Where it Hurts, Supernatural, Wincest, Part Two
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Where It Hurts, Part Two(not sure of how many)
Characters/Pairing: Sam, John, Dean, Sam/Dean, implied Sam/Other
Rating: NC-17, for graphic violence and sex, rape
Table: #1
Prompt: 018 True
Word Count: 3242
Summary: Six months have passed since Sam's ordeal as the prisoner of Kendall Garrett. While John Winchester hunts for the bastard, Dean tries to hold Sam together while Sam slowly sinks under the pressure
Warnings: Very, very Dark Fic. This is a follow on to "The Good Son". The overall story will involve torture and rape. This is Part Two. I'm thinking this will be in 5 or 6 parts.
The first part can be found here
This is my tenth ficlet for my Supernatural claim on 100_situations. Clicky for table
Sam felt the car slowing, felt the warmth of his brother’s presence. For a moment he couldn’t place where he was. It wasn’t the passenger seat, where he belonged.
Then it slammed into him. The voice. His phone had rung and he’d answered without looking at the caller ID. That voice had cut right into him and he’d frozen, sunk into the darkness. He could have killed them both.
His head was pounding, like it did after a vision. Slowly he lifted his head. They were pulling into a gas station. By the look of it, it was late afternoon. “Where-are-we?” he slurred, rubbing at his head.
Dean was out of the car and had the back door open in a heartbeat. “Jesus, Sammy you scared me.” His hands were frantic as they sought to make sure that Sam was okay. “How do you feel?”
“Headache.” He grimaced and swallowed. “Dry.”
Dean nodded as if that was enough. “Las Cruces.”
“Huh?’
“That’s where we are.”
Sam frowned. “How long?”
Dean looked away. “Almost 6 hours. I almost took you to a hospital.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop fucking saying that!” Dean stood and stormed away, leaving Sam sitting. When he came back he thrust a soda and a bottle of aspirin into Sam’s hands. “We’re out of the pain pills. This will have to do.”
Sam nodded and fumbled with opening the bottle while Dean set about pumping gas. “I-I don’t know what happened exactly.” Sam said when he’d taken 4 of the aspirin and swallowed half the soda. “I know he called-“
Dean cursed repetitively and turned toward Sam. “I’m going to kill him Sam. I’m going to tear him to shreds and feed his remains to wild pigs. I’m going to fucking-“ Dean stopped as Sam’s face paled. Dean dropped to his knees in front of Sam and touched his thighs, careful to avoid the place where Garrett had branded him. Sam’s eyes dropped to Dean’s hands. “Hey, hey…I’m sorry Sammy. I’m sorry. He-damn he’s got a fucking lot of nerve.”
Sam wouldn’t meet his eyes, but he tried to smile, tried to pretend he was okay. “He still wants me.” Sam said quietly. “He still wants to have me.”
“But he can’t.” Dean’s fingers squeezed in just a little. “He can’t because you don’t belong to him, Sammy. You belong here, with me.”
Sam’s smile was tentative, as if he didn’t really believe his brother. “Thank you.”
“Why don’t you lay down? We’re meeting Dad in El Paso.”
Sam laid down easily enough, throwing and arm over his eyes to shield out the too bright sun. “Is he there?”
Dean didn’t need to ask if he meant their father or Garrett. “Yeah, I think he is.”
Sam didn’t answer. His heart thundered in his chest, and he wasn’t sure if it was in anticipation of revenge or in abject terror.
There were things that were true, even if no one believed in them. Sam had learned that very early in life. A salt barrier would repel most spirits. Demons exist. Vampires and werewolves and witches and boogymen exist.
He was learning that no matter what he wanted to believe, he wasn’t recovering from his ordeal so much as he was surviving in spite of it. He curled on the back seat of the Impala, his legs bent up to his chest, his head buried beneath the crook of his arm. It had only taken two words to rock him back to the place where he had submitted, where he lost himself inside the demands of the voice in his head.
”Hello Sam.”
Nothing more. He felt tears building and blinked them away. He didn’t want to cry anymore. He wanted to forget. He wanted to make it go away…the look in Dean’s eyes, that mixture of panic and anger and desperation…the feeling in his stomach when Dean touched him in places those hands had touched him…the mark on his thigh that echoed the voice in his head.
”Mine.”
Sam bit back the whimper and turned away from Dean’s questioning look. He didn’t want to remember, he didn’t want that voice to bring back the blinding pain, the feeling of that cock invading him, violating him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to back Dean up on this. He knew that he would fold. He wanted to say so to Dean, but couldn’t find the words. It ached the way Dean looked at him anymore.
”Does Dean know that you came for me, Sam? Has he touched you since he found you? Has he fucked you? Did you tell him how I made you feel?”
Sam choked back a cry and felt Dean’s hand on the arm covering his eyes. “Just drive Dean.” At least their father would be there. Together, he and Dean would be safe. They would manage even without Sam. They had before.
They had when Sam left them. That was true no matter how much Dean denied it. Sam closed his eyes and listened to the road under them. The image of his father’s face before he left fills his mind. He had been a different man. Something between them had changed and Sam wasn’t sure he could place it. Dean hadn’t told him until after John was gone that he knew everything, that he had seen the video. Sam wasn’t sure he could face his father with that knowledge between them.
It was easier with Dean…Dean knew, but he didn’t know. If Dean ever did, Sam didn’t think he would ever be able to look him in the eye again.
Dean pulled the Impala off the I-10 and into the parking lot of a motel that looked seedy enough to not really care about the credit card he used. “Sam, we’re here.”
Sam sat up in the back seat and looked around them. “Where?”
“El Paso. Motel.” He pointed across the street to a small Mexican food place. “Dinner.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost 6. Dad’s still a couple of hours or so out. I talked to him about twenty minutes ago.”
Sam nodded and clambered out of the back seat, all long limbs and lack of grace, grinning as he tripped over his own feet. Dean shook his head and headed in to the office to register.
Ten minutes later they were settled into their room and headed across the street for food. Sam stopped Dean at the door, pointing to the newspaper rack in front of the restaurant. “Dean.”
His finger shook as it drew Dean’s eyes to the headline. “Mutilated Body Found in San Jacinto Plaza”
Dean looked around them, as if he felt like they were being watched. He slipped coins into the machine and grabbed a paper before holding the door open for Sam. Once they had ordered, Dean turned his eyes to the article, skipping over it to pick out the details. “Five foot ten, brown hair. Torture. Rape.” He exhaled explosively and put the paper down, looking to Sam.
Sam’s face had gone pale, his eyes showing he was pulling within again. Dean touched his hand, curling fingers around his. “Hey, Sam. Look at me.”
Sam’s eyes skipped to his, then away and Dean tugged on the hands. “I mean it. Look at me.” It took another two tries before Sam’s eyes met Dean’s and held. “He’s playing you. He did this knowing you would see it. He did this knowing it would get to you.”
“I know.” His voice was deep and husky and reminded Dean of how it had sounded when he had been in the hospital. “It’s working.”
Dean squeezed his hand. “Don’t…just…don’t let it, Sammy.”
Sam blinked and breathed slowly. Dean thought he saw something in his eyes that faded and was replaced by a false confidence. Dean could tell the difference, but nodded for Sam’s benefit. “That’s it. Stay with me.”
Sam nodded, his eyes dropping to their hands. “I-I never meant to leave, Dean.”
“What?”
“I-when I went to school…It wasn’t…I thought you would be better off without me…you and Dad.”
Dean sat back, like he’d been struck, though he was careful not to pull his hand away. Sam would take that as rejection right now. “What-I mean…why would you think that?”
Sam shrugged, already dismissing this admission that made Dean sick in his stomach. “I was never good enough. I got you hurt. I got Dad hurt. You were always pulling me out of trouble. Hell, you still are.”
Dean shook his head in a denial Sam couldn’t see because he was still staring at their hands. “Sammy…damn…why didn’t you ever say something?”
He looked up briefly, a smile that was anything but happy curling his lips. “Like what? I mean…its one of those things…it just is…”
“You’re forgetting a few things, Sammy.”
Dean moved his hand from Sam’s and put a finger under his chin, pulling his face so that he was looking his brother in the eye. “For one, you’ve saved my life as many times as I’ve saved yours. Trust me. I kept score.” He paused to make sure that fact was sinking in, then continued. “For another, you’re my brother and I love you, and so help me you drive me fucking crazy, but its part of my job to keep you safe…and me hurt or Dad hurt is better than you dead any fucking day.”
Sam swallowed against his finger and tried to look away, but Dean applied a little pressure and pulled his attention back. “Got it?”
Sam exhaled and nodded. “Yeah.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Sam sighed and sat back, his chin sliding off Dean’s finger. “Some things are true, whether we believe them or not.”
Dean clenched his jaw and rolled his neck. “Well, if we’re counting what is true here, Sammy, maybe its time to lay it all out on the table.”
Sam’s mouth quirked and he looked up at the waitress approaching with their drinks. She smiled almost apologetically and set the glasses down before withdrawing back toward the counter. “Like what?”
Dean sat forward, leaning toward Sam. “This thing between you and Dad…it isn’t what you think.”
Sam hadn’t been prepared for that. He swallowed. “He thinks I’m responsible for Mom’s death.”
Dean shook his head. “No. You remind him of her.” Dean toyed with his straw and shook his head. “That’s why he’s so hard on you. He’s afraid.”
“Of me?” Sam’s voice sounded so small. Dean looked up to see tears in his eyes.
“No Sam, no. That the thing that killed her was after you. That you’ll end up like her. That he’ll lose you just like he lost her.” Dean had tears in his eyes now, echoing the ones streaming down Sam’s face.
“I always thought he hated me.” Sam choked out, one hand wiping at his cheeks.
Dean shook his head. “In a lot of ways, Sam, he loves you more than he has ever loved me.”
That was something Sam had never considered, Dean could see it in his eyes. He wiped at his cheeks self-consciously as the waitress put their food in front of them. They ate in silence for a while before Sam’s voice, timid and wavering pulled Dean’s attention back to him. “Dean….how long…I mean…it was forever and I…how long was I…gone?”
Dean nearly choked on his enchilada and shook his head. Sam had never asked. Dean had never offered. Dean shook his head and shoveled more food into his mouth. “Does it matter?” he asked around a mouthful of beans.
Sam didn’t answer at first, but eventually found his voice. “I-I want to know.”
Too damn long, Dean wanted to say. This conversation was going places he wasn’t ready for. “Six days, Sammy. Nearly six days.”
Sam didn’t say anything more. He locked his eyes on his plate and he ate in silence. Less than half way through his meal he stopped eating. “I’m tired.”
Dean nodded and set aside his plate. “Okay, we can go.” He signaled the waitress and asked for the check and two boxes and when he’d paid and gathered the food, he reached for Sam’s arm.
Sam came willingly, hunched over a little on himself and simply following as Dean lead him across the street and back to their room.
Dean set the food on the table that looked like it wouldn’t hold more than a few pounds while Sam sank onto one of the beds. He wanted to ask if Sam was okay. More than that, he wanted to make him okay.
Sam looked miserable sitting there, his hands still in his pockets. Dean pulled off his button-down and tossed it aside before kicking off his shoes. A quick check of his watch told him he still had at least an hour before his father showed up.
Dean crossed the room, stopping in front of Sam. “I want to do something for you,” he said, his hand caressing Sam’s cheek. “Will you let me?”
There was a time Dean wouldn’t have asked. There was a time he wouldn’t have had to. But that was a time when what he was thinking wouldn’t have crossed his mind. This was new. This was different.
Sam looked up at him with wide eyes, his expression offering consent. Dean smiled, his finger brushing over Sam’s lips. They were dry and Dean tried to remind himself to pick him up some chapstick. “Good.” He leaned down and kissed him. This was relatively new too, though as Sam’s lips parted for his tongue and he sighed into Dean’s mouth, Dean couldn’t believe they hadn’t been doing this forever.
Dean moved his hands to Sam’s shoulders, pushing the jacket off and tossing it aside. He deepened his kiss, his tongue sliding easily over Sam’s lips to taste the taco he’d eaten and the raspberry tea…and that taste that was just Sam.
Dean sank to one knee in front of his brother, his hands sliding over the skin of his arms, touching. Sam flinched as his hands caressed over scars, but Dean followed him, keeping his palm flat against Sam’s skin. “I’m right here.” Dean whispered, his hands sliding over t-shirt clad shoulders and up to Sam’s face. “I want you right here with me.”
Dean’s lips moved from Sam’s lips, over his jaw. He had a flash of an image of Sam’s neck, bruised and bleeding as his lips connected with the soft flesh beneath his jaw, and instead of banishing it, he used it as a map, gently kissing his way over skin Garrett had abused.
As he circled Sam’s neck with kisses, tiny caresses of his tongue between lips, Dean tugged at his t-shirt, slowly working it up and off of Sam, exposing more skin, detailing a new map of injury that Dean slowly made his way across. Sam whimpered as Dean’s lips moved over his chest, and Dean let one of his hands slip through Sam’s hair, holding that place of connection as an anchor.
“Sammy.” He murmured it against the skin of Sam’s chest, moving open mouthed over the long slash of a scar left by the riding crop. Sam moaned and Dean’s hand massaged against his scalp.
Dean’s mouth found Sam’s nipple and sucked it into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the raised hard nub until Sam groaned. Smiling, Dean moved south, his tongue sliding over skin and scar tissue as he covered Sam’s abdomen and moved to his side, lifting his arm as he rose from his knee and lifted his knee to the mattress, moving around to Sam’s back.
His hands stroked over the marked skin, and he could feel Sam start to stiffen. He pressed kisses to Sam’s neck, but kept his hands moving. “Right here,” he whispered into Sam’s here. “I want you. All of you.”
His lips moved to Sam’s shoulder blades, where he had taken some of the worst of the beating. Sam was beginning to sweat and Dean could taste the salt as he kissed. His hands smoothed down Sam’s spine, then around his hips, pulling him closer, leaning him back against his chest as his hands slid over his stomach and down to the waist of his jeans. “Relax. Stay with me.”
He watched Sam’s eyes flutter closed as he reached into his jeans, his hand circling over Sam’s cock as it grew. “That’s it…Sammy…God…” Sam licked his lips as Dean circled the head of his cock. “I want to taste you Sam.”
Dean moved, guiding Sam to lay back on the bed while he rose and tugged at his jeans, pausing long enough to pull his shoes off. He started his touching at Sam’s ankles, kissed his way up his long shins, over the small scabs that still marked his knees, up to his thighs.
Sam whined, his hand moving to cover the brand on his right leg, but Dean didn’t let it stop him. He moved his attention to his left thigh, breathing hot air over the skin as he nudged Sam’s legs apart and moved in between them. His hand caressed Sam’s stomach as he moved in closer, licking slowly up his brother’s cock. Sam’s entire body shuddered and his moan was nearly Dean’s name as he arched up off the bed involuntarily.
“So good Sammy.” Dean said, his left hand splayed over Sam’s navel while his right was caressing Sam’s balls. “You are so beautiful.” Dean’s breath caught in his throat as he heard himself, before he opened his mouth to swallow Sam down.
“Dean!” Sam’s hips flexed and pushed him up into Dean’s mouth. Dean groaned and worked his throat before sucking his way up to the tip. His tongue swirled over the head and down under it, before he swallowed again, all the way to the hilt.
Sam’s body shivered and Dean could tell it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge. He took a long, slow stroke and pulled off of him, watching Sam shudder almost uncontrollably. “I want to watch you come, Sammy….come for me…”
Dean’s hand squeezed and stroked up and Sam was yelling, his come shooting up and onto his belly as Dean stroked him, holding him until the shuddering had passed, then climbing up on the bed to lay beside him, his head on Sam’s shoulder, watching as the emotional expense of the day pulled Sam toward sleep. “I love you Sammy.” Dean whispered, using Sam’s discarded t-shirt to clean the come off of him and drawing a blanket up to cover his naked body.
For a long moment Dean watched Sam sleep, then he stretched and stood. His father would be arriving before long, and they had some recon to do. He didn’t want Sam involved, but he didn’t want to leave him alone either. So Dean did what he could while he waited, pulled out Sam’s laptop and got started looking for Garrett by the only option left to him. Sam sighed and rolled to his side, a habit from the days in the hospital and Dean slumped in the chair, watching him.
Some things were true, no matter what anyone believed. This thing between them might be fucked up, but it was real, and it was true. He knew that as sure as he knew he was never letting Sam out of his sight again.
Part Three Here
Title: Where It Hurts, Part Two(not sure of how many)
Characters/Pairing: Sam, John, Dean, Sam/Dean, implied Sam/Other
Rating: NC-17, for graphic violence and sex, rape
Table: #1
Prompt: 018 True
Word Count: 3242
Summary: Six months have passed since Sam's ordeal as the prisoner of Kendall Garrett. While John Winchester hunts for the bastard, Dean tries to hold Sam together while Sam slowly sinks under the pressure
Warnings: Very, very Dark Fic. This is a follow on to "The Good Son". The overall story will involve torture and rape. This is Part Two. I'm thinking this will be in 5 or 6 parts.
The first part can be found here
This is my tenth ficlet for my Supernatural claim on 100_situations. Clicky for table
Sam felt the car slowing, felt the warmth of his brother’s presence. For a moment he couldn’t place where he was. It wasn’t the passenger seat, where he belonged.
Then it slammed into him. The voice. His phone had rung and he’d answered without looking at the caller ID. That voice had cut right into him and he’d frozen, sunk into the darkness. He could have killed them both.
His head was pounding, like it did after a vision. Slowly he lifted his head. They were pulling into a gas station. By the look of it, it was late afternoon. “Where-are-we?” he slurred, rubbing at his head.
Dean was out of the car and had the back door open in a heartbeat. “Jesus, Sammy you scared me.” His hands were frantic as they sought to make sure that Sam was okay. “How do you feel?”
“Headache.” He grimaced and swallowed. “Dry.”
Dean nodded as if that was enough. “Las Cruces.”
“Huh?’
“That’s where we are.”
Sam frowned. “How long?”
Dean looked away. “Almost 6 hours. I almost took you to a hospital.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop fucking saying that!” Dean stood and stormed away, leaving Sam sitting. When he came back he thrust a soda and a bottle of aspirin into Sam’s hands. “We’re out of the pain pills. This will have to do.”
Sam nodded and fumbled with opening the bottle while Dean set about pumping gas. “I-I don’t know what happened exactly.” Sam said when he’d taken 4 of the aspirin and swallowed half the soda. “I know he called-“
Dean cursed repetitively and turned toward Sam. “I’m going to kill him Sam. I’m going to tear him to shreds and feed his remains to wild pigs. I’m going to fucking-“ Dean stopped as Sam’s face paled. Dean dropped to his knees in front of Sam and touched his thighs, careful to avoid the place where Garrett had branded him. Sam’s eyes dropped to Dean’s hands. “Hey, hey…I’m sorry Sammy. I’m sorry. He-damn he’s got a fucking lot of nerve.”
Sam wouldn’t meet his eyes, but he tried to smile, tried to pretend he was okay. “He still wants me.” Sam said quietly. “He still wants to have me.”
“But he can’t.” Dean’s fingers squeezed in just a little. “He can’t because you don’t belong to him, Sammy. You belong here, with me.”
Sam’s smile was tentative, as if he didn’t really believe his brother. “Thank you.”
“Why don’t you lay down? We’re meeting Dad in El Paso.”
Sam laid down easily enough, throwing and arm over his eyes to shield out the too bright sun. “Is he there?”
Dean didn’t need to ask if he meant their father or Garrett. “Yeah, I think he is.”
Sam didn’t answer. His heart thundered in his chest, and he wasn’t sure if it was in anticipation of revenge or in abject terror.
There were things that were true, even if no one believed in them. Sam had learned that very early in life. A salt barrier would repel most spirits. Demons exist. Vampires and werewolves and witches and boogymen exist.
He was learning that no matter what he wanted to believe, he wasn’t recovering from his ordeal so much as he was surviving in spite of it. He curled on the back seat of the Impala, his legs bent up to his chest, his head buried beneath the crook of his arm. It had only taken two words to rock him back to the place where he had submitted, where he lost himself inside the demands of the voice in his head.
”Hello Sam.”
Nothing more. He felt tears building and blinked them away. He didn’t want to cry anymore. He wanted to forget. He wanted to make it go away…the look in Dean’s eyes, that mixture of panic and anger and desperation…the feeling in his stomach when Dean touched him in places those hands had touched him…the mark on his thigh that echoed the voice in his head.
”Mine.”
Sam bit back the whimper and turned away from Dean’s questioning look. He didn’t want to remember, he didn’t want that voice to bring back the blinding pain, the feeling of that cock invading him, violating him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to back Dean up on this. He knew that he would fold. He wanted to say so to Dean, but couldn’t find the words. It ached the way Dean looked at him anymore.
”Does Dean know that you came for me, Sam? Has he touched you since he found you? Has he fucked you? Did you tell him how I made you feel?”
Sam choked back a cry and felt Dean’s hand on the arm covering his eyes. “Just drive Dean.” At least their father would be there. Together, he and Dean would be safe. They would manage even without Sam. They had before.
They had when Sam left them. That was true no matter how much Dean denied it. Sam closed his eyes and listened to the road under them. The image of his father’s face before he left fills his mind. He had been a different man. Something between them had changed and Sam wasn’t sure he could place it. Dean hadn’t told him until after John was gone that he knew everything, that he had seen the video. Sam wasn’t sure he could face his father with that knowledge between them.
It was easier with Dean…Dean knew, but he didn’t know. If Dean ever did, Sam didn’t think he would ever be able to look him in the eye again.
Dean pulled the Impala off the I-10 and into the parking lot of a motel that looked seedy enough to not really care about the credit card he used. “Sam, we’re here.”
Sam sat up in the back seat and looked around them. “Where?”
“El Paso. Motel.” He pointed across the street to a small Mexican food place. “Dinner.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost 6. Dad’s still a couple of hours or so out. I talked to him about twenty minutes ago.”
Sam nodded and clambered out of the back seat, all long limbs and lack of grace, grinning as he tripped over his own feet. Dean shook his head and headed in to the office to register.
Ten minutes later they were settled into their room and headed across the street for food. Sam stopped Dean at the door, pointing to the newspaper rack in front of the restaurant. “Dean.”
His finger shook as it drew Dean’s eyes to the headline. “Mutilated Body Found in San Jacinto Plaza”
Dean looked around them, as if he felt like they were being watched. He slipped coins into the machine and grabbed a paper before holding the door open for Sam. Once they had ordered, Dean turned his eyes to the article, skipping over it to pick out the details. “Five foot ten, brown hair. Torture. Rape.” He exhaled explosively and put the paper down, looking to Sam.
Sam’s face had gone pale, his eyes showing he was pulling within again. Dean touched his hand, curling fingers around his. “Hey, Sam. Look at me.”
Sam’s eyes skipped to his, then away and Dean tugged on the hands. “I mean it. Look at me.” It took another two tries before Sam’s eyes met Dean’s and held. “He’s playing you. He did this knowing you would see it. He did this knowing it would get to you.”
“I know.” His voice was deep and husky and reminded Dean of how it had sounded when he had been in the hospital. “It’s working.”
Dean squeezed his hand. “Don’t…just…don’t let it, Sammy.”
Sam blinked and breathed slowly. Dean thought he saw something in his eyes that faded and was replaced by a false confidence. Dean could tell the difference, but nodded for Sam’s benefit. “That’s it. Stay with me.”
Sam nodded, his eyes dropping to their hands. “I-I never meant to leave, Dean.”
“What?”
“I-when I went to school…It wasn’t…I thought you would be better off without me…you and Dad.”
Dean sat back, like he’d been struck, though he was careful not to pull his hand away. Sam would take that as rejection right now. “What-I mean…why would you think that?”
Sam shrugged, already dismissing this admission that made Dean sick in his stomach. “I was never good enough. I got you hurt. I got Dad hurt. You were always pulling me out of trouble. Hell, you still are.”
Dean shook his head in a denial Sam couldn’t see because he was still staring at their hands. “Sammy…damn…why didn’t you ever say something?”
He looked up briefly, a smile that was anything but happy curling his lips. “Like what? I mean…its one of those things…it just is…”
“You’re forgetting a few things, Sammy.”
Dean moved his hand from Sam’s and put a finger under his chin, pulling his face so that he was looking his brother in the eye. “For one, you’ve saved my life as many times as I’ve saved yours. Trust me. I kept score.” He paused to make sure that fact was sinking in, then continued. “For another, you’re my brother and I love you, and so help me you drive me fucking crazy, but its part of my job to keep you safe…and me hurt or Dad hurt is better than you dead any fucking day.”
Sam swallowed against his finger and tried to look away, but Dean applied a little pressure and pulled his attention back. “Got it?”
Sam exhaled and nodded. “Yeah.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Sam sighed and sat back, his chin sliding off Dean’s finger. “Some things are true, whether we believe them or not.”
Dean clenched his jaw and rolled his neck. “Well, if we’re counting what is true here, Sammy, maybe its time to lay it all out on the table.”
Sam’s mouth quirked and he looked up at the waitress approaching with their drinks. She smiled almost apologetically and set the glasses down before withdrawing back toward the counter. “Like what?”
Dean sat forward, leaning toward Sam. “This thing between you and Dad…it isn’t what you think.”
Sam hadn’t been prepared for that. He swallowed. “He thinks I’m responsible for Mom’s death.”
Dean shook his head. “No. You remind him of her.” Dean toyed with his straw and shook his head. “That’s why he’s so hard on you. He’s afraid.”
“Of me?” Sam’s voice sounded so small. Dean looked up to see tears in his eyes.
“No Sam, no. That the thing that killed her was after you. That you’ll end up like her. That he’ll lose you just like he lost her.” Dean had tears in his eyes now, echoing the ones streaming down Sam’s face.
“I always thought he hated me.” Sam choked out, one hand wiping at his cheeks.
Dean shook his head. “In a lot of ways, Sam, he loves you more than he has ever loved me.”
That was something Sam had never considered, Dean could see it in his eyes. He wiped at his cheeks self-consciously as the waitress put their food in front of them. They ate in silence for a while before Sam’s voice, timid and wavering pulled Dean’s attention back to him. “Dean….how long…I mean…it was forever and I…how long was I…gone?”
Dean nearly choked on his enchilada and shook his head. Sam had never asked. Dean had never offered. Dean shook his head and shoveled more food into his mouth. “Does it matter?” he asked around a mouthful of beans.
Sam didn’t answer at first, but eventually found his voice. “I-I want to know.”
Too damn long, Dean wanted to say. This conversation was going places he wasn’t ready for. “Six days, Sammy. Nearly six days.”
Sam didn’t say anything more. He locked his eyes on his plate and he ate in silence. Less than half way through his meal he stopped eating. “I’m tired.”
Dean nodded and set aside his plate. “Okay, we can go.” He signaled the waitress and asked for the check and two boxes and when he’d paid and gathered the food, he reached for Sam’s arm.
Sam came willingly, hunched over a little on himself and simply following as Dean lead him across the street and back to their room.
Dean set the food on the table that looked like it wouldn’t hold more than a few pounds while Sam sank onto one of the beds. He wanted to ask if Sam was okay. More than that, he wanted to make him okay.
Sam looked miserable sitting there, his hands still in his pockets. Dean pulled off his button-down and tossed it aside before kicking off his shoes. A quick check of his watch told him he still had at least an hour before his father showed up.
Dean crossed the room, stopping in front of Sam. “I want to do something for you,” he said, his hand caressing Sam’s cheek. “Will you let me?”
There was a time Dean wouldn’t have asked. There was a time he wouldn’t have had to. But that was a time when what he was thinking wouldn’t have crossed his mind. This was new. This was different.
Sam looked up at him with wide eyes, his expression offering consent. Dean smiled, his finger brushing over Sam’s lips. They were dry and Dean tried to remind himself to pick him up some chapstick. “Good.” He leaned down and kissed him. This was relatively new too, though as Sam’s lips parted for his tongue and he sighed into Dean’s mouth, Dean couldn’t believe they hadn’t been doing this forever.
Dean moved his hands to Sam’s shoulders, pushing the jacket off and tossing it aside. He deepened his kiss, his tongue sliding easily over Sam’s lips to taste the taco he’d eaten and the raspberry tea…and that taste that was just Sam.
Dean sank to one knee in front of his brother, his hands sliding over the skin of his arms, touching. Sam flinched as his hands caressed over scars, but Dean followed him, keeping his palm flat against Sam’s skin. “I’m right here.” Dean whispered, his hands sliding over t-shirt clad shoulders and up to Sam’s face. “I want you right here with me.”
Dean’s lips moved from Sam’s lips, over his jaw. He had a flash of an image of Sam’s neck, bruised and bleeding as his lips connected with the soft flesh beneath his jaw, and instead of banishing it, he used it as a map, gently kissing his way over skin Garrett had abused.
As he circled Sam’s neck with kisses, tiny caresses of his tongue between lips, Dean tugged at his t-shirt, slowly working it up and off of Sam, exposing more skin, detailing a new map of injury that Dean slowly made his way across. Sam whimpered as Dean’s lips moved over his chest, and Dean let one of his hands slip through Sam’s hair, holding that place of connection as an anchor.
“Sammy.” He murmured it against the skin of Sam’s chest, moving open mouthed over the long slash of a scar left by the riding crop. Sam moaned and Dean’s hand massaged against his scalp.
Dean’s mouth found Sam’s nipple and sucked it into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the raised hard nub until Sam groaned. Smiling, Dean moved south, his tongue sliding over skin and scar tissue as he covered Sam’s abdomen and moved to his side, lifting his arm as he rose from his knee and lifted his knee to the mattress, moving around to Sam’s back.
His hands stroked over the marked skin, and he could feel Sam start to stiffen. He pressed kisses to Sam’s neck, but kept his hands moving. “Right here,” he whispered into Sam’s here. “I want you. All of you.”
His lips moved to Sam’s shoulder blades, where he had taken some of the worst of the beating. Sam was beginning to sweat and Dean could taste the salt as he kissed. His hands smoothed down Sam’s spine, then around his hips, pulling him closer, leaning him back against his chest as his hands slid over his stomach and down to the waist of his jeans. “Relax. Stay with me.”
He watched Sam’s eyes flutter closed as he reached into his jeans, his hand circling over Sam’s cock as it grew. “That’s it…Sammy…God…” Sam licked his lips as Dean circled the head of his cock. “I want to taste you Sam.”
Dean moved, guiding Sam to lay back on the bed while he rose and tugged at his jeans, pausing long enough to pull his shoes off. He started his touching at Sam’s ankles, kissed his way up his long shins, over the small scabs that still marked his knees, up to his thighs.
Sam whined, his hand moving to cover the brand on his right leg, but Dean didn’t let it stop him. He moved his attention to his left thigh, breathing hot air over the skin as he nudged Sam’s legs apart and moved in between them. His hand caressed Sam’s stomach as he moved in closer, licking slowly up his brother’s cock. Sam’s entire body shuddered and his moan was nearly Dean’s name as he arched up off the bed involuntarily.
“So good Sammy.” Dean said, his left hand splayed over Sam’s navel while his right was caressing Sam’s balls. “You are so beautiful.” Dean’s breath caught in his throat as he heard himself, before he opened his mouth to swallow Sam down.
“Dean!” Sam’s hips flexed and pushed him up into Dean’s mouth. Dean groaned and worked his throat before sucking his way up to the tip. His tongue swirled over the head and down under it, before he swallowed again, all the way to the hilt.
Sam’s body shivered and Dean could tell it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge. He took a long, slow stroke and pulled off of him, watching Sam shudder almost uncontrollably. “I want to watch you come, Sammy….come for me…”
Dean’s hand squeezed and stroked up and Sam was yelling, his come shooting up and onto his belly as Dean stroked him, holding him until the shuddering had passed, then climbing up on the bed to lay beside him, his head on Sam’s shoulder, watching as the emotional expense of the day pulled Sam toward sleep. “I love you Sammy.” Dean whispered, using Sam’s discarded t-shirt to clean the come off of him and drawing a blanket up to cover his naked body.
For a long moment Dean watched Sam sleep, then he stretched and stood. His father would be arriving before long, and they had some recon to do. He didn’t want Sam involved, but he didn’t want to leave him alone either. So Dean did what he could while he waited, pulled out Sam’s laptop and got started looking for Garrett by the only option left to him. Sam sighed and rolled to his side, a habit from the days in the hospital and Dean slumped in the chair, watching him.
Some things were true, no matter what anyone believed. This thing between them might be fucked up, but it was real, and it was true. He knew that as sure as he knew he was never letting Sam out of his sight again.
Part Three Here