Hold On Until Dawn Chapter 1A REPOST

[jcrgirl]

Title: Hold On Until Dawn Chapter 1A REPOST
Author: Insertcode11 with jcrgirl and imogen_lily
Banner: imogen_lily
Pairing: Dean/Sam, OMC/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Overall: Wincest, AU, bondage, non-con (not the boys), abuse, weecest (Sam is 16) in parts
Word Count: ~ 9600
Beta: glimmerella
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Just playing in Kripke's sandbox.
Summary: AU after the events of Devil's Trap (1x22). John's alive and there is no deal. In October of 2007 Castiel brings a case to Sam and Dean that takes them to Pike Creek, Delaware and in all appearances seems like a case that was never fully solved when they were in town in October of 2000. They settle into the town and their cover roles easily enough, though the hunt itself is puzzling and elusive. However, Sam's edgy and secretive and Dean's not exactly thrilled to be back in the town where Sam first got it in his head to go to Stanford. At least they have the generous help of John's old Marine buddy and closest friend outside of the supernatural world-who Sam seems to have an inexplicable problem with. Dean will find, just as Sam did when he was sixteen that the supernatural aren’t the only horrifying things that stir in the coldest hours just before the dawn.

A/N: This is the story of a story. This story was started by the wonderfully talented Insercode11. She posted the first three chapters and wrote an additional three. When she wasn't able to finish this fic, I volunteered to complete it. I only hope to live up to her beautiful beginning. This Chapter is her original work, reposted to re-familiarize us all on where we last saw our boys. All praise belongs to her.



Dean wakes up feeling like he is strapped to a furnace. He groans and shifts, finding it difficult to move freely. A long, pencil-point thin strip of light shines where the thick curtains don't quite touch and nearly blind him in the otherwise dark room.

Gradually, his mind starts to differentiate between awake and dreaming and he feels the weight of gravity and awareness press on him, slowly waking him. He also becomes aware of the hot temple and cheek cradles in the crook of his left shoulder and chest. The weight there cuts off his circulation and his fingers tingle uncomfortably. But there is also soft breath fanning across his chest, whispering across his nipple and despite the blazing furnace he shivers.

A heavy arm was slings across his torso. Long, thin fingers hook into his right hip like a lifeline. Sam’s naked thigh falls between his legs and rubs against his crotch which explains the fire down there, at least. Dean shifts again, whether to get more air or more friction even he isn’t entirely sure. When he moves he feels the delicious silky smooth skin of Sam’s upper thigh nudge his cock Dean grunts, bucks his hips once, twice, for more leverage.

Moving suddenly, he hooks his hands beneath Sam’s arms and pulls and tugs him until his little brother is sprawled on top of him. Dean huffs under the weight, but doesn't mind it.

The weight of Sam on top of him is somehow sweeter and more liberating than sleep and dreaming. Sam grunts discontentedly during the upheaval but immediately falls back asleep, his nose and lips pressed against Dean’s neck. Grinning now, Dean reaches and cups Sam’s head with both hands, pulling on him until Dean could reach Sam’s lips with his own. Sam’s mouth is parted in his sleep so Dean enters like it's an open invitation. He lazily explores Sam’s mouth, taking special care to tease the roof of it.

Sam grumbles into Dean’s mouth, lazily meets his brother’s tongue, sighs and brings up his left hand, pushing his palm into Dean’s face and lifting up from Dean’s lips. Sam lurches over until his face is buried into the pillow to the right of Dean’s neck. Sam pats his face indulgently and Dean has to shut his eyes to avoid long, errant fingers.

“Thas’ nice, D’n. Wanna sleep.” Sam commands and snuffles further into the pillow as he lets his hand slip off of Dean’s face. Dean huffs, torn between annoyance and amusement. Still, he won't be deterred. He begins licking and nibbling at the long stretch of neck exposed to him. He runs his hands up and down muscled sides and digs the pads of his fingers into a tapered waist. He moves to Sam’s ass, kneading the flesh there. He moans when the pressure forces Sam’s hips to grind against his own. He lifts his hips again, creating slow friction.

He pushes and pulls Sam’s flesh, slipping a finger along the base of Sam’s spine. Sam moans and his hips stutter and Dean grins in triumph. Gyrating slowly, Dean continues to let his finger stroke up and down the cleft of Sam’s ass. Dean could feel Sam’s shiver in his own soul and can't help but to move a little harder and faster, desperate now to crawl into Sam and never leave.

Sam finally, finally, moves. One of Sam’s hands grip Dean’s hair, pulling him off of Sam’s neck. Dean sees Sam’s head move before he feels wet, hot on his right nipple.

Dean can't see Sam’s face very clearly because of the dark, but he feels the flutter of eyelashes and knows that Sam’s eyes are closed, relishing in his work. Sam suckles and nips, lavishing careful attention and exploration that they hadn’t indulged in what seemed like years. Dean was almost unaware of his hips thrusting faster, seeking more contact, more heat, more Sam.

“C’mere, babe.” Dean says as he leans forward, tugging Sam until their chapped lips crash.

“Don’ call me tha’.” Sam mumbles into his mouth but Dean can feel a sweet smile painted across his lips. “You know you love it.” Dean rumbles.

His hands, which haven’t faltered their busy teasing, pull at Sam’s cheeks, that one daring finger skimming over Sam’s hole once, twice, before circling it. Sam moans and gasps and grinds into Dean in encouragement. Sam rides Dean in the dark.

They go slow, enjoying the build-up. Dean eases into velvet tight heat. He teases with nudges, then opens Sam up with excruciatingly slow with shallow thrusts. When Sam is seated he only tilts his head back and rolls his hips, and Dean lets him enjoy the feeling of fullness because though he burns to move he also basks in the feeling of home and here and never going to leave you.

Dean watches as the thin strip of light the heavy dark curtains failed to cut off slip-slides and rolls over Sam’s skin like dawn so that Sam is the only thing in the dark room that shines. Sam lifts and falls, slow and short for only a minute before it’s too much for both of them and Sam falls faster and Dean lifts harder. Dean sees Sam’s abs flutter and heave, sees Sam’s breaths becoming shorter and faster.

Sam moans loudly sitting up and in the light while Dean grunts quietly down in the bed in the dark. Dean grips Sam’s hips harder, wanting to leave his fingerprints.

When they’re close-and Dean knows when because Sam’s nails are digging deeper into Dean’s arms and Dean can’t seem to breathe though all he hears is his breathing-Dean begins to stroke Sam’s dick. He’s not sure because he can’t think right now but a few strokes are meant to be teasing-slow pull and flick across his slit. But soon Dean is pulling and twisting hard and fast and Sam lets go of Dean and arches back, free-falling through orgasm, coating Dean’s hand with his warmth. Dean shoves hard into Sam again and groans through his own release and shutters through the weightlessness.

When Dean opens his eyes again, not knowing that he closed them, he has a second to see Sam riding through the remnants, his throat stretched back and Adam’s apple bobbing. When they’re breathing again, Dean helps Sam pull up. Sam collapses full-body onto Dean who’s unprepared and loses his breath.

“Gettin’ heavy there, darlin’.” Dean drawls as Sam seems to gather enough strength to slide off of him and back onto the bed.

“Shut up, Dean. Sleep now.” Sam says as if he exchanged sex for more sleep. But then Sam opens his eyes and Dean can clearly see hazel for the first time that morning, but Sam's eyes are the only thing he can half way make out. Sam smiles and Dean only knows this because his fingers are over Sam’s lips.

It’s moments before Sam’s breathing evens out and by that time Dean’s pretty much decided that they’re not leaving bed for the rest of the day. He kisses Sam’s forehead and pulls and shifts until Sam is on his side facing Dean and Dean’s arm is locked around Sam’s waist and their legs are tangled.

“Cuddler.” Sam accuses though he snuffles and wiggles until he’s comfortable. “’M so not.” Retorts, trying for indignant.

“You flail and kick in your sleep. Just tryin’ to protect myself.” Sleep’s coaxing his eyelids and sound keeps on fading in and out as he starts to go under.

“’Kay, Dee.” In rumpled sheets and sweaty skin, Dean goes to sleep to the feeling of eyelashes sighing against his collarbone.

***

Dean is yanked out of sleep a second time by Sam’s indignant squawk and one of his flailing limbs connecting with Dean’s chest. Dean has fast reactions, but before he can even open his eyes Sam’s already jumped so hard he rolls off the bed, landing with a hard oomph! in the space between the bed and the wall.

Dean jabbed his hand under the pillow, coming out with one of Sam’s knives as he jackknifes into a sitting position. He has just a split second for his brain to registerCas before he came face to face literally with the angel. Pain sparks white behind Dean’s eyes and he drops back to the bed, knife cast aside as he clutches at his nose and forehead.

“Holy shit, Cas!” He yells at the angel who remains unmoved except for a slight tilt of his head, except Dean’s sinuses are already swelling with the impact so it comes out “’Oly thit, Cath!”

Castiel merely looks puzzled at the spectacle, either unsure as to why Dean was wriggling in pain or not quite understanding the extreme reaction of the Winchester brothers.

Sam’s long, thin hands appear over the edge of the bed, scrambling for purchase in the sheets to haul himself back up. As Dean writhes pitifully Sam regards the angel who perches cross-legged in the middle of the bed, staring at them both with his head cocked slightly to the side.

His “tax accountant” outfit was rumpled and the tie loose from where Castiel has no real concept (yet, Dean's working on it) of self-image.

“What the hell?” Sam did not squeak. He yanks the comforter and pulls it around his nakedness before throwing the sheet over Dean, who was too busy cursing and nursing his face to notice that he was splayed and nude before an Angel of the Lord. “Cas. I thought we talked about these surprise drop-ins?”

Cool blue eyes turn from their serious contemplation of Dean’s antics to Sam, who looks highly embarrassed and a little panicked. Apparently, Castiel had startled the brothers. However, he had only wanted to get their attention. He lets his gaze take in the nakedness of his charges, admiring his Father’s work.

“I was waiting for you to wake up.” Castiel answers simply. Sam knew that the twitch at the angel’s lips meant that he was smiling fondly at them. However, Sam didn’t feel particularly grateful for the angel's intense attention this morning, his heart still racing from the scare of waking up to someone leaning over him.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Cas. Personal space? Not to mention watching us sleep is kind of creepy. Why didn’t you just wake us up?”

Cas sways a little and it is as close to a shrug as they were going to get. “I did not want to be rude.” Sam scoffs at the irony.

“Oh my God.” Dean moaned from the bed. “What are you made out of? Granite?!” He slowly lifted his hand from his face and turned to Sam, his eyes watery and big. “’M I bleedin’?”

Sam shakes his head and Dean frowns. “Maybe just a little?” Sam rolls his eyes again and Dean pouts. “It still hurts.” Dean whines and lifts his eyebrows so suggestively that him actually saying ‘kiss it better’ would be more subtle.

“You’re shameless.” Sam declares and fails completely to hide his affectionate smile when Dean beams proudly at him.

“Actually.” Castiel feels the need to explain because despite the Winchester’s occasional surprising amount of knowledge and ingenuity, they seem to be clueless about most things. “Angels are not made of granite, but rather the Grace of Heaven. I am made of an impenetrable light.”

Sam seems vaguely interested while Dean sports a blank look. “Oh. That’s. Enlightening.” Sam tries to grasp for words when it becomes apparent Castiel is waiting for some kind of response.

“Why are you two without clothes together?” Cas asks and Sam makes this painful sound that immediately concerns the angel.

“You know…” Dean waves a hand around vaguely. “We’ve had this talk, Cas.”

Puzzled at Dean’s non-answer (it was incredibly hard for humans to talk directly, it seemed) Castiel made to make further inquiries when Sam interrupts. “What’s up, Cas? Why are you here?” Sam asks, trying to steer Cas towards the reason behind the rude interruption (which was more important than giving the angel “the talk” in Sam’s book). Sam stands up, wincing a little at the lingering burn in his backside.

“There’s a hunt-“ Cas begins but is cut off when Dean groans and kicks his legs childishly against the bed.

“No. Oh no no, no! This is our vacation! We aren't even supposed to get out of bed today!” From the floor Sam raises an eyebrow because he hadn’t been part of that plan-not that he didn’t mind it. In fact, it sounds a hell of a lot better than heading straight for the Roadhouse only to listen to Dad and Ellen’s creepy, angry old-people flirting. Sam had actually been thinking of trying to get Dean to go to a beach somewhere before it got too cold.

“Then we were gonna go to the Roadhouse!” Now Dean was full on pouting and Castiel looks stunned and slightly uncomfortable by the behavior while Sam shoots the angel a commiserating and sympathetic glance. Dean normally doesn't refuse a hunt Cas gets for them and usually wants the angel to help. However, they had hunted almost non-stop for the past several weeks thanks to Cas’s “help” and they were tired. So, Dean was pouting and dragging his feet on this one because they really needed a break.

“What is the point of spending all day naked in bed?” Castiel muses.

“Forgot you are a three-millennia-year-old virgin.” Dean deadpans.

Castiel frowns. “The opportunity never presented itself, I told you. And you did not answer.”

“Yes, I did.” Dean insists as a dismissal and swivels his pitiful face to Sam. “Granite-Face gave me a headache.”

Sam makes a show of sighing laboriously before wandering to the first aid kit.

Castiel’s lips thin out. “The medieval Persians used a mix of opium, cannabis, and the oil from the willow tree to remedy the headache, I believe.” Castiel shifts. “I shall go get these for you.”

“Wait!” Sam exclaims and places his hand on Castiel’s shoulder before the angel could disappear. “Thanks, Cas. But I have aspirin.” He gives the bottle a shake for emphasis. “It’ll do just fine.”

Castiel nods, studying the bottle in Sam’s hands, figuring this must be the current remedy for headaches. He looks up and Sam smiles kindly at him before moving to tend his brother.

“What is it? The hunt?” Sam asks as he hands Dean the aspirin and a cup of water.

“I’m not sure.” Castiel says, something like a rueful look floating to Sam. “I just know that a few people are already dead. When I went there the air was…heavy with something negative.”

Dean looks at Cas from beneath the hand that shields his eyes from the light Sam just flipped on and Sam pauses in his rummaging through his duffle bag. “You wanna be a little more vague, Cas?” Dean asked.

“Negative. Not necessarily evil, but something...malcontent. It permeates the entire town. Whatever this is, it is serious.” Castiel attempts to explain.

“Hell, that’s not ominous at all.” Dean snarks around his water. “Look. Cas. I’m glad you’re helping us out with hunts and everything, really. But last night was the first time we had more than a four hours night sleep in days. We haven’t had a decent meal in just as long. And we’re going to go to wherever because your Spidey-sense tells us to?”

“I do not understand that reference.”

“Please get dressed, Dean.” Sam murmurs as he sets out clean clothes on the dresser for after his shower. “It just looks like foreplay when you’re arguing with an angel that's in your bed without clothes on.”

“I do not see why it matters." Castiel says with genuinely curious glance towards Sam. "Dean has a masculine body that is pleasing to the eye and is a supreme example of my Father’s work.”

Dean grins and sits up in bed, leaning against the headboard and inspects his own muscular body. “Hear that, Sammy?” He looks up.

“I’m a work of God-art. I’m the poster boy for perfection.” He preens as he folds his hands behind his head. “It’s all natural, too. Don’t have to work on it at all.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Poster boy for humility, you mean.” But Sam really can’t help but run an appreciative eye over Dean’s exposed body. Broad shoulders and chest, strong stomach and abs. Dean was all hard, strong planes that could hold Sam down and-Sam swallows, his eyes widening. He was getting an erection with Castiel in the room. He was getting an erection in front of an angel of the Lord-practically in front of God!

Cas continues over Sam’s side comment. “However, Sam is more aesthetically appealing to the eye and proportional, most likely because he is taller than you, Dean so it should be obvious people will gravitate to him more physically,”

Sam freezes and Dean’s eyes fly wide.

“What?” Dean cries, wounded. Sam scrambles for the discarded jeans from last night, not wanting his body to be the subject of further conversation.

“Well, I mean, yeah Sammy’s pretty hot.” Dean amends his exclamation because it is hard to fight Cas on this because while Dean knew he was a sexy piece of perfection, Dean kinda also thought that his Sammy was beautiful. Not that he would admit to that in any situation besides the brink of orgasm. First of all, it was kinda girly. Also, Sam might kill him.

“I-I’m more masculine, right?” Dean asks instead, hopeful.

Sam throws Dean’s boxers in his face before Castiel can answer. Dean pouts a little at him but Sammy’s back is turned as he buttons his jeans so Dean gets distracted. He throws aside the covers to put the boxers on, not really caring if Cas saw him naked because it wouldn’t be the first time. However, Cas popping in on them both naked and in bed together was new.

Two months after Cas rescued them, he had popped in on them kissing. Sam and Dean were still heavily injured at the time and could barely move but were finally both awake and reunited. It wasn’t much of a make-out session since it was hard for Sam to move his upper body and Dean’s left leg was still in a brace. Sam had been incredibly demure around the angel back then, so Dean with his caustic attitude had asked if Castiel had a problem with his charges being involved in a homosexual and incestuous relationship.

Castiel had responded simply and honestly that he believed that God was just happy that the two had found love. The point of Christ’s sacrifice, after all, had been to redirect the Old Testament’s laws and reestablish love and free will as the basis of Christianity and all of God’s creation. Also, Castiel had pointed out, laws against incest originated in ancient Babylon with the Code of Hammurabi and was established in order to keep genetic lines pure and strong in order to have a strong empire.

In fact, the Jews had not had written laws or history until their captivity in Babylon and many of the Babylonians laws and customs were included in Scripture, including “eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth” and laws against incest.

And so Castiel had glided right past the heavy moral issues of Sam and Dean’s relationship and got right to the awkward questions like how did two males have sex with each other, anyway? Sam suspected that while Castiel was curious about sex as an act itself, he was more interested in the concept of a romantic relationship since the only relationship he had experienced in Heaven was the one of brotherhood between him and other angels.

“All I’m saying is that we’re already on our way to the Roadhouse. We’re tired. And you’re not even sure that there is a hunt.” Dean returns to the main topic.

“But I am sure.” Castiel insists while rising to his feet. “I said that there was a hunt.”

“You’re a lousy guardian angel, making us work all the time.” Dean insists petulantly. The sigh Castiel lets out is nothing short of explosive. The Winchesters, particularly Dean, had a talent for pushing Castiel’s patience. And Castiel gets a little defensive when they depict him as a cherub-like angel on their shoulder-a habit that they have failed to grow out of despite Castiel’s best efforts.

He liked protecting the Winchesters. Dean was a good man, a protector, courageous, and unfailingly loyal. Sam was also a good man, righteous, kind, and pure despite many tragedies and Azazel’s influence.

As much as he liked them, however, they seemed to go out of their way to vex him. Sam had once explained it as “teasing” and that it was a sign of affection. Though they could be frustrating, this “teasing” was an improvement from their initial reactions to the truth that angels really did exist. Sam had always believed in God and angels, but he had been intimidated and self-conscious around Castiel at first and still was on occasion. Dean had been almost impossible. Angry, sarcastic, almost cruel to Castiel (not that it mattered to the angel at the time).

It had taken time, but eventually Castiel had determined that Dean was so angry because he couldn’t believe that angels and God were real and didn’t do anything to save their mother, or Sam’s girlfriend Jessica, or victims of demons and other supernatural creatures. Castiel had uselessly endeavored to explain to Dean. Sam had intervened then, talking to the angel alone face to face for the first time to tell him he just had to give Dean time and he would adjust on his own.

“I’m not a guardian angel. I’m a warrior of the Lord.” He corrects primly. “This isn’t like you to turn down a hunt. I said that this could be bad. What’s really keeping you?”

“Fine!” Dean declares, throwing his arms out. “Me and Sam haven’t had sex inforever!”

“Dean!” That came from Sam, who had moved to finish cleaning and oiling the weapons they had set out last night. Dean did have a point. They had been so busy lately that they didn’t do much more than rush through getting each other off so they could collapse into bed and exhausted rest as soon as possible.

“Well it’s true!” Was all Dean could offer. He rubs the back of his head, only a little embarrassed about the way he blurted it. Overall, Dean wasn’t really shy about sex-especially sex with Sam because it was fucking hot and he wasn’t ashamed of it.

“You and Sam copulated just last night.” Castiel offers, confused. “And this morning.”

“Oh. My. God. How do you know that?” Sam asks, mortified. Yes, he realized that there would be no such things as secrets or privacy with Cas, but he wasn’t ready for this conversation, damn it!

“It’s sex, Cas. Copulation is the biggest turn-off word ever.” Dean interjects. “Besides. I mean, yeah, we had sex yesterday, but not near enough to make up for the past week. I’ve got needs Cas. I’m a young, hot gu-”

“Shut up about sex! Tell us about the hunt!” Sam interrupts desperately. He turns to Dean, his expression tired and a little regretful. “Dean. People are dying. We can take an extended vacation after this one.”

Dean slumps but looks resigned. “Yeah, I know. So. The deaths? There a pattern?”

Castiel frowns, his brows furrowing in something like concentration and consternation. “I do not see a pattern as of yet. Two adults are dead, but four students from the local high school have also died. I went in there, to the school. That’s where that malicious feeling is heaviest.”

Dean frowns, leaning forward. Sam’s body sags as he picks up the other flashlight and the extra set of batteries, as if he could feel the weight of the deaths on his shoulders.

“Kids?” Dean croaks. “No idea what’s happening?” Castiel just shakes his head, his face grim.

Any death was tragic, of course. But kids-children to teens-really bothered Sam and Dean. They just seemed more vulnerable and when they died it seemed that they were robbed of so much life and potential. Maybe Sam and Dean felt more protective of kids than adults and so their loss was felt on a deeper moral level.

“How old? What’s the cause of death?” Sam asks softly.

“Teenagers.” Cas answers gruffly. “So far one adult’s charred remains were found in his house-which was untouched by the flames.”

Dean looks sick. “The kids are dying that way?”

Castiel purses his lips. “No. The other deaths have varied. Hanging. Slit wrists. One fell out of the top story window of his house and broke his neck. One girl was hit by a car. They’re ruling those as suicides. The other adult was stabbed in the abdomen. I’m not sure what authorities are saying about that one.”

Sam frowns. “How do you know it’s not suicides?”

Blue eyes blink slowly. “I do not know. I only looked into the hanging. The boy supposedly hung himself from the rafters in his foyer.”

“What’s so suspicious about that?” Dean asked with a shrug.

“It was a high ceiling. There was no way to get up there. There wasn’t a ladder found at the crime scene. And the boy was restricted to a wheel chair.”

Sam swallows past the lump in his throat and grimaces at the bad taste the hunt was already leaving in his mouth. “And the body that was burnt in a house that didn’t burn? How are they explaining that?”

“To my knowledge the authorities are claiming something called ‘spontaneous combustion’.”

Sam shoots Dean an incredulous look and picks up a shot gun and an oil rag to clean it.

“Spontaneous combustion?” Dean snaps. “Really? Fuckin’ insane.”

Castiel shifted his weight. “I am certain that they are mistaken about the cause of death.”

“Of course they are! It’s amazing what people will cook up to explain away things like this.” Dean agrees.

“Actually.” Sam feels the need to throw in. “Many biologists believe that spontaneous combustion is entirely possible under certain circumstances-“ He is cut off when a pillow is thrown into his back. He shoots a glare at Dean over his shoulder.

“Don’t start, Geek Boy.”

Sam huffs but turned back to the shot gun. “We need to hurry and get packed then. With the pattern so unpredictable, we don’t know when the next death will be.”

Dean runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. We’ll get food on the way. Let’s finish here and pack up.” He sighs and sways to his feet from the bed, stretching out sore muscles though the tension was already settled deep in his bones. “Where’s this place anyway? Please don’t tell me it’s another hick town in the Mid West? Don’t know how much more I can take of the backwoods.”

Sam snorts because as much as Dean said he hated them he seemed the most at home in those “hick towns”. Sam himself preferred small towns because Sam always thought he felt loneliness and isolation more profoundly in heavily populated cities.

“Pike Creek, Delaware.”

Before Dean could voice his recognition a loud crash from the table startles them both (though Castiel doesn't even jump, the bastard). Sam had dropped the shotgun, which had hit the edge of the table before clattering to the floor. The oil rag had fluttered to rest on top of Sam’s bare foot.

“What the hell, Sam?” Dean couldn’t stop himself from barking out. “You could have killed yourself if it was loaded!”

Sam doesn’t flinch at Dean’s reprimand, or jump on the defensive. Sam hates being told what to do or chastised for a way he did things. So when Sam doesn’t even turn around to face Dean or immediately snap back, Dean frowns. Castiel cocks his head thoughtfully, also seeing Sam’s unusual behavioral pattern.

“W-we…” Sam starts and stops and his hands clench at his sides. He turns and faces them but fails to meet their eyes. “I-I.” He swallows and stalks to the dresser and snatches his clothes. His face is pale but otherwise unreadable, like even Sam doesn’t know what to think. “I’m going to take a shower now.”

He rushes past the angel and his brother and closes the bathroom door so quietly behind him that they can all hear the lock click in place.

Dean’s eyes are wide when he turns his head away from where Sam disappeared into the bathroom and stares at Cas. “What the hell?”

Castiel takes an uncertain step towards the bathroom and frowns and Dean interprets that as worried. “Sam seems… disconcerted.” He turns to Dean, eyes snapping like lightening. The angel had only sensed vague confusion and a notion of panic from the youngest Winchester. He was concerned and turned to Dean for an answer.

Dean shrugs, forgetting to be defensive in his confusion. “I don’t know. I mean. We went to Pike Creek once on a hunt. Sam was in high school then. I don’t know. Sam and Dad fought really bad back then, but it seemed they fought all the time after that, right until Sam left for Stanford.” Dean sighs helplessly and goes to the bathroom door and knocks, putting his ear to the door to hear the shower running. He thinks about trying to pick the door but decides that he doesn’t want to overreact.

“Sammy. You OK?” Dean asks. When Sam didn’t answer Dean practically shouts to be heard over the running water.

“I’m fine.” Sam calls but his voice has a thin quality to it that makes Dean frown. “You know. Obviously we didn’t get whatever it was the first time around.”

Sam remembers that things were stressful with Dad in Pike Creek last time, and Sam might not have happy memories. Also, it was frustrating to realize that they might not have taken care of a hunt properly and now people are dying because of their mistakes. Sam had always felt things on a deeper level than Dean, taken on blame that never belonged to him, so Dean could accept that Sam was acting this way because he was upset and felt guilty. Deciding to try and lighten the mood, Dean leers at the door.

“Y’know, baby. We could go faster if we shower together.”

“Get us packed, Dean.” It was a deadpanned dismissal if Dean’s ever heard one.

Part B
http://jcrgirl.livejournal.com/21883.html