Fic: La Petite Mort pt.1
Title: La Petite Mort pt.1/2
Pairing/Characters: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Incest, guy-on-guy sex, swearing
Spoilers: Major plot spoiler for Season 6
Word Count: 13,122 (total)
Disclaimer: Don't own - just playing in somebody else's sandbox.
Summary: Nobody said that any hunt was easy but Sam wasn't expecting this kind of curse, hell he never even knew it could happen until it did.
A/N: Written for spn_reversebang using lightthesparks ' art and idea as the prompt. There was no way to add all her wonderful art here so please wander over to her art masterpost, view the gorgeous and tell her how great she is.
by lightthesparks
Sam glanced up at Dean’s moan and held his breath as his brother shifted around in his bed before his eyes fluttered open.
Oh, thank God.
There wasn’t any thought, only simple instinct pushing Sam up from sitting at the rickety table, hunched over his open laptop and sending him across the room to lean over his brother. “Dean?”
Blank eyes stared up at the water stained off white ceiling and Sam was ready to start panicking all over again but finally Dean blinked a couple of times before his gaze met Sam’s.
“What happened?”
His voice was rough, three days of disuse making it more of a growl and heat flared low in Sam’s stomach. If it had been anybody else, he might have thought that it felt a lot like desire but this was his brother and it couldn’t be anything other than relief. Sam was overtired, the last time he got more than an hour or two of sleep had been before he had found Dean sprawled out, unconscious, on the dirty floor of one of the bedrooms in the falling down farmhouse just outside of town with the withered husk of the Incubus they had been hunting at his side, three nights previous. He was running on nothing more than caffeine and fear and the surge of relief that rushed through his system was simply confusing his drained emotions.
That was all.
Dean had never been big on showing any kind of deeper emotion and Sam tried to respect that boundary but it had been four days of worry and lack of sleep and frustration when Dean wouldn’t wake up and his legs just wouldn’t hold him any longer. At least he managed to control his drop to sit beside his brother on the bed so it appeared that he was doing it in deference to allow Dean to shift around in the bed and not have to remain on his back staring up at Sam instead of the truth that he suddenly just felt too weak and needed to be closer to his brother now that Dean was awake.
“What do you remember?”
With a grunt, Dean pulled himself up so that he could lean against the cheap pressboard headboard and ran a hand down his face. “We…uh…the Incubus. We tracked it to an abandoned farm outside of town.” His voice petered out and he looked to Sam for confirmation.
There was a fine tremble working through Sam’s body and he curled his fingers into tight fists in his lap to try to hide it. Now that Dean was awake, finally, all Sam wanted to do was curl around his brother and sleep.
Wait. What?
The emotions running through him were similar to the ones he had felt when Dean had first been dragged out of hell. Back then the fear that Dean really wasn’t there or wasn’t there to stay had been so tangible that for the first few months, it had been a fight with himself not to be in constant contact with Dean just to make sure that he was really there and wasn’t going to be going anywhere soon. But this felt different, this was different, Dean hadn’t been dragged down to hell by a hell hound and he hadn’t been dead, he had been sleeping, three days his mind hissed, okay, in some kind of supernatural coma but he had been breathing, had been alive the whole time and this kind of reaction, this need to touch Dean, feel his skin beneath Sam’s fingers was out of line even for something like this.
Dean was right, he really was the girl in this partnership.
The rough sound of his brother clearing his throat had Sam blinking back to now, pushing away the odd feelings, and shelving them for later examination when Dean wasn’t looking at him like Sam was the one that had been whammied in some way or another.
“Y…yeah.” He mumbled and forcefully uncurled his fingers and rubbed his sweaty palms over the rough material of his jeans. “We split up when we got in the house. Heard you yell and when I got to the back bedroom, you were passed out and the Incubus was dead.”
There was more to it than just that but Sam didn’t know how to go about questioning Dean about it. It should have been simple, just ask his brother why the corpse of the Incubus only had a shallow defensive wound on it’s chest instead of a killing blow and yet it was dead. Why it was dead instead of, thank Christ, it wasn’t Dean dead when all the facts pointed to it being his brother no longer breathing. There was something there, something that Sam knew he needed to know but, as far as he was concerned, the explanation could wait until Dean was back to top form.
It was probably a bad idea but Sam was just happy that Dean was alive and awake and alive.
The smirk was the same; nothing new about it and Sam knew it meant that Dean would be crowing about killing the Incubus as soon as he opened his mouth. It was the same old, same old and yet instead of the usual annoyance he would feel when he knew that Dean’s ego was about to take a front seat, he felt that unfamiliar curl of heat spike again in his belly.
Shifting uncomfortably because it was want, plain and simple and what the hell? No really, what the hell? Maybe Sam was secure enough that he could appreciate the male form just as much as a female’s but he had never been attracted to another man before. And beyond that, they were brothers which screamed no and bad and wrong.
Maybe he had been whammied before Dean had taken out the Incubus but that couldn’t have been possible because he had never been in contact with it as far as he knew. Unless it had been masquerading as one of the witnesses or cops they had interviewed but shouldn’t that have faded by now? What the hell was wrong with him?
“I am an awesome fucking hunter.” Dean fist pumped before rolling to the other side of the bed and climbing out. “Kicked its ass!”
All of his confusing and terrifying thoughts fled at the sight of Dean grabbing his duffle from the floor at the end of his bed and dropping it on top of it.
“What are you doing?”
Dean paused in his rooting around inside of his bag only long enough to glance over at Sam with one eyebrow raised, “I’m hungry Sam.” Before he went right back at it, pulling out a pair of jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt. “Feel like I haven’t eaten in days.”
“Dean,” Sam groaned and pulled to his feet, taking a step towards his brother before stilling at his brother’s quelling look. “Come on man, you’ve been out for three days, do you really think you should be up and moving around like this?”
Huffing a breath, Dean started to pull the shirt over his head, “Other than feeling a little stiff and starving, I’m fine Francis. But I won’t be if I don’t eat soon so untwist you’re panties, we’re going out for dinner or breakfast or,” his head cleared the material and he glanced over at the blind covered window between the two beds. “Lunch. What the hell time is it anyway?”
This should be good news, hell great news and yet Sam couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong. Dean had been out for three days, probably closer to four and yet he was bouncing around like he had simply had a good night’s sleep after a rough patch. It made something twist cold inside of Sam but he couldn’t explain why and it only made him feel worse. It was almost like a part of him wanted there to be something wrong with Dean because of him being out for so long, like he shouldn’t be perfectly fine after sleeping for so long.
Glancing down at his wristwatch so he had an excuse not to look at his brother because he was certain that his feelings would be clear on his face, Sam took a deep breath. “Shortly after two in the afternoon.”
“Lunch it is then.” Dean grinned and slapped him on the shoulder as he walked past. “Come on Sammy let’s eat.”
Sam followed him with his eyes, watched him slip his boots on and tie them haphazardly before patting his pockets for his keys. “Here.” He muttered, unnerved and a little hesitant in the face of Dean’s apparent lack of side effects, and pulled the keys from his own pocket and tossed them towards his brother.
“Better not have been playing any of that emo shit you call music in my baby.” Dean grinned at him before opening and slipping out of the door. “Come on Sammy! I want lunch and pie!”
Slowly Sam moved across the room trying to shake the weird feelings climbing his spine. Dean wanted pie. Dean was fine. This was good.
So why did it feel like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop?
“Sonofabitch!”
Sam jerked upright, hand automatically reaching under his pillow for the knife he had started keeping there when Dean had been dragged to hell three years earlier before rolling from the bed and dropping to a crouch between his bed and the wall.
“Easy Sammy.” Dean muttered and Sam squinted as the lamp between the beds clicked to life.
“Dean?”
Still, glaring at Dean who was smirking back, it still took a moment for his brain to convince his body to relax from his tense stance before he could slowly straighten to his full height. “What the hell?” He snapped as he took in his brother’s disheveled appearance. If he didn’t know better, Sam would swear that his brother had been in the middle of a fight, his jacket was askew, hanging off one shoulder and his hair looked like someone had been tugging on handfuls of it but a quick glance showed no signs of blood anywhere on Dean, not his knuckles or face. “You were asleep when I went to bed,” he glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand between the beds, “Three hours ago.”
Dean shrugged as he pulled off his jacket, dropping it to rest over the back of one of the chairs in the corner of the room. “I was hungry.”
Sam blinked and shook his head, tempted to stick his fingers in his ears and try to clear them out because he could not have heard Dean right. “Hungry? Dean when we got back here after you tried to eat your own weight in food, you could barely move. What the hell do you mean you were hungry?”
“That was hours ago Sam.” He muttered as he worked the buckle of his belt loose, undid his jeans and let them slide from his hips before leaning over and undoing his boots and kicking both off in one go. Straightening, he stripped off his outer shirt and started working his long sleeved t-shirt up his torso, “So I went down to that shit kicker bar at the end of town looking for something to eat.”
“At one am.” He muttered and dropped back down to sit on his bed. “Jesus Dean you couldn’t wait until morning?” Slipping the knife back under his pillow, he squinted over at his brother, watching him digging for a clean pair of boxers with one hand while pulling off his socks with the other.
Dean looked up at him and said very slowly, “Hungry.”
Shaking his head, Sam flopped back down and shifted around until he could pull the blankets back up on the bed and over himself. He was too tired for this shit, unlike Dean, he hadn’t spent the last three nights sleeping and all he really wanted was fifteen or twenty hours of uninterrupted rest, barring that because it wasn’t going to happen, he’d happily take six hours if, apparently, Dean’s stomach would let him. “I hope the burger gives you heartburn.” He muttered and pushed his face into the flat pillow.
Dean snorted and Sam could just pick out the quiet padding of his bare feet across the ugly gold carpeting as he headed towards the bathroom. “I’m sorry for running into the table and bruising my hip but I’ll live, thanks for asking. Go back to sleep princess and I’ll endeavor to remain silent the next time I try to take a chunk of myself off with a piece of furniture.”
Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, it was getting to be too hard to even be bothered with staying annoyed with his brother. Yeah, once he realized that they weren’t getting attacked by a demon or shifter or any other supernatural being but Dean stumbling into shit that woke him up, he should have been pissed but it just wasn’t worth it anymore, not when he had found the one spot on his bed that actually felt comfortable. Still he couldn’t let the comment pass without some form of retaliation. Uncurling his arm, Sam lifted it high enough that he knew Dean would see him and flipped him off.
Chuckling, Dean slapped at his hand until Sam let it drop back beside him and then continued into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
It wasn’t until he vaguely registered the shower turning on that it occurred to Sam that he was hard. Eyes snapping open he stared across the space at Dean’s rumpled bed and felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment, had he been hard the whole time? Had Dean noticed? He couldn’t have because there was no way his brother would have let that go.
It wasn’t much in way of consolation because he couldn’t remember dreaming of anything that would have made him hard before Dean had woken him up. But that just left Dean and there was no way in hell that he had gotten hard because of Dean.
Everyone dreamed while they slept, it was the natural order of things and just because he didn’t remember any of it didn’t mean that it didn’t happen. Letting his body relax back into the mattress, Sam huffed out a breath, he really needed to get some sleep right the hell now because his mind was drawing the strangest conclusions and coming up with the weirdest ideas because he was sleep deprived.
And that was all it was, he was just sleep deprived. Once he got a couple of decent hours of rest under his belt everything would be back to the status quo, he was certain of it.
“Come on Sammy. Up and at ‘em.”
Sam rolled over with a groan and glared up at Dean. “Times it?”
“Late.” He pulled back from leaning over him, “It’s time to get out of Dodge before someone finds that body.”
Sam had been scrubbing his hands over his face trying to shake the heavy feeling of sleep still lingering but at Dean’s words his whole body froze for a minute before he was pushing himself up and glaring at his brother. “Body? What body?”
Dean raised an eyebrow and something dark flickered through his eyes. “The Incubus. You know the monster we came here to hunt?” He backed up until he was free from the small space between the two beds and he crossed his arms over his chest. “What body did you think I meant?”
The small hairs at the back of Sam’s neck stiffened at the hard tone in his brother’s voice. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard Dean sound that angry before, wasn’t even the first time that anger had been directed at him but it was the first time since they had managed to get his soul back. It was kind of disconcerting especially since it had been his brother who had brought up a body not him, “I don’t know!” He snarled back and pushed out of bed. “You pull me out of the first real sleep I’ve had in days and start talking about some body. Jesus Dean, at least give me long enough to uncross my eyes before you start.”
He crossed to the bathroom door, resting one hand on the doorframe to keep from taking a swing at his brother, unsure and more than a little unnerved by the feeling. “And for the record, I may have my soul back but that doesn’t make me suddenly squeamish. After I got you back here that first night, I went back and salted and burned the body.”
Rubbing at the back of his neck, Dean looked down and away for a moment of tense silence before crossing back over to his bed and grabbing up his duffle. “Sam, I’m…” he huffed out a breath and pulled the strap over his shoulder, “Look it shouldn’t even have been a question as to what happened with the body, okay.”
Narrowing his eyes, he shook his head, knowing this was the best he was going to get in the way of an apology.
“I guess the whole sleepin’ for three days has fucked with me a little more than I thought, I’m feelin’ a little out of the loop here.”
There was more to it then that and Sam knew it but now wasn’t the time to push for answers, not with the way he could literally see Dean’s walls slamming up around him. “Yeah.” He finally allowed and scrubbed a hand over his face again, “Do I have time for a quick shower?”
It was an olive branch; he didn’t want to be arguing with Dean, not when he had spent days worrying that he had somehow lost his brother to some sort of supernatural coma. All he wanted was to move forward from this and hope that Dean was telling the truth when he said that he was certain that there had been no further effects from whatever the Incubus had done to him. He ignored the nagging thought that he knew there was something going on with his brother, some lingering effect that Dean wasn’t ready to share with him yet. All the thought did was piss him off because Dean knew better, they both knew better than to withhold any kind of information from each other when it came to shit like this. Too many times in the past it had come back to bite them in the ass.
“Jesus yes.” Dean smiled fleetingly at him before heading toward the motel door, “You stink dude.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to remind him of the three days he spent sleeping and left Sam to worry but held the words back. It wasn’t Dean’s fault, not really and it wouldn’t do anything but prompt either another round of bickering or Dean calling him Francis or some other girly name for worrying so much, even if they both knew Dean would have done the exact same thing.
“Bite me.” He tossed back instead and took a step back into the bathroom.
“Don’t tempt me.” He glanced over his shoulder and Sam swore his eyes were darker than normal but that had to be from the shadows being thrown by the bad motel room lighting and the blinds still closed tight in front of the windows. “I’m starving.”
“What?” The bathroom door had almost been completely shut and he pulled it open so quickly that he almost caught his own cheek. “What the hell Dean?”
“Just get a move on Sammy.” Dean stepped through the motel room door and threw over his shoulder, “I’m running down to the dinner for breakfast take out and coffee, you’ve got twenty tops.”
Sam stared at the closed door and chewed on his bottom lip. Was it normal for people that came out of a coma to be hungry all the time? Probably not but then again they were in hospitals with I.V.s feeding nutrients into their systems, Dean had had none of that so maybe this was his body’s way of making up for missing more than a couple meals.
Shaking his head, Sam shut the bathroom door and slid out of his boxers, all he could hope for was that Dean’s system would even out before he maxed the cards out making up for lost time.
“Oh God please.” Sam moaned and tried to shift up onto his elbows so that he could looked down and watch his cock disappearing between the plush lips of his lover but there was a hand in the center of his chest keeping him pressed back against the bed.
He could fight it, force her to give up so that he could watch but it wasn’t worth the effort or the risk. If she wanted to keep him down for this then so be it, he hadn’t been with anyone since he had gotten out of Lucifer’s cage and there was no way in hell he was risking doing anything that would make her stop.
Apparently his acquiesce of her desires must have registered because her hand started to slowly slide down his chest, over the crease of his hip until fingertips were pressing against his perineum.
Sam’s body jerked at the added stimulus and he groaned softly, hips thrusting off the bed, cock slipping further into the wet heat. He was so close, it wouldn’t take much more and he would be coming.
“Please.”
Whining deep in his chest, he reached out and tried to curl his fingers into his partner’s hair only he couldn’t get a grip. Couldn’t get a grip because it wasn’t the long hair of a woman but the shorter hair of a man.
He was getting blown by a man.
Sam jerked awake, knees knocking hard against the underside of the dash of the Impala and he rubbed his eyes trying to erase the image in his head. “Shit!” He hissed, not sure if he was cursing because of the pain in his knees or the fact that he had been a having a dream about getting blown by another man.
It wasn’t that Sam had anything against a guy having sex with another guy but it had never been his thing and to suddenly start having dreams of having sex with another man at twenty-eight instead of when he had been a teenager and his hormones had been running rampant left him more than a little confused.
It took a moment for reality to filter in and push back the dream but suddenly it occurred to him that they weren’t moving even though the car was still running and other than his own harsh breathing, there was nothing but silence echoing around the car. Dropping his hand from in front of his eyes, Sam glanced around realizing that the Impala was pulled over, haphazardly, to the side of the road and Dean was gone, his door left hanging open. Heart kicking up a notch, he scanned the dark road and tree line around him until he spotted a darker shadow standing just outside of the trees.
Pushing his door open, Sam pulled himself out of the car and took a couple hesitant steps towards his brother. “Dean?”
Even at a distance he could make out Dean’s head dropping forward and Sam’s palms began to sweat. He had known that they had gotten off too easy, other than Dean trying to eat his own weight worth of food, it had seemed like there had been no lasting effects of whatever the Incubus had done to his brother. But that assumption had been wrong because there was no way in hell that Dean would leave his baby parked with her ass sticking out onto the road or his door hanging open where another vehicle could come past and hit her, especially at night in the middle of a midnight dark forest.
What the hell?
Not sure what to expect, Sam slowly made his way towards his brother’s dark form, making sure to make enough noise that Dean wouldn’t be able to miss that he was coming closer. “Dean? You okay?”
Dean’s head lifted but he didn’t turn around, “Yeah. Just stiff.”
His voice was rough, like he had been screaming for hours. Or like he had been giving someone head.
Sam clenched his teeth and ignored the fresh surge of want that heated his blood. Jesus Christ what the hell was wrong with him? This was Dean, his brother, and a guy, how many times was he going to have to remind himself of that?
Dean’s shoulders suddenly tensed up and he huffed out a breath before he shook his head and slowly turned to face Sam. “We should go.”
It took everything in Sam not to jerk back when he finally saw his brother’s face. For just a moment he would have sworn that Dean’s eyes had been glowing, the green bright in the darkness but that wasn’t possible, it had to have been a trick of the moonlight. It had to be.
“Y…yeah.” He managed to push out past a dry mouth.
He nodded once before he started past Sam, close enough that Sam could hear his brother’s rough breathing but not touching. “We’ll stop at the next town, get something to eat, sleep.”
Turning his head, he watched Dean make it back to the car before he could force his body to follow. What he had seen or thought he had seen was just a fucked hold over from still being so tired, he was sure of it. Because there was no other explanation.
None whatsoever.
“Sam.”
Sam swallowed hard and forced his fingers to loosen from the tight hold he had on his cell phone. After all this time, it was still instinctive to get irrationally angry when he heard that particular tone of disappointment laced with anger from anyone. It had started back when he was a teenager and his dad refused to understand that sometimes Sam had just wanted to be a normal kid, play sports, date girls, go to school dances and had used that tone. Like Sam was lacking for wanting to be more than just a tool in his dad’s war and need for revenge. It had been years since it was even possible for his dad to use that tone on him since the man was dead but Bobby seemed to have perfected it to take up the slack.
But, Sam reminded himself; the man had a reason for being disappointed with him. The night Dean had killed the Incubus and after Sam had been unable to rouse him and had dragged his unconscious brother back to the motel, he had called Bobby for help.
Not that Bobby had been much help but God knew the man had tried. First offering his house and then his vast library and manpower to search what the problem was and then how to fix it. Even though he hadn’t been able to come up with anything, useful or otherwise, he had stilled called more than once a day to check in with Sam to find out if there had been any change and to offer his home over and over. And how had Sam thanked him? By forgetting to let him know that Dean had woken and seemed fine and missing the last three calls Bobby had placed to him by being asleep.
The more he thought about it, the more Sam had to admit that he was more his father than he ever wanted to accept.
“Hey Bobby.”
“Don’t hey me you idjit.” Bobby’s voice was gruff and Sam’s guilt surged higher. “If you hadn’t answered this time I was going to make the drive to find out what the hell had happened so start talking Winchester.”
Sam glanced around the dinner that he and Dean were currently in, ensuring that none of the other patrons were within earshot before slumping further into the booth. “He’s awake.”
“And?”
“And,” he glanced around once more before his eyes settled on the small hallway a few feet from their table that led to the bathrooms watching for Dean to return. It wasn’t that he didn’t want his brother to overhear this conversation but it felt wrong to be talking about him like this. “He seems…is fine. I mean he’s hungry a lot of the time but I’m guessing that’s just his body making up for lost time.”
Sam could and had cleaned and changed both Dean and the bed sheets until there was nothing left in his brother’s body but he couldn’t force him to eat or take in fluids while he had been a coma. Truth of the matter was that if Dean hadn’t woken up when he did Sam had had plans for taking him to the hospital, covertly dumping him there and then acting the harried brother when they contacted him through the emergency contact info in Dean’s wallet and acted like he hadn’t seen his brother in a couple days. The idea had sat like lead in his stomach which way why he had left it as a last resort.
Bobby grunted and Sam could hear him tapping something, a pen maybe, against the hard wood of his table. “But he’s fine?”
“Yeah.” The word tasted like a lie but Sam didn’t know why.
“Well that’s good then.” He chuckled, “You boys are gonna be the death of me.”
“Bobby,” he muttered and chewed on the inside of his lip. How could he explain just how much Bobby meant to him, to Dean and how much they owed the man? It seemed like every time he turned around, one of them was going to the older hunter for help or advice and never once had he turned them away or asked for anything in return. It meant more to Sam then he could ever really voice and that’s what hurt the most. “Thanks.”
“Just…” Bobby huffed out a breath, “Keep an eye on your brother for me. I don’t like that I couldn’t find anything about what happened to him or why it happened. Just ‘cause he seems fine…”
Sam wanted to be upset, wanted to tell Bobby not to jinx this because they had finally got off easy for a change but the words wouldn’t come. It was hard to be pissed off at the warning when there was that little nagging part of him that couldn’t seem to accept that Dean was fine and it was getting harder and harder to chalk it up to his own fucked up equilibrium just because he still hadn’t managed to catch up on his own missing sleep.
Dean appearing from behind the bathroom door started Sam’s heart pounding. “I gotta go Bobby.”
“Sam?”
“I’m on it.” He swore, pulled the cell from his ear and hit end. The guilt on cutting the call short dwarfed by the guilt at talking about his brother behind his back.
“Who was that?” Dean settled across from him and snagged his half full cup of coffee.
“Bobby.” He glanced from Dean to the waitress loitering behind the counter at the front of the dinner suddenly wishing she would get her ass over to their table and give them their bill. It wasn’t much in way of a distraction but she was pretty enough that Dean wouldn’t be able to help but flirt with her long enough that Sam could make his escape to pay their bill and then they would be leaving. In the eventual debate as to which direction to take since they had yet to find another case, why Bobby had been calling would be forgotten.
“He got something for us?”
“Nah.” He admitted low and pulled himself from the booth, if she wouldn’t bring their check, he’d go and get it.
Dean’s hand on his arm stopped him, “Well at least you checked.”
Swallowing down the bitter taste on his tongue, Sam shrugged off his brother’s touch, “Yeah. Can’t do the family business if we can’t find the business.”
He didn’t know why he hadn’t told Dean the truth only that something kept it locked down in his chest. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to admit that he had panicked and called Bobby the same night that what had happened had. Or maybe because he knew Dean would be pissed that either him or Bobby seemed intent on looking a gift horse in the mouth where his lack of side effects were concerned.
The way Dean’s eyes seemed to glow for just a minute the night before surged up in Sam’s mind. Or maybe it was because of that and what, if anything, it could possibly mean.
It had been a week since they had left Marshal, Montana and the Incubus behind and had traveled aimlessly from small town to small town with no real destination in mind. Usually times like these, when there didn’t seem to be a hunt, they would find somewhere to hole up, go through their supplies, re-stock up on the items that they were running low on, do a thorough maintenance of the weapons and hustle up a decent amount of cash at the local pool table. But Dean couldn’t seem to settle in any one place for that to happen, insisting that they only stay a night at whatever shit hole motel they came across first in a new town before forcing them back in the car the next morning and disappearing over the horizon.
The fact that Sam damn well knew they needed to re-stock most of the essential items in the first-aid kit and should really check the rest of the supplies was enough to make him short with Dean. But the fact that no matter what time he went to bed, he always woke up feeling like he hadn’t slept at all the night before and it was making him sloppy was making him pissed off. He was sporting more bruises now from bouncing off walls and into cheap motel furniture than he ever had when he had gone through his first growth spurt during puberty and had to get used to too long legs and suddenly big feet. If they actually happened upon a hunt, he was pretty sure he would be a bigger liability than a help to Dean.
Then there were the dreams. Since that first one in the Impala it had become a nightly thing for him to dream about his phantom, male, lover. Sometimes he was getting blown, sometimes he was getting blown while thick fingers shoved in and out of him and the last one had had him on his stomach, strong hands trapping his wrists above his head while he was being fucked into. That one had been the night before and he had awoke mid-orgasm.
After his breathing had settled some and enough blood had returned to his head to think fairly clearly two things occurred to him simultaneously. One, he had just had a sex dream with Dean in the other bed and two he had been having a sex dream about having sex with Dean. He had turned wide eyes towards Dean’s bed and felt a modicum of relief to find his brother still asleep but it didn’t stop the silent freak out.
Really he shouldn’t have known that it was Dean who had been fucking him but he couldn’t forget how his dream self had focused on a little curved scare on the side of his phantom lover’s wrist just below his thumb. Dean had that scar, a remnant from when they had tangled with a Rugaru a few years back.
He hadn’t been able to get back to sleep after that, his mind twisting and turning, trying to find a reasonable explanation as to why he was having dreams about having sex with his brother. By the time the room had started to shift from dark indistinct shadows to recognizable shapes, he had a headache bordering on becoming a migraine and no answers. That was probably the reason why when Dean had started making small noises signaling that he was waking, Sam had rolled onto his stomach and feigned sleep. He just didn’t think he had enough energy to fake that there was nothing wrong and there was the uncomfortable bonus that he couldn’t honestly say what his reaction would be towards his brother.
Sam lifted the styrofoam cup to his lips, ignoring how his hand shook, the thin skin already red from hot coffee spilling over the edge when he took his first sip.
He had listened to Dean putter around the room before he heard him scrabbling for something and then let himself out the door. After hearing the sound of the Impala start up and then drive away, he had opened his eyes to see a slip of paper propped up against the lamp on the nightstand between the beds letting him know that Dean had gone for coffee.
Dean had returned while he was in the shower, left a cup of coffee for him and another note saying that he was going for supplies.
That had been almost a half hour before and Sam hadn’t managed much more than getting dressed, burning his hand and managing to swallow down some of the coffee Dean had bought him. Well that and obsess over what the hell was wrong with him.
He wanted to blame it on the run in with the Incubus because it wasn’t possible, he hadn’t been in close proximity with the Incubus, he was almost certain of it. And there was still the nagging fact that that hunt had been better than a week before and the Incubus was dead so there was no way it was some lingering effect. There were many ways that an Incubus could infect it’s victim, not just the well known fluid transfer but they all necessitated being in close proximity to the Incubus and Sam wasn’t and it was dead, Dean had killed it and this shouldn’t be happening.
Suddenly Sam went absolutely still, even the slight tremor he had been suffering recently seemed to have fled as his mind turned over what he had just thought.
Dean had killed the Incubus; Sam knew that because when he found his brother and the monster it definitely was dead only Sam hadn’t seen any wound on the Incubus that could have been considered a fatal wound. The dreams hadn’t started until Dean had woken up from his three-day coma; in fact they started the first night that Dean had woken up from his coma. Dean was always bitching about being hungry and Sam was always tired.
“Oh fuck.” He hissed softly and scrubbed a hand across his forehead. If what he was thinking was correct they were so far beyond fucked this time that Sam didn’t know if there was a possible way to fix this.
Forcing himself up, he stumbled over to his messenger bag and pulled out his laptop. There were only two ways he was going to find out if his suspicions were correct and one of them wasn’t viable since this was something he didn’t think that Bobby was going to be able to let go so he had to hope that he’d find some answers on the private website Christian had set up. Their second cousin might or might not be a bastard, in all fairness they hadn’t had any real contact with any of the Campbells since they had gotten Sam’s soul back from Crowley and Crowley had stopped letting his demons use their family as meat suits but at least he knew his way around the net. He wasn’t anywhere near as savvy as Ash had been but he was good enough, good enough to set up a website for the hunters in the Campbell’s immediate circle.
Settling back at the corner table, he opened his laptop and curled his fingers into tight fists as he waited for it to boot up.
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Dean just was hungry, all the time. And maybe Sam’s new fascination with his older brother was a byproduct of lack of sleep and a final fuck you from Lucifer just before Crowley had pulled his soul out of the cage.
Maybe.
Sam’s jaw cracked as he grit his teeth against the voice in his head reminding him that Winchesters just weren’t that lucky.
To say that Sam was surprised when Dean said that they were staying for a second night in the same town after a week of constant driving would be an understatement. But on the other hand, it made his plan a little easier to try to follow through on so he wasn’t going to be an idiot and look a gift horse in the mouth.
After two hours of research while Dean was gone for supplies and then spent an hour outside washing his baby, Sam had forced himself to admit that chances were that Dean had become the Incubus.
According to what Sam had read, his great, great, great grandfather had stumbled across an Incubus who knew it wasn’t going to survive tangling with the Campbells and the hunters that hunted with them. Faced with death, it had cursed the hunter who had cornered it to become an Incubus and the hunter had. It took awhile for his great and so forth grandfather to figure it out but it all the same signs were there, the hunter, named Donald, had complained of being hungry all the time and several in the Campbell camp began complaining of being tired constantly since the night of the hunt. When pressed they also admitted to be having “risqué” dreams that seemed to progress as time wore on.
But unlike the cure for vampirism that had been passed down from generation to generation there wasn’t a cure for becoming an Incubus, well other than the final one. And Sam refused to admit that there was nothing else he could do for his brother.
It was when he got to a footnote at the bottom of the page that he found some hope. Seemed that Donald was considered a child where being an Incubus was concerned, his control of his power not yet fully formed which was why so many around him were affected by him. The Campbell’s didn’t believe it was something that Donald was doing consciously, giving a bunch of hunters sex dreams and then feeding off the subsequent energy. His great, great, great grandfather had believed that they could harness Donald’s new supernatural power if they could find a focus for him; unfortunately, the whole reason that Donald had become a hunter was because a werewolf had killed his family and he had never shown any inclination towards anyone else. In the end, they had killed him both for themselves and in the belief that the Donald before the curse wouldn’t want to end up that way.
Likewise, Dean didn’t really have a focus, someone that he could feed off of without worry that Dean would kill him or her and that was Sam’s fault. If he had stopped the vampire from turning his brother all those months before and then Dean hadn’t gone to Lisa’s and almost killed her and Ben then things would be different. Dean would have his focus, not that Sam was sure he would allow Lisa to become Dean’s focus. He had stood by and watched that damn vampire turn is brother because it was a means to an end and without his soul all that had mattered to Sam was getting the job done. But Sam had his soul now and he was pretty sure he couldn’t do that to Lisa.
He wanted to believe it was because his newly returned conscious wouldn’t allow it but Sam wasn’t arrogant enough not to know the truth. He might not be in love with his brother but he was selfish enough to not want someone else to be the main focus of his brother’s life, man or Incubus. All Sam had left, all Sam really trusted in was Dean and he didn’t want to lose that for any reason, not when he had finally started to get that back.
But that left only one solution; he was going to have to become his brother’s focus. His newly cursed, uncontrolled, Incubus of a brother’s sexual focus so that Dean didn’t have to be put down because he was killing people.
It should have been something that freaked him out and had him running for the nearest bottle of holy water, just incase it was still something that Lucifer had done to him, or the closet insane asylum but it didn’t. He wasn’t in love with Dean, it was Dean, his big brother, but Gabriel hadn’t been lying all those years ago when he had said that he and Dean were each other’s biggest weaknesses and he did love his brother. He would do this for Dean because he wasn’t going to lose him, again, and if he had to be brutally honest, the idea of having sex with him didn’t bother him as much as it probably should have. It was just sex, for months he had had sex with hookers for the simple reason that he had the urge to get off, if his plan worked he’d be getting off regularly and get to keep the only family he had left.
Breaking a taboo that belonged to a society that refused to acknowledge them as anything other than criminals, small sacrifice as far as he was concerned.
Not that he was going to do anything drastic until he was absolutely certain. His ancestor might have come up with a ritual to bind a new Incubus to a human focus but he didn’t lay out anyway to prove that said Incubus was actually an Incubus. Sure the signs had been there just like there were now but it wasn’t like there had been an actual test to prove that Donald had been an Incubus as far as Sam had read.
And Sam wasn’t going on suspicion alone.
Which was why he was hoping that Dean hadn’t noticed Sam following him the two blocks to the bar. It wouldn’t do any good if Dean caught him out. Sure, he was pretty certain that he could convince his brother that he had decided he wanted a beer and Dean would probably invite him along but it would blow all his plans to hell since he didn’t think that Dean wouldn’t be leery of him being around while he hunted for his next meal. Hungry or not, he didn’t think that Dean wouldn’t be on high alert, expecting Sam to just appear nearby to wherever he chose to take his partner.
The low grunt as he slid up to the mouth of the dark alley beside the bar had Sam pulling up short. It could mean nothing or it could mean everything but he wouldn’t know until he checked it out.
Silently he slipped into the alley and carefully picked his way down the trash strewn broken asphalt, following the sounds of sex coming from further in the shadows. Keeping close to the rough brick of the bar, he side farther into the alley until he could make out two figures pressed up against the same wall about twenty feet away from him. Biting his lower lip, he clenched his hands into fists as he made out his brother pressed up against a slightly taller guy, their mouths sliding together and apart as Dean’s hand worked furiously on the guy’s cock.
“Come for me.” The growled demand tugged at something deep inside Sam and he took a couple of staggering steps forward before he managed to catch himself and forced himself back into the darker shadows, dick and balls aching with the need to come as his brother’s partner shuddered and gasped through his orgasm.
Any question as to whether Dean was an Incubus was quelled instantly as Sam watched him still and simply breathe deeply. And that definitely wasn’t the normal reaction for anyone especially not his horn dog of a brother. Not that Sam was intimately familiar with what his brother did or didn’t do sexually but he had heard enough of Dean’s bragging and had enough first hand experience of his own to know that, gentleman or not, being horny would override even Sam’s better instincts and he would be rutting up against his partner while trying to wait for her to come back enough from her own orgasm to help him out. Not just stand there, still and silent and seemingly completely without his own need.
Carefully, now would not be the time for Dean to realize that he and his victim weren’t alone in the alley, Sam backed out into the street, keeping his eyes on the scene he was leaving behind. The hunter inside him railed against the idea of leaving a victim alone with a monster but Sam forced the urge to rush back in and save the nameless guy down. Even from the distance of the street, he could see Dean step back and the guy slowly begin to push away from the wall.
“You’re looking kind of tired. Maybe you should head on home and get some rest.”
Stepping further back behind the corner of the bar, Sam watched as Dean took one last lingering look at the guy before moving past him and back towards the back entrance of the bar. Pulling open the door, Dean turned his head and kept his eye on his partner until the guy had managed to fumble his pants closed and started to stagger towards the street.
At that point, Sam slid completely around the corner and started up the street the way he had come.
Well at least that answered one question but now Sam had to lay all his hope on an archaic ritual that some distant ancestor had cooked up and hope like hell it worked. Because if it didn’t his second option wasn’t really an option at all.
Part Two
Pairing/Characters: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Incest, guy-on-guy sex, swearing
Spoilers: Major plot spoiler for Season 6
Word Count: 13,122 (total)
Disclaimer: Don't own - just playing in somebody else's sandbox.
Summary: Nobody said that any hunt was easy but Sam wasn't expecting this kind of curse, hell he never even knew it could happen until it did.
A/N: Written for spn_reversebang using lightthesparks ' art and idea as the prompt. There was no way to add all her wonderful art here so please wander over to her art masterpost, view the gorgeous and tell her how great she is.
by lightthesparks
Sam glanced up at Dean’s moan and held his breath as his brother shifted around in his bed before his eyes fluttered open.
Oh, thank God.
There wasn’t any thought, only simple instinct pushing Sam up from sitting at the rickety table, hunched over his open laptop and sending him across the room to lean over his brother. “Dean?”
Blank eyes stared up at the water stained off white ceiling and Sam was ready to start panicking all over again but finally Dean blinked a couple of times before his gaze met Sam’s.
“What happened?”
His voice was rough, three days of disuse making it more of a growl and heat flared low in Sam’s stomach. If it had been anybody else, he might have thought that it felt a lot like desire but this was his brother and it couldn’t be anything other than relief. Sam was overtired, the last time he got more than an hour or two of sleep had been before he had found Dean sprawled out, unconscious, on the dirty floor of one of the bedrooms in the falling down farmhouse just outside of town with the withered husk of the Incubus they had been hunting at his side, three nights previous. He was running on nothing more than caffeine and fear and the surge of relief that rushed through his system was simply confusing his drained emotions.
That was all.
Dean had never been big on showing any kind of deeper emotion and Sam tried to respect that boundary but it had been four days of worry and lack of sleep and frustration when Dean wouldn’t wake up and his legs just wouldn’t hold him any longer. At least he managed to control his drop to sit beside his brother on the bed so it appeared that he was doing it in deference to allow Dean to shift around in the bed and not have to remain on his back staring up at Sam instead of the truth that he suddenly just felt too weak and needed to be closer to his brother now that Dean was awake.
“What do you remember?”
With a grunt, Dean pulled himself up so that he could lean against the cheap pressboard headboard and ran a hand down his face. “We…uh…the Incubus. We tracked it to an abandoned farm outside of town.” His voice petered out and he looked to Sam for confirmation.
There was a fine tremble working through Sam’s body and he curled his fingers into tight fists in his lap to try to hide it. Now that Dean was awake, finally, all Sam wanted to do was curl around his brother and sleep.
Wait. What?
The emotions running through him were similar to the ones he had felt when Dean had first been dragged out of hell. Back then the fear that Dean really wasn’t there or wasn’t there to stay had been so tangible that for the first few months, it had been a fight with himself not to be in constant contact with Dean just to make sure that he was really there and wasn’t going to be going anywhere soon. But this felt different, this was different, Dean hadn’t been dragged down to hell by a hell hound and he hadn’t been dead, he had been sleeping, three days his mind hissed, okay, in some kind of supernatural coma but he had been breathing, had been alive the whole time and this kind of reaction, this need to touch Dean, feel his skin beneath Sam’s fingers was out of line even for something like this.
Dean was right, he really was the girl in this partnership.
The rough sound of his brother clearing his throat had Sam blinking back to now, pushing away the odd feelings, and shelving them for later examination when Dean wasn’t looking at him like Sam was the one that had been whammied in some way or another.
“Y…yeah.” He mumbled and forcefully uncurled his fingers and rubbed his sweaty palms over the rough material of his jeans. “We split up when we got in the house. Heard you yell and when I got to the back bedroom, you were passed out and the Incubus was dead.”
There was more to it than just that but Sam didn’t know how to go about questioning Dean about it. It should have been simple, just ask his brother why the corpse of the Incubus only had a shallow defensive wound on it’s chest instead of a killing blow and yet it was dead. Why it was dead instead of, thank Christ, it wasn’t Dean dead when all the facts pointed to it being his brother no longer breathing. There was something there, something that Sam knew he needed to know but, as far as he was concerned, the explanation could wait until Dean was back to top form.
It was probably a bad idea but Sam was just happy that Dean was alive and awake and alive.
The smirk was the same; nothing new about it and Sam knew it meant that Dean would be crowing about killing the Incubus as soon as he opened his mouth. It was the same old, same old and yet instead of the usual annoyance he would feel when he knew that Dean’s ego was about to take a front seat, he felt that unfamiliar curl of heat spike again in his belly.
Shifting uncomfortably because it was want, plain and simple and what the hell? No really, what the hell? Maybe Sam was secure enough that he could appreciate the male form just as much as a female’s but he had never been attracted to another man before. And beyond that, they were brothers which screamed no and bad and wrong.
Maybe he had been whammied before Dean had taken out the Incubus but that couldn’t have been possible because he had never been in contact with it as far as he knew. Unless it had been masquerading as one of the witnesses or cops they had interviewed but shouldn’t that have faded by now? What the hell was wrong with him?
“I am an awesome fucking hunter.” Dean fist pumped before rolling to the other side of the bed and climbing out. “Kicked its ass!”
All of his confusing and terrifying thoughts fled at the sight of Dean grabbing his duffle from the floor at the end of his bed and dropping it on top of it.
“What are you doing?”
Dean paused in his rooting around inside of his bag only long enough to glance over at Sam with one eyebrow raised, “I’m hungry Sam.” Before he went right back at it, pulling out a pair of jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt. “Feel like I haven’t eaten in days.”
“Dean,” Sam groaned and pulled to his feet, taking a step towards his brother before stilling at his brother’s quelling look. “Come on man, you’ve been out for three days, do you really think you should be up and moving around like this?”
Huffing a breath, Dean started to pull the shirt over his head, “Other than feeling a little stiff and starving, I’m fine Francis. But I won’t be if I don’t eat soon so untwist you’re panties, we’re going out for dinner or breakfast or,” his head cleared the material and he glanced over at the blind covered window between the two beds. “Lunch. What the hell time is it anyway?”
This should be good news, hell great news and yet Sam couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong. Dean had been out for three days, probably closer to four and yet he was bouncing around like he had simply had a good night’s sleep after a rough patch. It made something twist cold inside of Sam but he couldn’t explain why and it only made him feel worse. It was almost like a part of him wanted there to be something wrong with Dean because of him being out for so long, like he shouldn’t be perfectly fine after sleeping for so long.
Glancing down at his wristwatch so he had an excuse not to look at his brother because he was certain that his feelings would be clear on his face, Sam took a deep breath. “Shortly after two in the afternoon.”
“Lunch it is then.” Dean grinned and slapped him on the shoulder as he walked past. “Come on Sammy let’s eat.”
Sam followed him with his eyes, watched him slip his boots on and tie them haphazardly before patting his pockets for his keys. “Here.” He muttered, unnerved and a little hesitant in the face of Dean’s apparent lack of side effects, and pulled the keys from his own pocket and tossed them towards his brother.
“Better not have been playing any of that emo shit you call music in my baby.” Dean grinned at him before opening and slipping out of the door. “Come on Sammy! I want lunch and pie!”
Slowly Sam moved across the room trying to shake the weird feelings climbing his spine. Dean wanted pie. Dean was fine. This was good.
So why did it feel like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop?
“Sonofabitch!”
Sam jerked upright, hand automatically reaching under his pillow for the knife he had started keeping there when Dean had been dragged to hell three years earlier before rolling from the bed and dropping to a crouch between his bed and the wall.
“Easy Sammy.” Dean muttered and Sam squinted as the lamp between the beds clicked to life.
“Dean?”
Still, glaring at Dean who was smirking back, it still took a moment for his brain to convince his body to relax from his tense stance before he could slowly straighten to his full height. “What the hell?” He snapped as he took in his brother’s disheveled appearance. If he didn’t know better, Sam would swear that his brother had been in the middle of a fight, his jacket was askew, hanging off one shoulder and his hair looked like someone had been tugging on handfuls of it but a quick glance showed no signs of blood anywhere on Dean, not his knuckles or face. “You were asleep when I went to bed,” he glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand between the beds, “Three hours ago.”
Dean shrugged as he pulled off his jacket, dropping it to rest over the back of one of the chairs in the corner of the room. “I was hungry.”
Sam blinked and shook his head, tempted to stick his fingers in his ears and try to clear them out because he could not have heard Dean right. “Hungry? Dean when we got back here after you tried to eat your own weight in food, you could barely move. What the hell do you mean you were hungry?”
“That was hours ago Sam.” He muttered as he worked the buckle of his belt loose, undid his jeans and let them slide from his hips before leaning over and undoing his boots and kicking both off in one go. Straightening, he stripped off his outer shirt and started working his long sleeved t-shirt up his torso, “So I went down to that shit kicker bar at the end of town looking for something to eat.”
“At one am.” He muttered and dropped back down to sit on his bed. “Jesus Dean you couldn’t wait until morning?” Slipping the knife back under his pillow, he squinted over at his brother, watching him digging for a clean pair of boxers with one hand while pulling off his socks with the other.
Dean looked up at him and said very slowly, “Hungry.”
Shaking his head, Sam flopped back down and shifted around until he could pull the blankets back up on the bed and over himself. He was too tired for this shit, unlike Dean, he hadn’t spent the last three nights sleeping and all he really wanted was fifteen or twenty hours of uninterrupted rest, barring that because it wasn’t going to happen, he’d happily take six hours if, apparently, Dean’s stomach would let him. “I hope the burger gives you heartburn.” He muttered and pushed his face into the flat pillow.
Dean snorted and Sam could just pick out the quiet padding of his bare feet across the ugly gold carpeting as he headed towards the bathroom. “I’m sorry for running into the table and bruising my hip but I’ll live, thanks for asking. Go back to sleep princess and I’ll endeavor to remain silent the next time I try to take a chunk of myself off with a piece of furniture.”
Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, it was getting to be too hard to even be bothered with staying annoyed with his brother. Yeah, once he realized that they weren’t getting attacked by a demon or shifter or any other supernatural being but Dean stumbling into shit that woke him up, he should have been pissed but it just wasn’t worth it anymore, not when he had found the one spot on his bed that actually felt comfortable. Still he couldn’t let the comment pass without some form of retaliation. Uncurling his arm, Sam lifted it high enough that he knew Dean would see him and flipped him off.
Chuckling, Dean slapped at his hand until Sam let it drop back beside him and then continued into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
It wasn’t until he vaguely registered the shower turning on that it occurred to Sam that he was hard. Eyes snapping open he stared across the space at Dean’s rumpled bed and felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment, had he been hard the whole time? Had Dean noticed? He couldn’t have because there was no way his brother would have let that go.
It wasn’t much in way of consolation because he couldn’t remember dreaming of anything that would have made him hard before Dean had woken him up. But that just left Dean and there was no way in hell that he had gotten hard because of Dean.
Everyone dreamed while they slept, it was the natural order of things and just because he didn’t remember any of it didn’t mean that it didn’t happen. Letting his body relax back into the mattress, Sam huffed out a breath, he really needed to get some sleep right the hell now because his mind was drawing the strangest conclusions and coming up with the weirdest ideas because he was sleep deprived.
And that was all it was, he was just sleep deprived. Once he got a couple of decent hours of rest under his belt everything would be back to the status quo, he was certain of it.
“Come on Sammy. Up and at ‘em.”
Sam rolled over with a groan and glared up at Dean. “Times it?”
“Late.” He pulled back from leaning over him, “It’s time to get out of Dodge before someone finds that body.”
Sam had been scrubbing his hands over his face trying to shake the heavy feeling of sleep still lingering but at Dean’s words his whole body froze for a minute before he was pushing himself up and glaring at his brother. “Body? What body?”
Dean raised an eyebrow and something dark flickered through his eyes. “The Incubus. You know the monster we came here to hunt?” He backed up until he was free from the small space between the two beds and he crossed his arms over his chest. “What body did you think I meant?”
The small hairs at the back of Sam’s neck stiffened at the hard tone in his brother’s voice. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard Dean sound that angry before, wasn’t even the first time that anger had been directed at him but it was the first time since they had managed to get his soul back. It was kind of disconcerting especially since it had been his brother who had brought up a body not him, “I don’t know!” He snarled back and pushed out of bed. “You pull me out of the first real sleep I’ve had in days and start talking about some body. Jesus Dean, at least give me long enough to uncross my eyes before you start.”
He crossed to the bathroom door, resting one hand on the doorframe to keep from taking a swing at his brother, unsure and more than a little unnerved by the feeling. “And for the record, I may have my soul back but that doesn’t make me suddenly squeamish. After I got you back here that first night, I went back and salted and burned the body.”
Rubbing at the back of his neck, Dean looked down and away for a moment of tense silence before crossing back over to his bed and grabbing up his duffle. “Sam, I’m…” he huffed out a breath and pulled the strap over his shoulder, “Look it shouldn’t even have been a question as to what happened with the body, okay.”
Narrowing his eyes, he shook his head, knowing this was the best he was going to get in the way of an apology.
“I guess the whole sleepin’ for three days has fucked with me a little more than I thought, I’m feelin’ a little out of the loop here.”
There was more to it then that and Sam knew it but now wasn’t the time to push for answers, not with the way he could literally see Dean’s walls slamming up around him. “Yeah.” He finally allowed and scrubbed a hand over his face again, “Do I have time for a quick shower?”
It was an olive branch; he didn’t want to be arguing with Dean, not when he had spent days worrying that he had somehow lost his brother to some sort of supernatural coma. All he wanted was to move forward from this and hope that Dean was telling the truth when he said that he was certain that there had been no further effects from whatever the Incubus had done to him. He ignored the nagging thought that he knew there was something going on with his brother, some lingering effect that Dean wasn’t ready to share with him yet. All the thought did was piss him off because Dean knew better, they both knew better than to withhold any kind of information from each other when it came to shit like this. Too many times in the past it had come back to bite them in the ass.
“Jesus yes.” Dean smiled fleetingly at him before heading toward the motel door, “You stink dude.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to remind him of the three days he spent sleeping and left Sam to worry but held the words back. It wasn’t Dean’s fault, not really and it wouldn’t do anything but prompt either another round of bickering or Dean calling him Francis or some other girly name for worrying so much, even if they both knew Dean would have done the exact same thing.
“Bite me.” He tossed back instead and took a step back into the bathroom.
“Don’t tempt me.” He glanced over his shoulder and Sam swore his eyes were darker than normal but that had to be from the shadows being thrown by the bad motel room lighting and the blinds still closed tight in front of the windows. “I’m starving.”
“What?” The bathroom door had almost been completely shut and he pulled it open so quickly that he almost caught his own cheek. “What the hell Dean?”
“Just get a move on Sammy.” Dean stepped through the motel room door and threw over his shoulder, “I’m running down to the dinner for breakfast take out and coffee, you’ve got twenty tops.”
Sam stared at the closed door and chewed on his bottom lip. Was it normal for people that came out of a coma to be hungry all the time? Probably not but then again they were in hospitals with I.V.s feeding nutrients into their systems, Dean had had none of that so maybe this was his body’s way of making up for missing more than a couple meals.
Shaking his head, Sam shut the bathroom door and slid out of his boxers, all he could hope for was that Dean’s system would even out before he maxed the cards out making up for lost time.
“Oh God please.” Sam moaned and tried to shift up onto his elbows so that he could looked down and watch his cock disappearing between the plush lips of his lover but there was a hand in the center of his chest keeping him pressed back against the bed.
He could fight it, force her to give up so that he could watch but it wasn’t worth the effort or the risk. If she wanted to keep him down for this then so be it, he hadn’t been with anyone since he had gotten out of Lucifer’s cage and there was no way in hell he was risking doing anything that would make her stop.
Apparently his acquiesce of her desires must have registered because her hand started to slowly slide down his chest, over the crease of his hip until fingertips were pressing against his perineum.
Sam’s body jerked at the added stimulus and he groaned softly, hips thrusting off the bed, cock slipping further into the wet heat. He was so close, it wouldn’t take much more and he would be coming.
“Please.”
Whining deep in his chest, he reached out and tried to curl his fingers into his partner’s hair only he couldn’t get a grip. Couldn’t get a grip because it wasn’t the long hair of a woman but the shorter hair of a man.
He was getting blown by a man.
Sam jerked awake, knees knocking hard against the underside of the dash of the Impala and he rubbed his eyes trying to erase the image in his head. “Shit!” He hissed, not sure if he was cursing because of the pain in his knees or the fact that he had been a having a dream about getting blown by another man.
It wasn’t that Sam had anything against a guy having sex with another guy but it had never been his thing and to suddenly start having dreams of having sex with another man at twenty-eight instead of when he had been a teenager and his hormones had been running rampant left him more than a little confused.
It took a moment for reality to filter in and push back the dream but suddenly it occurred to him that they weren’t moving even though the car was still running and other than his own harsh breathing, there was nothing but silence echoing around the car. Dropping his hand from in front of his eyes, Sam glanced around realizing that the Impala was pulled over, haphazardly, to the side of the road and Dean was gone, his door left hanging open. Heart kicking up a notch, he scanned the dark road and tree line around him until he spotted a darker shadow standing just outside of the trees.
Pushing his door open, Sam pulled himself out of the car and took a couple hesitant steps towards his brother. “Dean?”
Even at a distance he could make out Dean’s head dropping forward and Sam’s palms began to sweat. He had known that they had gotten off too easy, other than Dean trying to eat his own weight worth of food, it had seemed like there had been no lasting effects of whatever the Incubus had done to his brother. But that assumption had been wrong because there was no way in hell that Dean would leave his baby parked with her ass sticking out onto the road or his door hanging open where another vehicle could come past and hit her, especially at night in the middle of a midnight dark forest.
What the hell?
Not sure what to expect, Sam slowly made his way towards his brother’s dark form, making sure to make enough noise that Dean wouldn’t be able to miss that he was coming closer. “Dean? You okay?”
Dean’s head lifted but he didn’t turn around, “Yeah. Just stiff.”
His voice was rough, like he had been screaming for hours. Or like he had been giving someone head.
Sam clenched his teeth and ignored the fresh surge of want that heated his blood. Jesus Christ what the hell was wrong with him? This was Dean, his brother, and a guy, how many times was he going to have to remind himself of that?
Dean’s shoulders suddenly tensed up and he huffed out a breath before he shook his head and slowly turned to face Sam. “We should go.”
It took everything in Sam not to jerk back when he finally saw his brother’s face. For just a moment he would have sworn that Dean’s eyes had been glowing, the green bright in the darkness but that wasn’t possible, it had to have been a trick of the moonlight. It had to be.
“Y…yeah.” He managed to push out past a dry mouth.
He nodded once before he started past Sam, close enough that Sam could hear his brother’s rough breathing but not touching. “We’ll stop at the next town, get something to eat, sleep.”
Turning his head, he watched Dean make it back to the car before he could force his body to follow. What he had seen or thought he had seen was just a fucked hold over from still being so tired, he was sure of it. Because there was no other explanation.
None whatsoever.
“Sam.”
Sam swallowed hard and forced his fingers to loosen from the tight hold he had on his cell phone. After all this time, it was still instinctive to get irrationally angry when he heard that particular tone of disappointment laced with anger from anyone. It had started back when he was a teenager and his dad refused to understand that sometimes Sam had just wanted to be a normal kid, play sports, date girls, go to school dances and had used that tone. Like Sam was lacking for wanting to be more than just a tool in his dad’s war and need for revenge. It had been years since it was even possible for his dad to use that tone on him since the man was dead but Bobby seemed to have perfected it to take up the slack.
But, Sam reminded himself; the man had a reason for being disappointed with him. The night Dean had killed the Incubus and after Sam had been unable to rouse him and had dragged his unconscious brother back to the motel, he had called Bobby for help.
Not that Bobby had been much help but God knew the man had tried. First offering his house and then his vast library and manpower to search what the problem was and then how to fix it. Even though he hadn’t been able to come up with anything, useful or otherwise, he had stilled called more than once a day to check in with Sam to find out if there had been any change and to offer his home over and over. And how had Sam thanked him? By forgetting to let him know that Dean had woken and seemed fine and missing the last three calls Bobby had placed to him by being asleep.
The more he thought about it, the more Sam had to admit that he was more his father than he ever wanted to accept.
“Hey Bobby.”
“Don’t hey me you idjit.” Bobby’s voice was gruff and Sam’s guilt surged higher. “If you hadn’t answered this time I was going to make the drive to find out what the hell had happened so start talking Winchester.”
Sam glanced around the dinner that he and Dean were currently in, ensuring that none of the other patrons were within earshot before slumping further into the booth. “He’s awake.”
“And?”
“And,” he glanced around once more before his eyes settled on the small hallway a few feet from their table that led to the bathrooms watching for Dean to return. It wasn’t that he didn’t want his brother to overhear this conversation but it felt wrong to be talking about him like this. “He seems…is fine. I mean he’s hungry a lot of the time but I’m guessing that’s just his body making up for lost time.”
Sam could and had cleaned and changed both Dean and the bed sheets until there was nothing left in his brother’s body but he couldn’t force him to eat or take in fluids while he had been a coma. Truth of the matter was that if Dean hadn’t woken up when he did Sam had had plans for taking him to the hospital, covertly dumping him there and then acting the harried brother when they contacted him through the emergency contact info in Dean’s wallet and acted like he hadn’t seen his brother in a couple days. The idea had sat like lead in his stomach which way why he had left it as a last resort.
Bobby grunted and Sam could hear him tapping something, a pen maybe, against the hard wood of his table. “But he’s fine?”
“Yeah.” The word tasted like a lie but Sam didn’t know why.
“Well that’s good then.” He chuckled, “You boys are gonna be the death of me.”
“Bobby,” he muttered and chewed on the inside of his lip. How could he explain just how much Bobby meant to him, to Dean and how much they owed the man? It seemed like every time he turned around, one of them was going to the older hunter for help or advice and never once had he turned them away or asked for anything in return. It meant more to Sam then he could ever really voice and that’s what hurt the most. “Thanks.”
“Just…” Bobby huffed out a breath, “Keep an eye on your brother for me. I don’t like that I couldn’t find anything about what happened to him or why it happened. Just ‘cause he seems fine…”
Sam wanted to be upset, wanted to tell Bobby not to jinx this because they had finally got off easy for a change but the words wouldn’t come. It was hard to be pissed off at the warning when there was that little nagging part of him that couldn’t seem to accept that Dean was fine and it was getting harder and harder to chalk it up to his own fucked up equilibrium just because he still hadn’t managed to catch up on his own missing sleep.
Dean appearing from behind the bathroom door started Sam’s heart pounding. “I gotta go Bobby.”
“Sam?”
“I’m on it.” He swore, pulled the cell from his ear and hit end. The guilt on cutting the call short dwarfed by the guilt at talking about his brother behind his back.
“Who was that?” Dean settled across from him and snagged his half full cup of coffee.
“Bobby.” He glanced from Dean to the waitress loitering behind the counter at the front of the dinner suddenly wishing she would get her ass over to their table and give them their bill. It wasn’t much in way of a distraction but she was pretty enough that Dean wouldn’t be able to help but flirt with her long enough that Sam could make his escape to pay their bill and then they would be leaving. In the eventual debate as to which direction to take since they had yet to find another case, why Bobby had been calling would be forgotten.
“He got something for us?”
“Nah.” He admitted low and pulled himself from the booth, if she wouldn’t bring their check, he’d go and get it.
Dean’s hand on his arm stopped him, “Well at least you checked.”
Swallowing down the bitter taste on his tongue, Sam shrugged off his brother’s touch, “Yeah. Can’t do the family business if we can’t find the business.”
He didn’t know why he hadn’t told Dean the truth only that something kept it locked down in his chest. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to admit that he had panicked and called Bobby the same night that what had happened had. Or maybe because he knew Dean would be pissed that either him or Bobby seemed intent on looking a gift horse in the mouth where his lack of side effects were concerned.
The way Dean’s eyes seemed to glow for just a minute the night before surged up in Sam’s mind. Or maybe it was because of that and what, if anything, it could possibly mean.
It had been a week since they had left Marshal, Montana and the Incubus behind and had traveled aimlessly from small town to small town with no real destination in mind. Usually times like these, when there didn’t seem to be a hunt, they would find somewhere to hole up, go through their supplies, re-stock up on the items that they were running low on, do a thorough maintenance of the weapons and hustle up a decent amount of cash at the local pool table. But Dean couldn’t seem to settle in any one place for that to happen, insisting that they only stay a night at whatever shit hole motel they came across first in a new town before forcing them back in the car the next morning and disappearing over the horizon.
The fact that Sam damn well knew they needed to re-stock most of the essential items in the first-aid kit and should really check the rest of the supplies was enough to make him short with Dean. But the fact that no matter what time he went to bed, he always woke up feeling like he hadn’t slept at all the night before and it was making him sloppy was making him pissed off. He was sporting more bruises now from bouncing off walls and into cheap motel furniture than he ever had when he had gone through his first growth spurt during puberty and had to get used to too long legs and suddenly big feet. If they actually happened upon a hunt, he was pretty sure he would be a bigger liability than a help to Dean.
Then there were the dreams. Since that first one in the Impala it had become a nightly thing for him to dream about his phantom, male, lover. Sometimes he was getting blown, sometimes he was getting blown while thick fingers shoved in and out of him and the last one had had him on his stomach, strong hands trapping his wrists above his head while he was being fucked into. That one had been the night before and he had awoke mid-orgasm.
After his breathing had settled some and enough blood had returned to his head to think fairly clearly two things occurred to him simultaneously. One, he had just had a sex dream with Dean in the other bed and two he had been having a sex dream about having sex with Dean. He had turned wide eyes towards Dean’s bed and felt a modicum of relief to find his brother still asleep but it didn’t stop the silent freak out.
Really he shouldn’t have known that it was Dean who had been fucking him but he couldn’t forget how his dream self had focused on a little curved scare on the side of his phantom lover’s wrist just below his thumb. Dean had that scar, a remnant from when they had tangled with a Rugaru a few years back.
He hadn’t been able to get back to sleep after that, his mind twisting and turning, trying to find a reasonable explanation as to why he was having dreams about having sex with his brother. By the time the room had started to shift from dark indistinct shadows to recognizable shapes, he had a headache bordering on becoming a migraine and no answers. That was probably the reason why when Dean had started making small noises signaling that he was waking, Sam had rolled onto his stomach and feigned sleep. He just didn’t think he had enough energy to fake that there was nothing wrong and there was the uncomfortable bonus that he couldn’t honestly say what his reaction would be towards his brother.
Sam lifted the styrofoam cup to his lips, ignoring how his hand shook, the thin skin already red from hot coffee spilling over the edge when he took his first sip.
He had listened to Dean putter around the room before he heard him scrabbling for something and then let himself out the door. After hearing the sound of the Impala start up and then drive away, he had opened his eyes to see a slip of paper propped up against the lamp on the nightstand between the beds letting him know that Dean had gone for coffee.
Dean had returned while he was in the shower, left a cup of coffee for him and another note saying that he was going for supplies.
That had been almost a half hour before and Sam hadn’t managed much more than getting dressed, burning his hand and managing to swallow down some of the coffee Dean had bought him. Well that and obsess over what the hell was wrong with him.
He wanted to blame it on the run in with the Incubus because it wasn’t possible, he hadn’t been in close proximity with the Incubus, he was almost certain of it. And there was still the nagging fact that that hunt had been better than a week before and the Incubus was dead so there was no way it was some lingering effect. There were many ways that an Incubus could infect it’s victim, not just the well known fluid transfer but they all necessitated being in close proximity to the Incubus and Sam wasn’t and it was dead, Dean had killed it and this shouldn’t be happening.
Suddenly Sam went absolutely still, even the slight tremor he had been suffering recently seemed to have fled as his mind turned over what he had just thought.
Dean had killed the Incubus; Sam knew that because when he found his brother and the monster it definitely was dead only Sam hadn’t seen any wound on the Incubus that could have been considered a fatal wound. The dreams hadn’t started until Dean had woken up from his three-day coma; in fact they started the first night that Dean had woken up from his coma. Dean was always bitching about being hungry and Sam was always tired.
“Oh fuck.” He hissed softly and scrubbed a hand across his forehead. If what he was thinking was correct they were so far beyond fucked this time that Sam didn’t know if there was a possible way to fix this.
Forcing himself up, he stumbled over to his messenger bag and pulled out his laptop. There were only two ways he was going to find out if his suspicions were correct and one of them wasn’t viable since this was something he didn’t think that Bobby was going to be able to let go so he had to hope that he’d find some answers on the private website Christian had set up. Their second cousin might or might not be a bastard, in all fairness they hadn’t had any real contact with any of the Campbells since they had gotten Sam’s soul back from Crowley and Crowley had stopped letting his demons use their family as meat suits but at least he knew his way around the net. He wasn’t anywhere near as savvy as Ash had been but he was good enough, good enough to set up a website for the hunters in the Campbell’s immediate circle.
Settling back at the corner table, he opened his laptop and curled his fingers into tight fists as he waited for it to boot up.
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Dean just was hungry, all the time. And maybe Sam’s new fascination with his older brother was a byproduct of lack of sleep and a final fuck you from Lucifer just before Crowley had pulled his soul out of the cage.
Maybe.
Sam’s jaw cracked as he grit his teeth against the voice in his head reminding him that Winchesters just weren’t that lucky.
To say that Sam was surprised when Dean said that they were staying for a second night in the same town after a week of constant driving would be an understatement. But on the other hand, it made his plan a little easier to try to follow through on so he wasn’t going to be an idiot and look a gift horse in the mouth.
After two hours of research while Dean was gone for supplies and then spent an hour outside washing his baby, Sam had forced himself to admit that chances were that Dean had become the Incubus.
According to what Sam had read, his great, great, great grandfather had stumbled across an Incubus who knew it wasn’t going to survive tangling with the Campbells and the hunters that hunted with them. Faced with death, it had cursed the hunter who had cornered it to become an Incubus and the hunter had. It took awhile for his great and so forth grandfather to figure it out but it all the same signs were there, the hunter, named Donald, had complained of being hungry all the time and several in the Campbell camp began complaining of being tired constantly since the night of the hunt. When pressed they also admitted to be having “risqué” dreams that seemed to progress as time wore on.
But unlike the cure for vampirism that had been passed down from generation to generation there wasn’t a cure for becoming an Incubus, well other than the final one. And Sam refused to admit that there was nothing else he could do for his brother.
It was when he got to a footnote at the bottom of the page that he found some hope. Seemed that Donald was considered a child where being an Incubus was concerned, his control of his power not yet fully formed which was why so many around him were affected by him. The Campbell’s didn’t believe it was something that Donald was doing consciously, giving a bunch of hunters sex dreams and then feeding off the subsequent energy. His great, great, great grandfather had believed that they could harness Donald’s new supernatural power if they could find a focus for him; unfortunately, the whole reason that Donald had become a hunter was because a werewolf had killed his family and he had never shown any inclination towards anyone else. In the end, they had killed him both for themselves and in the belief that the Donald before the curse wouldn’t want to end up that way.
Likewise, Dean didn’t really have a focus, someone that he could feed off of without worry that Dean would kill him or her and that was Sam’s fault. If he had stopped the vampire from turning his brother all those months before and then Dean hadn’t gone to Lisa’s and almost killed her and Ben then things would be different. Dean would have his focus, not that Sam was sure he would allow Lisa to become Dean’s focus. He had stood by and watched that damn vampire turn is brother because it was a means to an end and without his soul all that had mattered to Sam was getting the job done. But Sam had his soul now and he was pretty sure he couldn’t do that to Lisa.
He wanted to believe it was because his newly returned conscious wouldn’t allow it but Sam wasn’t arrogant enough not to know the truth. He might not be in love with his brother but he was selfish enough to not want someone else to be the main focus of his brother’s life, man or Incubus. All Sam had left, all Sam really trusted in was Dean and he didn’t want to lose that for any reason, not when he had finally started to get that back.
But that left only one solution; he was going to have to become his brother’s focus. His newly cursed, uncontrolled, Incubus of a brother’s sexual focus so that Dean didn’t have to be put down because he was killing people.
It should have been something that freaked him out and had him running for the nearest bottle of holy water, just incase it was still something that Lucifer had done to him, or the closet insane asylum but it didn’t. He wasn’t in love with Dean, it was Dean, his big brother, but Gabriel hadn’t been lying all those years ago when he had said that he and Dean were each other’s biggest weaknesses and he did love his brother. He would do this for Dean because he wasn’t going to lose him, again, and if he had to be brutally honest, the idea of having sex with him didn’t bother him as much as it probably should have. It was just sex, for months he had had sex with hookers for the simple reason that he had the urge to get off, if his plan worked he’d be getting off regularly and get to keep the only family he had left.
Breaking a taboo that belonged to a society that refused to acknowledge them as anything other than criminals, small sacrifice as far as he was concerned.
Not that he was going to do anything drastic until he was absolutely certain. His ancestor might have come up with a ritual to bind a new Incubus to a human focus but he didn’t lay out anyway to prove that said Incubus was actually an Incubus. Sure the signs had been there just like there were now but it wasn’t like there had been an actual test to prove that Donald had been an Incubus as far as Sam had read.
And Sam wasn’t going on suspicion alone.
Which was why he was hoping that Dean hadn’t noticed Sam following him the two blocks to the bar. It wouldn’t do any good if Dean caught him out. Sure, he was pretty certain that he could convince his brother that he had decided he wanted a beer and Dean would probably invite him along but it would blow all his plans to hell since he didn’t think that Dean wouldn’t be leery of him being around while he hunted for his next meal. Hungry or not, he didn’t think that Dean wouldn’t be on high alert, expecting Sam to just appear nearby to wherever he chose to take his partner.
The low grunt as he slid up to the mouth of the dark alley beside the bar had Sam pulling up short. It could mean nothing or it could mean everything but he wouldn’t know until he checked it out.
Silently he slipped into the alley and carefully picked his way down the trash strewn broken asphalt, following the sounds of sex coming from further in the shadows. Keeping close to the rough brick of the bar, he side farther into the alley until he could make out two figures pressed up against the same wall about twenty feet away from him. Biting his lower lip, he clenched his hands into fists as he made out his brother pressed up against a slightly taller guy, their mouths sliding together and apart as Dean’s hand worked furiously on the guy’s cock.
“Come for me.” The growled demand tugged at something deep inside Sam and he took a couple of staggering steps forward before he managed to catch himself and forced himself back into the darker shadows, dick and balls aching with the need to come as his brother’s partner shuddered and gasped through his orgasm.
Any question as to whether Dean was an Incubus was quelled instantly as Sam watched him still and simply breathe deeply. And that definitely wasn’t the normal reaction for anyone especially not his horn dog of a brother. Not that Sam was intimately familiar with what his brother did or didn’t do sexually but he had heard enough of Dean’s bragging and had enough first hand experience of his own to know that, gentleman or not, being horny would override even Sam’s better instincts and he would be rutting up against his partner while trying to wait for her to come back enough from her own orgasm to help him out. Not just stand there, still and silent and seemingly completely without his own need.
Carefully, now would not be the time for Dean to realize that he and his victim weren’t alone in the alley, Sam backed out into the street, keeping his eyes on the scene he was leaving behind. The hunter inside him railed against the idea of leaving a victim alone with a monster but Sam forced the urge to rush back in and save the nameless guy down. Even from the distance of the street, he could see Dean step back and the guy slowly begin to push away from the wall.
“You’re looking kind of tired. Maybe you should head on home and get some rest.”
Stepping further back behind the corner of the bar, Sam watched as Dean took one last lingering look at the guy before moving past him and back towards the back entrance of the bar. Pulling open the door, Dean turned his head and kept his eye on his partner until the guy had managed to fumble his pants closed and started to stagger towards the street.
At that point, Sam slid completely around the corner and started up the street the way he had come.
Well at least that answered one question but now Sam had to lay all his hope on an archaic ritual that some distant ancestor had cooked up and hope like hell it worked. Because if it didn’t his second option wasn’t really an option at all.
Part Two