"Lost and Found: Conjoined"
Title: Conjoined
’Verse: Lost and Found
Author: LadyMacbeth
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG13 (for some cussin’)
Word Count: 1979
Disclaimer: “Supernatural” and all its characters belong to the genius that is Eric Kripke. I make no profit.
Summary: Missouri reveals a secret to the boys that send them on a journey to Santa Cruz where they find a brother they never knew and an even darker revelation that none of them saw coming.
Note: A continuation of the story started in Santa Cruz and continued in The Road to Missouri, Revelations, Look Back, Leap Forward, Second Sight and Fury and Fitchburg. I highly recommend reading those first.
*****
“Ok, man, we really need to talk about this.”
Priestly halts in what he’s doing, staring into the bathroom mirror’s reflection to see his brother’s disapproving face.
“What?” Priestly baits, knowing full well the topic of the impending discussion.
“Dude… we’re going out to a bar. A rough bar. You really wanna show up with pink hair and more make-up than some of the waitresses?”
Priestly rolls his eyes into the mirror, self consciously letting a hand drift up to his hair. “You’re afraid I’m going to embarrass you,” he says matter-of-factly.
“No,” Dean says defensively. “I just don’t want to have to abandon my beer to go kick the ass of the inevitable twenty or so rednecks that will attempt to murder you.”
“My hero,” Priestly gushes, batting his eyes at his brother’s reflection.
“Hey man,” Dean says, taking a step forward and laying a hand on Priestly’s upper arm. “I’m serious. I don’t care about this like you think I do. I just worry, is all. The little towns we tend to hit, like this one… they’re not exactly known for their acceptance of others.”
Priestly watches his brother’s eyes while he talks. They’re wide and sincere, and Priestly can’t bring himself to make fun of his brother for being so serious.
“I’ll be alright,” he says instead, soft and insistent. He lays a hand over his brother’s, still resting on his arm. He runs a thumb over the knuckles of Dean’s hand and allows his consciousness to meld with his twin.
They stand there for several minutes, minds melting together, their bodies unconsciously drawing closer to one another, increasing the connection until Priestly rests against Dean’s torso and Dean’s hand slides over his brother’s chest, holding him tight to his body. The connection feels stronger where bare skin touches, and maybe that’s why Priestly’s head comes to rest on Dean’s shoulder, cheek pressed against his neck.
The lights around the connected twins flicker and pulse and the air around them seems to hum with something no one can see.
The twins stare into the mirror with glazed, bright green eyes, lost in their own heads and the perfect wholeness they feel in this moment.
The boys stay like that for about five minutes when the front door breaks the spell. Dean and Priestly split when they hear Sam shuffle through the door and they try to slow their breathing before their younger brother finds them.
They continue to watch each other in the mirror, neither speaking a word of what they just experienced, neither voicing the sudden need to feel it again.
*****
It’s been over a week since Michael sent them on a hunt, and Dean decides it’s as good a time as any to take a breather and grab a beer.
Sam’s translation: Dean hasn’t been laid in about three weeks.
The three Winchesters trudge into the shady bar, doing their best to ignore the glares of the rough regulars. Dean is all smiles, throwing his charm into high gear and heading straight for the nearest waitress, leaving Sam and Priestly to find a table.
They find one in a corner, which suits them just fine, and settle in, taking bets on Dean’s luck with the waitress.
It’s not long before a buxom, dark-haired girl in an apron comes to their table, faltering mid-step when she spots Priestly’s hair. It seems to jar her slightly at first, but as she reaches the table, a grin splits her face.
“I like your hair,” she drawls with a cute Southern accent.
Priestly smiles at her, Dean’s familiar grin looking completely at home on his face.
“Really? You don’t think it clashes with my outfit?” he purrs, oozing Dean’s stolen charm.
The girl giggles, and shakes her head. “No. It looks great. You in a band or somethin’?” she says, a hopeful lilt to her tone.
Sam tries to stop Priestly before he says something asinine by kicking his leg under the table, but Priestly misunderstands him.
“I am, actually,” he smiles wider, lies falling easily from his lips. “I’m the singer and guitarist. This,” he motions to Sam who is now glaring at him, “is my bassist. And,” he pauses, looking around the bar, “my drummer is around here somewhere. Probably trying to pick up one of your coworkers.”
The girl laughs, and runs a hand through her raven hair, making Sam roll his eyes. “What do you boys call yourselves?’
“Demon Slayer” Priestly tells the waitress.
“Sounds like a metal band,” she says.
*****
Priestly and Sam are about two beers in when Dean staggers over to their table. His grin is smug and dopey, and he reeks of a flowery perfume.
He plunks down in the chair next to Sam and grabs the rest of his younger brother’s beer, downing the remains. He turns without a word and signals to the closest waitress for another, waving his hand and holding up three fingers.
When he turns back, he finds Sam glaring grumpily at his empty beer bottle and Priestly looking at him in disgust.
“What?” Dean has the gall to say.
Priestly just wrinkles his nose and taps his temple with his finger. “Scarred for life,” he says. “We have really got to work out a mental block or something, because I swear to God, I am getting really sick of being a mental voyeur. I mean, sure, the girls are hot and all, but it’s just… no… no more, or I’m going to need some serious therapy.”
Priestly stares at him seriously from across the table, but Dean can only grin, still floating in a post coital bliss. “You’re just jealous,” he purrs, dragging the last word into a taunt.
“Oh ya?” Priestly begins, eyebrows arched, but halts when Sam raises a hand.
“Can we please not have this conversation, which will inevitably turn into a highly clichéd challenge?” Sam’s voice is tired, as if he has spent the day presiding over an unruly class of first graders. He looks imploringly at each of his brothers, practically begging them not to turn the night into a bad teen movie. “Can we just have a quiet night for once?”
The twins look at each other, lost for what to say until their beers arrive, courtesy on the raven-haired waitress. She does a double take when she gets to the table, brow furrowing when she looks between Dean and Priestly, looking as if she wants to say something, but Dean beats her to the punch.
“Twins,” he drawls simply, feeling a pleasant shiver run down his spine when the girl’s eyes go wide and dark.
She drops the beer onto the table and sits in the seat between the twins, eyes locked on Dean.
“You must be the drummer.”
*****
Three hours and one bar fight later and they’re back at the motel.
“You shouldn’t have hit him,” Sam sighs, holding Dean’s chin in his hand. The flesh around his older brother’s eye is starting to darken, but his lip has finally stopped bleeding.
“He called him a fag, Sammy,” Dean growls back, trying not to wince when his lip threatens to split further.
“I know,” Sam whispers, letting his thumbs graze the swelling lip. “But Priestly told you to let it go. You should have.”
“He was gonna hurt him, Sam. He was. I could feel it. He’d done it before… he’d… killed some kid, some kid,” Dean insists, still a little drunk, “who was just passin’ through. I know it sounds crazy, Sammy,” Dean gasps, “but I just know it… and he would have killed our brother if he’d been alone.”
Dean’s eyes are open and pleading, so Sam lets it drop, nodding his head and letting his thumb graze his brother’s torn lip one more time.
*****
Priestly pretends to be asleep when Sam and Dean get out of the bathroom, even though he knows he can’t fool Dean.
Dean doesn’t say anything, though. He tells Sam goodnight, and to stop mothering him so damn much and climbs into bed next to his twin.
Sam flicks off the lamp next to his bed and plunges the room into darkness, falling into a deep sleep moments later.
Sometimes Priestly is jealous of how easily Sam seems to sleep.
Are you alright? Priestly asks his twin silently.
I’ve had worse. Dean smirks in the moonlight next to him.
Somehow that doesn’t make me feel better.
In the dark, Priestly hears Dean sigh and shuffle in the bed. Suddenly they’re face to face and Dean’s hand has fallen on Priestly’s bare shoulder.
Priestly tries not to lean into the touch.
He wanted to hurt you, man. I could feel the anger and malice roll off of him like water. Dean’s arm tightens on Priestly’s shoulder. I know you just wanted to leave, but I couldn’t leave him standing. What if Sammy and I hadn’t of been there? What if you were alone?
I could have taken him… Priestly starts, but Dean shakes his head.
No… you don’t understand. It’s like I could hear the echoes of voices of the people he’d killed. Dean’s eyes are dark and worried. It’s like back in Boston… I can hear the dead, man. And they were warning me about that guy.
Priestly is at a loss for words, trying his best to process his brother’s emerging abilities. Not knowing what to say, he lets his connection guide him.
The shift forward is slow and uncertain, and Dean’s eyes widen just a little, but Priestly lets his body follow the pull he feels in his chest.
He finds himself pressed up against his brother before he really knows what’s going on, and his heart is hammering in his chest when his hands move, almost on their own, to tangle in Dean’s hair.
Dean’s breath is suddenly coming out in short bursts, and he seems frozen in place, paralyzed by Priestly’s touch. His eyes are still wide, and almost frightened, but Priestly can’t make himself stop. His body is still moving on its own, pulled towards something inside his brother, like it’s starving for it. He doesn’t know where the feeling is coming from or why, but the whiskey still burning in his veins numbs the questions and fears circling in his head.
Dean shudders and closes his eyes when Priestly tangles their legs together. He’s practically hyperventilating as Priestly runs his trembling hands through the short dirty blonde hair… but still, Dean doesn’t push him away.
He feels it too, Priestly knows; the tug… the pull to get closer, like they’re only half a person unless they’re together.
Priestly is close enough to feel Dean’s hot breathe ghost across his face. His twin’s eyes are opening slowly, and then it’s Priestly’s turn to gasp as Dean’s hands slide shakily over his hips, his skin feeling like fire wherever his brother touches him.
Dean nervously licks his lips and twitches, gasping when his tongue grazes Priestly’s parted mouth. In the back of his mind, Priestly knows they both probably still tastes like Jack Daniels, both boys having long forgotten how drunk they had gotten at the bar.
But all this is a distant thought when Priestly feels the final pull, and closes the space between his lips and his twin’s.
Something alive and powerful sparks in their chests when they kiss, both boys falling deep into an intimate connection they haven’t had since they shared their mother’s womb.
They feel a strength arise in them when they blur into one another; feel it flow out of them, into the night.
But as the kiss deepens, they forget about the power, believing that no one can feel it but them.
But unbeknownst to the intertwined twins, deep in the shadows, in the darkest pit of Hell, something senses their power, and reawakens.
To be continued…
’Verse: Lost and Found
Author: LadyMacbeth
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG13 (for some cussin’)
Word Count: 1979
Disclaimer: “Supernatural” and all its characters belong to the genius that is Eric Kripke. I make no profit.
Summary: Missouri reveals a secret to the boys that send them on a journey to Santa Cruz where they find a brother they never knew and an even darker revelation that none of them saw coming.
Note: A continuation of the story started in Santa Cruz and continued in The Road to Missouri, Revelations, Look Back, Leap Forward, Second Sight and Fury and Fitchburg. I highly recommend reading those first.
*****
“Ok, man, we really need to talk about this.”
Priestly halts in what he’s doing, staring into the bathroom mirror’s reflection to see his brother’s disapproving face.
“What?” Priestly baits, knowing full well the topic of the impending discussion.
“Dude… we’re going out to a bar. A rough bar. You really wanna show up with pink hair and more make-up than some of the waitresses?”
Priestly rolls his eyes into the mirror, self consciously letting a hand drift up to his hair. “You’re afraid I’m going to embarrass you,” he says matter-of-factly.
“No,” Dean says defensively. “I just don’t want to have to abandon my beer to go kick the ass of the inevitable twenty or so rednecks that will attempt to murder you.”
“My hero,” Priestly gushes, batting his eyes at his brother’s reflection.
“Hey man,” Dean says, taking a step forward and laying a hand on Priestly’s upper arm. “I’m serious. I don’t care about this like you think I do. I just worry, is all. The little towns we tend to hit, like this one… they’re not exactly known for their acceptance of others.”
Priestly watches his brother’s eyes while he talks. They’re wide and sincere, and Priestly can’t bring himself to make fun of his brother for being so serious.
“I’ll be alright,” he says instead, soft and insistent. He lays a hand over his brother’s, still resting on his arm. He runs a thumb over the knuckles of Dean’s hand and allows his consciousness to meld with his twin.
They stand there for several minutes, minds melting together, their bodies unconsciously drawing closer to one another, increasing the connection until Priestly rests against Dean’s torso and Dean’s hand slides over his brother’s chest, holding him tight to his body. The connection feels stronger where bare skin touches, and maybe that’s why Priestly’s head comes to rest on Dean’s shoulder, cheek pressed against his neck.
The lights around the connected twins flicker and pulse and the air around them seems to hum with something no one can see.
The twins stare into the mirror with glazed, bright green eyes, lost in their own heads and the perfect wholeness they feel in this moment.
The boys stay like that for about five minutes when the front door breaks the spell. Dean and Priestly split when they hear Sam shuffle through the door and they try to slow their breathing before their younger brother finds them.
They continue to watch each other in the mirror, neither speaking a word of what they just experienced, neither voicing the sudden need to feel it again.
*****
It’s been over a week since Michael sent them on a hunt, and Dean decides it’s as good a time as any to take a breather and grab a beer.
Sam’s translation: Dean hasn’t been laid in about three weeks.
The three Winchesters trudge into the shady bar, doing their best to ignore the glares of the rough regulars. Dean is all smiles, throwing his charm into high gear and heading straight for the nearest waitress, leaving Sam and Priestly to find a table.
They find one in a corner, which suits them just fine, and settle in, taking bets on Dean’s luck with the waitress.
It’s not long before a buxom, dark-haired girl in an apron comes to their table, faltering mid-step when she spots Priestly’s hair. It seems to jar her slightly at first, but as she reaches the table, a grin splits her face.
“I like your hair,” she drawls with a cute Southern accent.
Priestly smiles at her, Dean’s familiar grin looking completely at home on his face.
“Really? You don’t think it clashes with my outfit?” he purrs, oozing Dean’s stolen charm.
The girl giggles, and shakes her head. “No. It looks great. You in a band or somethin’?” she says, a hopeful lilt to her tone.
Sam tries to stop Priestly before he says something asinine by kicking his leg under the table, but Priestly misunderstands him.
“I am, actually,” he smiles wider, lies falling easily from his lips. “I’m the singer and guitarist. This,” he motions to Sam who is now glaring at him, “is my bassist. And,” he pauses, looking around the bar, “my drummer is around here somewhere. Probably trying to pick up one of your coworkers.”
The girl laughs, and runs a hand through her raven hair, making Sam roll his eyes. “What do you boys call yourselves?’
“Demon Slayer” Priestly tells the waitress.
“Sounds like a metal band,” she says.
*****
Priestly and Sam are about two beers in when Dean staggers over to their table. His grin is smug and dopey, and he reeks of a flowery perfume.
He plunks down in the chair next to Sam and grabs the rest of his younger brother’s beer, downing the remains. He turns without a word and signals to the closest waitress for another, waving his hand and holding up three fingers.
When he turns back, he finds Sam glaring grumpily at his empty beer bottle and Priestly looking at him in disgust.
“What?” Dean has the gall to say.
Priestly just wrinkles his nose and taps his temple with his finger. “Scarred for life,” he says. “We have really got to work out a mental block or something, because I swear to God, I am getting really sick of being a mental voyeur. I mean, sure, the girls are hot and all, but it’s just… no… no more, or I’m going to need some serious therapy.”
Priestly stares at him seriously from across the table, but Dean can only grin, still floating in a post coital bliss. “You’re just jealous,” he purrs, dragging the last word into a taunt.
“Oh ya?” Priestly begins, eyebrows arched, but halts when Sam raises a hand.
“Can we please not have this conversation, which will inevitably turn into a highly clichéd challenge?” Sam’s voice is tired, as if he has spent the day presiding over an unruly class of first graders. He looks imploringly at each of his brothers, practically begging them not to turn the night into a bad teen movie. “Can we just have a quiet night for once?”
The twins look at each other, lost for what to say until their beers arrive, courtesy on the raven-haired waitress. She does a double take when she gets to the table, brow furrowing when she looks between Dean and Priestly, looking as if she wants to say something, but Dean beats her to the punch.
“Twins,” he drawls simply, feeling a pleasant shiver run down his spine when the girl’s eyes go wide and dark.
She drops the beer onto the table and sits in the seat between the twins, eyes locked on Dean.
“You must be the drummer.”
*****
Three hours and one bar fight later and they’re back at the motel.
“You shouldn’t have hit him,” Sam sighs, holding Dean’s chin in his hand. The flesh around his older brother’s eye is starting to darken, but his lip has finally stopped bleeding.
“He called him a fag, Sammy,” Dean growls back, trying not to wince when his lip threatens to split further.
“I know,” Sam whispers, letting his thumbs graze the swelling lip. “But Priestly told you to let it go. You should have.”
“He was gonna hurt him, Sam. He was. I could feel it. He’d done it before… he’d… killed some kid, some kid,” Dean insists, still a little drunk, “who was just passin’ through. I know it sounds crazy, Sammy,” Dean gasps, “but I just know it… and he would have killed our brother if he’d been alone.”
Dean’s eyes are open and pleading, so Sam lets it drop, nodding his head and letting his thumb graze his brother’s torn lip one more time.
*****
Priestly pretends to be asleep when Sam and Dean get out of the bathroom, even though he knows he can’t fool Dean.
Dean doesn’t say anything, though. He tells Sam goodnight, and to stop mothering him so damn much and climbs into bed next to his twin.
Sam flicks off the lamp next to his bed and plunges the room into darkness, falling into a deep sleep moments later.
Sometimes Priestly is jealous of how easily Sam seems to sleep.
Are you alright? Priestly asks his twin silently.
I’ve had worse. Dean smirks in the moonlight next to him.
Somehow that doesn’t make me feel better.
In the dark, Priestly hears Dean sigh and shuffle in the bed. Suddenly they’re face to face and Dean’s hand has fallen on Priestly’s bare shoulder.
Priestly tries not to lean into the touch.
He wanted to hurt you, man. I could feel the anger and malice roll off of him like water. Dean’s arm tightens on Priestly’s shoulder. I know you just wanted to leave, but I couldn’t leave him standing. What if Sammy and I hadn’t of been there? What if you were alone?
I could have taken him… Priestly starts, but Dean shakes his head.
No… you don’t understand. It’s like I could hear the echoes of voices of the people he’d killed. Dean’s eyes are dark and worried. It’s like back in Boston… I can hear the dead, man. And they were warning me about that guy.
Priestly is at a loss for words, trying his best to process his brother’s emerging abilities. Not knowing what to say, he lets his connection guide him.
The shift forward is slow and uncertain, and Dean’s eyes widen just a little, but Priestly lets his body follow the pull he feels in his chest.
He finds himself pressed up against his brother before he really knows what’s going on, and his heart is hammering in his chest when his hands move, almost on their own, to tangle in Dean’s hair.
Dean’s breath is suddenly coming out in short bursts, and he seems frozen in place, paralyzed by Priestly’s touch. His eyes are still wide, and almost frightened, but Priestly can’t make himself stop. His body is still moving on its own, pulled towards something inside his brother, like it’s starving for it. He doesn’t know where the feeling is coming from or why, but the whiskey still burning in his veins numbs the questions and fears circling in his head.
Dean shudders and closes his eyes when Priestly tangles their legs together. He’s practically hyperventilating as Priestly runs his trembling hands through the short dirty blonde hair… but still, Dean doesn’t push him away.
He feels it too, Priestly knows; the tug… the pull to get closer, like they’re only half a person unless they’re together.
Priestly is close enough to feel Dean’s hot breathe ghost across his face. His twin’s eyes are opening slowly, and then it’s Priestly’s turn to gasp as Dean’s hands slide shakily over his hips, his skin feeling like fire wherever his brother touches him.
Dean nervously licks his lips and twitches, gasping when his tongue grazes Priestly’s parted mouth. In the back of his mind, Priestly knows they both probably still tastes like Jack Daniels, both boys having long forgotten how drunk they had gotten at the bar.
But all this is a distant thought when Priestly feels the final pull, and closes the space between his lips and his twin’s.
Something alive and powerful sparks in their chests when they kiss, both boys falling deep into an intimate connection they haven’t had since they shared their mother’s womb.
They feel a strength arise in them when they blur into one another; feel it flow out of them, into the night.
But as the kiss deepens, they forget about the power, believing that no one can feel it but them.
But unbeknownst to the intertwined twins, deep in the shadows, in the darkest pit of Hell, something senses their power, and reawakens.
To be continued…