a slice of cherry pie. He looked up and grinned as soon as he saw Sam skid to a halt just inside the door.
“Hi Sammy!” he said cheerfully. “Look! I got pie!”
Daisy appeared at Sam’s elbow. “Gave him a double dose of Vicodin,” she murmured in his ear.
Sam nodded and got out his wallet. “How much do we owe you for the pie?”
“It’s on the house, honey,” she put a hand on Sam’s arm. “You really went back to school?”
“Yeah.”
Daisy’s face lit up briefly and then shadowed again. “He’s a good kid,” she nodded at Dean. “Get him outta the business, Sammy. He deserves better.”
Sam nodded again and went and sat next to Dean.
“How you feeling?”
Dean shrugged. “Okay. Don’t hurt so much anymore,” he leaned in close and whispered loudly, “I think that’s the Vicodin.” He frowned. “I’m a bit sleepy too. Hey? Did you see my dad? Did he come back to the room?”
Sam nodded. “He’s fine. Let’s get you back to the motel.”
“Okay…this pie is awesome, Sammy. Here have a bite,” he held the fork up to Sam’s lips and Sam was helpless to do anything except close his mouth around it.
“Good, huh?”
The pie was sweet, rich and buttery with just a faint touch of cinnamon. It was good, but Sam had more urgent matters on his mind than pie.
“Dean, did you see anyone staking out the diner? You said the other day that Aazim’s men were watching it.”
Dean frowned thoughtfully. “Nope,” he said. “Did you see anyone when you came in?”
Sam shrugged. “Nobody I recognized, but there were plenty of people hanging around out there.”
Dean pushed his empty pie plate away and licked his lips. “Well, just so you know, I’m not really up to games right now. I mean, if we can avoid ‘em.”
Sam tilted his head to one side. “Games?”
Dean leaned his head back against the booth and sighed. “Yeah, you know, like evading police or climbing outta fourth floor windows or going ten rounds with a poltergeist. Dad always calls that kinda shit ‘games’. Where is he anyway? Is he alright?”
“Yeah, he’s fine. Just hang on a sec.”
Sam went over to Daisy who was brewing up fresh coffee behind the counter.
“You know those guys who were in here asking about me?”
Daisy nodded.
“There’s a chance they’re lurking out there, wanting to talk.”
“And I’m guessing you don’t wanna talk.”
Sam leaned against the counter and lowered his voice.
“I came to California to go to college and get away from the life. The life followed me here. Those guys…they’re part of that old life and they’re trying to force me back into it.”
Daisy’s expression was pure momma bear. “Not on my watch,” she growled. “What d’you need, sweetie?”
“You got a back exit we could use?”
Daisy grinned. “I can do you one better. This place was built during the prohibition era. There’s a hidden door in our cellar, takes you down into a tunnel that goes all the way out to Walnut Lane.”
Sam matched her grin. “Daisy…you’re a life saver!”
Dean was adorably excited by the prospect of escaping out of the diner through a tunnel once used for running bootleg liquor.
“We are totally like Al Capone,” he said, as they made their way down the dimly lit passage. “Or Eliot Ness. You know those zoot suits they used to wear were pretty cool. And the hats. And…and the shoes. I kinda like the clothes from back then,” he subsided briefly and then clapped Sam on the shoulder and said, “Oh! You know what else is cool, Sammy? Cowboy outfits.”
Sam looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, Dean, how did you not realize you were gay?”
“Shut up, Sammy!” Dean punched Sam’s upper arm, hard. “Don’t have to be gay to like looking good. Besides I’m not gay. I like women just fine. Only…I like you more,” he frowned. “Maybe I’m…sammysexual.”
“Sammysexual, huh?” Sam rubbed at his arm.
Dean sighed. “Any minute now I’m gonna quit running my mouth off. Too many drugs today, that’s the problem.”
By the time they got back to the motel room, Dean was clearly exhausted, but that didn’t stop him from noticing that the room was empty of not only his father, but all his father’s things. The quickly-masked devastation in his eyes when Sam haltingly explained that his father had thought it would be best if he led the demon away, cut Sam deeply, but when he reached out to pull Dean into a hug, the hunter shrugged him off and went into the bathroom. The shower ran for a very long time.
“You don’t have to stay, you know,” Dean said when he finally emerged.
“I want to,” Sam told him.
“I’m probably just gonna sleep. I didn’t exactly get any sleep last night.”
“I didn’t sleep last night either, so I’m cool with that. You want me to sleep in the other bed?”
Dean shook his head.
They changed and got under the covers and Sam was both surprised and pleased when Dean snuggled up against him.
“How are you feeling?” Sam asked.
“M’tired. ‘N’ floaty. S’probably cuz of the Vicodin,” Dean sighed and burrowed himself into Sam’s side. “You make me feel safe,” he mumbled sleepily, “an’ I miss you when you’re not around.”
Sam waited until Dean’s light snores told him that the hunter was asleep and then he kissed the top of his head gently. “I love you too, Dean,” he whispered.
-X
Sam could sense the light through his eyelids when he woke up, so he knew that they hadn’t slept the day away. He opened his eyes and looked directly into a pair of deep green pools, staring straight at him from only inches away.
“Hi,” he whispered, taking in the five o’clock shadow on Dean’s chin and the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose and his cheeks.
“Hi,” the hunter replied, his lips curling into a soft smile.
“Time is it?”
Dean shrugged. “Four, maybe?”
“How are you feeling?”
Dean sighed and his eyes fluttered shut briefly. “Like someone shoved a baseball bat in and out of my ass for several hours.”
Sam’s eyes widened. “Really? He was that big?”
Dean curled in on himself, just a little.
“It’s all a bit…uh…disjointed. There was this drugged incense stuff and the Goddess, of course, and the passing out and…time kept slipping,” Dean’s eyes fluttered up to Sam’s and he swallowed. “He wasn’t that big, not to look at, but, uh, there was magick and, the Goddess, she kinda…blew him outta me at the end. So, uh, yeah…” he trailed off miserably, looking thoroughly embarrassed.
Sam leaned forward and placed a soft, chaste kiss on Dean’s lips.
“I better take a look then.”
Dean eyes shot up. “Yeah, no. No-one’s getting anywhere near my ass for at least a month.” He frowned at Sam’s look of delight. “What?”
“Better than I expected,” Sam admitted. “I thought you were gonna say ‘no-one’s getting near my ass ever again.’ You know, now that this ritual stuff is out the way.”
Dean ducked his head and when he looked up again his eyes were full of his usual cockiness. “Yeah, well…if it feels good do it, that’s my motto. Right now it ain’t gonna feel good; but give me a little time, huh?”
Sam hauled himself into a sitting position, his expression suddenly stormy.
“A little time?” he said, wrapping his arms around his knees. “How much time are we talkin’ about here…you know, before you leave town?”
Dean pulled himself upright, wincing a little as his ass connected with the mattress.
“Was kinda thinkin’ maybe I’d stay a while; find an apartment, sweet talk Daisy into givin’ me a part time job washin’ dishes. Maybe get my GED. Maybe do a few local Jobs. I mean, my dad’s gone off by himself; no reason I gotta stay on the road. Right, Sammy?”
“It’s Sam,” the younger man pouted. And then he threw his arms around Dean with a grin. “This is so cool!”
“Yeah, well,” Dean cleared his throat. “Gotta watch your back, right? Make sure that asshole pimp realizes you’re off limits.”
Sam hugged him tight. “Thank you Dean. That means a lot.”
Dean squeezed him back, comforted by the closeness.
“Savin’ people’s part of the job description,” he said gruffly.
Sam pulled out of the hug with a grin that said Dean wasn’t fooling him in the slightest.
“We should celebrate!” he said, “You’re staying and tomorrow’s my nineteenth birthday. Whatd’ya say we go out tomorrow night? D’you think you’ll feel up to it?”
Dean nodded. “Sure. Why not? We should invite all your college friends too, Birthday Boy,” he bumped his fist against Sam’s upper arm. “You can tell that scary, over-protective chick that your douche-bag ex decided to stay in town for you.”
“Sounds awesome,” Sam nodded. “Jess’ll like that. Now turn over. I gotta take a look; make sure you don’t need to see a doctor.”
Dean grimaced. “I’m fine, thanks anyway.”
The sudden stubborn set of Sam’s jaw reminded Dean eerily of his father. “You’re not fine. You got injured. On a hunt. I need to see how bad it is. Tell me we’d even be having this conversation if it was your leg that got hurt?”
“Sam-”
“No,” Sam made a chopping gesture with his hand. “This conversation is officially over. Turn onto your stomach and pull your pants down.”
Dean gaped at him and then looked down; Sam could see the sheets twitching. “Traitor,” Dean said to his lap.
“Don’t make me start counting,” Sam threatened.
“Or what? You’ll spank me?” Dean muttered, but he wasn’t waiting to find out, rolling into position and lowering his briefs even as he spoke.
The damage didn’t look too bad. Dean was red and swollen, but there was no blood and no obvious signs of serious damage.
“Don’t move,” Sam went over to his duffel and pulled out some supplies.
“Okay,” he said, returning to Dean’s side, “I need to check things out inside-”
“No way!” Dean tried to roll onto his back, but Sam wouldn’t let him. He explained in great detail about anal tearing and rectal prolapse and when Dean slumped below him with a muttered: Fine. Get on with it, then, Sam added, “And I’ve got an analgesic gel that I’m gonna apply too.”
Sam snapped on a latex glove, smothered one finger with Lignocaine and very gently and carefully made sure that all was as it should be inside of Dean, while simultaneously coating his inner walls with the numbing gel.
“All good,” he said cheerfully, pulling off the glove and tossing it into the waste paper basket. He patted Dean’s thigh. “You can, you know, roll over and whatever now.”
“I’m good,” Dean said, his voice colored with shame.
Sam took a hold of his hip and his shoulder and flipped him onto his back. Dean groaned and folded his arms across his face. “I know, right,” he said, as Sam stared at the very hard cock lying flush against Dean’s belly. “What kind of sicko gets hard over what’s basically a rape exam?”
Sam took hold of one of Dean’s hands and pressed it against his own hard-on. “Think I got you beat in the sicko stakes,” he said, before laying himself down on top of Dean. “It’s just cuz it’s us,” he said as he pressed their groins together, “and we’re so incredibly hot. I mean, seriously?” he waggled his eyebrows dramatically. “Who can blame us for getting horny when we’re this hot?” He struck a ridiculous ‘blue steel’ pose and then grinned, leaning down to lick his way into Dean’s mouth.
Dean held himself tense for one brief, strained moment and then gave up with a groan. He wrapped his arms around Sam, kissing him desperately and rutting against him until they both came.
“Dibs first shower,” Sam said, springing from the bed and running for the bathroom. Dean stared after him, his mouth curving into a soft smile. Life was good. The shit with the Faeries was over, okay, his dad had fucked off, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe a little time in the one place to explore this thing with Sam was exactly what he needed. Dean couldn’t recall ever having felt so content.
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May 1st 2002 (cont…)
Dean felt soft and warm and safe. He breathed deeply and rejoiced at the clean, fresh air that filled his lungs, enjoying the faint smell of freshly cut grass and sea water. Sighing contentedly Dean opened his eyes. He was lying in a four poster bed, covered with a soft, white comforter, and surrounded by a billowing white gauze curtain. Peaseblossom sat cross-legged at his side, holding his hand.
“Welcome back,” she smiled.
“How,” Dean cleared his raspy throat. “How long was I out?”
“About an hour. How do you feel?”
Dean considered the question. He felt content; almost euphoric. Which was odd, considering.
“Am I drugged?” he asked.
Peaseblossom inclined her head and looked at him thoughtfully. “Your soul was entwined with that of a goddess. It can leave you feeling a little…enraptured.”
“Enraptured. Right,” Dean frowned. “I feel a little numb too.”
Peaseblossom ducked her head. “That was me,” she confessed. “We have some healing capacity; but it is limited to small, simple things. Our king…was not gentle with you. And when the goddess tore him from your body...” Peaseblossom sighed. “Dean, I have done my best, but you will be sore for several days. I am keeping your pain at bay for the moment, but it will return.”
Dean closed his eyes briefly. “So, uh. What’s the score here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Am I a prisoner? Is the king pissed at me? Is he gonna have me killed? Or torture me ‘til I’m insane? What?”
Peaseblossom fiddled with the edge of the comforter. “You are not a prisoner,” she said. “The king…” she sighed again. “Please do not think too badly of our king-” Dean snorted and she looked up at him, her face fierce and beautiful. “I understand how you feel,” she said, “the king has done great wrong, and not just to you. I have been trying for centuries to stop this, but I needed the help of the designated channel and I couldn’t outright ask for it without letting the king know what I was trying to do,” she shook her head. “But when I heard that we had found a Golau-llachar, and one who was a hunter no less, I just knew that you would be the one who could help us. Thank you, Dean.”
Dean acknowledged her thanks with a slight chin nod. “Peaseblossom,” he said tentatively, “what do you know about Golau-Ilachars? I mean, I know it means I’ve got a bright, shiny soul but…the Goddess showed me something when she was…you know…in me. And…honestly? I didn’t really get it.”
The Faerie’s eyes were bright with interest. “What did she show you?”
“A lot of stuff. I think most of it was family history. But she showed me this one part where my mom summoned some dude with big, shadowy wings and he touched my chest…at least, I think it was me…and all this white light flared around us.”
Peaseblossom nodded. “A Golau-Ilachar is created when an angel joins its grace to the soul of a human.”
Dean gaped at her. “A what? Tell me you’re joking!”
The Faerie looked at him steadily. “There are many gods and goddesses,” she said, “all vying for supremacy. One particular God created angels. They are real. They exist. And one of them has shared his grace with you.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother asked it of him, I assume for your protection. Other than that, his reasons are his own.”
Dean struggled into a sitting position, wincing at the odd feeling of pressure in his ass and then shuddered with revulsion when he felt something cold and slimy trickle out of him and down his thigh. He swore softly and closed his eyes against the humiliation of it all.
“I bathed you afterwards,” Peaseblossom said quietly, “but I did not wish to cause you further damage so I did not...go inside…”
Dean felt something soft and wet nudge at his fingers and he closed his hand around a warm, wet cloth. He reached under the covers, cleaned himself quickly and then dumped the cloth on the floor, before opening his eyes and looking at the Faerie beside him.
“So what does it mean,” he said, not willing to discuss or even acknowledge what had just happened, “me having an angel’s grace fused with my soul?”
Peaseblossom shrugged. “I am not an expert. As I understand it, no demon may possess you, you are immune to certain supernatural diseases and most races-humankind, demons, Faeries-will find you very sexually attractive. You will also have a hard road ahead of you. Angels are warriors and so shall you be. You will always be drawn to protect the weak and to go into battle for what is right, no matter the personal cost. Which is why I knew that you would be the one to help us. Our king is not evil, Dean. He has been grieving and thirsting for revenge. And you know, perhaps better than anyone, how the drive to seek revenge can lead a man to behave recklessly and put his loved ones in danger. You need only look at your own father-”
Dean’s eyes shot up. “My dad! Oh fuck!” he swallowed. “My dad was there…he saw everything.” He put his face in his hands. “Just shoot me now.”
Peaseblossom put a hand to his arm.
“Your father is safe. He has been returned to the mortal realm.”
Dean lowered his hands and looked at the Faerie with big, sad eyes. “Did he say anything? About me?”
Peaseblossom shook her head. “He was understandably angry with Gwyn Ap Nudd and concerned for your well-being. He did not say anything specifically, although it was apparent that he was…embarrassed…by what he had seen. You humans are very strange about sex.”
Dean raised his eyebrows. “It’s meant to be a private thing!”
“Like I said; strange.”
Dean shook his head. “So if I’m not a prisoner, can I go home now?”
Peaseblossom nodded. She pushed back the curtains surrounding the bed and flitted out into the room, coming back a moment later carrying Dean’s clothes in a neat pile. “Please dress,” she said, “and I shall send you back.”
“Could you turn around please?”
Peaseblossom rolled her eyes. “It’s not as if I haven’t seen you naked before,” she said, “and you really have a beautiful body, Dean, you have no need to feel shame.”
“Humor me?”
Peaseblossom turned her back on him with a sigh.
Suited and booted again, Dean felt just a little more like his old, confident self.
“I’m ready,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Peaseblossom took his hands in hers. “Remember,” she said, “as soon as you are away from my influence, your pain will return.”
Dean nodded.
“I cannot thank you enough for the assistance you have given us,” she continued. “Our sacred rites are back on track now, thanks to you, and our king is back on track too. If you ever need my help, Dean, you need only ask for it.” She pressed a small silver bell into his hand. “Ring it three times and I will come.”
“Thanks,” Dean said, “for, you know, doin’ what you could. I wish we’d met in better circumstances.”
Peaseblossom smiled at him and then let go of his hands, spoke a word, and made a gesture. Once again Dean’s world dropped away, his body felt as if it had been turned inside out, he shivered with cold and then he collapsed onto the hard bitumen of the alley that he and Sam had been cutting through on their way to the diner when the Faeries had turned up to collect him. Dean groaned as agonizing pain slammed into him, and tried to curl into a fetal position, his hands clutched across his belly which was cramping badly. His ass felt as if someone had rammed a baseball bat up it for several hours straight and he felt dizzy and nauseous.
“Hey!” A loud, harsh voice made Dean wince. Somebody kicked at his foot. “Get outta here you bum!”
Dean cracked his eyes open. A middle-aged Italian-looking man was dumping a load of flattened boxes in the dumpster behind his office.
“C’mon. Beat it! You can’t sleep here!” The guy kicked at his foot again and Dean rolled up onto his hands and knees and threw up.
“Jesus Christ,” the man swore. “God damn worthless junkie whores.”
He grabbed the back of Dean’s shirt and hauled him into a standing position.
“Get outta here! Go on…beat it! An’ think yourself lucky I don’t call the cops on your sorry ass!”
He shoved Dean hard and Dean staggered forward and then figured he may as well keep staggering, down the alley toward Daisy’s Diner. He was in no condition to walk all the way home unassisted and at least at the diner he could curl up in a booth; maybe get a cup of coffee. The entry bell jangled noisily as Dean opened the diner’s door and stumbled through it. He lurched toward the section where the booths were located and fell into one. Holy fuck! Dean hissed in pain. That baseball bat? Clearly still in his ass. He folded his arms on the table and then rested his head on them with a groan. A moment later he smelled a sweet, floral perfume and felt the cushion of the bench seat depress a little. A soft arm wrapped itself around his shoulders and squeezed him gently.
“Looks like that was a rough one,” Daisy said gently, “but you’re alright now, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”
Dean’s face flushed with humiliation. And the most humiliating thing? The fact that Daisy wasn’t that far off the mark in thinking he’d just taken a rough trick.
“Is there someone you can call?” Daisy asked.
“Yeah.” Dean sat up and reached into his pocket for his cell phone.
-X-
Sam hadn’t slept. How could he sleep, knowing what Dean was going through? He’d come back to the motel room and then prowled around it like a caged tiger. He’d thought about getting drunk, but had decided against it. Dean would need him, when he got back. And besides, it seemed as disloyal to get wasted as it seemed to sleep.
Sam watched a couple of sappy late night movies on the Hallmark channel. Then he watched infomercials. He watched the clock constantly. He curled up in a ball on Dean’s bed…the bed they’d been sleeping in together, and wrapped himself in a couple of Dean’s shirts. Dean needed to do some laundry, but at least the shirts smelled of him and Sam found that comforting.
At a little after five am a tall, broad-shouldered man materialized in the room and Sam scrambled to his feet and lunged for the nearest bottle of holy water. The man’s clothes were rumpled and he had the beginnings of a scruffy, unkempt beard. He looked dazed and it gave Sam the time he needed to pop the cap on the holy water and throw a whole lot of it in the man’s face. The man jerked back and wiped at his wet face. He stared at Sam and then looked slowly around the room.
“Okay,” said Sam. “So you’re not a demon. And you’re sure as shit not a Faerie. Who are you?”
“I’m John Winchester. Who the hell are you?”
Sam put the bottle of holy water down and held out his hand.
“Sam Remington, sir. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Uh huh. What are you doing in my motel room?”
“I’m a student up at the university. Mythology. I’ve been helping Dean figure out how to get you back from the Faeries.”
John Winchester moved fast at Sam, grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall. “Nice job with that,” he hissed. “Do you know what they made him do?”
“Yeah,” Sam rasped. “Is he okay?”
John deflated like a pricked balloon. “I don’t know,” he said. He let go of Sam’s throat and stepped over to the table. He sat down heavily and then picked up a glass and the bottle of whiskey and poured himself a shot. “He was possessed for at least part of it.” John threw back the shot and poured himself another. “If he was lucky, maybe he was out of it for the whole thing.” He shuddered. “What that asshole did to him…God.”
Sam edged away from the wall and sat back down on the bed. “Hieros Gamos, right?” he said. “Ritual sex?”
John glanced up, scanned the room again, and then nodded. “He collapsed afterwards. They took him away; said they’d send him back here when he’d…recovered.” John shuddered again and slammed back another glass of whiskey. “What’s with the devil’s trap above the door?”
“Bobby said we had a demon on our tail.”
John startled and then looked hard at Sam.
“You’ve been in contact with Bobby Singer? He knows what’s been happening?”
Sam nodded. “Yes sir.”
John got his cell phone out and hit a button.
“This was the best plan you could come up with, Singer?” John didn’t bother with any niceties, just launched straight into it. “I figured this hare-brained scheme had to be cobbled together by Dean and this long-haired college kid, and then I hear you know all about it... Yes I’ve met Sam; he was here in the room when I got back…No, not yet…” John ran a hand across his stubbled chin. “He’s a tough kid, Bobby, he’ll be fine. Look, I hear I got a demon on my tail.” John frowned. “Never mind all that. Is-” John stood and began to pace, agitation oozing from every pore. Sam could hear Bobby talking urgently on the other end of the phone, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. “Bobby, enough,” John pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t need to know-” he broke off and swallowed hard and Sam followed his gaze.
Nightstand; condoms; lube. Oh. John turned his back on it and studiously ignored Sam. “Bobby,” he said urgently, “Is this the demon you’ve been tracking for me or not?” John listened to Bobby’s reply and then hung up with a brusque thank you.
He stood for a moment staring out into space and rubbing a hand against the back of his neck, and then he moved abruptly, picking up a duffel bag and going through the room, rapidly throwing things into it.
“What are you doing?” Sam asked.
“What’s it look like, Einstein?”
“Looks like you’re packing. You are gonna wait for Dean to get back, right?”
John picked up a pair of socks, sniffed at them and then threw them into his duffel. “Probably better if I get on the road; lead the demon away from here. I’ll leave Dean the car. Been wanting to buy myself a truck for a while anyway. Besides,” he looked up at Sam, “I’m sure he doesn’t want to look me in the eye after…”
“So you’re running out on him?” Sam couldn’t keep the criticism out of his tone.
“You watch your mouth, son,” John growled. “You’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”
Sam pulled himself up to his full height and went toe-to-toe with the man. “Oh, I know plenty about asshole parents who run out on their kids. He needs you right now, goddamn it, but you’re too chicken-shit to give him what he needs. You can’t look him in the eye cuz you saw him having sex with another guy. Admit it.”
“That’s not-”
“Oh, cut the crap. He told me that you caught him with a girl in the back of the Impala once. You’ve been looking him in the face just fine since then. But go ahead, tell me I’m wrong, tell me you’d still be doing this if he’d done the ritual with a female Faerie.”
John lowered his head and then looked up and met Sam’s eyes.
“I need to lead the demon away from him. I don’t know what Dean’s told you, but this demon…it killed his mother and his baby brother. I won’t have it anywhere near my boy. It’ll follow me, I know it will. It knows I’m on its trail; knows I’m a threat.” John’s eyes were blazing with fierce determination and Sam believed him; he wanted to protect his son, no question, but he was also being a coward. John could wait to leave until Dean came back, but he didn’t want to. Sam folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow. John glowered and then ran a hand over his chin again. “Okay,” he said grudgingly. “You’re right. I can’t face him right now. And he probably doesn’t want to face me either,” John fiddled with the strap of his duffel. “Look, I’m not stupid, kid. It’s five am; you’re here, waiting for Dean, in his bed. You’ve obviously been here for days; your clothes are spread all around the room and my bed hasn’t been slept in. There’s also a box of condoms and a bottle of lube on the nightstand next to Dean’s bed. I didn’t know he swung that way and I can’t say that I’m happy about it,” John drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Dean’s my son and I love him. But…I need a little time. The best thing I can do for all of us, right now, is to go and deal with this demon.”
John picked up his duffel bag and headed to the door. “Tell him…any damn thing you want,” he sighed. “Tell him I’ll call.”
John Winchester let himself out of the motel room and Sam stared after him, bitterly disappointed. After everything Dean had done to get the man back, he was just going to abandon him? Sam was furious. He was beyond furious. He had half a mind to follow John Winchester out of the motel room and start throwing punches…except if John was anything like his son, Sam would probably come off second best in that encounter and possibly end up in handcuffs. He settled for punching the wall, and then spent the next hour pacing the floor. When his cell phone rang he snatched it up, not even pausing to look at the caller ID.
“Dean?”
“Sammy?”
Relief washed through his veins like opium. “Thank god! Where are you?”
On the other end of the phone there was only silence.
“Dean?”
“Sammy?” said a familiar female voice. “Is that you?”
“Daisy?”
“Hey honey. Dean’s here at the diner. You think maybe you can come get him? He’s not doin’ too good.”
“Is…is he alright?”
“Looks like he picked up a rough trick. Nothing that won’t mend, I guess, but he’s pretty shell-shocked. And he seems to be in a lotta pain.”
“Don’t let him leave,” Sam said, “I’m coming now.”
-X-
Sam burst through the door of the diner at a flat out run, his eyes scanning rapidly for Dean. The hunter was sitting gingerly in one of the booths, eating a slice of cherry pie. He looked up and grinned as soon as he saw Sam skid to a halt just inside the door.
“Hi Sammy!” he said cheerfully. “Look! I got pie!”
Daisy appeared at Sam’s elbow. “Gave him a double dose of Vicodin,” she murmured in his ear.
Sam nodded and got out his wallet. “How much do we owe you for the pie?”
“It’s on the house, honey,” she put a hand on Sam’s arm. “You really went back to school?”
“Yeah.”
Daisy’s face lit up briefly and then shadowed again. “He’s a good kid,” she nodded at Dean. “Get him outta the business, Sammy. He deserves better.”
Sam nodded again and went and sat next to Dean.
“How you feeling?”
Dean shrugged. “Okay. Don’t hurt so much anymore,” he leaned in close and whispered loudly, “I think that’s the Vicodin.” He frowned. “I’m a bit sleepy too. Hey? Did you see my dad? Did he come back to the room?”
Sam nodded. “He’s fine. Let’s get you back to the motel.”
“Okay…this pie is awesome, Sammy. Here have a bite,” he held the fork up to Sam’s lips and Sam was helpless to do anything except close his mouth around it.
“Good, huh?”
The pie was sweet, rich and buttery with just a faint touch of cinnamon. It was good, but Sam had more urgent matters on his mind than pie.
“Dean, did you see anyone staking out the diner? You said the other day that Aazim’s men were watching it.”
Dean frowned thoughtfully. “Nope,” he said. “Did you see anyone when you came in?”
Sam shrugged. “Nobody I recognized, but there were plenty of people hanging around out there.”
Dean pushed his empty pie plate away and licked his lips. “Well, just so you know, I’m not really up to games right now. I mean, if we can avoid ‘em.”
Sam tilted his head to one side. “Games?”
Dean leaned his head back against the booth and sighed. “Yeah, you know, like evading police or climbing outta fourth floor windows or going ten rounds with a poltergeist. Dad always calls that kinda shit ‘games’. Where is he anyway? Is he alright?”
“Yeah, he’s fine. Just hang on a sec.”
Sam went over to Daisy who was brewing up fresh coffee behind the counter.
“You know those guys who were in here asking about me?”
Daisy nodded.
“There’s a chance they’re lurking out there, wanting to talk.”
“And I’m guessing you don’t wanna talk.”
Sam leaned against the counter and lowered his voice.
“I came to California to go to college and get away from the life. The life followed me here. Those guys…they’re part of that old life and they’re trying to force me back into it.”
Daisy’s expression was pure momma bear. “Not on my watch,” she growled. “What d’you need, sweetie?”
“You got a back exit we could use?”
Daisy grinned. “I can do you one better. This place was built during the prohibition era. There’s a hidden door in our cellar, takes you down into a tunnel that goes all the way out to Walnut Lane.”
Sam matched her grin. “Daisy…you’re a life saver!”
Dean was adorably excited by the prospect of escaping out of the diner through a tunnel once used for running bootleg liquor.
“We are totally like Al Capone,” he said, as they made their way down the dimly lit passage. “Or Eliot Ness. You know those zoot suits they used to wear were pretty cool. And the hats. And…and the shoes. I kinda like the clothes from back then,” he subsided briefly and then clapped Sam on the shoulder and said, “Oh! You know what else is cool, Sammy? Cowboy outfits.”
Sam looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, Dean, how did you not realize you were gay?”
“Shut up, Sammy!” Dean punched Sam’s upper arm, hard. “Don’t have to be gay to like looking good. Besides I’m not gay. I like women just fine. Only…I like you more,” he frowned. “Maybe I’m…sammysexual.”
“Sammysexual, huh?” Sam rubbed at his arm.
Dean sighed. “Any minute now I’m gonna quit running my mouth off. Too many drugs today, that’s the problem.”
By the time they got back to the motel room, Dean was clearly exhausted, but that didn’t stop him from noticing that the room was empty of not only his father, but all his father’s things. The quickly-masked devastation in his eyes when Sam haltingly explained that his father had thought it would be best if he led the demon away, cut Sam deeply, but when he reached out to pull Dean into a hug, the hunter shrugged him off and went into the bathroom. The shower ran for a very long time.
“You don’t have to stay, you know,” Dean said when he finally emerged.
“I want to,” Sam told him.
“I’m probably just gonna sleep. I didn’t exactly get any sleep last night.”
“I didn’t sleep last night either, so I’m cool with that. You want me to sleep in the other bed?”
Dean shook his head.
They changed and got under the covers and Sam was both surprised and pleased when Dean snuggled up against him.
“How are you feeling?” Sam asked.
“M’tired. ‘N’ floaty. S’probably cuz of the Vicodin,” Dean sighed and burrowed himself into Sam’s side. “You make me feel safe,” he mumbled sleepily, “an’ I miss you when you’re not around.”
Sam waited until Dean’s light snores told him that the hunter was asleep and then he kissed the top of his head gently. “I love you too, Dean,” he whispered.
-X
Sam could sense the light through his eyelids when he woke up, so he knew that they hadn’t slept the day away. He opened his eyes and looked directly into a pair of deep green pools, staring straight at him from only inches away.
“Hi,” he whispered, taking in the five o’clock shadow on Dean’s chin and the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose and his cheeks.
“Hi,” the hunter replied, his lips curling into a soft smile.
“Time is it?”
Dean shrugged. “Four, maybe?”
“How are you feeling?”
Dean sighed and his eyes fluttered shut briefly. “Like someone shoved a baseball bat in and out of my ass for several hours.”
Sam’s eyes widened. “Really? He was that big?”
Dean curled in on himself, just a little.
“It’s all a bit…uh…disjointed. There was this drugged incense stuff and the Goddess, of course, and the passing out and…time kept slipping,” Dean’s eyes fluttered up to Sam’s and he swallowed. “He wasn’t that big, not to look at, but, uh, there was magick and, the Goddess, she kinda…blew him outta me at the end. So, uh, yeah…” he trailed off miserably, looking thoroughly embarrassed.
Sam leaned forward and placed a soft, chaste kiss on Dean’s lips.
“I better take a look then.”
Dean eyes shot up. “Yeah, no. No-one’s getting anywhere near my ass for at least a month.” He frowned at Sam’s look of delight. “What?”
“Better than I expected,” Sam admitted. “I thought you were gonna say ‘no-one’s getting near my ass ever again.’ You know, now that this ritual stuff is out the way.”
Dean ducked his head and when he looked up again his eyes were full of his usual cockiness. “Yeah, well…if it feels good do it, that’s my motto. Right now it ain’t gonna feel good; but give me a little time, huh?”
Sam hauled himself into a sitting position, his expression suddenly stormy.
“A little time?” he said, wrapping his arms around his knees. “How much time are we talkin’ about here…you know, before you leave town?”
Dean pulled himself upright, wincing a little as his ass connected with the mattress.
“Was kinda thinkin’ maybe I’d stay a while; find an apartment, sweet talk Daisy into givin’ me a part time job washin’ dishes. Maybe get my GED. Maybe do a few local Jobs. I mean, my dad’s gone off by himself; no reason I gotta stay on the road. Right, Sammy?”
“It’s Sam,” the younger man pouted. And then he threw his arms around Dean with a grin. “This is so cool!”
“Yeah, well,” Dean cleared his throat. “Gotta watch your back, right? Make sure that asshole pimp realizes you’re off limits.”
Sam hugged him tight. “Thank you Dean. That means a lot.”
Dean squeezed him back, comforted by the closeness.
“Savin’ people’s part of the job description,” he said gruffly.
Sam pulled out of the hug with a grin that said Dean wasn’t fooling him in the slightest.
“We should celebrate!” he said, “You’re staying and tomorrow’s my nineteenth birthday. Whatd’ya say we go out tomorrow night? D’you think you’ll feel up to it?”
Dean nodded. “Sure. Why not? We should invite all your college friends too, Birthday Boy,” he bumped his fist against Sam’s upper arm. “You can tell that scary, over-protective chick that your douche-bag ex decided to stay in town for you.”
“Sounds awesome,” Sam nodded. “Jess’ll like that. Now turn over. I gotta take a look; make sure you don’t need to see a doctor.”
Dean grimaced. “I’m fine, thanks anyway.”
The sudden stubborn set of Sam’s jaw reminded Dean eerily of his father. “You’re not fine. You got injured. On a hunt. I need to see how bad it is. Tell me we’d even be having this conversation if it was your leg that got hurt?”
“Sam-”
“No,” Sam made a chopping gesture with his hand. “This conversation is officially over. Turn onto your stomach and pull your pants down.”
Dean gaped at him and then looked down; Sam could see the sheets twitching. “Traitor,” Dean said to his lap.
“Don’t make me start counting,” Sam threatened.
“Or what? You’ll spank me?” Dean muttered, but he wasn’t waiting to find out, rolling into position and lowering his briefs even as he spoke.
The damage didn’t look too bad. Dean was red and swollen, but there was no blood and no obvious signs of serious damage.
“Don’t move,” Sam went over to his duffel and pulled out some supplies.
“Okay,” he said, returning to Dean’s side, “I need to check things out inside-”
“No way!” Dean tried to roll onto his back, but Sam wouldn’t let him. He explained in great detail about anal tearing and rectal prolapse and when Dean slumped below him with a muttered: Fine. Get on with it, then, Sam added, “And I’ve got an analgesic gel that I’m gonna apply too.”
Sam snapped on a latex glove, smothered one finger with Lignocaine and very gently and carefully made sure that all was as it should be inside of Dean, while simultaneously coating his inner walls with the numbing gel.
“All good,” he said cheerfully, pulling off the glove and tossing it into the waste paper basket. He patted Dean’s thigh. “You can, you know, roll over and whatever now.”
“I’m good,” Dean said, his voice colored with shame.
Sam took a hold of his hip and his shoulder and flipped him onto his back. Dean groaned and folded his arms across his face. “I know, right,” he said, as Sam stared at the very hard cock lying flush against Dean’s belly. “What kind of sicko gets hard over what’s basically a rape exam?”
Sam took hold of one of Dean’s hands and pressed it against his own hard-on. “Think I got you beat in the sicko stakes,” he said, before laying himself down on top of Dean. “It’s just cuz it’s us,” he said as he pressed their groins together, “and we’re so incredibly hot. I mean, seriously?” he waggled his eyebrows dramatically. “Who can blame us for getting horny when we’re this hot?” He struck a ridiculous ‘blue steel’ pose and then grinned, leaning down to lick his way into Dean’s mouth.
Dean held himself tense for one brief, strained moment and then gave up with a groan. He wrapped his arms around Sam, kissing him desperately and rutting against him until they both came.
“Dibs first shower,” Sam said, springing from the bed and running for the bathroom. Dean stared after him, his mouth curving into a soft smile. Life was good. The shit with the Faeries was over, okay, his dad had fucked off, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe a little time in the one place to explore this thing with Sam was exactly what he needed. Dean couldn’t recall ever having felt so content.
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