Fic: "There’s something in the silence" Part II
The dawn of something new - almost summer of 2001
It’s good for a while, a few years even. They are close again, best friends, brothers. They pretend often enough not to be either. Sometimes it’s easy, just pretending, not knowing each other. It’s okay most of the times.
As long as it doesn’t hit too close to home.
It’s Dean’s fault when pretending changes into something else entirely. Sam’s his entire world, he’ll do anything, everything to keep him safe, to protect him. Sam’s the little brother, the best friend, and in the end, the only one Dean wants.
This case is nothing like Dean had anticipated. Sam isn’t even supposed to be here, busy with finals, preparing for college - not that Dean officially knows this, only he does and it tells a lot that Sam hasn’t said a word yet. But Sam is here, instead of Dad, and for a second Dean is way too happy about it.
“I’m sorry, sir… but could you repeat that?” The receptionist is blinking at them, unbelieving and somewhat suspicious as well. Dean feels for him. Really, he does. But then, it was him who opened his mouth and now he has to get them out of this situation again.
It’s a lovely little Bed & Breakfast in the middle of nowhere. Dad had said there’s a vengeful spirit here before he went off to hunt something bigger, better. The receptionist currently staring at them seems to be about sixteen, pimple-faced and dyed, greasy hair hanging into his eyes. Maybe he’s the grandson of the owner, who’s introduced herself briefly and vanished to prepare breakfast for the next day.
“We don’t need two queens,” Dean repeats, tries to grin and hopes to hell that it’s not a grimace that scares the guy even more than they already seem to. So he smooth’s it into a smile, shrugs and plays it as innocent as he can.
“Just read that we’d be welcome here, ya know? Kinda got word that we wouldn’t have to hide here. Just for the weekend.” Dean shrugs again, doesn’t dare to look at Sam and tries not to be too aware of the heat at his side. It’s Friday night and it must suck for the guy having to work here, but right now Dean’s not really feeling any kind of compassion.
The guy blinks again but his features have softened a bit, as if he knows what Dean’s talking about, which Dean’s counting on.
“Oh. Yeah… But… he said brothers when he came in.” The guy nods at Sam, looks a little sheepish and tries for a shy smile. It would work if Dean wasn’t so damn terrified of his own words and courage.
“Well, you know how it is. Always try for cover first. I haven’t told him that this place would be safe.”
The guy nods now, smiles wider and checks them in without any further questions. Dean tries not to blush too hard when he grabs the key and the guy tells them it’ll be a California king size. Sam’s suspiciously silent through it all and Dean knows he’ll hear all about once they are in private. He’s not really looking forward to it.
They walk up the stairs, Dean on the lookout for room 24 and Sam silently staring holes into Dean’s back. The key is digging into the skin of his palm but Dean can’t let loose, it’s like a lifeline and he needs to hold on. He has no idea what just happened, why he opened his mouth and said exactly what he said.
One bed, no matter how big, is not really a good idea considering how things are between them. There’s tension, has been for years, and it’s growing. Trying to keep a distance proves to be almost too difficult these days.
Sam’s always there, always taunting, with words and touches, with looks and unintentional gestures. Signals get crossed all the time and they end up fighting more often than not. It’s been like this ever since that spring night years ago. Neither of them knowing what to do, how to deal. Neither doing anything in the end.
They are brothers, still. Best friends most of the time. But there’s so much more between them now and Dean can’t describe it. He just knows that what he wants from Sam is something he’ll never have. Playing pretend might be the only way to get it and Dean’s beyond feeling guilty about it. Sam will be gone soon and maybe, maybe Dean will be able to think straight again.
The hit on the back of his head is more surprise than actually hurt, Dean protests anyway.
“What?”
Sam’s in the room as soon as Dean has the door open, stops just for a second to glare at the monstrous four-poster in the middle of it and then just throws his duffel on the comfy looking armchair right next to the bed.
“Dude... That… that has to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever gotten us into. I mean, really? You are aware of the fact that they’ll watch us, right? And you can’t do couple-ly if it bit you in the ass,” Sam huffs and Dean’s actually waiting for the foot stomp and the failing arms. He’s vaguely disappointed when it doesn’t happen.
“It’s not that bad, Sammy. Come on, it’s not the first time we have to pretend things like that.”
And it’s really not.
They once crashed a prom, going together, hand in hand, to give Dad time to torch and flog the Demi-God trying to eat half the kids for dinner. They had shocked the community quite a bit. They were gone the next morning but Dean thinks that was probably the most fun prom he’d been to.
“No. It’s just weird… coming from you and all. And really, how are we supposed to play this anyway?”
Sam has a point there, only Dean’s not going to acknowledge it. He’s never been the one to come up with ideas like this one. It was just there, in his head, after he’d read the brochure Sam almost threw at him on the way here. So it’s actually all Sam’s fault.
But anyway, it won’t be that hard and he tells Sam that much. There’s a huff in response and then Sam is taking inventory, so Dean does the same. It’s weird, this tension between them. But Dean’s used to it by now.
The room looks comfy, it’s a little on the frilly side and the bathroom has a tub. It even looks big enough to hold Sam and Dean’s about to say something about Sam maybe taking a hot bath and getting rid of the PMS when there’s a loud thud behind him.
Sam is just standing there, in the middle of the room, not moving an inch. The duffle is at his feet now, things spilling out and Dean frowns. Sam’s chest is moving slow, shallow almost, and he’s staring at something to Dean’s left. There isn’t anything. Just a plain, blank wall and nothing else. Sam doesn’t even blink.
It worries Dean more than it should and he’s right next to Sam a second later.
“Sammy?”
Sam nods, shows Dean that he’s still there but doesn’t stop staring at the point where one flowery wall meets the window.
“This place is weird, Dean. There was just… uh… a naked guy,” Sam says, as if in a trance and then turns to frown at Dean.
“Okay. Guess now we know it’s really haunted. Naked guy? Well, things are never not interesting when it’s ghosts.”
Sam snorts, a little inelegantly but there’s a small grin as well.
Then he shakes his head and goes back to sorting through his duffel. Sam has always tried to make rooms homey, so unpacking is one of his mechanisms to cope.
Sam being busy gives Dean a minute to just look. He does that a lot lately, just takes in the changes and the things that are still all Sam. His little brother is taller than him now and Dean’s not quite over that yet. He’s lanky, all arms and legs, with a twitchy kind of energy to it. Growing pains had been awful, though the result is rather nice to look at.
Dean just looks to have something to keep close, to remember Sam by. There are a lot of things that could do that, but Dean wants recent things to be there as well, no matter how pathetic it makes him feel.
He has to shake himself, has to busy himself with getting out his guns and checking them over. Looking at Sam for too long is never good. Dean’s surprisingly unafraid of getting caught. It’s a recent change in dynamics. He knows Sam’s looking back as well. Took them years to find that common ground again.
“A naked guy, huh? Wanna tell me something, Sammy?”
“It’s Sam. And no. You know what you need to know.” It comes out a little more annoyed than Dean was expecting, but when he looks at Sam though, everything seems to be back to the normal level of bitchiness.
“Who pissed in your coffee this morning?” It might be that Dean is getting a little annoyed himself. Sam’s attitude is a pain in the ass sometimes and Dean usually feels transported back into Sam’s worst teenage years.
“Dude! You told him we are lovers. That’s just not… that’s… freaky, okay? I didn’t expect it to come from you… and there was just a naked ghost in our room. Excuse me for finding that weird.”
When put that way Dean has to agree, it does sound weird. He shrugs. There isn’t anything he can do about that now.
“Let’s go and take a look around. I wanna see what’s up here and maybe find some useful information.”
They leave the room, agree to separate and search the house from bottom to roof. They never get that far though.
Just when Sam’s about to say something, the air around them grows icy cold, fogging up their breaths and making Dean turn around. There’s nothing there. Flickering lights and doors banging in the distance are the only indication that something’s amiss.
Dean feels it on his skin, hairs standing up and he’s reaching for Sam, wanting to pull him back into their room. He’s too late.
Sam yelps a second later and Dean sees him flying a good ten feet through the air, crashing against the stair’s banister. It doesn’t look good. Heart pounding, eyes wild and checking, Dean takes a step towards his brother.
“Sam!”
“’M good.” There’s a weak groan but Sam is standing again, looking carefully around and shaking his head when Dean raises an eyebrow. Nothing there. Not even a glimpse of what’s haunting this house. He checks Sam over, first with his eyes and then with his hands, is surprised when Sam holds still. Just bruises, he thinks, and silently sighs in relief.
“Damn. I think someone’s pissed we are here.”
“You think?” Sam’s rubbing his elbow but stays close to Dean now. He acts on impulse then, does something he hasn’t done in a while. He pulls Sam into a hug. A brief one, but still, a hug.
They don’t do this much anymore.
“Sweet, the two of you,” comes from behind them. They don’t exactly jump apart but Dean’s amused how spooked Sam looks, it’s not like he’s feeling any better, but Sam’s embarrassment is way more entertaining.
The owner of the B&B is standing right there, sweet smile on her face and understanding in her eyes. Dean’s not sure he believes it all but something about her puts him at ease. So he smiles back, pulls Sam closer and guides him back into their room.
“Research?”
“Yeah, okay,” Sam answers, sounding a little dazed and Dean only barely manages to hide a smirk. This case will be interesting.
“Just one weekend, Sammy. That’s all. Just have to pretend for one weekend.”
Sam settles down onto the big bed. It’s a sight Dean never thought he’d see like this. His brother is kind of beautiful, on display like that and looking unconcerned. Dean, though, knows Sam’s anything but.
“You sure about that?”
This is not about the case anymore. Sam opens his notebook, starts reading over print-outs and never once looks up at Dean. This question is so loaded, so important and Dean doesn’t have an answer. Has been looking for one for years and hasn’t found it yet.
---
Research goes surprisingly well. They don’t complain.
Dean should be concerned about how easily he slips into the role of doting partner when Sam’s blushing every time they so much as get a look on the street. It’s kinda cute to watch but Dean would rather face a ghoul than admit that out loud. And, it gives him chances to watch Sam some more.
In the end, it’s Sam who figures out that the town and B&B haven’t always been this open and liberal about people’s ‘lifestyles’.
One close-minded guy was seemingly enough to unsettle a whole village. Hate crimes are always the ones that come back to bite people in the ass. Dean says as much and has Sam laughing for the first time in a while.
The connection to the B&B is harder to find.
After one uncomfortable night, where both of them lie rigid half the time and plastered together the rest of the night, they spend one whole day with their noses in books and copies and their eyes clued to very slow websites on a very old computer in the town library.
Dean shivers every time he thinks back to the night, the way Sam was clinging to him and how Dean just held on, unmoving, afraid he’d destroy this rare chance. Sam ducks his head every time Dean so much as glances his way.
It takes them almost the whole Saturday and three more encounters with the naked guy in their room until Dean is the one to read the right newspaper article. Sam had resorted to going through the archives, thankfully online and printable.
Sometimes it’s good to have a full on geek as a brother.
“Got it.” Dean grins.
Sam’s again sprawled out on the bed and presenting a view that Dean finds hard to resist. Lanky form, floppy hair in his eyes, and slightly amused look on his face. Sam knows how he looks, Dean’s sure of it. They have been playing this game for years now, dancing without ever touching, taunting and teasing without ever going through with it. Sometimes Dean thinks it’s just his mind playing tricks but sometimes Sam’s so close, so forceful that Dean knows there is something.
“So?” Sam asks.
“Well, turns out, Lydia’s brother batted for the other team.”
“Lydia?”
“Oh right, the owner. Lovely little lady that thinks we’re sweet?”
Sam nods, doesn’t comment and motions for Dean to go on. It’s still so very easy to rile Sam up sometimes.
“Right. So her brother had a secret affair with one of the Sherriff’s guys. He was found dead, gunned down by our very nice suspect. The Deputy wasn’t found, presumed missing, said to have fled the scene.”
“And the scene was where?” Sam’s on the right track, always thinking about the details.
“Right here, Sammy. This lovely B&B was the scene. They got caught in the act, so to speak. Troy was gunned down here, Michael vanished and the shooter, Thomas McClean, was arrested on site. They never found Michael.”
“Guess, that’s what we have to do now, huh. And I presume right when I think ‘here’ means the B&B as well as this room?” Sam doesn’t look too amused now, rather sad and a little anxious.
“Yep. Naked guy is Michael, I think. Search the room?”
They did that before, found nothing suspicious, but a drywall that doesn’t seem to belong in the room. Dean frowns, looks at the wall in question and then back at the article he’s been reading.
“Sammy?”
“Hmm?”
“McLean was a contractor, working on rebuilding the rooms back then.” Dean’s scratching the back of his neck, feeling slightly bad about what comes next and he can see Sam frowning even more. They should have probably seen that connection way sooner.
“The wall?”
“The one and only.”
They don’t lose time then, don’t even think about asking Lydia for permission. They know she knows what’s going on, having asked subtle questions and being told that many have tried to get rid of the haunting and never managed.
Dean’s halfway through the plaster, can see the hollow space behind it when he realizes that Sam’s not at his side anymore.
“A little help would be nice, Sammy.”
There’s no answer, not a single word or sound from his brother. Dean turns, comes face to face with a very flushed looking Sam and only has a second to realize how close they are.
Then soft lips are on his. Hands under his shirt, on skin and holding on.
Dean’s too shocked to react, clenches his hands at his sides instead of shoving Sam away.
Lips, hot as hell, demand response, get it a second later when Dean can’t hold back anymore and opens up. They kiss, for the first time ever, and it’s very different from anything Dean’s ever dared to dream of. Way different and maybe not right.
Sam’s demanding, on him and towering. It’s hot and intimidating at the same time. Dean secretly likes it. Lips go wandering then. Sam’s hands are on his shoulders and for a minute or two, Dean lets it happen. He takes what he can get.
But then, Dean comes back to himself. This is not Sam, can’t be, not like this. So Dean moves, shoves Sam a little and almost moans when way too soft lips detach from his throat. He pulls Sam far enough away to be able to look at him. Eyes wide, pupils dilated and cheeks flushed an almost unhealthy red, Sam’s panting and staring back at him.
“Sammy… what?”
“Dunno… had to. Felt like I needed to. I’m sorry. God… Dean, I’m so sorry. I never… it should have never happened.”
There’s a push from behind bringing them closer together again and Dean suddenly has a vague idea what’s going on. He never really thought about if ghosts could possess, take over bodies but maybe they can and do.
“Sam. Sam! Calm down, it’s okay.” Dean doesn’t really know what to say here, how to calm Sam down. His brother’s practically frantic now.
“I… I don’t know how I could… I don’t know.”
“It was Michael, Sam. Gonna have to salt and burn him. You up for it?”
It’s not a good way to deal with everything but it’s the Winchester way. Deal with the most pressing matter - the ghost - now and with everything else - Sam - later. Dean doesn’t like it but before anything else happens, he really wants that ghost torched and gone.
Lips tingling, Sam’s taste still on his tongue, Dean starts digging again, faster, more furious. Sam’s right beside him, silent and brooding. It’s not ideal but it’ll get the job done.
The corpse is hidden in one of the corners between the new drywall and the old brick stone wall, wrapped in bed sheets and bound with rope. The head’s laying free though, gun hole visible and gaping. It’s a cruel sight and Sam turns away for a second, breathes deep before he helps Dean get Michael from his grave.
They get him down and out into the backyard without anybody seeing them. It’s dark now, chances of discovery a little lower and they make it out into the woods without any incidents.
“Lucky that the B&B has its own forest as a backyard, huh?” Dean tries, just to say something into the oppressing silence. It doesn’t work because Sam only nods, helps shoveling the grave and never says a word, never looks at Dean either.
-----
Dean grimaces at the smell in the car. Torching bones, corpses really, is never a clean thing but this time it seems even dirtier than usual. His fingers are sticky around the steering wheel, his clothes cling to his body and he feels the sweat tickling down his back.
It’s not a warm night but Dean feels flushed all over. Flashes of Sam’s lips on his, tongues battling for a second, come back unbidden. His mind is blank otherwise, no words there to say, no feelings to suppress. Nothing is there right now, as if his mind’s gone into shock as well. His body is only reacting now.
“Sorry,” is mumbled, almost inaudible but it does what Sam’s presence alone couldn’t, it snaps Dean right back into the present.
“It’s okay, Sammy. It wasn’t you.” The alibi sentence, the way out for Sam. They’ll forget it after that and Dean will never ever wish it wasn’t so. Can’t hope, shouldn’t do so anyway.
“I… wanted it, though. It was - is all there. Has been for a while… and you… you know it.”
And Dean does. He knows. He just never allowed it to be acknowledged. No words still, so he nods, knows Sam will be able to interpret.
“Don’t… not the brothers argument. We’re beyond that. Our lives aren’t anywhere near normal. Just not that argument.”
Dean nods again because he knows any words here would be useless. He can’t argue with Sam about it. There are no arguments he could use that wouldn’t make him feel like the biggest liar in the world.
There’s only darkness now, headlights not giving much away. It’s like the inside of Dean’s mind. It’s a scary picture.
“Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing, Sam. I said it’s okay.” And somehow it really is. It was a stupid idea in the first place and, of course, the ghost had to latch on to the unresolved tension between them. It’s nobody’s fault.
“Still wanted it,” Sam, almost petulantly, says.
He turns around to dig through the basket in the backseat, courtesy of Lydia, who thanked them a thousand times and insisted on giving them something for the road. Its cookies and tea, so very made for Sam. Lydia had handed them over with a wink and a very not so subtle remark about aphrodisiacs in teas. Sam’s blush had taken an hour to recede.
“Yeah… I know. I…” Dean’s not sure what to say now, how to respond. He can’t just give away secrets he’s kept locked up tight for years. Not just like that.
“One day?” Sam’s turned towards him, resigned look on his face but not rejected, a little hopeful even. It’s a good look on him, Dean thinks.
“One day. When you are back, maybe.”
Sam stiffens, stares at Dean with something close to fear and then just blinks. Dean’s hearts skips a little, it’s the one talk he’s been waiting for.
“You know.”
It’s not a question but Dean answers anyway, “Of course, I know. Saw the letter when it came. Thought you’d tell me when you’re ready. You are my brother. You’re a damn geek and you’ve been going on about college for years. I get it, Sammy. You’ll leave.”
Sam, in a move Dean doesn’t anticipate, moves closer, tentatively touches Dean and when it seems okay, settles against his side. They haven’t done that in years either. Dean misses it. Head on Dean’s shoulder, Sam nibbles on one of the cookies and then takes a deep breath.
“I… Sorry. I wanted to tell you. Just didn’t know how or when. Please, help me get it out to dad?”
Dean nods, knows they’ll face dad together, like they always do when things are important. But Dean already knows how that talk will end. He’ll help Sam anyway.
“Dean, I have to. It’s… I need to know if I can live on my own, need to find out what this is. This thing between us. I don’t want to be away from you. I just have to. I simply have to.”
And that’s it. Dean knows Sam’s right but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.
“I’ll drive you. To the bus station, at least. When it’s time. Let me do that?”
“Okay. Yeah, okay. Just… yeah.”
One day. It’s the thing that keeps running circles round in his head while he floors the gas and lets the Impala fly down the road. Somewhere in the glove compartment its miniature brother rattles around, still there after all these years.
One day.
It feels like life is taking turns Dean’s never seen in his path. He feels on the edge, like maybe there’s the dawn of something new just peaking on the horizon. This time, Dean pretends that things are okay. Just for a little while. As long as it will take for Sam to pack, tell Dad and then go.
Sometimes, pretending really is the only way for Dean to have the things he wants.
***
2001 - 2005 The time in-between
The kiss, a real one, on the hood of the Impala is inevitable. It has to happen and Dean has to let Sam go. He watches until the tail lights of the bus vanish and only then climbs back into his own car.
His lips still tingle, feel bitten and raw, feel the way they should. Dean wants to cling to the memory, knows there won’t be another chance for a long time. It feels right this time though, but still not right enough.
Sam’s his brother, and right now that’s all he is.
Sam’s still the one Dean wants and now he can think about it without having that small hope deep inside of him stomped upon. But it’s still just in his mind. Not real. Only something he wants. For now.
If he jerks off in the shower or on lonely motel beds to the image, the feel of Sam’s lips on his, Dean never dares to think about it. He’s already too wrapped around Sam, a life that’s not his own, to care much now. Hand on his cock, fingers holding tight, mouth open and Sam’s name on his lips. He allows this in the darkness of the room, far away from everything and everyone that matters.
Dean’s lost for a while, four years to be exact, but he always knows where Sam is.
The next time he sees Sam, and actually talks to him, it’s in the middle of Sam’s living room with the gorgeous girlfriend watching them. The twist in Dean’s chest, the feeling of hurt and loss, it’s all there, for a second, maybe two.
Then Dean grins and is the big brother he needs to be right then.
PART III