All the empty places
Title: All the empty places
Author: missyjack
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Dean/Sam
Words: 1893
Genre: Wincest
Spoilers: up to 2x10
Beta: Many thanks to wenchpixie for beautiful work
Disclaimer: Kripke is the magnificent bastard responsible for this.
Summary: What happened between the revelation of the secret, and Sam ditching Dean in Hunted?
“Sam. Please, man.” Dean knew he was saying this all wrong. He’d run through this scene - and a hundred variations on it, - every day since Dad had died and he never got it right, even in his head. That was one of the reasons he’d kept his mouth shut.
Well that, and not wanting to tell Sam that his father’s last words were to bequeath to Dean his brother’s murder.
“Just give me some time.” Dean pleaded. He felt everything skidding out of control, like slick tires on wet tarmac. “Give me some time to think, okay? I'm begging you here - please. Please.”
Sam just glared at him, and turned back to the lake. In the silence between them Dean could feel the weight of his failure. He should have tried harder to find answers, told Sam earlier or kept his mouth shut, should’ve made up some story and got them down to TJ. He’d got it all wrong, just like he had his whole life.
Sam drained the last of his beer. He hurled the bottle out over the water. “Let’s go,” he said as he strode past Dean back to the car. Out on the lake, the bottle bobbed amongst the ripples circling out from its impact.
&&&
They stopped late that night at The Velvet Inn, and for once neither of them joked about the name or the rich plush material that lined the walls of their room.
“Perhaps there is some stuff in Dad’s journal we missed.” Sam paced across the room and back. “He might’ve used some sort of code we don’t know about.”
Dean tossed his duffel into a corner. This was the same argument they had been having for the last 180 miles, and Dean was worn down.
“Sam, can we leave it for tonight?”
“Maybe Ash has got some sort of decoding program.” Sam went outside, retrieved the battered book from the back seat of the Impala and started leafing through it. “There could information here that he could use in that Demon tracker thing he rigged up. If we know where it’s going to show up…”
Dean stalked outside after Sam.
“For fuck’s sake, why don’t we just put an ad in the demon hunter’s newsletter? Psychic boy seeks lonely demon?” Dean rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. “Might as well put a damn target on you.”
“Well apparently you’ve had one on me for months,” said Sam looking up from the journal.
“What the fuck…”
“C’mon Dean. You were probably pissed when that zombie girl didn’t finish me off.” Sam was up close in Dean’s face, his own twisted in rage. “Last night at the clinic? You were relieved weren’t you? Relieved that you could kill me and get it over with.”
“You say that?” Dean’s voice dropped low. “With what we’ve been through together? After everything?”
“Yeah. Yeah I do. ‘Cause even after he’s dead you’re still following Dad’s orders.” Sam pushed Dean so hard he stumbled back against the hood of the car. “You kept all this from me, even though I have a right to know.” Sam slapped a hand on his chest. “This is about me, about who I am. Who I really am.”
Dean saw anger in Sam’s face, but he also saw fear in his eyes.
“I couldn’t tell you man …” Dean reached put a placating hand on Sam’s shoulder, but he just shrugged it off.
“Yeah, I know, you promised Dad you wouldn’t tell.” Sam tossed Dad’s journal at Dean. “You also promised him that you’d kill me.”
Dean caught the book. “I didn’t…Fuck, you really think I could…” he shook his head in frustration, and then he paused.
“Oh, I see what you’re doing. Get me pissed with you. Then I let you storm off and you get to go after this on your on like you want.” Dean crossed his arms as he leant back against the hood. “Ain’t happening. You can throw anything you got at me Sammy. Bring it on,” Dean dared him.
“You want to leave; you’ll have to punch me out.”
Sam stared at Dean for a moment and then, with a hissed Fuck you, he turned and stormed back into the room.
&&&
Dean slumped against the Impala as the cloak of bravado slipped from his shoulders. He stared down at the journal full of his father’s words and rubbed a hand over the worn cover, as if he could conjure up some advice.
He chewed at his lip, as he tried to imagine what Dad would do. He shook his head and half-smiled to himself. Of course John would do exactly what Sam wanted to do - go full-bore after the Demon.
But that was madness. Dean had been pleased when Ash had said he’d be able to track where the Demon showed up because Dean thought he’d be able keep Sam as far away from wherever that was as possible.
Dean hadn’t come up with any other plan. Everything he had studied and been taught, all Dad’s training, and the best he could come up with was hiding. Brilliant idea Dean. Lock Sam in a cabin somewhere and the Demon would never find him. Because that had worked so well last time.
Now. He had to concentrate on what he could do now. Not think about then because the past had Dad in it, and he was gone. And soon - what lay ahead - scared the crap out of him..
They couldn’t fight the Demon without the Colt, they couldn’t run from it or hide from it. Dean didn’t know what was going to happen to Sammy, what other weird mind things he might have. Was Dean meant to save Sam from the Demon or from something else? Why had Dad sacrificed himself? And then there was that last thing John had said, the thing Dean hadn’t told Sam, the thing John had told Dean about himself…
Dean braced himself with both hands on the hood, as his chest heaved and he gulped for air. His heart was pounding, and a sharp pain shot through his chest as a wave of panic washed through him. He thought he was going to faint; the night around him blurred. Dean squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to concentrate on slowing his breathing, to focus on the ground firm at his feet, and the Impala solid under him.
After a few minutes, Dean stopped feeling like he was drowning. He wiped a hand over his face. It was the third, maybe fourth time this had happened in recent weeks. What ever made Dad think that Dean could protect Sam when he was falling apart before the fight had even started? Dad had been wrong in the last decision he ever made; he should’ve stayed to protect Sammy.
&&&
The room was quiet and dark when Dean opened the door but he could make out a tangle of long limbs and blankets and sheets. He let out a breath hadn’t realised he’d been holding; if Sam had pushed the two beds together, he wasn’t as angry as he’d made out.
Dean undressed and tossed his clothes in the general direction of a chair. He climbed into the bed and lay staring at Sam’s sleeping form. More than anything - more than the Demon or Dad’s dire warnings - Dean feared that if he couldn’t come up with a plan, some way to work out what this all meant for Sam, then Sam might leave again.
Dean tentatively reached out a hand, as if needing to reassure himself that Sam was really here next to him. He rested it on the curve of Sam’s hip, and a sleepy voice mumbled Dean? His brother’s large hand enveloped his, pulled it over and around him, clasping it against his chest. Dean moved in close so the length of his body pressed against Sam’s and for a moment he let himself drift with the rhythm of Sam’s steady breathing.
Sam drew Dean’s hand up to his mouth and Dean felt warm lips press against his fingers. When Sam started sucking on them, Dean responded with a gentle thrust of his hips against Sam’s ass.
It has been weeks since they’d really fucked. Oh there’d been a comforting blow job from Dean after Sam broke his wrist, and a couple of roadside hand jobs, but increasingly Dean had turned away from Sam in bed, fearing that the intimacy of sex would break down the walls he’d built to contain the secret.
But that was past now, and Dean wanted to give Sam all that he’d been holding back. Dean’s cock was already hard, rubbing at the cleft of Sam’s ass. He licked a line along Sam’s shoulder blade, and when he reached Sam’s neck, he opened his mouth to kiss and suck the soft skin where Sam’s life pulsed just beneath the surface.
As he mouthed along Sam’s neck, Dean felt the pace of Sam’s breathing quicken. He took Dean’s fingers from his mouth and squeezed his hand firmly.
“Dean, please. I need to know. You have to be honest with me.”
“What?” Dean whispered, his lips brushing Sam’s ear.
“Are you scared of me? Scared of who I am?”
“No! Fuck no. Sacred for you, sure, but not of you.”
Sam kicked back all the bedding and turned over to face Dean. “Really?”
In the dark Dean couldn’t see Sam’s face, but he could hear the plaintive plea.
“Really Sammy,” he said as his mouth found Sam’s. Their tongues met in a familiar conversation, as Sam moved until he loomed over Dean, a long leg forcing Dean’s apart. Sam rubbed a thick thumb over the head of Dean’s swollen cock, coaxing pre-come from it. Then he moved his moist fingers, down and pushed them hard against Dean’s tight hole. Dean pressed upwards - his ass against Sam’s fingers, his mouth into Sam’s - wanting Sam inside him, wanting Sam to fill all the empty places.
Sam broke away and placed a broad hand firmly on Dean’s chest.
“Dean, you promise me Dad didn’t say anything else before he …when he told you about me? That was all?”
Dean licked swollen lips, glad of the cover of dark.
“That was all Sam. There was nothing else.”
except except except
“Now shut up and fuck me.”
&&&
Later Dean would think that he should’ve known that Sam was fucking him goodbye. But at the time what he felt was a fierce relief that Sam still wanted him, still needed him. Sam clung to him, wrapped himself around Dean as if he would never let go.
Dean opened himself to Sam, letting Sam completely inside him. And when Sam was moving deep in him, and Dean could feel his ass tight around the base of Sam’s cock, he didn’t hold back as he incanted his desires with urgent need. Dean wanted Sam to feel that he was his completely and without reservation.
And neither knew the other was lying.
&&&
When Dean woke in the morning, the bed beside him was empty.
There was a note stuck under the wiper of the car.
Dean,
I’ve got to go after this. I can’t run. Not this time.
I’ll call you when I find out something.
Sam.