Fiction: Love Under Will 2/3 - Supernatural - R
Love under Will Part 1
Pairings: Sam/Jimmy this part
Warnings: Spoilers to end of Season 4.
Rating: R
Category: Angst, AU, First time.
Word count: 6,300
Notes: I started writing this May 2009. I'm afraid this means since I didn't know what was going to happen on the show, this story has to be labeled AU. I'd like to thank my three wonderful beta readers. Mr. Goth who was of tremendous help and there for me through all my teeth-gnashing, danceswithgary, and Alee. They all helped to make this story much better than it would have been without them. All remaining errors are mine.
Disclaimer: Supernatural is the property of Eric Kripke. No infringement intended.
Summary: Jimmy feelings unwelcome, Sam just wants things to go back to the way they were before all the chaos.
It all felt so familiar, as if caught in a permanent state of déjà vu. Sometimes, that was how it was. The days melded together until he could barely tell the difference between yesterday and today. Most of the time, Sam Winchester was just happy to be alive. By all rights, he shouldn't be. He should have been six feet under years ago but instead he was in Bobby's kitchen making lunch. Bobby had gone to the store an hour before to get some supplies, because with four mouths to feed they were going to need more food.
Jimmy Novak was sitting at the kitchen table, lost in thought. He was so quiet Sam glanced back for the tenth time to make sure he was actually there. Sam didn't intend to let the man slip through his fingers this time.
Dean had come down from upstairs earlier and said he was going to check the panic room for something. His brother had seemed fine, but Sam started to worry when Dean still hadn't come back upstairs after an hour.
Sam cut the sandwich in half and turned to set the plate down in front of Jimmy. He set a glass of milk down as well, and turned back to make a sandwich for himself.
"Thank you," Jimmy muttered.
Sam grunted a reply without turning around. When he finally did, he found Jimmy still staring into space. Jimmy shook his head, picked up the sandwich, and took a bite.
"Everything cool?" Sam asked.
"I just didn't think I'd see the world again," Jimmy said. He set down the sandwich and brushed crumbs from his hands.
"It's been a rough year," Sam said. He finished making his own sandwich and sat down across from Jimmy. He hadn't intended to say much more, but he felt Jimmy deserved to know where things stood. Before he knew it, the words spilled out and Sam more or less told him what had happened over the past year since Jimmy had given Castiel permission to ride around in his skin. He skimmed over a few of the details, leaving out the part about the demon blood. Sam explained how the angels had tricked them and had been working against them all along leading into an explanation of how Castiel, at the last minute, helped Dean but too late to stop the outcome. Sam confessed that he had freed Lucifer and how he'd had been tricked by Ruby. By the time he was done, Sam was breathless and feeling worse than he'd felt since he realized Dean had not quite forgiven him for everything.
Jimmy leaned back in his chair, eyes wide and mouth gaping open. "You don't do things halfway, do you?" he asked after a long silence.
"No, I guess not." Sam couldn't look Jimmy in the eye. "Most nights, I can deal with what I did." Even as Sam said the words, he knew the truth deep down inside. He hated himself for the choices he'd made, but there was no point in dwelling on that.
"So what's the plan then?" Jimmy said.
Sam looked up at him and shunted his growing melancholy aside to concentrate on the here and now.
"Cas went up to Heaven to recruit allies," Dean said.
Sam turned to find his brother standing in the entrance to the kitchen. He watched Dean walk to the kitchen counter and pick up a piece of roast beef. Dean stuffed the slice in his mouth and chewed with gusto. Sam cleared his throat and turned away to look at Jimmy.
"So we're running from demons and angels," Jimmy said, summing things up in one sentence.
Dean scowled while still chewing and shrugged his shoulders.
"Yup," he said through his mouth full of food. Sam cringed when bits of meat flew from Dean's mouth. Before Dean had even finished chewing and swallowing, he stuffed another slice into his maw. Sam could see the half-chewed food from where he sat and started to chuckle at his brother's lack of manners.
Jimmy sighed and looked away from Dean, his expression saying 'can you believe this guy.' Sam wanted to say yes but, since Jimmy hadn't actually said the words aloud and Sam was only thinking all this in his own crazy head, he kept his mouth shut. He marveled at how different Jimmy was from Castiel, a complete opposite. It was strange to see the man, who Sam had come to see as Castiel, eating and making more than three facial expressions.
Sam glanced up at his brother, noting that Dean was glaring at the back of Jimmy's head, his eyes filled with anger. Moments later, the anger vanished and Dean swallowed his food, licked his lips, and turned away from them.
Jimmy finished his glass of milk and stood, brushing crumbs from his hands. "I think I'll go take a shower," he said pushing the chair in. "I feel kind of gross."
When neither Sam nor Dean said a word to his declaration, Jimmy left the room to go upstairs, stopping on the way to remove the trench coat and hang it on a hook by the front door. Once Jimmy's footfalls had faded and he was sure the man was out of earshot, Sam spoke up.
"This is so fucked up," Sam said, shaking his head. He pushed his plate away and noticed that Dean was staring in the direction that Jimmy had gone. There was something up with his brother and he wasn't sure what. Sam wanted to ask, but he knew Dean would just shrug it off and tell Sam he was imagining things. Tact was required.
"You're worried about Castiel," Sam said.
"There's a lot more than Cas to worry about."
"I know, but I just thought..." Sam said, feeling his heart sink. Prying free what was troubling Dean was going to be hard, but Sam saw an expression flash across Dean's face that gave him hope. It might be easier than he'd imagined, but the sound of the front door opening broke the moment.
"Hey honey, I'm home," Bobby said. He held bags of groceries in each hand. "Well, don't just stand there with your yaps hanging open." Bobby held the bags up. "There's more in the truck."
*
While Dean stayed downstairs with Bobby to do more research on that supposed symbol, Sam went upstairs to get some much-needed rest. Sam saw that the door to the guest room was ajar, dim light filtering through the thin curtains to fall across the bed where Jimmy sat with a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was still damp from his shower, and Sam watched as Jimmy ran his fingers through it, spiking the wet strands.
"You can come in," Jimmy said, glancing up at Sam. Even in the faint light of the room, Sam could see the sorrow in the man's eyes.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to..." Sam began to say. He entered the room and nudged the door shut behind him.
"I'm trying to decide what to wear," Jimmy said with a hint of sarcasm. He held the white shirt in one hand and the black tie in the other. The rest of his clothes lay on the bed beside him.
"If they need to be washed, there's a laundry room downstairs," Sam said, gesturing at the clothes. "I'm sure we could find something that would fit you."
Jimmy looked Sam up and down and nodded.
"Right, because you and I are about the same size," he said with more sarcasm in his tone. He set the shirt and the tie down with a sigh.
"Look," Sam said, moving closer. "I get that this sucks."
Jimmy shook his head, gritting his teeth as Sam stood before him.
"Maybe my stuff won't fit, but Dean can probably lend you something."
"Why are you being so nice to me?" Jimmy asked. He stood up and scrambled for the towel before it slipped off. Sam looked down, but still caught a wedge of the pale flesh of Jimmy's left thigh. Something on the floor caught Sam's attention, and he bent to pick it up. It looked like some sort of jewel when Sam examined it in the light. Peeking through his bangs, Sam saw that Jimmy had turned his back to him, and the towel was in place.
Jimmy turned to face Sam. Sam felt the urge to comfort him, but thought he was probably the wrong person for the job. "I'm sorry," said Sam, aware that this time Jimmy wouldn't be able to see his family and feeling truly sorry for that.
Jimmy shrugged and said, "I would appreciate something else to wear. A different shirt would be nice."
Sam placed the jewel on the bedside table nodded, and then left the room. He rifled through his own duffle and found his tightest t-shirt and a grey flannel shirt. When he returned to the other room, Jimmy wore his pants. Sam gave him the shirts and watched as Jimmy finished dressing.
"Thanks," Jimmy said, sitting to put on his socks.
"You're welcome." Sam stood there, hesitant to say what he wanted to say. It had been on his mind from the moment Castiel had gone back to Heaven, but Sam wasn't sure it was the right time or even whether he should bother.
"I really appreciate this," Jimmy said, motioning at the clothes he'd just put on.
"Look," Sam said, deciding to take the plunge. They were going to be with Jimmy for who knew how long, and Sam didn't want there to be any hostilities.
Jimmy stared up at Sam, his full attention on him. Sam flinched at the intensity of the look in the man's eyes.
"I just wanted to apologize for how harsh I was with you the last time we met." Sam cleared his throat a few times, shifting uncomfortably on the spot.
"You were just trying to be forthright with me and I appreciated that, Sam." He stretched his arms out with a rueful shake of his head at the too-long cuffs.
"Here, let me." Sam reached out and took a cuff in his hand. He rolled it once, adjusting the length, and buttoned up the two buttons.
"I don't remember any of it," Jimmy said as he offered Sam the other cuff. "I thought when I asked Castiel to take me instead of my..." Jimmy seemed to choke on the words, but Sam knew what he was going to say. "I thought it was over. I thought my life was over."
"Nothing's ever that simple," Sam muttered. He eyed the sleeves to make sure they were even. He didn't care that much about the sleeve, but this gave him something to distract him from having to look into Jimmy's eyes. Sam could hear the regret in the man's words.
"No, it isn't," Jimmy said with another deep sigh. He stared down at the cuffs his eyes wet with tears. Sam couldn't take it anymore. He moved forward, took Jimmy in his arms, and held him. Jimmy stood with his arms by his side, breath hitching from silent sobs. Sam rubbed his back a few times and tried to think of the right words, but nothing came.
Maybe some day Sam would find the words. Until then, his actions would have to speak for him.
*
Sam carefully set the book he'd been reading aside and stretched his arms and legs, his entire body feeling cramped. His neck cracked in all the right places and he sighed with relief. Their research into the mythical symbol was proving to be fruitless. Sam was convinced that even if they searched every ancient text Bobby had on his dusty shelves, they would be no closer to finding the supposed symbol to ward off the prince of darkness. He had a feeling that the symbol just didn't exist.
"You should go get some sleep," Dean said. He stretched and yawned, tossing aside the dusty old book he'd been reading. Sam glanced at his wristwatch. It was no wonder they were both exhausted. It was two-thirty in the morning, and Jimmy and Bobby had long since gone to bed.
"You take the bed," Sam said.
The sleeping arrangements had gotten somewhat awkward with Jimmy in the house. Bobby's room naturally went to Bobby but, after that, there was only one other bedroom with one bed, and Jimmy was currently sleeping in that one. It was either the sofa or the fold out cot upstairs in the guest room. The panic room was out of the question because the bunk just wasn't made for a comfortable night's sleep. The cot was out of the question for Sam because he'd be lucky to get half his body on the little thing. It made sense for Dean to sleep on the cot and Sam to sleep on the sofa. It was lumpy, but at least he could fit his long body on the thing. Sam shook his head and realized that he was over-thinking the problem.
"No, I insist you take the bed this time," Dean said. "I can take it tomorrow night." He picked up the book he'd tossed aside, and opened it to a random page. Sam was sure that Dean hadn't been reading the book before, because he hadn't turned a single page in the last two hours.
"We should flip a coin to see who gets the cot," Sam said. He stretched out and dug into his pants pocket for a quarter. He hated the thought of sleeping on that cot, but this was only fair.
"Seriously, Sammy," Dean said as he tossed his book aside and got to his feet. He hobbled a few steps to the sofa and flopped down beside Sam. Dean rubbed his leg and flinched. "I hate when my leg falls asleep before I do," he muttered, jamming his palm against one eye. "I'm fine down here."
"I don't even fit on the cot," Sam said, staring at his brother. Their shoulders touched and Sam leaned against Dean. He yawned and felt overcome with the urge to fall asleep.
The silence stretched between them. Maybe if Sam passed out now, Dean would have to go upstairs. Sam snuggled up to his brother and felt confident that his plan would work. When Dean didn't move or say anything, Sam peeked at his brother to find Dean wide awake, staring at the far wall.
"Fine," Sam said when the silence continued. Obviously, Dean was determined to stay down here. Sam stood and noticed a flash of relief play across Dean's face. Whatever the fuck was going on with Dean, he was obviously not ready to confide in Sam, and that stung. After everything that they'd gone through together, Sam had thought they'd finally gotten to a point where Dean felt comfortable confiding in him again, but it seemed Sam had been wrong.
Sam's heart sank at the thought. He trudged upstairs with barely a glance back. The bedroom door was ajar, and Sam nudged it open enough to slip inside quietly. Closing the door behind him, he sat down on the cot to remove his shoes. Jimmy lay curled on the bed, dressed in Sam's t-shirt and the pajama bottoms that Bobby had lent him, the covers kicked aside into a crumpled heap. Sam stared at Jimmy's exposed toes, watching them curl and flex. Then still.
Sam slipped his flannel shirt off, setting it down on the floor, then eased out of his jeans and dropped them on top of his shirt. When he glanced up to be sure he hadn't woken Jimmy, the man was staring at Sam.
"Hey," Sam said. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's okay," Jimmy said. His voice groggy from sleep and his hair disheveled. He stifled a yawn and sat up, running his hand back through his messy hair. Sam found the futile motion amusing. The hair was messier than it had been before Jimmy's attempts to tame the stray locks.
"We'll be bunking together tonight," Sam said and narrowed his eyes. "You don't snore or talk in you sleep, do you?" he joked.
Jimmy shook his head. "Nope, not according to my wife." He slid from the bed and sat on the edge, eyeing the cot and then Sam. "Maybe you should take the bed. It would probably be much more comfortable for you than that thing." He gestured at the cot.
"Seriously?" Sam asked, touched that Jimmy would even offer. Dean would never have offered. He would have mocked Sam, called him sasquatch, and made him sleep on the cot, taking the bed for himself.
"Seriously," Jimmy said.
"Thanks." They stood up at the same time and Sam bumped against Jimmy, almost knocking him back on the bed. Sam grabbed at Jimmy's arm to stop his fall, and ended up losing his balance. They landed in a heap on the bed with Sam on top of Jimmy. For just a second, Sam was too surprised at the hardness he felt to react. He stared down into Jimmy's equally stunned expression.
Sam rolled to his feet, feeling his face flush from embarrassment. Jimmy rolled in the opposite direction, right off the bed and onto the floor. Sam reached down and pulled Jimmy up and right into own arms again.
"Sorry," Sam said, putting space between them. There was no doubt it was wood Sam had felt. Sam stood in the darkness unsure what to do or say. Pretending it never happened sounded like the best plan.
"I'm sorry," Jimmy whispered.
Sam cleared his throat. "We should just get some sleep." He glanced at his watch to see it was just past three.
"It wasn't about you," Jimmy said.
Sam held his hands up. "It's cool," Sam said before Jimmy could say another word.
"I just woke up," Jimmy continued.
"Dude, seriously. You don't have to explain," Sam said.
Sam glanced around the room, hoping the awkwardness would fade. They both remained silent as they lay down in their respective beds and settled in to sleep.
It was going to be a long night, at least whatever was left of it.
*
Sunlight filled the room by the time Sam sat up in bed, bleary-eyed and disoriented. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton, his body felt numb. He rubbed at his sore neck with a vague recollection of nightmares about fountains of blood. There was no blood on his fingers when he looked down, though an image of a sliced throat filled his mind. He barely remembered falling asleep, but he must have because it was daylight.
Glancing over at the empty cot, Sam swung his long legs over the edge of the bed to stand. He stretched and grimaced at the taste in his mouth, so foul it was as if something had crawled in and died there. He trudged out of the room and down the hallway to the thankfully unoccupied bathroom.
Sam sighed as he relieved himself, then he moved over to the sink and leaned against the counter to stare into the mirror. He looked like shit. The bags under his eyes meant he hadn't gotten much sleep.
Sam shook the grogginess from his head, and turned the tap on for a shower, hoping it would make him feel better. He stripped slowly and stared down at his half-hard dick, which surprised him because it had been a while since he'd felt anything stirring down there. If he was truthful, it had been since Ruby. Sam sneered at the thought of the demon. He still felt like a fool. Most times, he tried not to think about it at all. Though Dean had forgiven him, he managed a few reminders occasionally. Even though the words stung, Sam knew he could never have survived if Dean had cut him from his life for good. Dean was his whole world, and as fucked up as that sounded, Sam didn't care.
He flicked his dick a few times and watched it flop around, bemused by its sudden return to life. Stepping into the shower, Sam adjusted the tilt of the showerhead so he wouldn't have to duck to get under the spray. He sighed with relief when the warm water sluiced down his skin. What had happened last night had been insane. The 'Jimmy and Sammy antics' show, or better, the 'stupid guys fall down' show. Sam chuckled at the names and turned to wet his back. He ran his hands over his body, and groaned when his dick twitched. He reached down and stroked it a few times, and then turned to face the showerhead, feeling disappointment when his dick started to sag.
"No, no, no," he urged. "Come on." He thought about his favorite fantasy. Some random girl he'd saved from demons threw herself at him, begging him to let her thank him. She'd be so hot and blond, or maybe she'd have long dark hair. His dick went limper at the thought of dark hair. It seemed that his usual fantasies wouldn't work this time.
Sam and closed his eyes again as he stroked himself. He could switch to another fantasy, one he hadn't used in a long time. He was in a room on a bed naked with Tom from college. Tom had sucked Sam off in his darkened dorm room one time and, since then, Sam had always thought of Tom in his sexual fantasies when nothing else would work. He thought of the tall dark-haired man now as he stroked himself. His dick grew hard again, and Sam sighed with relief as he expanded the fantasy. They would fuck, right after Sam had saved Tom's ass from a demon. Tom would be so grateful, he'd offer to suck him, and then Sam would fuck him all night long.
Sam pressed his hand flat against the tiles and stroked himself faster, letting the images build.
They would kiss. Tom had been an awesome kisser. He'd move down to suck Sam's hard dick until he came, and he'd swallow every drop. The thought made Sam shiver and his cock jumped but, each time he'd reach the brink of orgasm, he would start to sag. Sam closed his eyes and switched partners. Suddenly he was there in the fantasy, unbidden. He couldn't get the thought of Jimmy's hard dick pressed against his leg out of his mind. Taking over in Sam's head, Jimmy was hard and begging Sam to kiss him and take him to heights of ecstasy he'd never even dreamed of, and Sam knew how to do that. He imagined Jimmy naked and crawling into his lap and Sam's cock jerked in his hand. Jimmy would beg and Sam would lean back as Jimmy impaled himself on Sam's hard cock. He'd fuck him so hard that Jimmy would scream his name. Sam sped the strokes up, and imagined Jimmy beneath him, his cock spurting between them. Sam moaned with pleasure and shook when his cock pulsed with each stroke, shooting over his hand, and splashing the tile wall.
Pressing his forehead against the cool tiles, Sam breathed a sigh of relief, opening his eyes as his spent cock twitched a few more times. As he thought of what had just happened, his heart thudded with fear in his chest. No one knew these fantasies, but a feeling of guilt coursed through him. Sam leaned against the wet wall and felt a lump form in his throat. There was no denying how fucked up he was.
*
The aroma of food filled the air with Bobby playing short-order cook at the stove. Dean sat on the sofa, face buried in some book, while Jimmy sat at the kitchen table. When Sam entered the room, Dean looked up and set the book aside. Sam noted that the book had some odd symbol he'd never seen before embossed on the cover.
"It's about time, sleeping beauty," Dean quipped.
Sam sneered and sat down beside Dean, taking the book from him. He glanced at the text then the spine. The title was faded to the point that only a few letters were still discernable.
"We still haven't found the symbol?" Sam asked, resisting the urge to voice his thoughts about the validity of this symbol's existence.
Dean glared and snatched the book from Sam's grasp. "While you were jerking your wad," Dean said, raising his voice on the last few words. "We, meaning those of us who were not sleeping in then taking a long-ass shower, were busy, thank you very much." He stuck his nose in the book and reached out to smack Sam on the head.
"I was not taking a long-ass shower," Sam protested. He could feel the blush spread from his cheeks, across his face and to his neck.
Dean grinned and pointed at Sam who took the book from Dean and motioned to hit him with him, but Dean managed to duck the half-hearted attempt at bludgeoning. "Ha! But you were jerking your chain," he crowed with triumph. Sam clenched his jaw. Sometimes, he hated how well Dean knew him.
"Next time, don't look so guilty."
Sam stood and stepped around the sofa, then tossed the book back to Dean, hitting him on the head. It bounced into Dean's lap and Dean cringed when it landed. 'Take that!' Sam wanted to say aloud but, when he turned around, he saw that Bobby and Jimmy were both staring at them. Bobby sighed and shook his head.
"When you two idjits are finished playing footsies, breakfast is ready." Bobby said as he scooped scrambled eggs into a large plate in the center of the table.
Sam pulled out a chair and sat down on the other side of the table, leaving the two seats beside Jimmy empty. Dean approached, an expression of distaste playing across his face for a brief moment before it vanished, and he sat down.
They ate in silence. The only sound in the room was the clatter of cutlery on plates. Sam sipped at his coffee, grateful for the strong brew, and watched in curiosity as Jimmy drank milk. He stared at Jimmy's small, delicate hands, and wondered how the man could have contained something as powerful as an angel. He noted that Jimmy seemed smaller than Castiel, though that was not possible; the perception had to be Sam's imagination playing tricks.
An hour or so later, while Sam and Dean checked the trunk of the Impala to be sure it was fully equipped, Sam noted Dean was watching him closely. Sam tried to ignore the stares and focus on his task, deciding they would need more shotgun shells filled with rock salt. Sam could fill the shells when they went back inside the house, and he made a mental note of the number he wanted to make. When Sam looked up, he found Dean leaning against the car, arms folded, staring down at him. Sam paused in his tally, and stared down at the shotgun and casing shells.
"You're acting kind of weird," Dean said.
"Weirder than usual?" Sam loaded the cartridge and picked up another shell, shrugging his shoulders. He put the weapon in its slot, and nudged Dean out of the way to close the trunk.
"I'm just as freaked as you are."
Sam sighed and leaned against the car beside Dean, adjusting when the car sank a bit under his weight. For just a second, he wished things between them were as they used to be, before all this, before Sam died, before Dean went to Hell, before the angels, when things were so much simpler but then the moment vanished like dust on the wind.. Sam pushed those thoughts aside; there was no use in wishing, because that went nowhere.
The door to the house opened and Jimmy loped down the steps. "Is there anything I can do to help?" Jimmy asked.
"Nope," Dean said, slamming his hand on the trunk. "It's all taken care of." He stood and turned his back on Jimmy, and Sam caught that look of distaste he'd seen earlier. Dean glanced up at Sam and then started to walk back to the house. "I'm going to take a look at the traps again." Sam noticed Dean never once made eye contact with Jimmy. Obviously, something was definitely up, and it was becoming apparent that it had to do with Jimmy. He pondered what it could be as he watched Dean vanish into the house.
"He doesn't like me much," Jimmy said. They both stared at the front door.
"That's not true," Sam said, even as he knew his words rang false. "He's just..."
"Freaked out about everything," Jimmy said with a nod. "I get it. It's not as if I can help in this fight. I don't even know how to fire a gun."
Sam perked up and turned to look at Jimmy. This was something he could deal with. He stood and opened the trunk.
"That has got to change," Sam said. He pulled his sawed-off from its cradle, and took a handgun from the trunk, handing a box of ammunition to Jimmy. "For now, we can use mine, but Bobby can probably get you something for later." Sam slammed the trunk shut and walked out to the car lot behind the house with Jimmy right behind him. There, amongst the piled up wrecks, away from the house, they could hide from the world. Sam stopped in a space wide enough to accommodate what he had in mind. Jimmy stopped beside him and watched Sam unload the weapons.
"I don't like guns," Jimmy said.
Sam ignored his comment and set up a few targets, using rusted pieces of metal he found strewn on the ground. When he walked back to where Jimmy stood, Sam held the handgun up.
"This is how you load a handgun," Sam said. He reloaded and emptied the weapon and, after he'd done this several times, handed the gun and shells over to Jimmy who held the gun so gingerly a few shells dropped to the ground. Sam took the gun back and showed Jimmy the right way to hold the weapon. "You can use both hands if you want," he said. He wrapped his hands around Jimmy's grip and positioned him so that they faced the targets.
Sam could tell Jimmy was scared. He could feel the shake in Jimmy's fingers, but Sam persisted. He moved in behind Jimmy and stretched their arms out, pointing the barrel at the target.
"It's simple," Sam said. "You just sight along the barrel and pull the trigger." He demonstrated and the hammer clicked against the empty chamber.
Jimmy nodded and seemed to swallow his nervousness. "Show me everything," Jimmy said with a deep breath.
Sam did. He watched as Jimmy fumbled shells and loaded the gun a few times, Jimmy nodding as he listened to every word of instruction. When Sam felt Jimmy was ready, he stood behind him and watched as Jimmy fired a loaded gun for the first time in his life. Jimmy's arm jumped from the recoil and he gave a yelp. His shot went wild, missing the target by a dozen feet.
"I should have warned you about the recoil," Sam said. He moved in closer to steady Jimmy's arm. He lifted the arm up and leaned in to sight down the barrel. "Hold your arm straight so you control the recoil," he said. Jimmy shivered and swallowed hard. Sam was sure he'd falter, but then Jimmy nodded and tightened his grip on the gun. He squeezed the trigger again, and this time managed to hit the car behind the targets. Adjusting his one-handed grip with Sam's help, Jimmy fired a third shot. Each time his arm jumped less as he learned to control his grip.
The first time Jimmy hit the target, the pleased smile on his face made Sam's stomach tighten. Sam stepped away from him, and watched as Jimmy held the gun up at arm's length, and squeezed off a few more shots. He hit the second target and third target until the gun was empty. Sam leaned against a pile of rusted cars and inhaled a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
"Did you see that?" Jimmy asked. He waved the gun in the direction he'd been shooting.
Sam reached out and stopped his movements.
"Sorry," Jimmy said with obvious embarrassment. "I got carried away."
"It's cool. The gun wasn't loaded anyway," Sam said. He took the weapon from Jimmy's shaking hand, and set the gun down behind him on the roof of a rusted out old car. Sam picked up the shotgun and held the gun up to show Jimmy how to load the rock salt cartridge into the chamber. He handed the gun over and watched as Jimmy unloaded and loaded the gun. Sam made him do it several times, until Jimmy looked comfortable with the weapon in his hand, and then instructed him to aim at the targets.
"That's probably enough for today," Sam said after Jimmy fired a few rounds. He'd mostly missed, but it was getting dark and Sam was tired. He wished more than anything that they didn't have to be there, or have to do what they'd been practicing, but wishing had never done him any good.
"Thank you, Sam," Jimmy said.
At first, Sam couldn't look Jimmy in the eyes, but then Jimmy leaned in closer to force eye contact, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam could see that the expression in his eyes was one of complete sincerity. Without thinking about what he was doing, or why he was doing it, Sam leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jimmy's mouth. The moment they touched, the aching feeling in his chest vanished. Jimmy tilted his head up and kissed Sam back, urging Sam to move in closer. Sam put one arm around Jimmy's shoulders, and pulled them closer together. Sam deepened the kiss, eager to push his tongue deep into Jimmy's warm pliant mouth. He tugged at Jimmy's shirt as they ground their hips together. This time, Sam was thrilled to feel the hard length pressed against him. He slid his hand down and squeezed, sending shivers through Jimmy. All the while, the thought that this was insane ran through Sam's mind, but he didn't care, because Jimmy wanted this and Sam wanted this, and Sam had decided to hell with worrying because he was going to take everything he could get.
Jimmy broke the kiss and stared up at Sam, eyes filled with longing. Sam's heart sped up, thumping against his ribcage. Jimmy placed a soft kiss on Sam's lips and caressed Sam's hair.
"I..." Sam started to say.
Jimmy pressed two fingers against Sam's lips, shushing him. "It's okay," Jimmy said and then replaced the fingers with his lips.
The sound of Sam's cell phone ringing broke their third kiss, and Sam licked his lips.
"I should probably get that."
Jimmy smoothed Sam's hair with one hand as Sam retrieved his cell phone from the front pocket of his jeans. Sam shivered at the brush of his own fingers against the tip of his hardening cock. Fuck! He wanted to throw his phone across the lot and bend Jimmy over one of the cars surrounding them. Instead, he thought about things that would kill his libido and stepped away from Jimmy, turning his back on him as he flipped the cell phone open and placed it to his ear.
"Where the hell are you, Sammy," Dean said so loud Sam had to hold the phone away from his ear.
"I'm in the yard behind the house," Sam said. "Why, what's wrong?"
"Nothing, we just heard gunfire and then you never came back to the house. We were worried something had happened," Dean replied. His voice echoed and when Sam turned around to face Jimmy, he realized why. Dean shut his own cell phone and jogged up to them. "What the hell are you two doing out here?" He glared at Jimmy first, and then turned his disapproval onto Sam. Sam shut his own phone, suddenly feeling like he'd been caught red-handed doing something illegal.
"Sam was showing me how to..." Jimmy started to say, but stopped when Dean turned his angry stare back on him.
"Sam was showing you what?" Dean said. Dean looked from Jimmy to Sam then back to Jimmy again, his gaze falling on the gun Jimmy held.
"He needs to know how to protect himself," Sam said with a defensive tone.
Dean rushed forward and snatched the shotgun from Jimmy who jumped back stunned at the sudden action.
"I can't fucking believe you!" Dean screamed. "He's a fucking angel!"
Sam reeled from his brother's harsh words, swallowing hard at the sudden thought that maybe Dean had seen something he shouldn't have, like the kiss.
Silence fell between them with Dean's words echoing through the air. Sam saw the stunned look on Jimmy's face and the wide-eyed stare on Dean's, and Sam bowed his head, whispering, "He's not Castiel."
Dean sneered. "Don't you think I know that?" Dean's glare shifted from Jimmy to Sam.
A flurry of wings filled the air, and something pushed Sam away. He flew across the yard, landing in a heap ten feet from where he'd stood just moments ago and, when he look up, he saw Zachariah with two other men at his side.
"Hello, Dean," Zachariah said as he motioned at Jimmy.
When Jimmy tried to run, the two men grabbed him on either side. He struggled and called for help, but Zachariah reached up and touched him on the forehead, rendering him unconscious. Jimmy sagged between the two men. "Sorry, but we need to borrow this." There was a blinding flash of light, and Sam shielded his eyes. When the light faded away, Sam looked up to find that he and Dean were alone in the yard.
Jimmy had vanished along with Zachariah and his goons.
PART 3.
Feedback is very much appreciated. Thank you for reading.
Pairings: Sam/Jimmy this part
Warnings: Spoilers to end of Season 4.
Rating: R
Category: Angst, AU, First time.
Word count: 6,300
Notes: I started writing this May 2009. I'm afraid this means since I didn't know what was going to happen on the show, this story has to be labeled AU. I'd like to thank my three wonderful beta readers. Mr. Goth who was of tremendous help and there for me through all my teeth-gnashing, danceswithgary, and Alee. They all helped to make this story much better than it would have been without them. All remaining errors are mine.
Disclaimer: Supernatural is the property of Eric Kripke. No infringement intended.
Summary: Jimmy feelings unwelcome, Sam just wants things to go back to the way they were before all the chaos.
It all felt so familiar, as if caught in a permanent state of déjà vu. Sometimes, that was how it was. The days melded together until he could barely tell the difference between yesterday and today. Most of the time, Sam Winchester was just happy to be alive. By all rights, he shouldn't be. He should have been six feet under years ago but instead he was in Bobby's kitchen making lunch. Bobby had gone to the store an hour before to get some supplies, because with four mouths to feed they were going to need more food.
Jimmy Novak was sitting at the kitchen table, lost in thought. He was so quiet Sam glanced back for the tenth time to make sure he was actually there. Sam didn't intend to let the man slip through his fingers this time.
Dean had come down from upstairs earlier and said he was going to check the panic room for something. His brother had seemed fine, but Sam started to worry when Dean still hadn't come back upstairs after an hour.
Sam cut the sandwich in half and turned to set the plate down in front of Jimmy. He set a glass of milk down as well, and turned back to make a sandwich for himself.
"Thank you," Jimmy muttered.
Sam grunted a reply without turning around. When he finally did, he found Jimmy still staring into space. Jimmy shook his head, picked up the sandwich, and took a bite.
"Everything cool?" Sam asked.
"I just didn't think I'd see the world again," Jimmy said. He set down the sandwich and brushed crumbs from his hands.
"It's been a rough year," Sam said. He finished making his own sandwich and sat down across from Jimmy. He hadn't intended to say much more, but he felt Jimmy deserved to know where things stood. Before he knew it, the words spilled out and Sam more or less told him what had happened over the past year since Jimmy had given Castiel permission to ride around in his skin. He skimmed over a few of the details, leaving out the part about the demon blood. Sam explained how the angels had tricked them and had been working against them all along leading into an explanation of how Castiel, at the last minute, helped Dean but too late to stop the outcome. Sam confessed that he had freed Lucifer and how he'd had been tricked by Ruby. By the time he was done, Sam was breathless and feeling worse than he'd felt since he realized Dean had not quite forgiven him for everything.
Jimmy leaned back in his chair, eyes wide and mouth gaping open. "You don't do things halfway, do you?" he asked after a long silence.
"No, I guess not." Sam couldn't look Jimmy in the eye. "Most nights, I can deal with what I did." Even as Sam said the words, he knew the truth deep down inside. He hated himself for the choices he'd made, but there was no point in dwelling on that.
"So what's the plan then?" Jimmy said.
Sam looked up at him and shunted his growing melancholy aside to concentrate on the here and now.
"Cas went up to Heaven to recruit allies," Dean said.
Sam turned to find his brother standing in the entrance to the kitchen. He watched Dean walk to the kitchen counter and pick up a piece of roast beef. Dean stuffed the slice in his mouth and chewed with gusto. Sam cleared his throat and turned away to look at Jimmy.
"So we're running from demons and angels," Jimmy said, summing things up in one sentence.
Dean scowled while still chewing and shrugged his shoulders.
"Yup," he said through his mouth full of food. Sam cringed when bits of meat flew from Dean's mouth. Before Dean had even finished chewing and swallowing, he stuffed another slice into his maw. Sam could see the half-chewed food from where he sat and started to chuckle at his brother's lack of manners.
Jimmy sighed and looked away from Dean, his expression saying 'can you believe this guy.' Sam wanted to say yes but, since Jimmy hadn't actually said the words aloud and Sam was only thinking all this in his own crazy head, he kept his mouth shut. He marveled at how different Jimmy was from Castiel, a complete opposite. It was strange to see the man, who Sam had come to see as Castiel, eating and making more than three facial expressions.
Sam glanced up at his brother, noting that Dean was glaring at the back of Jimmy's head, his eyes filled with anger. Moments later, the anger vanished and Dean swallowed his food, licked his lips, and turned away from them.
Jimmy finished his glass of milk and stood, brushing crumbs from his hands. "I think I'll go take a shower," he said pushing the chair in. "I feel kind of gross."
When neither Sam nor Dean said a word to his declaration, Jimmy left the room to go upstairs, stopping on the way to remove the trench coat and hang it on a hook by the front door. Once Jimmy's footfalls had faded and he was sure the man was out of earshot, Sam spoke up.
"This is so fucked up," Sam said, shaking his head. He pushed his plate away and noticed that Dean was staring in the direction that Jimmy had gone. There was something up with his brother and he wasn't sure what. Sam wanted to ask, but he knew Dean would just shrug it off and tell Sam he was imagining things. Tact was required.
"You're worried about Castiel," Sam said.
"There's a lot more than Cas to worry about."
"I know, but I just thought..." Sam said, feeling his heart sink. Prying free what was troubling Dean was going to be hard, but Sam saw an expression flash across Dean's face that gave him hope. It might be easier than he'd imagined, but the sound of the front door opening broke the moment.
"Hey honey, I'm home," Bobby said. He held bags of groceries in each hand. "Well, don't just stand there with your yaps hanging open." Bobby held the bags up. "There's more in the truck."
*
While Dean stayed downstairs with Bobby to do more research on that supposed symbol, Sam went upstairs to get some much-needed rest. Sam saw that the door to the guest room was ajar, dim light filtering through the thin curtains to fall across the bed where Jimmy sat with a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was still damp from his shower, and Sam watched as Jimmy ran his fingers through it, spiking the wet strands.
"You can come in," Jimmy said, glancing up at Sam. Even in the faint light of the room, Sam could see the sorrow in the man's eyes.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to..." Sam began to say. He entered the room and nudged the door shut behind him.
"I'm trying to decide what to wear," Jimmy said with a hint of sarcasm. He held the white shirt in one hand and the black tie in the other. The rest of his clothes lay on the bed beside him.
"If they need to be washed, there's a laundry room downstairs," Sam said, gesturing at the clothes. "I'm sure we could find something that would fit you."
Jimmy looked Sam up and down and nodded.
"Right, because you and I are about the same size," he said with more sarcasm in his tone. He set the shirt and the tie down with a sigh.
"Look," Sam said, moving closer. "I get that this sucks."
Jimmy shook his head, gritting his teeth as Sam stood before him.
"Maybe my stuff won't fit, but Dean can probably lend you something."
"Why are you being so nice to me?" Jimmy asked. He stood up and scrambled for the towel before it slipped off. Sam looked down, but still caught a wedge of the pale flesh of Jimmy's left thigh. Something on the floor caught Sam's attention, and he bent to pick it up. It looked like some sort of jewel when Sam examined it in the light. Peeking through his bangs, Sam saw that Jimmy had turned his back to him, and the towel was in place.
Jimmy turned to face Sam. Sam felt the urge to comfort him, but thought he was probably the wrong person for the job. "I'm sorry," said Sam, aware that this time Jimmy wouldn't be able to see his family and feeling truly sorry for that.
Jimmy shrugged and said, "I would appreciate something else to wear. A different shirt would be nice."
Sam placed the jewel on the bedside table nodded, and then left the room. He rifled through his own duffle and found his tightest t-shirt and a grey flannel shirt. When he returned to the other room, Jimmy wore his pants. Sam gave him the shirts and watched as Jimmy finished dressing.
"Thanks," Jimmy said, sitting to put on his socks.
"You're welcome." Sam stood there, hesitant to say what he wanted to say. It had been on his mind from the moment Castiel had gone back to Heaven, but Sam wasn't sure it was the right time or even whether he should bother.
"I really appreciate this," Jimmy said, motioning at the clothes he'd just put on.
"Look," Sam said, deciding to take the plunge. They were going to be with Jimmy for who knew how long, and Sam didn't want there to be any hostilities.
Jimmy stared up at Sam, his full attention on him. Sam flinched at the intensity of the look in the man's eyes.
"I just wanted to apologize for how harsh I was with you the last time we met." Sam cleared his throat a few times, shifting uncomfortably on the spot.
"You were just trying to be forthright with me and I appreciated that, Sam." He stretched his arms out with a rueful shake of his head at the too-long cuffs.
"Here, let me." Sam reached out and took a cuff in his hand. He rolled it once, adjusting the length, and buttoned up the two buttons.
"I don't remember any of it," Jimmy said as he offered Sam the other cuff. "I thought when I asked Castiel to take me instead of my..." Jimmy seemed to choke on the words, but Sam knew what he was going to say. "I thought it was over. I thought my life was over."
"Nothing's ever that simple," Sam muttered. He eyed the sleeves to make sure they were even. He didn't care that much about the sleeve, but this gave him something to distract him from having to look into Jimmy's eyes. Sam could hear the regret in the man's words.
"No, it isn't," Jimmy said with another deep sigh. He stared down at the cuffs his eyes wet with tears. Sam couldn't take it anymore. He moved forward, took Jimmy in his arms, and held him. Jimmy stood with his arms by his side, breath hitching from silent sobs. Sam rubbed his back a few times and tried to think of the right words, but nothing came.
Maybe some day Sam would find the words. Until then, his actions would have to speak for him.
*
Sam carefully set the book he'd been reading aside and stretched his arms and legs, his entire body feeling cramped. His neck cracked in all the right places and he sighed with relief. Their research into the mythical symbol was proving to be fruitless. Sam was convinced that even if they searched every ancient text Bobby had on his dusty shelves, they would be no closer to finding the supposed symbol to ward off the prince of darkness. He had a feeling that the symbol just didn't exist.
"You should go get some sleep," Dean said. He stretched and yawned, tossing aside the dusty old book he'd been reading. Sam glanced at his wristwatch. It was no wonder they were both exhausted. It was two-thirty in the morning, and Jimmy and Bobby had long since gone to bed.
"You take the bed," Sam said.
The sleeping arrangements had gotten somewhat awkward with Jimmy in the house. Bobby's room naturally went to Bobby but, after that, there was only one other bedroom with one bed, and Jimmy was currently sleeping in that one. It was either the sofa or the fold out cot upstairs in the guest room. The panic room was out of the question because the bunk just wasn't made for a comfortable night's sleep. The cot was out of the question for Sam because he'd be lucky to get half his body on the little thing. It made sense for Dean to sleep on the cot and Sam to sleep on the sofa. It was lumpy, but at least he could fit his long body on the thing. Sam shook his head and realized that he was over-thinking the problem.
"No, I insist you take the bed this time," Dean said. "I can take it tomorrow night." He picked up the book he'd tossed aside, and opened it to a random page. Sam was sure that Dean hadn't been reading the book before, because he hadn't turned a single page in the last two hours.
"We should flip a coin to see who gets the cot," Sam said. He stretched out and dug into his pants pocket for a quarter. He hated the thought of sleeping on that cot, but this was only fair.
"Seriously, Sammy," Dean said as he tossed his book aside and got to his feet. He hobbled a few steps to the sofa and flopped down beside Sam. Dean rubbed his leg and flinched. "I hate when my leg falls asleep before I do," he muttered, jamming his palm against one eye. "I'm fine down here."
"I don't even fit on the cot," Sam said, staring at his brother. Their shoulders touched and Sam leaned against Dean. He yawned and felt overcome with the urge to fall asleep.
The silence stretched between them. Maybe if Sam passed out now, Dean would have to go upstairs. Sam snuggled up to his brother and felt confident that his plan would work. When Dean didn't move or say anything, Sam peeked at his brother to find Dean wide awake, staring at the far wall.
"Fine," Sam said when the silence continued. Obviously, Dean was determined to stay down here. Sam stood and noticed a flash of relief play across Dean's face. Whatever the fuck was going on with Dean, he was obviously not ready to confide in Sam, and that stung. After everything that they'd gone through together, Sam had thought they'd finally gotten to a point where Dean felt comfortable confiding in him again, but it seemed Sam had been wrong.
Sam's heart sank at the thought. He trudged upstairs with barely a glance back. The bedroom door was ajar, and Sam nudged it open enough to slip inside quietly. Closing the door behind him, he sat down on the cot to remove his shoes. Jimmy lay curled on the bed, dressed in Sam's t-shirt and the pajama bottoms that Bobby had lent him, the covers kicked aside into a crumpled heap. Sam stared at Jimmy's exposed toes, watching them curl and flex. Then still.
Sam slipped his flannel shirt off, setting it down on the floor, then eased out of his jeans and dropped them on top of his shirt. When he glanced up to be sure he hadn't woken Jimmy, the man was staring at Sam.
"Hey," Sam said. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's okay," Jimmy said. His voice groggy from sleep and his hair disheveled. He stifled a yawn and sat up, running his hand back through his messy hair. Sam found the futile motion amusing. The hair was messier than it had been before Jimmy's attempts to tame the stray locks.
"We'll be bunking together tonight," Sam said and narrowed his eyes. "You don't snore or talk in you sleep, do you?" he joked.
Jimmy shook his head. "Nope, not according to my wife." He slid from the bed and sat on the edge, eyeing the cot and then Sam. "Maybe you should take the bed. It would probably be much more comfortable for you than that thing." He gestured at the cot.
"Seriously?" Sam asked, touched that Jimmy would even offer. Dean would never have offered. He would have mocked Sam, called him sasquatch, and made him sleep on the cot, taking the bed for himself.
"Seriously," Jimmy said.
"Thanks." They stood up at the same time and Sam bumped against Jimmy, almost knocking him back on the bed. Sam grabbed at Jimmy's arm to stop his fall, and ended up losing his balance. They landed in a heap on the bed with Sam on top of Jimmy. For just a second, Sam was too surprised at the hardness he felt to react. He stared down into Jimmy's equally stunned expression.
Sam rolled to his feet, feeling his face flush from embarrassment. Jimmy rolled in the opposite direction, right off the bed and onto the floor. Sam reached down and pulled Jimmy up and right into own arms again.
"Sorry," Sam said, putting space between them. There was no doubt it was wood Sam had felt. Sam stood in the darkness unsure what to do or say. Pretending it never happened sounded like the best plan.
"I'm sorry," Jimmy whispered.
Sam cleared his throat. "We should just get some sleep." He glanced at his watch to see it was just past three.
"It wasn't about you," Jimmy said.
Sam held his hands up. "It's cool," Sam said before Jimmy could say another word.
"I just woke up," Jimmy continued.
"Dude, seriously. You don't have to explain," Sam said.
Sam glanced around the room, hoping the awkwardness would fade. They both remained silent as they lay down in their respective beds and settled in to sleep.
It was going to be a long night, at least whatever was left of it.
*
Sunlight filled the room by the time Sam sat up in bed, bleary-eyed and disoriented. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton, his body felt numb. He rubbed at his sore neck with a vague recollection of nightmares about fountains of blood. There was no blood on his fingers when he looked down, though an image of a sliced throat filled his mind. He barely remembered falling asleep, but he must have because it was daylight.
Glancing over at the empty cot, Sam swung his long legs over the edge of the bed to stand. He stretched and grimaced at the taste in his mouth, so foul it was as if something had crawled in and died there. He trudged out of the room and down the hallway to the thankfully unoccupied bathroom.
Sam sighed as he relieved himself, then he moved over to the sink and leaned against the counter to stare into the mirror. He looked like shit. The bags under his eyes meant he hadn't gotten much sleep.
Sam shook the grogginess from his head, and turned the tap on for a shower, hoping it would make him feel better. He stripped slowly and stared down at his half-hard dick, which surprised him because it had been a while since he'd felt anything stirring down there. If he was truthful, it had been since Ruby. Sam sneered at the thought of the demon. He still felt like a fool. Most times, he tried not to think about it at all. Though Dean had forgiven him, he managed a few reminders occasionally. Even though the words stung, Sam knew he could never have survived if Dean had cut him from his life for good. Dean was his whole world, and as fucked up as that sounded, Sam didn't care.
He flicked his dick a few times and watched it flop around, bemused by its sudden return to life. Stepping into the shower, Sam adjusted the tilt of the showerhead so he wouldn't have to duck to get under the spray. He sighed with relief when the warm water sluiced down his skin. What had happened last night had been insane. The 'Jimmy and Sammy antics' show, or better, the 'stupid guys fall down' show. Sam chuckled at the names and turned to wet his back. He ran his hands over his body, and groaned when his dick twitched. He reached down and stroked it a few times, and then turned to face the showerhead, feeling disappointment when his dick started to sag.
"No, no, no," he urged. "Come on." He thought about his favorite fantasy. Some random girl he'd saved from demons threw herself at him, begging him to let her thank him. She'd be so hot and blond, or maybe she'd have long dark hair. His dick went limper at the thought of dark hair. It seemed that his usual fantasies wouldn't work this time.
Sam and closed his eyes again as he stroked himself. He could switch to another fantasy, one he hadn't used in a long time. He was in a room on a bed naked with Tom from college. Tom had sucked Sam off in his darkened dorm room one time and, since then, Sam had always thought of Tom in his sexual fantasies when nothing else would work. He thought of the tall dark-haired man now as he stroked himself. His dick grew hard again, and Sam sighed with relief as he expanded the fantasy. They would fuck, right after Sam had saved Tom's ass from a demon. Tom would be so grateful, he'd offer to suck him, and then Sam would fuck him all night long.
Sam pressed his hand flat against the tiles and stroked himself faster, letting the images build.
They would kiss. Tom had been an awesome kisser. He'd move down to suck Sam's hard dick until he came, and he'd swallow every drop. The thought made Sam shiver and his cock jumped but, each time he'd reach the brink of orgasm, he would start to sag. Sam closed his eyes and switched partners. Suddenly he was there in the fantasy, unbidden. He couldn't get the thought of Jimmy's hard dick pressed against his leg out of his mind. Taking over in Sam's head, Jimmy was hard and begging Sam to kiss him and take him to heights of ecstasy he'd never even dreamed of, and Sam knew how to do that. He imagined Jimmy naked and crawling into his lap and Sam's cock jerked in his hand. Jimmy would beg and Sam would lean back as Jimmy impaled himself on Sam's hard cock. He'd fuck him so hard that Jimmy would scream his name. Sam sped the strokes up, and imagined Jimmy beneath him, his cock spurting between them. Sam moaned with pleasure and shook when his cock pulsed with each stroke, shooting over his hand, and splashing the tile wall.
Pressing his forehead against the cool tiles, Sam breathed a sigh of relief, opening his eyes as his spent cock twitched a few more times. As he thought of what had just happened, his heart thudded with fear in his chest. No one knew these fantasies, but a feeling of guilt coursed through him. Sam leaned against the wet wall and felt a lump form in his throat. There was no denying how fucked up he was.
*
The aroma of food filled the air with Bobby playing short-order cook at the stove. Dean sat on the sofa, face buried in some book, while Jimmy sat at the kitchen table. When Sam entered the room, Dean looked up and set the book aside. Sam noted that the book had some odd symbol he'd never seen before embossed on the cover.
"It's about time, sleeping beauty," Dean quipped.
Sam sneered and sat down beside Dean, taking the book from him. He glanced at the text then the spine. The title was faded to the point that only a few letters were still discernable.
"We still haven't found the symbol?" Sam asked, resisting the urge to voice his thoughts about the validity of this symbol's existence.
Dean glared and snatched the book from Sam's grasp. "While you were jerking your wad," Dean said, raising his voice on the last few words. "We, meaning those of us who were not sleeping in then taking a long-ass shower, were busy, thank you very much." He stuck his nose in the book and reached out to smack Sam on the head.
"I was not taking a long-ass shower," Sam protested. He could feel the blush spread from his cheeks, across his face and to his neck.
Dean grinned and pointed at Sam who took the book from Dean and motioned to hit him with him, but Dean managed to duck the half-hearted attempt at bludgeoning. "Ha! But you were jerking your chain," he crowed with triumph. Sam clenched his jaw. Sometimes, he hated how well Dean knew him.
"Next time, don't look so guilty."
Sam stood and stepped around the sofa, then tossed the book back to Dean, hitting him on the head. It bounced into Dean's lap and Dean cringed when it landed. 'Take that!' Sam wanted to say aloud but, when he turned around, he saw that Bobby and Jimmy were both staring at them. Bobby sighed and shook his head.
"When you two idjits are finished playing footsies, breakfast is ready." Bobby said as he scooped scrambled eggs into a large plate in the center of the table.
Sam pulled out a chair and sat down on the other side of the table, leaving the two seats beside Jimmy empty. Dean approached, an expression of distaste playing across his face for a brief moment before it vanished, and he sat down.
They ate in silence. The only sound in the room was the clatter of cutlery on plates. Sam sipped at his coffee, grateful for the strong brew, and watched in curiosity as Jimmy drank milk. He stared at Jimmy's small, delicate hands, and wondered how the man could have contained something as powerful as an angel. He noted that Jimmy seemed smaller than Castiel, though that was not possible; the perception had to be Sam's imagination playing tricks.
An hour or so later, while Sam and Dean checked the trunk of the Impala to be sure it was fully equipped, Sam noted Dean was watching him closely. Sam tried to ignore the stares and focus on his task, deciding they would need more shotgun shells filled with rock salt. Sam could fill the shells when they went back inside the house, and he made a mental note of the number he wanted to make. When Sam looked up, he found Dean leaning against the car, arms folded, staring down at him. Sam paused in his tally, and stared down at the shotgun and casing shells.
"You're acting kind of weird," Dean said.
"Weirder than usual?" Sam loaded the cartridge and picked up another shell, shrugging his shoulders. He put the weapon in its slot, and nudged Dean out of the way to close the trunk.
"I'm just as freaked as you are."
Sam sighed and leaned against the car beside Dean, adjusting when the car sank a bit under his weight. For just a second, he wished things between them were as they used to be, before all this, before Sam died, before Dean went to Hell, before the angels, when things were so much simpler but then the moment vanished like dust on the wind.. Sam pushed those thoughts aside; there was no use in wishing, because that went nowhere.
The door to the house opened and Jimmy loped down the steps. "Is there anything I can do to help?" Jimmy asked.
"Nope," Dean said, slamming his hand on the trunk. "It's all taken care of." He stood and turned his back on Jimmy, and Sam caught that look of distaste he'd seen earlier. Dean glanced up at Sam and then started to walk back to the house. "I'm going to take a look at the traps again." Sam noticed Dean never once made eye contact with Jimmy. Obviously, something was definitely up, and it was becoming apparent that it had to do with Jimmy. He pondered what it could be as he watched Dean vanish into the house.
"He doesn't like me much," Jimmy said. They both stared at the front door.
"That's not true," Sam said, even as he knew his words rang false. "He's just..."
"Freaked out about everything," Jimmy said with a nod. "I get it. It's not as if I can help in this fight. I don't even know how to fire a gun."
Sam perked up and turned to look at Jimmy. This was something he could deal with. He stood and opened the trunk.
"That has got to change," Sam said. He pulled his sawed-off from its cradle, and took a handgun from the trunk, handing a box of ammunition to Jimmy. "For now, we can use mine, but Bobby can probably get you something for later." Sam slammed the trunk shut and walked out to the car lot behind the house with Jimmy right behind him. There, amongst the piled up wrecks, away from the house, they could hide from the world. Sam stopped in a space wide enough to accommodate what he had in mind. Jimmy stopped beside him and watched Sam unload the weapons.
"I don't like guns," Jimmy said.
Sam ignored his comment and set up a few targets, using rusted pieces of metal he found strewn on the ground. When he walked back to where Jimmy stood, Sam held the handgun up.
"This is how you load a handgun," Sam said. He reloaded and emptied the weapon and, after he'd done this several times, handed the gun and shells over to Jimmy who held the gun so gingerly a few shells dropped to the ground. Sam took the gun back and showed Jimmy the right way to hold the weapon. "You can use both hands if you want," he said. He wrapped his hands around Jimmy's grip and positioned him so that they faced the targets.
Sam could tell Jimmy was scared. He could feel the shake in Jimmy's fingers, but Sam persisted. He moved in behind Jimmy and stretched their arms out, pointing the barrel at the target.
"It's simple," Sam said. "You just sight along the barrel and pull the trigger." He demonstrated and the hammer clicked against the empty chamber.
Jimmy nodded and seemed to swallow his nervousness. "Show me everything," Jimmy said with a deep breath.
Sam did. He watched as Jimmy fumbled shells and loaded the gun a few times, Jimmy nodding as he listened to every word of instruction. When Sam felt Jimmy was ready, he stood behind him and watched as Jimmy fired a loaded gun for the first time in his life. Jimmy's arm jumped from the recoil and he gave a yelp. His shot went wild, missing the target by a dozen feet.
"I should have warned you about the recoil," Sam said. He moved in closer to steady Jimmy's arm. He lifted the arm up and leaned in to sight down the barrel. "Hold your arm straight so you control the recoil," he said. Jimmy shivered and swallowed hard. Sam was sure he'd falter, but then Jimmy nodded and tightened his grip on the gun. He squeezed the trigger again, and this time managed to hit the car behind the targets. Adjusting his one-handed grip with Sam's help, Jimmy fired a third shot. Each time his arm jumped less as he learned to control his grip.
The first time Jimmy hit the target, the pleased smile on his face made Sam's stomach tighten. Sam stepped away from him, and watched as Jimmy held the gun up at arm's length, and squeezed off a few more shots. He hit the second target and third target until the gun was empty. Sam leaned against a pile of rusted cars and inhaled a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
"Did you see that?" Jimmy asked. He waved the gun in the direction he'd been shooting.
Sam reached out and stopped his movements.
"Sorry," Jimmy said with obvious embarrassment. "I got carried away."
"It's cool. The gun wasn't loaded anyway," Sam said. He took the weapon from Jimmy's shaking hand, and set the gun down behind him on the roof of a rusted out old car. Sam picked up the shotgun and held the gun up to show Jimmy how to load the rock salt cartridge into the chamber. He handed the gun over and watched as Jimmy unloaded and loaded the gun. Sam made him do it several times, until Jimmy looked comfortable with the weapon in his hand, and then instructed him to aim at the targets.
"That's probably enough for today," Sam said after Jimmy fired a few rounds. He'd mostly missed, but it was getting dark and Sam was tired. He wished more than anything that they didn't have to be there, or have to do what they'd been practicing, but wishing had never done him any good.
"Thank you, Sam," Jimmy said.
At first, Sam couldn't look Jimmy in the eyes, but then Jimmy leaned in closer to force eye contact, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam could see that the expression in his eyes was one of complete sincerity. Without thinking about what he was doing, or why he was doing it, Sam leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jimmy's mouth. The moment they touched, the aching feeling in his chest vanished. Jimmy tilted his head up and kissed Sam back, urging Sam to move in closer. Sam put one arm around Jimmy's shoulders, and pulled them closer together. Sam deepened the kiss, eager to push his tongue deep into Jimmy's warm pliant mouth. He tugged at Jimmy's shirt as they ground their hips together. This time, Sam was thrilled to feel the hard length pressed against him. He slid his hand down and squeezed, sending shivers through Jimmy. All the while, the thought that this was insane ran through Sam's mind, but he didn't care, because Jimmy wanted this and Sam wanted this, and Sam had decided to hell with worrying because he was going to take everything he could get.
Jimmy broke the kiss and stared up at Sam, eyes filled with longing. Sam's heart sped up, thumping against his ribcage. Jimmy placed a soft kiss on Sam's lips and caressed Sam's hair.
"I..." Sam started to say.
Jimmy pressed two fingers against Sam's lips, shushing him. "It's okay," Jimmy said and then replaced the fingers with his lips.
The sound of Sam's cell phone ringing broke their third kiss, and Sam licked his lips.
"I should probably get that."
Jimmy smoothed Sam's hair with one hand as Sam retrieved his cell phone from the front pocket of his jeans. Sam shivered at the brush of his own fingers against the tip of his hardening cock. Fuck! He wanted to throw his phone across the lot and bend Jimmy over one of the cars surrounding them. Instead, he thought about things that would kill his libido and stepped away from Jimmy, turning his back on him as he flipped the cell phone open and placed it to his ear.
"Where the hell are you, Sammy," Dean said so loud Sam had to hold the phone away from his ear.
"I'm in the yard behind the house," Sam said. "Why, what's wrong?"
"Nothing, we just heard gunfire and then you never came back to the house. We were worried something had happened," Dean replied. His voice echoed and when Sam turned around to face Jimmy, he realized why. Dean shut his own cell phone and jogged up to them. "What the hell are you two doing out here?" He glared at Jimmy first, and then turned his disapproval onto Sam. Sam shut his own phone, suddenly feeling like he'd been caught red-handed doing something illegal.
"Sam was showing me how to..." Jimmy started to say, but stopped when Dean turned his angry stare back on him.
"Sam was showing you what?" Dean said. Dean looked from Jimmy to Sam then back to Jimmy again, his gaze falling on the gun Jimmy held.
"He needs to know how to protect himself," Sam said with a defensive tone.
Dean rushed forward and snatched the shotgun from Jimmy who jumped back stunned at the sudden action.
"I can't fucking believe you!" Dean screamed. "He's a fucking angel!"
Sam reeled from his brother's harsh words, swallowing hard at the sudden thought that maybe Dean had seen something he shouldn't have, like the kiss.
Silence fell between them with Dean's words echoing through the air. Sam saw the stunned look on Jimmy's face and the wide-eyed stare on Dean's, and Sam bowed his head, whispering, "He's not Castiel."
Dean sneered. "Don't you think I know that?" Dean's glare shifted from Jimmy to Sam.
A flurry of wings filled the air, and something pushed Sam away. He flew across the yard, landing in a heap ten feet from where he'd stood just moments ago and, when he look up, he saw Zachariah with two other men at his side.
"Hello, Dean," Zachariah said as he motioned at Jimmy.
When Jimmy tried to run, the two men grabbed him on either side. He struggled and called for help, but Zachariah reached up and touched him on the forehead, rendering him unconscious. Jimmy sagged between the two men. "Sorry, but we need to borrow this." There was a blinding flash of light, and Sam shielded his eyes. When the light faded away, Sam looked up to find that he and Dean were alone in the yard.
Jimmy had vanished along with Zachariah and his goons.
PART 3.
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