Big Bang 2012: The Iron Tongue of Midnight
Part Seventeen
May 2nd 2002 (cont…)
Needles of hot water pounded a staccato beat against Sam’s sore shoulders as he stood in the shower with his eyes closed and his head tipped back, mouth slightly open, trying to relieve the tension of the day.
Turning eighteen had been a relief; finally an adult and no longer subject to the whims of the system.
Turning nineteen…Sam groaned softly. So far his birthday had played out like a script from a horror movie. Waking up to find Aazim bending over him had been the stuff of nightmares. The way the pimp had manhandled him, had thrown Dean across the room, the way he’d pinned Sam down without touching him and Sam’s gradual realization that the man he’d been so afraid of for so much of his life wasn’t a man at all, that he was truly a monster; that was straight out of a Wes Craven movie or a Stephen King novel. Sam could still feel the pimp’s hard cock against his ass, and the anguish that he’d felt, knowing and fearing the pain that he was about to experience, was still fresh in his mind. So was the shame, the guilt and the despair of knowing that Dean had watched him get treated like a whore.
Sam shuddered. He rinsed the shampoo from his hair and then soaped his long, lean body.
The appearance of the Faeries-who had sneered at him when he’d first met them-had been humiliating. They already thought he was scum; meeting them again with his pants down and his ass up…yeah, no other word for that but humiliating. Not that it would have been the first time he’d had an audience while he was getting fucked…not that Aazim had actually fucked him last night, but still, he’d been caught with his pants down and no-one ever likes that, no matter how many times it’s happened to them.
The arrival of the Faeries had been a godsend too because they’d helped; they’d gotten rid of Aazim. Sam had been freaked as fuck by the whole episode, but he’d learned to mask his fear a long time ago, learned how to stop it from showing in his eyes, and when Dean had wished him a happy birthday and kissed him, Sam had laughed and melted into the kiss more by reflex than anything else; his brain had still been busy processing ‘Aazim lets the demon Azazel wear him like a meat puppet, he poisoned my blood, tainted my soul and tried to rape me again’.
And then John fucking Winchester had turned up. Turned up, turned Dean into a robotic little soldier boy and made it crystal clear that he wanted to kill Sam.
Jesus.
Sam shuddered again.
So one way and another the day had been rather strained. Yesterday, Sam had been anticipating some amazing Birthday Sex. Not that he expected Dean to bottom for him, not after the May Day ritual, but he’d been fully prepared to be the catcher; until he’d nearly been raped by a demon. Now. Fuck. Sam was just gonna make do with his right hand in the shower, because he really needed to unwind, but he simply didn’t need the pressure of having to deal with somebody else.
A sudden banging on the bathroom door made him lose his rhythm.
“Dude. You’ve been ages. What are you doin’ in there? Jerking off?”
Sam didn’t know what to say.
“Oh shit,” Dean said quietly, “that’s exactly what you’re doing, isn’t it?”
The bathroom door creaked open and then Sam heard the dull thud of clothing hitting linoleum.
“What are you-” he began, but the question quickly became redundant as Dean slid back the curtain and stepped naked into the shower.
“Don’t mind you startin’ without me,” Dean said, reaching up to cup the back of Sam’s head and bringing his lips down for a very thorough kiss, “but ain’t no way you’re finishing without me.” He knocked Sam’s hand off his dick and then wrapped his own hand around the both of them and stroked firmly. Dean’s touch rushed through Sam like electricity and he surged against the hunter, pushing him into the wall of the shower stall and plundering Dean’s mouth with his tongue, before reaching down to place his own larger hand over Dean’s. Hard, wet bodies collided, hands pushing and pulling, lips bruising, mouths claiming as they brought themselves off in a release so intense it was almost violent. After, they leaned against each other, breathing hard, until the water began to run cold. Dean lifted his head and met Sam’s eyes.
“So,” he said, “the thing with my dad. Are we gonna have to talk about that?”
“The thing with your dad?” Sam’s eyes narrowed and he straightened up and stepped away from Dean. “You mean the thing where he wants to launch a pre-emptive strike and kill me before I turn to the dark side of the force? That thing?”
Dean refused to look away. “Yeah,” he said, stepping after Sam and invading his space again. “That thing.”
Sam pushed Dean away from him. “Why would we have to talk about that?” he spat.
“Good,” Dean said, “becau-”
Sam shoved him back against the wall of the shower, hard.
“God, you’re such a jerk,” he stepped out of the stall and grabbed a towel.
“What the hell, Sam?” Dean staggered to right himself and then grappled with the shower curtain before stumbling out of the stall. “You should let me finish be-”
“You know,” Sam interrupted, rubbing his hair with one end of the towel, the other end trailing toga-like across his chest, “I always figured, if I ever found someone I was serious about, meeting their family was gonna suck ass. Cuz anyone I’m serious about, they’re gonna have to know about my past, right? And what parent’s gonna be thrilled that their kid’s dating a retired whore? So I’ve always figured the parents were gonna hate me; but your Dad actually wants to kill me. To kill me, Dean! Literally. So yeah, I’m a little freaked and it would be nice if you could just...” Sam waved an arm, “acknowledge that. Why are you smirking at me like that?”
Dean had wrapped a towel around his waist while Sam was ranting and was now grinning up at him like the cat that ate the canary.
“So you’re serious about me?” he said.
Sam gaped at him. “That’s what you got from that?”
Dean shrugged. “Well I wasn’t really sure before. I mean, I know I’ve let a few things slip…like the other day when I said maybe the Faerie king did something to make me fall for the first guy I met after he chose me for the ritual. And then I said that you felt like you were a missing piece of me and…I know you keep saying you don’t want me to leave, but I wasn’t sure if that was just cuz the sex is awesome or if you actually really-” Dean stopped abruptly and glanced down at his dick.
Sam raised an eyebrow.
“Just checkin’ to make sure it’s still there,” Dean mumbled. He snatched up his clothes and strode out of the bathroom muttering something about liking dick not meaning you had to grow lady parts.
Sam followed him into the bedroom.
“I like you,” he said, “a lot.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “And now I feel about twelve.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and Sam crossed the floor and sat next to him.
“When you were outside talking to your dad I was watching from the window. I know what he told you, Dean, because I can lip read. He told you that you might have to kill me.”
“Yeah, well. My dad’s an ass.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “I’m not gonna argue with you there, but-”
“He never should have said anything, I mean, you don't do that, you don't… you don't lay that kind of crap on your kids,” Dean cleared his throat. “Could you lip read what I told him?”
Sam shook his head. “You had your back to the window.”
Dean nodded slowly, thoughtfully, and then fixed Sam with a determined expression. “You’re not gonna go darkside, Sammy,” he said, “because I ain’t gonna let you.”
Sam frowned. “I dunno. Maybe…maybe your dad was right to say what he said. Who knows what I might become?”
Dean shook his head. “No, you don’t get it, Sammy,” he fixed the younger man with a hard stare. “I am not going to let you go darkside,” he enunciated slowly and clearly. “I will go to Hell and back before I let that happen; look into my eyes and tell me I’m lying about that.”
Sam could tell that he wasn’t. In fact he didn’t think he’d ever seen somebody look so fiercely determined before.
“Okay,” Sam nodded. “I believe you,” he drew breath sharply. “I don’t wanna turn into a monster, Dean. I don’t wanna hurt people; I don’t wanna lose sight of right and wrong; I-” he looked down as Dean placed a hand on his arm.
“Dude,” said Dean, “I’ve seen you scoop daddy long legses out of the shower so they won’t get washed down the drain. You might have demon blood running through your veins, but you’ve got a good soul. I know you, Sammy. You’re not gonna hurt anyone.”
Sam nodded again. He got up, shucked the towel and started to dress. A beat later Dean too, was pulling on his jeans and shrugging into a tight black tee-shirt.
“Dean?” Sam waved at his lap top which Dean had left open on the table, “Who’s Marianne Newark? Did you find another Job here?”
“Nah. She’s part of the last job.” Dean explained to Sam about the bride kidnappings that always occurred at the start of one of Gwyn Ap Nudd’s May Day cycles. “I just wanted to check up on her, make sure she got home safely too.”
Sam looked at the photo of a happy, smiling Marianne being held tightly in the arms of her fiancé. The accompanying article mentioned that she had retrograde amnesia and couldn’t remember anything at all about what had happened to her. The police-and her parents-the article reported, were baffled by Marianne’s sudden reappearance in her bedroom, and reading the police and the security company’s attempts to give a rational explanation had Sam chuckling.
Dean grinned. “I know right? It always amazes me the things people will believe…and the things they won’t believe.”
“You do a lot of good, you know,” Sam said. “You should be proud of what you do.”
“I am. Are you nearly ready to go?”
Sam dived into the bathroom and started drying his hair.
Dean shook his head. “Really Sam? You’re blow drying your hair? You are such a girl!”
“Keep sayin’ that gorgeous,” Sam trilled from the bathroom, “and I’m gonna pin you to the bed and prove otherwise.” And then the hairdryer clicked off and Sam stuck his head sheepishly around the door. “Sorry,” he bit at his bottom lip, “I didn’t mean that in a…you know…a rapey way…I just…”
Dean waved him off.
“How are you feeling, anyway?” Sam asked.
“Fine. You?”
“Fine.”
Dean nodded and asked Sam whether he was ready to go or if he still needed to do his makeup. Sam flipped him the bird and then grabbed his jacket and stalked to the door.
“Oh,” he said, as they crossed the car park to the Impala. “I forgot to tell you. I got a text message from Jess earlier. She wants us to pick her and Becky up from the dorms.”
Dean frowned. “Seriously? They’re, like, a seven minute walk from the bar.”
Sam shrugged. “I guess they didn’t want to walk at night, in their heels and stuff. Besides,” he added in a murmur, “Jess said she had a surprise for me.”
Dean nodded and slid behind the wheel of the car, determined that Sam was going to have a fun, normal night with his college buddies; a night that he’d never forget.
-X-
Sam’s hand was on the door handle before they’d even come to a complete stop. He told Dean to stay in the car; that he’d be back with the girls in five minutes.
“What? And miss this surprise Jess has for you? Not a chance.”
Sam looked at Dean with eyes that were big, dark and liquid. “Please?” he said. “I just…me and Jess…we nearly had something and…you’re… I don’t wanna make her feel uncomfortable.”
Dean nodded curtly. Jess probably just wanted to give Sam some geeky college-kid thing anyway. No big deal. Right?
“Okay,” he said, stretching out with exaggerated nonchalance. “But if you’re not back in ten I’m comin’ in after you.” Because it would be a dick move for Sam to keep him waiting. Not because he was worried that Jess might be planning to put the moves on his boy. Nope. Not at all worried about that.
Sam took the stairs up to the first floor two at a time. When Becky opened the door, she looked a little surprised to see him. “Where’s Jess?” she asked.
Sam frowned. “I thought she was here?”
Becky shook her head. “I thought she was with you”
Sam’s cell phone beeped and he fumbled it out of his pocket. Meet me in your room. Now. Come alone…Luv Jess J
“Oh man,” Sam showed Becky the text. “You think I should be scared? What’s she got planned?”
Becky shrugged. “I have no idea. Why don’t you go and find out?”
Well that was a novel solution.
Sam’s room was on the same floor as Jess and Becky’s but it was at the other end of the corridor. When Sam got there, his door was slightly ajar. He pushed it open and looked about nervously, half expecting a whole bunch of people to jump out at him; but the room was empty. There was a plate of chocolate chip cookies on his bed and for want of anything better to do, Sam went over to it and sat down. There was a note wedged under the plate and Sam wondered if it might contain an explanation, but all it said was ‘Happy Birthday Sam’. Sam picked up a cookie and bit into it. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, savoring the taste. Something wet splashed his forehead and he wiped at it absently. It happened again and this time Sam sat forward and looked at his hand; blood. He staggered up from the bed with a cry, his eyes darting disbelievingly to the ceiling. And there was his nightmare vision come to life. Jess was plastered to the ceiling, her face grey and waxen with shock, and her hair fanned unnaturally around her face as she hung face down above his bed. She was wearing a white nightgown that had turned crimson in the middle, stained by the gaping, dripping wound to her stomach.
“Jess,” his voice was a broken whisper.
He stepped up onto the bed and reached for her, but she burst into flames before he could get her down.
“No!” he dove for the floor as the fireball erupted. “Jess! No!”
Brady’s dry laugh sounded from the door way. “Oh Sammy,” he said. “What did you do?”
“You!” Sam scrambled up from the floor and launched himself at Brady. “You did this!”
Brady grasped hold of him with preternatural strength and his eyes flashed black.
“Boss’s orders,” he smirked. “You were getting too soft out here at college. And we have plans for you.” He sighed dramatically, and put a hand to his forehead. “I can’t believe you murdered Jess, Sammy,” he said with faux-horror. “She turned you down when she found out you were a whore, didn’t she? And you committed arson too,” he shook his head and tutted. “Such a bad, bad boy.”
Sam could feel the heat at his back; could smell Jess’s roasting flesh and he knew it wouldn’t be long before everyone came out of their dorm rooms to see what was going on.
“You’d better run,” Brady advised. “No-one’s gonna believe you didn’t do this.”
Sam lifted his chin. “They’ll see you here too.”
Brady grinned. “No,” he said, “they won’t.” And he vanished.
Sam blinked. The door opposite opened and Sam’s neighbor stuck his head out. Sam knew him by sight, but not by name. The boy’s eyes widened when he saw the flames and he began to fumble in his pocket.
“Fuck! Fire! Fire!” he pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911, “Grab a fire extinguisher!” he yelled at his room-mate. “What happened?” he asked Sam.
Sam shifted uneasily. “I just got here and found the room on fire.”
There was a sprinkler system in the dorms, but for some-probably demon-related-reason it hadn’t come on yet. The hall was now full of panicking students, some running outside, some grabbing extinguishers. Sam knew that there was nothing he could do to save Jess, knew that the room would burn, just as the demons wanted it to. He also knew that the fire investigators would find some kind of accelerant in his room, along with his dead ‘girlfriend’ who’d had a surprise for him. And then they’d find out about his past and they wouldn’t even look for other suspects. It would all play out exactly the way Brady had said it would.
Sam ran. He met Dean on the stairs and collapsed against him.
“Saw the flames,” Dean said.
“Demons. They killed Jess. It’s gonna look like I did it.”
“Fuck!” Dean grabbed Sam’s arm and dragged him down the stairs, outside, and into the Impala. He gunned the accelerator and took off with a screech, not easing up until they pulled into the motel carpark.
They ran into the room and Dean grabbed his duffel bags and started throwing things into them at break-neck speed.
“Get packed,” he said. “We’re leaving.”
Ten minutes later they were back in the car, pulling out of the motel parking lot.
“We’re going to Omaha,” Dean said. “I got new credit cards to pick up there.”
“You didn’t settle up,” Sam said.
Dean just looked at him.
“At the motel,” Sam said. “You didn’t settle up.”
“We’re on the run, Sam.”
Sam nodded. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
Dean ran a hand across his face. “Okay. First, me and Dad were booked in under a fake name. Second, we were paying with a fake card. Third, in the scheme of things aiding and abetting a murderer is worse than skipping out on a hotel bill.”
Sam nodded again. “You should just let me out somewhere.”
Dean made a frustrated noise. “Not happening.”
“I don’t wanna get you in-”
“Trouble? Trouble’s my middle name.”
Sam started to tremble and Dean reached out a hand and gripped his upper arm. “You’re gonna be okay, Sammy. We’re gonna be okay.”
Sam folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the door. He closed his eyes against the tears that had begun to slide down his face and sobbed quietly until, finally, he fell into an exhausted sleep.
-X-
It was the Impala sliding to a stop that roused Sam from his troubled dreams. He opened an eye just in time to see Dean opening the car door.
“S’goin’ on?” he asked, voice sleep-rough and slurry.
“Drowsy drivers die,” Dean said. “I’m gettin’ us a room.”
Sam frowned and wished he had a license so that he could share the driving.
“Where are we?” he asked.
Dean grinned and told him they were in Reno.
Sam waited while Dean checked them in. Once they were in the room they washed up, hit the head, and then curled around each other in the queen-sized bed. Sam fell back asleep almost immediately, feeling safe and protected in Dean’s arms.
When he awoke again lines of light were cutting their way through the venetian blinds and Sam was alone. His breathing hitched and an ache started up deep in the pit of his stomach. Dean had left him. It was the smart thing to do; Sam had demons killing the people he cared about. Dean was right to abandon him. He rolled onto his side and tried to breathe through his panic; then he saw the note, written in Dean’s untidy scrawl: Gone to get breakfast. Back soon.
Relief rushed through Sam like a tonic and he rolled onto his back and tried to sort through all the emotions that were bombarding him. Jess was dead; killed to get at him. If Jess hadn’t been a kind soul, if she hadn’t befriended him, she’d still be alive. Worse still, he’d seen it, but he hadn’t been able to stop it. Dean was sticking by him; loved him maybe, and Sam knew that he loved Dean. Dean was also a hunter and if anyone could keep themselves safe in the face of a demon threat; if anyone could keep him safe, then it was Dean. Sam could learn from Dean too, so that he wouldn’t be a burden; wouldn’t be a damsel in distress needing rescuing. Happiness bubbled up inside of Sam whenever he thought of Dean and then he remembered what the demons had done to Jess and the bubbles burst. Why couldn’t he have just this one happy thing without it getting dirty?
The door swung open and Dean backed inside, laden with brown paper bags and paper cups. He smiled when he saw that Sam was awake and Sam’s day suddenly felt much brighter.
“Here,” Dean threw a bag at him. “Breakfast is served. And I got you one of those girlie coffees you like so much,” Dean handed him a mocha. “Don’t say I never do anything for you.”
“I would never say that,” Sam’s eyes were puppy dog earnest. “You’ve done more for me than anyone ever has. I don’t even know how I can ever-”
“I’ve got your back, you’ve got mine,” Dean interrupted. “We’re partners, right? That’s how it works. We don’t need to keep score. It’s not a matter of ‘being repaid’.”
They ate their breakfast bagels and drank their coffee in silence and then Dean told Sam that he knew a guy in Reno who owed him a favor.
“I rang him from the car last night, while you were asleep,” he said. “I’m meeting up with him this afternoon. I want you to stay in the room.”
Sam looked at him sharply. “Is there-”
“No, nothing yet. I’m just being cautious.”
They showered and then curled up together on the bed and watched cartoons. Dean was being so nice to Sam, and Sam didn’t know what to do with that. He owed Dean big time and he knew that he did; waiting for Dean to get into a bad situation so that Sam could pay him back by getting him out of it, just didn’t seem right. Sam wanted to show Dean how grateful he was now, so he undid Dean’s jeans and slid down his body.
“Don’t,” Dean put a gentle, restraining hand to his shoulder, “not because you feel you owe me. I’m not a trick. I’m not gonna kick you to the curb if you don’t put out. We’re partners. And you’re grieving. Hell, I’m grieving and I didn’t even know Jess that well. We’re not having sex unless you want it for you.”
Sam’s eyes filled with tears. “I want to want it,” he whispered, “but right now…” he shrugged.
Dean tugged him back into a sitting position and planted a soft, chaste kiss on his cheek. “You need time to grieve,” he said, re-fastening his pants. “I’m not gonna leave you cuz you don’t feel like having sex. Not ever. You’re my partner, not my fuck toy.”
Sam flinched slightly and then nodded. Time would tell, he figured.
As Sam and Dean lay twisted around each other Dean began to tell Sam about the strange vision the Goddess had shown him; images of spirals and double helixes and white mist.
“She seemed real frustrated that I didn’t get it,” Dean said, “and then she showed me an image of me and you sitting in the Impala together and hugging. She seemed real happy about it. You’re a college boy-”
“Used to be anyway,” Sam muttered.
Dean chose to ignore him.
“What d’you think it means?” he asked.
Sam shrugged. “Well, the double helix is, like, the molecular structure of DNA.”
Dean frowned. “What the hell does that have to do with us hugging?”
Sam shrugged again. “Maybe the Goddess is going to fix things so that I knock you up. Maybe you’re gonna give birth to my little ass babies.”
Dean smacked Sam’s thigh, hard. “Or maybe you’re gonna give birth to mine, bitch!” he scowled. “If you don’t wanna talk about this, you could just tell me.”
Sam rubbed at his leg. “Ow! That hurt. Jerk!”
Dean sulked.
“Okay, okay,” Sam sighed. “Some new-agey people reckon a double helix represents two souls, wrapped around each other for eternity.”
Dean was silent for a moment. “Do you believe in that shit?” he asked finally. “Soul mates and all that crap?”
Sam examined the way he and Dean were intertwined on the bed and then shrugged. “I dunno,” he said, “but then I didn’t believe in Faeries and demons a month ago, so I’m pretty open-minded at this point.”
“Yeah,” said Dean. He leaned his head against Sam’s shoulder and then settled down to watch Bugs Bunny.
When Dean went out to meet up with his buddy, Sam was half convinced that he wouldn’t come back. He was gone a long time too; almost two hours. When he finally made it back to the room he looked nervous, rubbing at the back of his neck, picking at imaginary lint on his plaid shirt and avoiding Sam’s eyes.
“So, uh, this guy,” he said, “me and Dad helped him out with a poltergeist problem a few years back; saved his daughters’ lives. And well, what he does for a living, it ain’t exactly on the up and up. So, uh, I got him to make these for you.”
Dean handed him an envelope. Inside, Sam found a Kansas drivers license in the name of Sam Winchester. The photo on it was the same photo that was on his Stanford student ID card, which was also in the envelope. Sam raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t even realized the ID card was no longer in his wallet.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Dean mumbled, “I had to borrow it.”
Sam pulled out a birth certificate, also in the name of Sam Winchester. It named his parents as John and Mary Winchester. Sam looked up at Dean.
“You made me your brother?”
Dean nodded. “All that talkin’ about DNA got me thinkin’ about how I lost my little brother and you lost your big sister and…and…then I got to thinkin’ …look, you were fourteen when…well, you know what happened. And…you’re only just nineteen now. You might decide-when you’ve had a few years to think about it-that you really prefer girls and…and that’s okay, really. But I want us to stick together; be a…a family. It doesn’t have to involve sex, though, if that isn’t what you really want. I don’t want you feelin’ like you owe me sex. But one way or another, I want you to be my family.”
Sam nodded and ducked his head, blinking hard to hold back the tears of relief that were threatening to fall. “Do you want us to be together?” he asked.
“Of course I do; but I also want you to have the space to figure out if that’s really what you want. We’re gonna be travelling a lot, won’t ever stay in one place long, and if you want to, you know, mess around with girls, just to be sure, that’s okay with me.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. He’d had enough casual sex to last him a lifetime and he was more than happy to be exclusive with Dean; which was going to be awkward if everybody thought they were brothers. Sam mentioned that fact to Dean who rubbed the back of his neck again and then handed him a second envelope that contained a whole bunch of fake IDs for Sam to use when they were on Jobs.
“People don’t have to know about us,” he said with a shrug, as Sam rifled through a bunch of IDs with his photo on them. Apparently, in addition to being Sam Winchester he was also US Wildlife Service Agent Harry Ford, Homeland Security Agent Mark Hamil, Dr Jerry Kaplan from the CDC, US Marshal Billy Gibbons and Special Agent Jimmy Page from the FBI, among other things. “We’re never gonna be anywhere long enough for who we are to really matter,” Dean said. “That’s just the life. If we tell people we’re brothers, we don’t have to tell them we’re together; if we tell people we’re together, we don’t have to tell them that we’re brothers. We’ve got enough IDs that we can tell people anything.”
Sam nodded. “Bikini inspector?” he held up a badge. “Really, Dean?”
Dean grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “So what d’you say? You okay to be my little brother?”
Sam put the envelope full of IDs into his packed duffel bag, hitched it over his shoulder and headed for the door.
“Sam?”
Dean picked up his own packed duffel and followed after the younger man.
Sam strode across to the Impala and popped the trunk. He threw his bag inside and then took Dean’s from him and threw that in too. He slammed the trunk shut and then turned to Dean with a grin.
“C’mon big brother,” he said, “We’ve got work to do.”
The End.
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Thank you for reading! I hope you've enjoyed the journey. Concrit/comments greatly appreciated! :)
May 2nd 2002 (cont…)
Needles of hot water pounded a staccato beat against Sam’s sore shoulders as he stood in the shower with his eyes closed and his head tipped back, mouth slightly open, trying to relieve the tension of the day.
Turning eighteen had been a relief; finally an adult and no longer subject to the whims of the system.
Turning nineteen…Sam groaned softly. So far his birthday had played out like a script from a horror movie. Waking up to find Aazim bending over him had been the stuff of nightmares. The way the pimp had manhandled him, had thrown Dean across the room, the way he’d pinned Sam down without touching him and Sam’s gradual realization that the man he’d been so afraid of for so much of his life wasn’t a man at all, that he was truly a monster; that was straight out of a Wes Craven movie or a Stephen King novel. Sam could still feel the pimp’s hard cock against his ass, and the anguish that he’d felt, knowing and fearing the pain that he was about to experience, was still fresh in his mind. So was the shame, the guilt and the despair of knowing that Dean had watched him get treated like a whore.
Sam shuddered. He rinsed the shampoo from his hair and then soaped his long, lean body.
The appearance of the Faeries-who had sneered at him when he’d first met them-had been humiliating. They already thought he was scum; meeting them again with his pants down and his ass up…yeah, no other word for that but humiliating. Not that it would have been the first time he’d had an audience while he was getting fucked…not that Aazim had actually fucked him last night, but still, he’d been caught with his pants down and no-one ever likes that, no matter how many times it’s happened to them.
The arrival of the Faeries had been a godsend too because they’d helped; they’d gotten rid of Aazim. Sam had been freaked as fuck by the whole episode, but he’d learned to mask his fear a long time ago, learned how to stop it from showing in his eyes, and when Dean had wished him a happy birthday and kissed him, Sam had laughed and melted into the kiss more by reflex than anything else; his brain had still been busy processing ‘Aazim lets the demon Azazel wear him like a meat puppet, he poisoned my blood, tainted my soul and tried to rape me again’.
And then John fucking Winchester had turned up. Turned up, turned Dean into a robotic little soldier boy and made it crystal clear that he wanted to kill Sam.
Jesus.
Sam shuddered again.
So one way and another the day had been rather strained. Yesterday, Sam had been anticipating some amazing Birthday Sex. Not that he expected Dean to bottom for him, not after the May Day ritual, but he’d been fully prepared to be the catcher; until he’d nearly been raped by a demon. Now. Fuck. Sam was just gonna make do with his right hand in the shower, because he really needed to unwind, but he simply didn’t need the pressure of having to deal with somebody else.
A sudden banging on the bathroom door made him lose his rhythm.
“Dude. You’ve been ages. What are you doin’ in there? Jerking off?”
Sam didn’t know what to say.
“Oh shit,” Dean said quietly, “that’s exactly what you’re doing, isn’t it?”
The bathroom door creaked open and then Sam heard the dull thud of clothing hitting linoleum.
“What are you-” he began, but the question quickly became redundant as Dean slid back the curtain and stepped naked into the shower.
“Don’t mind you startin’ without me,” Dean said, reaching up to cup the back of Sam’s head and bringing his lips down for a very thorough kiss, “but ain’t no way you’re finishing without me.” He knocked Sam’s hand off his dick and then wrapped his own hand around the both of them and stroked firmly. Dean’s touch rushed through Sam like electricity and he surged against the hunter, pushing him into the wall of the shower stall and plundering Dean’s mouth with his tongue, before reaching down to place his own larger hand over Dean’s. Hard, wet bodies collided, hands pushing and pulling, lips bruising, mouths claiming as they brought themselves off in a release so intense it was almost violent. After, they leaned against each other, breathing hard, until the water began to run cold. Dean lifted his head and met Sam’s eyes.
“So,” he said, “the thing with my dad. Are we gonna have to talk about that?”
“The thing with your dad?” Sam’s eyes narrowed and he straightened up and stepped away from Dean. “You mean the thing where he wants to launch a pre-emptive strike and kill me before I turn to the dark side of the force? That thing?”
Dean refused to look away. “Yeah,” he said, stepping after Sam and invading his space again. “That thing.”
Sam pushed Dean away from him. “Why would we have to talk about that?” he spat.
“Good,” Dean said, “becau-”
Sam shoved him back against the wall of the shower, hard.
“God, you’re such a jerk,” he stepped out of the stall and grabbed a towel.
“What the hell, Sam?” Dean staggered to right himself and then grappled with the shower curtain before stumbling out of the stall. “You should let me finish be-”
“You know,” Sam interrupted, rubbing his hair with one end of the towel, the other end trailing toga-like across his chest, “I always figured, if I ever found someone I was serious about, meeting their family was gonna suck ass. Cuz anyone I’m serious about, they’re gonna have to know about my past, right? And what parent’s gonna be thrilled that their kid’s dating a retired whore? So I’ve always figured the parents were gonna hate me; but your Dad actually wants to kill me. To kill me, Dean! Literally. So yeah, I’m a little freaked and it would be nice if you could just...” Sam waved an arm, “acknowledge that. Why are you smirking at me like that?”
Dean had wrapped a towel around his waist while Sam was ranting and was now grinning up at him like the cat that ate the canary.
“So you’re serious about me?” he said.
Sam gaped at him. “That’s what you got from that?”
Dean shrugged. “Well I wasn’t really sure before. I mean, I know I’ve let a few things slip…like the other day when I said maybe the Faerie king did something to make me fall for the first guy I met after he chose me for the ritual. And then I said that you felt like you were a missing piece of me and…I know you keep saying you don’t want me to leave, but I wasn’t sure if that was just cuz the sex is awesome or if you actually really-” Dean stopped abruptly and glanced down at his dick.
Sam raised an eyebrow.
“Just checkin’ to make sure it’s still there,” Dean mumbled. He snatched up his clothes and strode out of the bathroom muttering something about liking dick not meaning you had to grow lady parts.
Sam followed him into the bedroom.
“I like you,” he said, “a lot.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “And now I feel about twelve.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and Sam crossed the floor and sat next to him.
“When you were outside talking to your dad I was watching from the window. I know what he told you, Dean, because I can lip read. He told you that you might have to kill me.”
“Yeah, well. My dad’s an ass.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “I’m not gonna argue with you there, but-”
“He never should have said anything, I mean, you don't do that, you don't… you don't lay that kind of crap on your kids,” Dean cleared his throat. “Could you lip read what I told him?”
Sam shook his head. “You had your back to the window.”
Dean nodded slowly, thoughtfully, and then fixed Sam with a determined expression. “You’re not gonna go darkside, Sammy,” he said, “because I ain’t gonna let you.”
Sam frowned. “I dunno. Maybe…maybe your dad was right to say what he said. Who knows what I might become?”
Dean shook his head. “No, you don’t get it, Sammy,” he fixed the younger man with a hard stare. “I am not going to let you go darkside,” he enunciated slowly and clearly. “I will go to Hell and back before I let that happen; look into my eyes and tell me I’m lying about that.”
Sam could tell that he wasn’t. In fact he didn’t think he’d ever seen somebody look so fiercely determined before.
“Okay,” Sam nodded. “I believe you,” he drew breath sharply. “I don’t wanna turn into a monster, Dean. I don’t wanna hurt people; I don’t wanna lose sight of right and wrong; I-” he looked down as Dean placed a hand on his arm.
“Dude,” said Dean, “I’ve seen you scoop daddy long legses out of the shower so they won’t get washed down the drain. You might have demon blood running through your veins, but you’ve got a good soul. I know you, Sammy. You’re not gonna hurt anyone.”
Sam nodded again. He got up, shucked the towel and started to dress. A beat later Dean too, was pulling on his jeans and shrugging into a tight black tee-shirt.
“Dean?” Sam waved at his lap top which Dean had left open on the table, “Who’s Marianne Newark? Did you find another Job here?”
“Nah. She’s part of the last job.” Dean explained to Sam about the bride kidnappings that always occurred at the start of one of Gwyn Ap Nudd’s May Day cycles. “I just wanted to check up on her, make sure she got home safely too.”
Sam looked at the photo of a happy, smiling Marianne being held tightly in the arms of her fiancé. The accompanying article mentioned that she had retrograde amnesia and couldn’t remember anything at all about what had happened to her. The police-and her parents-the article reported, were baffled by Marianne’s sudden reappearance in her bedroom, and reading the police and the security company’s attempts to give a rational explanation had Sam chuckling.
Dean grinned. “I know right? It always amazes me the things people will believe…and the things they won’t believe.”
“You do a lot of good, you know,” Sam said. “You should be proud of what you do.”
“I am. Are you nearly ready to go?”
Sam dived into the bathroom and started drying his hair.
Dean shook his head. “Really Sam? You’re blow drying your hair? You are such a girl!”
“Keep sayin’ that gorgeous,” Sam trilled from the bathroom, “and I’m gonna pin you to the bed and prove otherwise.” And then the hairdryer clicked off and Sam stuck his head sheepishly around the door. “Sorry,” he bit at his bottom lip, “I didn’t mean that in a…you know…a rapey way…I just…”
Dean waved him off.
“How are you feeling, anyway?” Sam asked.
“Fine. You?”
“Fine.”
Dean nodded and asked Sam whether he was ready to go or if he still needed to do his makeup. Sam flipped him the bird and then grabbed his jacket and stalked to the door.
“Oh,” he said, as they crossed the car park to the Impala. “I forgot to tell you. I got a text message from Jess earlier. She wants us to pick her and Becky up from the dorms.”
Dean frowned. “Seriously? They’re, like, a seven minute walk from the bar.”
Sam shrugged. “I guess they didn’t want to walk at night, in their heels and stuff. Besides,” he added in a murmur, “Jess said she had a surprise for me.”
Dean nodded and slid behind the wheel of the car, determined that Sam was going to have a fun, normal night with his college buddies; a night that he’d never forget.
-X-
Sam’s hand was on the door handle before they’d even come to a complete stop. He told Dean to stay in the car; that he’d be back with the girls in five minutes.
“What? And miss this surprise Jess has for you? Not a chance.”
Sam looked at Dean with eyes that were big, dark and liquid. “Please?” he said. “I just…me and Jess…we nearly had something and…you’re… I don’t wanna make her feel uncomfortable.”
Dean nodded curtly. Jess probably just wanted to give Sam some geeky college-kid thing anyway. No big deal. Right?
“Okay,” he said, stretching out with exaggerated nonchalance. “But if you’re not back in ten I’m comin’ in after you.” Because it would be a dick move for Sam to keep him waiting. Not because he was worried that Jess might be planning to put the moves on his boy. Nope. Not at all worried about that.
Sam took the stairs up to the first floor two at a time. When Becky opened the door, she looked a little surprised to see him. “Where’s Jess?” she asked.
Sam frowned. “I thought she was here?”
Becky shook her head. “I thought she was with you”
Sam’s cell phone beeped and he fumbled it out of his pocket. Meet me in your room. Now. Come alone…Luv Jess J
“Oh man,” Sam showed Becky the text. “You think I should be scared? What’s she got planned?”
Becky shrugged. “I have no idea. Why don’t you go and find out?”
Well that was a novel solution.
Sam’s room was on the same floor as Jess and Becky’s but it was at the other end of the corridor. When Sam got there, his door was slightly ajar. He pushed it open and looked about nervously, half expecting a whole bunch of people to jump out at him; but the room was empty. There was a plate of chocolate chip cookies on his bed and for want of anything better to do, Sam went over to it and sat down. There was a note wedged under the plate and Sam wondered if it might contain an explanation, but all it said was ‘Happy Birthday Sam’. Sam picked up a cookie and bit into it. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, savoring the taste. Something wet splashed his forehead and he wiped at it absently. It happened again and this time Sam sat forward and looked at his hand; blood. He staggered up from the bed with a cry, his eyes darting disbelievingly to the ceiling. And there was his nightmare vision come to life. Jess was plastered to the ceiling, her face grey and waxen with shock, and her hair fanned unnaturally around her face as she hung face down above his bed. She was wearing a white nightgown that had turned crimson in the middle, stained by the gaping, dripping wound to her stomach.
“Jess,” his voice was a broken whisper.
He stepped up onto the bed and reached for her, but she burst into flames before he could get her down.
“No!” he dove for the floor as the fireball erupted. “Jess! No!”
Brady’s dry laugh sounded from the door way. “Oh Sammy,” he said. “What did you do?”
“You!” Sam scrambled up from the floor and launched himself at Brady. “You did this!”
Brady grasped hold of him with preternatural strength and his eyes flashed black.
“Boss’s orders,” he smirked. “You were getting too soft out here at college. And we have plans for you.” He sighed dramatically, and put a hand to his forehead. “I can’t believe you murdered Jess, Sammy,” he said with faux-horror. “She turned you down when she found out you were a whore, didn’t she? And you committed arson too,” he shook his head and tutted. “Such a bad, bad boy.”
Sam could feel the heat at his back; could smell Jess’s roasting flesh and he knew it wouldn’t be long before everyone came out of their dorm rooms to see what was going on.
“You’d better run,” Brady advised. “No-one’s gonna believe you didn’t do this.”
Sam lifted his chin. “They’ll see you here too.”
Brady grinned. “No,” he said, “they won’t.” And he vanished.
Sam blinked. The door opposite opened and Sam’s neighbor stuck his head out. Sam knew him by sight, but not by name. The boy’s eyes widened when he saw the flames and he began to fumble in his pocket.
“Fuck! Fire! Fire!” he pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911, “Grab a fire extinguisher!” he yelled at his room-mate. “What happened?” he asked Sam.
Sam shifted uneasily. “I just got here and found the room on fire.”
There was a sprinkler system in the dorms, but for some-probably demon-related-reason it hadn’t come on yet. The hall was now full of panicking students, some running outside, some grabbing extinguishers. Sam knew that there was nothing he could do to save Jess, knew that the room would burn, just as the demons wanted it to. He also knew that the fire investigators would find some kind of accelerant in his room, along with his dead ‘girlfriend’ who’d had a surprise for him. And then they’d find out about his past and they wouldn’t even look for other suspects. It would all play out exactly the way Brady had said it would.
Sam ran. He met Dean on the stairs and collapsed against him.
“Saw the flames,” Dean said.
“Demons. They killed Jess. It’s gonna look like I did it.”
“Fuck!” Dean grabbed Sam’s arm and dragged him down the stairs, outside, and into the Impala. He gunned the accelerator and took off with a screech, not easing up until they pulled into the motel carpark.
They ran into the room and Dean grabbed his duffel bags and started throwing things into them at break-neck speed.
“Get packed,” he said. “We’re leaving.”
Ten minutes later they were back in the car, pulling out of the motel parking lot.
“We’re going to Omaha,” Dean said. “I got new credit cards to pick up there.”
“You didn’t settle up,” Sam said.
Dean just looked at him.
“At the motel,” Sam said. “You didn’t settle up.”
“We’re on the run, Sam.”
Sam nodded. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
Dean ran a hand across his face. “Okay. First, me and Dad were booked in under a fake name. Second, we were paying with a fake card. Third, in the scheme of things aiding and abetting a murderer is worse than skipping out on a hotel bill.”
Sam nodded again. “You should just let me out somewhere.”
Dean made a frustrated noise. “Not happening.”
“I don’t wanna get you in-”
“Trouble? Trouble’s my middle name.”
Sam started to tremble and Dean reached out a hand and gripped his upper arm. “You’re gonna be okay, Sammy. We’re gonna be okay.”
Sam folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the door. He closed his eyes against the tears that had begun to slide down his face and sobbed quietly until, finally, he fell into an exhausted sleep.
-X-
It was the Impala sliding to a stop that roused Sam from his troubled dreams. He opened an eye just in time to see Dean opening the car door.
“S’goin’ on?” he asked, voice sleep-rough and slurry.
“Drowsy drivers die,” Dean said. “I’m gettin’ us a room.”
Sam frowned and wished he had a license so that he could share the driving.
“Where are we?” he asked.
Dean grinned and told him they were in Reno.
Sam waited while Dean checked them in. Once they were in the room they washed up, hit the head, and then curled around each other in the queen-sized bed. Sam fell back asleep almost immediately, feeling safe and protected in Dean’s arms.
When he awoke again lines of light were cutting their way through the venetian blinds and Sam was alone. His breathing hitched and an ache started up deep in the pit of his stomach. Dean had left him. It was the smart thing to do; Sam had demons killing the people he cared about. Dean was right to abandon him. He rolled onto his side and tried to breathe through his panic; then he saw the note, written in Dean’s untidy scrawl: Gone to get breakfast. Back soon.
Relief rushed through Sam like a tonic and he rolled onto his back and tried to sort through all the emotions that were bombarding him. Jess was dead; killed to get at him. If Jess hadn’t been a kind soul, if she hadn’t befriended him, she’d still be alive. Worse still, he’d seen it, but he hadn’t been able to stop it. Dean was sticking by him; loved him maybe, and Sam knew that he loved Dean. Dean was also a hunter and if anyone could keep themselves safe in the face of a demon threat; if anyone could keep him safe, then it was Dean. Sam could learn from Dean too, so that he wouldn’t be a burden; wouldn’t be a damsel in distress needing rescuing. Happiness bubbled up inside of Sam whenever he thought of Dean and then he remembered what the demons had done to Jess and the bubbles burst. Why couldn’t he have just this one happy thing without it getting dirty?
The door swung open and Dean backed inside, laden with brown paper bags and paper cups. He smiled when he saw that Sam was awake and Sam’s day suddenly felt much brighter.
“Here,” Dean threw a bag at him. “Breakfast is served. And I got you one of those girlie coffees you like so much,” Dean handed him a mocha. “Don’t say I never do anything for you.”
“I would never say that,” Sam’s eyes were puppy dog earnest. “You’ve done more for me than anyone ever has. I don’t even know how I can ever-”
“I’ve got your back, you’ve got mine,” Dean interrupted. “We’re partners, right? That’s how it works. We don’t need to keep score. It’s not a matter of ‘being repaid’.”
They ate their breakfast bagels and drank their coffee in silence and then Dean told Sam that he knew a guy in Reno who owed him a favor.
“I rang him from the car last night, while you were asleep,” he said. “I’m meeting up with him this afternoon. I want you to stay in the room.”
Sam looked at him sharply. “Is there-”
“No, nothing yet. I’m just being cautious.”
They showered and then curled up together on the bed and watched cartoons. Dean was being so nice to Sam, and Sam didn’t know what to do with that. He owed Dean big time and he knew that he did; waiting for Dean to get into a bad situation so that Sam could pay him back by getting him out of it, just didn’t seem right. Sam wanted to show Dean how grateful he was now, so he undid Dean’s jeans and slid down his body.
“Don’t,” Dean put a gentle, restraining hand to his shoulder, “not because you feel you owe me. I’m not a trick. I’m not gonna kick you to the curb if you don’t put out. We’re partners. And you’re grieving. Hell, I’m grieving and I didn’t even know Jess that well. We’re not having sex unless you want it for you.”
Sam’s eyes filled with tears. “I want to want it,” he whispered, “but right now…” he shrugged.
Dean tugged him back into a sitting position and planted a soft, chaste kiss on his cheek. “You need time to grieve,” he said, re-fastening his pants. “I’m not gonna leave you cuz you don’t feel like having sex. Not ever. You’re my partner, not my fuck toy.”
Sam flinched slightly and then nodded. Time would tell, he figured.
As Sam and Dean lay twisted around each other Dean began to tell Sam about the strange vision the Goddess had shown him; images of spirals and double helixes and white mist.
“She seemed real frustrated that I didn’t get it,” Dean said, “and then she showed me an image of me and you sitting in the Impala together and hugging. She seemed real happy about it. You’re a college boy-”
“Used to be anyway,” Sam muttered.
Dean chose to ignore him.
“What d’you think it means?” he asked.
Sam shrugged. “Well, the double helix is, like, the molecular structure of DNA.”
Dean frowned. “What the hell does that have to do with us hugging?”
Sam shrugged again. “Maybe the Goddess is going to fix things so that I knock you up. Maybe you’re gonna give birth to my little ass babies.”
Dean smacked Sam’s thigh, hard. “Or maybe you’re gonna give birth to mine, bitch!” he scowled. “If you don’t wanna talk about this, you could just tell me.”
Sam rubbed at his leg. “Ow! That hurt. Jerk!”
Dean sulked.
“Okay, okay,” Sam sighed. “Some new-agey people reckon a double helix represents two souls, wrapped around each other for eternity.”
Dean was silent for a moment. “Do you believe in that shit?” he asked finally. “Soul mates and all that crap?”
Sam examined the way he and Dean were intertwined on the bed and then shrugged. “I dunno,” he said, “but then I didn’t believe in Faeries and demons a month ago, so I’m pretty open-minded at this point.”
“Yeah,” said Dean. He leaned his head against Sam’s shoulder and then settled down to watch Bugs Bunny.
When Dean went out to meet up with his buddy, Sam was half convinced that he wouldn’t come back. He was gone a long time too; almost two hours. When he finally made it back to the room he looked nervous, rubbing at the back of his neck, picking at imaginary lint on his plaid shirt and avoiding Sam’s eyes.
“So, uh, this guy,” he said, “me and Dad helped him out with a poltergeist problem a few years back; saved his daughters’ lives. And well, what he does for a living, it ain’t exactly on the up and up. So, uh, I got him to make these for you.”
Dean handed him an envelope. Inside, Sam found a Kansas drivers license in the name of Sam Winchester. The photo on it was the same photo that was on his Stanford student ID card, which was also in the envelope. Sam raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t even realized the ID card was no longer in his wallet.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Dean mumbled, “I had to borrow it.”
Sam pulled out a birth certificate, also in the name of Sam Winchester. It named his parents as John and Mary Winchester. Sam looked up at Dean.
“You made me your brother?”
Dean nodded. “All that talkin’ about DNA got me thinkin’ about how I lost my little brother and you lost your big sister and…and…then I got to thinkin’ …look, you were fourteen when…well, you know what happened. And…you’re only just nineteen now. You might decide-when you’ve had a few years to think about it-that you really prefer girls and…and that’s okay, really. But I want us to stick together; be a…a family. It doesn’t have to involve sex, though, if that isn’t what you really want. I don’t want you feelin’ like you owe me sex. But one way or another, I want you to be my family.”
Sam nodded and ducked his head, blinking hard to hold back the tears of relief that were threatening to fall. “Do you want us to be together?” he asked.
“Of course I do; but I also want you to have the space to figure out if that’s really what you want. We’re gonna be travelling a lot, won’t ever stay in one place long, and if you want to, you know, mess around with girls, just to be sure, that’s okay with me.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. He’d had enough casual sex to last him a lifetime and he was more than happy to be exclusive with Dean; which was going to be awkward if everybody thought they were brothers. Sam mentioned that fact to Dean who rubbed the back of his neck again and then handed him a second envelope that contained a whole bunch of fake IDs for Sam to use when they were on Jobs.
“People don’t have to know about us,” he said with a shrug, as Sam rifled through a bunch of IDs with his photo on them. Apparently, in addition to being Sam Winchester he was also US Wildlife Service Agent Harry Ford, Homeland Security Agent Mark Hamil, Dr Jerry Kaplan from the CDC, US Marshal Billy Gibbons and Special Agent Jimmy Page from the FBI, among other things. “We’re never gonna be anywhere long enough for who we are to really matter,” Dean said. “That’s just the life. If we tell people we’re brothers, we don’t have to tell them we’re together; if we tell people we’re together, we don’t have to tell them that we’re brothers. We’ve got enough IDs that we can tell people anything.”
Sam nodded. “Bikini inspector?” he held up a badge. “Really, Dean?”
Dean grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “So what d’you say? You okay to be my little brother?”
Sam put the envelope full of IDs into his packed duffel bag, hitched it over his shoulder and headed for the door.
“Sam?”
Dean picked up his own packed duffel and followed after the younger man.
Sam strode across to the Impala and popped the trunk. He threw his bag inside and then took Dean’s from him and threw that in too. He slammed the trunk shut and then turned to Dean with a grin.
“C’mon big brother,” he said, “We’ve got work to do.”
The End.
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Thank you for reading! I hope you've enjoyed the journey. Concrit/comments greatly appreciated! :)