Dreaming in Stereo, Supernatural
I wasn't going to do this. I've got a dozen other things I should be doing, and other fic I should be working on. But damn this thing doesn't want to let me go just yet. So...yeah, another series. I'm not sure how long its going to get. Or how soon it will get done...just so you know.
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Dreaming in Stereo, Part I
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean, memories of Sam/OC, John
Rating: NC-17, for graphic violence and sex, memory of rape
Table: #1
Prompt: 033 Danger
Word Count: 3687
Summary: Time heals all wounds, but life for a Winchester doesn't wait. Sam and Dean are still working through the changes in their lives, back on the road, hunting. Nightmares of the past pave the way for nightmares of the future, and lead all three Winchesters to a showdown with the evil that started them on their path.
Warnings: Very Dark Fic. This is a follow on to "The Good Son" and "Where it Hurts" and "All for One and One for All" (A gifty fic written for my birthday by shotofjack...which can be found here). I hope shotofjack doesn't mind me borrowing details and dialogue. The overall story will involve torture and rape and extreme violence.
The first part of "The Good Son" can be found here
The first part of "Where it Hurts" can be found here
And "All for One and One for All" can be found here
This is my fourteenth ficlet for my Supernatural claim on 100_situations. Clicky for table
The nightmares didn’t come as often anymore, but they did come. Triggered by a flash of memory, a song on the radio…and Sam was helpless to keep his subconscious mind from replaying terror-filled moments in his dreams. Some nights he refused to sleep, feeling them hanging over him, waiting for the lapse of conscious thought to strike.
This was one of those nights. Dean was asleep on the bed beside him in some dive motel in Oklahoma. They’d hunted down a warlock, brought him to ground and trapped him, but not before he’d managed to get his hands around Sam’s wrists and force him to his knees. It had bubbled up and Sam’s screams came out through Dean’s mouth as he struck home with the ritual blade, cutting through the talisman and dropping the bastard to the ground to be taken by his own demons.
Sam could feel his terror feeding back into him from Dean and tried to shake it off. I’ve got you. It’s okay.
But it wasn’t, and Sam had withdrawn into himself as much as he could on the ride back to the motel. Dean could feel the door close and looked hurt, but relieved just a little too. Not that Sam could blame him. He’d never asked for this strange connection, this always on, always inside one another side affect to what Sam had done to survive. It served them well in many ways…but on nights like this, it took everything Sam had to insulate Dean from his inner fear and the pain that always came along for the ride.
Like a memory that lived in his skin.
In the dark, Sam sat on his bed with his knees drawn to his chest and concentrated on being still and quiet, on not feeling large hands move over his body, on not hearing a voice in his head claiming him. To some degree it worked.
It was getting close to morning. The light outside the window was shifting from the yellow of the street light to the gray of dawn. Sam shivered and pulled himself up out of himself, glancing aside at Dean as he realized he was being watched.
“Did you sleep?”
Sam shook his head, not entirely ready to resume speaking. His voice always sounded so weak and childlike after nights like this. “Sam.”
Dean. He opened himself to the connection slowly, caressing his brother’s mind even as he shied away from the seriousness of the fear and pain. I’m fine.
Dean sat up slowly, his eyes dark in the half-light in the room. “I don’t need you to protect me, Sammy.”
Sam nodded and slowly unfolded himself. “I know.” He stretched slowly. “I…was just a little freaked out. I’m better.” He stood and held out his hands as if his standing by himself proved his point.
Dean stood too, stepping in close and reaching up one hand to finger Sam’s hair before pulling him closer. “You can sleep in the car. We should hit the road.”
“It isn’t even properly daylight Dean.”
“I’m itchy. Don’t want to be here.” Dean said, padding his way to the bathroom. He noticed the light was on, but didn’t mention it. Sometimes it helped.
Sam nodded to himself. Dean was itchy a lot lately. Didn’t like to stay anywhere more than a few nights. Didn’t like to make connections. Sam could feel it under the surface most of the time. They didn’t talk about it, didn’t even really directly think about it. Danger came when they stood still. As long as they were hunting, it was held at bay.
Ridiculous, really, now that Sam thought about it. You think to much, college boy.
Sam heard the shower start, felt Dean relax under the hot stream of water. The crappy hotel had shitty beds, but their water heater and pressure made up for a lot. Sam felt fingers on his chest and closed his eyes, reveling in his brother’s use of their connection and his hands. Want you.
Sam almost wasn’t aware of walking to the bathroom, shedding clothes as he went, but as the steam enveloped him, he melted against Dean, their lips sliding together as if they had never been apart. Dean’s hands slid up into his hair, always starting there, always cementing his touch in the one place Sam still felt safe to touch. It short circuited the warnings, cut off the danger signal that might otherwise have him cowering in the corner instead of sliding against the shower stall so that Dean could touch him and hold him and kiss him until they were both quivering and their thoughts were a jumbled mess of yes and there and Sam and Dean.
Somehow it was always easier after, when Dean had coaxed Sam to orgasm and held him through the shaking and the connection blossomed to encompass them both so that talking and even thoughts formed into words was simply unnecessary. They dressed and gathered their belongings and climbed into the car and kept moving.
And under it all, half asleep in the passenger seat, Sam felt it coming. Not enough to put a name to…but enough…
Dean watched Sam pretend to sleep, felt his thoughts consciously putting the night behind him…almost forcefully. He didn’t know where they were heading. It didn’t matter. He just couldn’t sit still.
They would find something else that needed killing and they would hunt. It was what they did and how the dealt with it. It. This thing.
He didn’t have the words to define it, that was Sam’s thing. It was everything all wrapped up together; Garrett, the past, the sex, the guilt, the general fucked-up life they were living, Sam, Dean and this SamDeanconnection.
He was learning how to function when Sam closed it down. Those first weeks had been intense with Sam’s thoughts and his own blurred together, their bodies on some rush toward nuclear meltdown. They’d driven their father crazy with the half spoken conversations. The first time he’d felt the wall go up, Dean had physically staggered, unaware how much he’d come to rely on it, on Sam.
Of course, it was necessary. Without it, Sam’s nightmares could actually leave welts on Dean’s skin, not to mention the images and mental anguish. They never talked about it. Sam still kept so much of himself hidden, even from Dean. Maybe that was a good thing. Heaven knows Dean could barely deal with what he did know. That fury had served them well enough when it came to Garrett, but couldn’t do much to help them now.
Dean felt Sam shift into something resembling sleep and sighed in relief. He was still itchy, needing…something he couldn’t name. There was danger, he knew it. He just didn’t know where it was coming from. So he drove, away, into…anywhere, as long as they were moving.
Sam could feel the road under them, tasted moisture in the air…and the coffee Dean was drinking. Groggily, he raised his head, groaning as the muscles in his neck protested the long hours in the uncomfortable position he’d finally fallen asleep in. “Where?” he asked sleepily.
Texas.
Sam sat up a little more, stretching as much as the confines of the car would allow. It was dark. He’d slept longer than he’d thought. “You should rest.” He could tell Dean was tired, but wired too.
“Later.”
“What’s in Texas?”
Dean shrugged, stifling a yawn. “Figure we’d pull off in the next town and do some research, see what’s out there.”
Sam let his mind caress his brother’s, comfort, familiarity. Dean smiled and touched Sam’s thigh. For a while they drove in silence. “Have we heard from Dad?”
Dean shook his head. “Not since you talked to him a few days ago. Why?”
Sam made a face that Dean felt more than saw. “Just…a feeling.” Danger…trouble…fear.
“Yeah.” Dean glanced aside at his brother. “Anything concrete?”
Sam shook his head. “No dreams, no visions…just…” He chewed on his lip. There hadn’t been any since Garrett. He wasn’t sure if that was a relief or a concern. “Something’s coming, Dean.” Something big
Dean squeezed his knee, then returned his hand to the wheel. “We’ll call him in the morning.”
Sam nodded and turned to look out the window. The shakiness of the night before was gone and he felt a little stronger for it. It had been two months since his last nightmare, and he’d avoided this one. He couldn’t help but feel like he was walking on eggshells, waiting, expecting.
It’s okay.
Sam looked at his brother. “What is?”
Dean smiled. “Everything. Us.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Sam chuckled. “Okay.”
“It will get better.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
Sam felt Dean’s worry, relief, love in a wave. Need you. Sam slid closer and let his head come to rest on Dean’s shoulder. “Always,” he whispered. Dean’s hand found its way back to Sam’s thigh, sliding down between his legs. Sam moaned, instantly hard as Dean’s hand cupped him, his thoughts almost palpable as they raced over various memories of touching, sucking…fucking…Dean.
“Motel.” Dean’s grin was nearly evil as he guided the Impala off the road and left Sam waiting while he went in to get them a room. While Dean was inside the office, Sam let his hand slide into his jeans, stroking himself with a grin, knowing that Dean was feeling every touch. He could see him all but dancing at the counter.
He was back, and the engine roared to life as he pulled them up to the door of their room. His eyes were wild with lust as he looked at Sam. Inside. Now. Need. Want.
Sam swallowed hard and opened his door, reaching into the back seat for his duffle before he felt Dean’s hand on his. Leave it. Later. Now. His hand was around Sam’s waist, pulling him back onto his hip, half dragging him to the door. It wasn’t even fully closed before Dean had his hands in Sam’s hair, dragging his face down for a kiss and Sam’s knees shook as Dean kicked the door closed and started to pull at his brother’s clothes.
Sam dragged his t-shirt up over his head and dropped it, his hands moving around Dean’s waist, his thumbs rubbing circles under the waistband of his jeans. He could feel an echo of it on his own skin, coupled with the feeling of Dean’s hands pulling on the fly of his own jeans. Then there were lips on his chest, kissing over skin and they were turning, falling…laughing as the bed groaned and they tried to continue undressing without letting their hands leave each other’s bodies.
They tossed around and somehow managed to find nakedness, and Dean was under Sam who was kissing his way around his navel, his hair tickling and sending shivers through Dean’s stomach. When Sam’s lips found their way to his thigh, everything stilled for a moment. His tongue traced over the curves of the W…the mark that had changed them. Mine. He could feel the ghost of his movements on his own thigh, on his own mark.
Dean’s hands were in his hair, his cock hard, his breathing harder. Yours. Forever, Sammy. Sam moved a hand closer, never really touching it…never had except for lips and tongue. He hadn’t wanted it for Dean…and it never failed…when he saw it…when he saw the evidence of what his brother gave him, it awed him in ways he had never found words for.
“Fuck me, Sammy. Please.” Dean’s voice was needy and raspy and Sam could feel the desire in the pit of his stomach.
Can’t. Sam moved, rolling them so that he was on his back and Dean was curled up beside him.
Need. Want.
Sam closed his eyes, a part of him disconnecting, hiding the images his brother’s request brought to mind. He hadn’t, not since he’d done it to save them both. He always managed to maneuver them into something else, to sucking Dean off or Dean fucking him. Can’t.
Dean’s hands moved to cup his face, his lips brushing over Sam’s, and…unexpectedly, his thoughts pushing past the wall. Want you…all of you…don’t shut me out.
Sam swallowed, but didn’t fight, didn’t want to hurt him…and Dean’s hand closed around Sam’s cock, and there was lube and Sam didn’t remember Dean even looking for lube. Dean’s eyes held Sam’s as the image lay there between them.
Dean bound, beaten and naked. Sam slowly preparing him. It’s me or him, Dean. I don’t want him doing this to you. I need you.
Dean positioned himself, holding Sam’s cock and guiding it into him. Sam stiffened, a whimper in his throat. “Please Dean,” he whined, though he wasn’t sure what he was begging for.
Right here, Sammy. Trust you.
Sam’s breathing hitched as Dean’s ass opened up, taking him slowly inside. He felt the echo in his own ass and shifted just a little, easing the passage. He tried to shut off the memory, but Dean held it between them. Stay here…just you and me…alone…
Dean began moving, stroking Sam in and out of himself, his hands cupped again around Sam’s face, as the image Sam had created for him when they’d been Garrett’s prisoners bloomed around the memory of what had actually happened. You saved me, Sammy. Here. Right here.
“Dean!” Sam arched up, pushing into his brother. The motel room in their shared memory slowly took on characteristics of the motel room around them, bringing Sam back to the now, back to the feeling of his cock filling Dean and Dean’s voice chanting his name both in his head and out loud.
Sam grabbed Dean’s hips and pulled him harder onto him as he came. Dean’s own orgasm was only a split second behind and he collapsed bonelessly on top of Sam, sweaty skin to sweaty skin, his head tucking neatly in the crook of Sam’s neck.
After a moment, when their breathing had slowed, Sam rolled them onto their sides, Dean already on his way toward sleep. He kissed Dean’s forehead and settled in, not so much to sleep, but to hold this moment for a while, his thoughts tangled messily around Dean’s...nightmares forgotten for now.
Somewhere near dawn, Sam drifted into dreams that were as much Dean’s as his own, childhood games and lessons in hunting when they could pretend it was still a game. When he woke, it was well past noon and Dean was sitting at the table with a newspaper. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself. Everything okay?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, you?”
Dean smiled. “Just looking for something to hunt.” He held up the newspaper. “Looks like the pickings are slim around here.”
Sam crawled out of the sheets, feeling sticky and slightly self conscious. “Why’d you let me sleep?”
Dean shrugged. “Thought you needed it.” He met Sam’s eyes. I’m okay, Sammy.
Sam sighed. Don’t want to hurt you again. He turned to head to the bathroom, noticing Dean had brought in their things. Dean stopped him, a hand on his arm, drawing him back, into his arms. He pulled Sam close.
“Sam, maybe we need to talk.”
Sam smirked a little, though he wouldn’t meet Dean’s eyes. “Gonna get girly on me, Dean?”
Dean squeezed him. If I have to. Out loud he said, “Come sit down.”
Sam let himself be drawn back to the bed and sank down beside his brother. “You know I wanted that last night, right?”
Sam sighed again, but nodded. “On some level, yeah, I know, Dean.”
“I mean it, Sammy. I’ve wanted it for a long time.”
They were quiet then and Dean’s desire, the truth of it was there for Sam to feel, even if he didn’t want to feel it just yet. “I-hurt you. I let him make me hurt you.” Sam took a deep breath.
“You could have let him do it.” Dean said, his voice cold. Wanted you, Sammy…only you.
Sam shook his head, lowering it so that his hair covered his eyes, protected him from…from admitting…No. No. Not that..
“You did what you had to, Sammy.” Don’t cut me out.
“What do you want Dean?”
Everything.
Sam sucked in a shuddering breath and turned to his brother, eyes brimming with tears. Are you sure?
Dean’s hand squeezed Sam’s and pulled it up to cover the spot on his thigh where he had taken his vow in flesh. Everything.
Sam nodded once. He took Dean’s free hand and placed it on his own thigh. He dropped the wall, all control over the connection, and there was a tangled moment as their minds and bodies crashed together. Yours…everything.
Images filled them, some from Sam’s mind, some from Dean’s until it sorted out into a kind of retroactive SamDean and they were in the dirty little room in the broken down manor at the outskirts of Juarez.
“Do you see now? How he is mine?” Garrett’s voice swam through the swamp of emotions and pain. “Shall I show you?”
Don’t panic. Concentrate. Dean. Oh, God Dean…understand, please.
Sam was on his knees, his mouth filled with Garrett’s cock. Dean seethed. Want me to touch Dean. Me…obeying you…break Dean, show him how much I belong to you.
Dean gasped, but didn’t let Sam pull away.
Sam’s hand was on Dean’s chest. Dean. That first touch. Dean was on the floor, Sam beside him. Oh Dean, god…I can’t…I can’t… Sam’s hands stroked over Dean’s back, reaching out to him through touch, his mind dancing closer and closer to the contact he needed. Do you understand Dean? It’s me or him.
Dean felt Sam shuddering. He shifted slightly closer, swallowing as the memory moved.
Sam was inside him, his body pressed against Dean’s. Forgive me….oh god, just understand….Dean…I don’t want him doing this to you….I need you…I have a plan…but god, Dean…
“Sam.” Dean groaned out loud and it was as if some final dam broke. There was shame, so much shame for what he’d done, for knowing that he had been helpless, for….No, Sam…not your fault… It flooded through him, images and emotions and pain…so much that he felt his stomach roll, threatening to explode.
It was worse than the nightmares, even the really ugly one that seemed to last forever in those first early weeks after Garrett died, because it wasn’t Sam transmitting the pain, it was SamDean living it…the beatings, the rape…the way Garrett had discovered about their twisted, guilty secret, the way Sam had come, violently at Garrett’s hands, screaming Dean’s name…how he broke, bit by bit by bit, until he’d simply stopped…the branding…the searing, incredible pain…god Sammy…love you so damn much.
Dean could barely form coherent thought beyond that…beyond wrapping everything that was left of him around his brother and holding this sharing sacred, a trust that could shatter them both…or cement them together forever.
Dean broke the physical contact briefly, then pulled Sam close, kissing his cheeks, drying his tears, despite the ones pouring down his own cheeks. My precious Sammy. Dean let the pain and grief and anguish wash through them for a moment, then consciously turned to another memory, equally painful, but filled with a commitment worthy of this trust.
"All for one and one for all," Dean muttered.
Sam hyperventilated as John moved to tie him down. John. Have to do this to be safe, keep you from hurting yourself or Dean.
Sam swallowed and closed his eyes. I know I know I know.Just scary.Can't stand being locked down. Scary Scary Scary.
Dean’s touch was gentle, loving. It's ok Sammy. I'm here, right next to you. It will be over in 2 minutes and Dad will untie you. Stay with me. Stay with me. Stay with me. Stay with me.
Dean had come to first, and was cradling Sam’s head when he came round, their thighs side by side, angry red and swollen around the black char of the mark. The morphine had dulled the pain some, but not the loving pride that bound them together, SamDean and then, as their father asked them to mark him too, SamDeanJohn.
Sam shuddered, his body covered in a sheen of sweat. Dean’s hands stroked through Sam’s hair, consciously keeping his hands in the safest of places, slowly drawing them apart enough to function. They both took deep breaths and deliberately moved away from one another, Dean’s hand stroked down the back of Sam’s head, cupping the back of his neck briefly.
“Okay?”
Sam nodded, but didn’t look up. “Why don’t you shower. I’ll see if I can find us someplace to eat.” Dean could feel Sam pulling himself together, his thoughts sluggishly turning to realize he was hungry.
As the bathroom door closed and the shower started, Dean reached for his cell. “Hey Dad.”
“Is everything okay?”
Dean smiled sadly. “Yeah. Sam’s just got this…feeling. He wanted me to check in with you.”
“Where are you?”
Dean shook his head. “Not sure. North Texas.”
Dean stood up and paced away from the bed. “Sam’s…better…I think, but he’s on edge.”
Dean
Dean turned for the bathroom. There was a giant spike making its way between his eyes…Sam’s eyes. “Dad.” Dean gasped as he started for the bathroom. Random images fired in his head…a girl, a demon…the demon…furniture flying…
“Dean?” Concern flooded his father’s voice.
Dean gasped as it struck harder and he felt Sam’s knees hit the tile of the shower. “Vision,” he gasped out. “Call you back.”
He dropped the phone and went to Sam, even as more images washed through them. A little girl possessed. A house in chaos. Demons. Lots of demons. The pain radiated even after the images stopped and Dean shook a little as he helped Sam stand up. “Are they always like that?”
Sam nodded. “Pretty much.”
“Wow.”
Sam smiled a little. “Go take an aspirin. Let me finish my shower,” he said weakly.
“Will you translate that whole thing for me later?”
Sam shook his head. “No need. Its got one of us. One of us.” The little girl is like me…it’s starting.
Next Part Here
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Dreaming in Stereo, Part I
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean, memories of Sam/OC, John
Rating: NC-17, for graphic violence and sex, memory of rape
Table: #1
Prompt: 033 Danger
Word Count: 3687
Summary: Time heals all wounds, but life for a Winchester doesn't wait. Sam and Dean are still working through the changes in their lives, back on the road, hunting. Nightmares of the past pave the way for nightmares of the future, and lead all three Winchesters to a showdown with the evil that started them on their path.
Warnings: Very Dark Fic. This is a follow on to "The Good Son" and "Where it Hurts" and "All for One and One for All" (A gifty fic written for my birthday by shotofjack...which can be found here). I hope shotofjack doesn't mind me borrowing details and dialogue. The overall story will involve torture and rape and extreme violence.
The first part of "The Good Son" can be found here
The first part of "Where it Hurts" can be found here
And "All for One and One for All" can be found here
This is my fourteenth ficlet for my Supernatural claim on 100_situations. Clicky for table
The nightmares didn’t come as often anymore, but they did come. Triggered by a flash of memory, a song on the radio…and Sam was helpless to keep his subconscious mind from replaying terror-filled moments in his dreams. Some nights he refused to sleep, feeling them hanging over him, waiting for the lapse of conscious thought to strike.
This was one of those nights. Dean was asleep on the bed beside him in some dive motel in Oklahoma. They’d hunted down a warlock, brought him to ground and trapped him, but not before he’d managed to get his hands around Sam’s wrists and force him to his knees. It had bubbled up and Sam’s screams came out through Dean’s mouth as he struck home with the ritual blade, cutting through the talisman and dropping the bastard to the ground to be taken by his own demons.
Sam could feel his terror feeding back into him from Dean and tried to shake it off. I’ve got you. It’s okay.
But it wasn’t, and Sam had withdrawn into himself as much as he could on the ride back to the motel. Dean could feel the door close and looked hurt, but relieved just a little too. Not that Sam could blame him. He’d never asked for this strange connection, this always on, always inside one another side affect to what Sam had done to survive. It served them well in many ways…but on nights like this, it took everything Sam had to insulate Dean from his inner fear and the pain that always came along for the ride.
Like a memory that lived in his skin.
In the dark, Sam sat on his bed with his knees drawn to his chest and concentrated on being still and quiet, on not feeling large hands move over his body, on not hearing a voice in his head claiming him. To some degree it worked.
It was getting close to morning. The light outside the window was shifting from the yellow of the street light to the gray of dawn. Sam shivered and pulled himself up out of himself, glancing aside at Dean as he realized he was being watched.
“Did you sleep?”
Sam shook his head, not entirely ready to resume speaking. His voice always sounded so weak and childlike after nights like this. “Sam.”
Dean. He opened himself to the connection slowly, caressing his brother’s mind even as he shied away from the seriousness of the fear and pain. I’m fine.
Dean sat up slowly, his eyes dark in the half-light in the room. “I don’t need you to protect me, Sammy.”
Sam nodded and slowly unfolded himself. “I know.” He stretched slowly. “I…was just a little freaked out. I’m better.” He stood and held out his hands as if his standing by himself proved his point.
Dean stood too, stepping in close and reaching up one hand to finger Sam’s hair before pulling him closer. “You can sleep in the car. We should hit the road.”
“It isn’t even properly daylight Dean.”
“I’m itchy. Don’t want to be here.” Dean said, padding his way to the bathroom. He noticed the light was on, but didn’t mention it. Sometimes it helped.
Sam nodded to himself. Dean was itchy a lot lately. Didn’t like to stay anywhere more than a few nights. Didn’t like to make connections. Sam could feel it under the surface most of the time. They didn’t talk about it, didn’t even really directly think about it. Danger came when they stood still. As long as they were hunting, it was held at bay.
Ridiculous, really, now that Sam thought about it. You think to much, college boy.
Sam heard the shower start, felt Dean relax under the hot stream of water. The crappy hotel had shitty beds, but their water heater and pressure made up for a lot. Sam felt fingers on his chest and closed his eyes, reveling in his brother’s use of their connection and his hands. Want you.
Sam almost wasn’t aware of walking to the bathroom, shedding clothes as he went, but as the steam enveloped him, he melted against Dean, their lips sliding together as if they had never been apart. Dean’s hands slid up into his hair, always starting there, always cementing his touch in the one place Sam still felt safe to touch. It short circuited the warnings, cut off the danger signal that might otherwise have him cowering in the corner instead of sliding against the shower stall so that Dean could touch him and hold him and kiss him until they were both quivering and their thoughts were a jumbled mess of yes and there and Sam and Dean.
Somehow it was always easier after, when Dean had coaxed Sam to orgasm and held him through the shaking and the connection blossomed to encompass them both so that talking and even thoughts formed into words was simply unnecessary. They dressed and gathered their belongings and climbed into the car and kept moving.
And under it all, half asleep in the passenger seat, Sam felt it coming. Not enough to put a name to…but enough…
Dean watched Sam pretend to sleep, felt his thoughts consciously putting the night behind him…almost forcefully. He didn’t know where they were heading. It didn’t matter. He just couldn’t sit still.
They would find something else that needed killing and they would hunt. It was what they did and how the dealt with it. It. This thing.
He didn’t have the words to define it, that was Sam’s thing. It was everything all wrapped up together; Garrett, the past, the sex, the guilt, the general fucked-up life they were living, Sam, Dean and this SamDeanconnection.
He was learning how to function when Sam closed it down. Those first weeks had been intense with Sam’s thoughts and his own blurred together, their bodies on some rush toward nuclear meltdown. They’d driven their father crazy with the half spoken conversations. The first time he’d felt the wall go up, Dean had physically staggered, unaware how much he’d come to rely on it, on Sam.
Of course, it was necessary. Without it, Sam’s nightmares could actually leave welts on Dean’s skin, not to mention the images and mental anguish. They never talked about it. Sam still kept so much of himself hidden, even from Dean. Maybe that was a good thing. Heaven knows Dean could barely deal with what he did know. That fury had served them well enough when it came to Garrett, but couldn’t do much to help them now.
Dean felt Sam shift into something resembling sleep and sighed in relief. He was still itchy, needing…something he couldn’t name. There was danger, he knew it. He just didn’t know where it was coming from. So he drove, away, into…anywhere, as long as they were moving.
Sam could feel the road under them, tasted moisture in the air…and the coffee Dean was drinking. Groggily, he raised his head, groaning as the muscles in his neck protested the long hours in the uncomfortable position he’d finally fallen asleep in. “Where?” he asked sleepily.
Texas.
Sam sat up a little more, stretching as much as the confines of the car would allow. It was dark. He’d slept longer than he’d thought. “You should rest.” He could tell Dean was tired, but wired too.
“Later.”
“What’s in Texas?”
Dean shrugged, stifling a yawn. “Figure we’d pull off in the next town and do some research, see what’s out there.”
Sam let his mind caress his brother’s, comfort, familiarity. Dean smiled and touched Sam’s thigh. For a while they drove in silence. “Have we heard from Dad?”
Dean shook his head. “Not since you talked to him a few days ago. Why?”
Sam made a face that Dean felt more than saw. “Just…a feeling.” Danger…trouble…fear.
“Yeah.” Dean glanced aside at his brother. “Anything concrete?”
Sam shook his head. “No dreams, no visions…just…” He chewed on his lip. There hadn’t been any since Garrett. He wasn’t sure if that was a relief or a concern. “Something’s coming, Dean.” Something big
Dean squeezed his knee, then returned his hand to the wheel. “We’ll call him in the morning.”
Sam nodded and turned to look out the window. The shakiness of the night before was gone and he felt a little stronger for it. It had been two months since his last nightmare, and he’d avoided this one. He couldn’t help but feel like he was walking on eggshells, waiting, expecting.
It’s okay.
Sam looked at his brother. “What is?”
Dean smiled. “Everything. Us.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Sam chuckled. “Okay.”
“It will get better.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
Sam felt Dean’s worry, relief, love in a wave. Need you. Sam slid closer and let his head come to rest on Dean’s shoulder. “Always,” he whispered. Dean’s hand found its way back to Sam’s thigh, sliding down between his legs. Sam moaned, instantly hard as Dean’s hand cupped him, his thoughts almost palpable as they raced over various memories of touching, sucking…fucking…Dean.
“Motel.” Dean’s grin was nearly evil as he guided the Impala off the road and left Sam waiting while he went in to get them a room. While Dean was inside the office, Sam let his hand slide into his jeans, stroking himself with a grin, knowing that Dean was feeling every touch. He could see him all but dancing at the counter.
He was back, and the engine roared to life as he pulled them up to the door of their room. His eyes were wild with lust as he looked at Sam. Inside. Now. Need. Want.
Sam swallowed hard and opened his door, reaching into the back seat for his duffle before he felt Dean’s hand on his. Leave it. Later. Now. His hand was around Sam’s waist, pulling him back onto his hip, half dragging him to the door. It wasn’t even fully closed before Dean had his hands in Sam’s hair, dragging his face down for a kiss and Sam’s knees shook as Dean kicked the door closed and started to pull at his brother’s clothes.
Sam dragged his t-shirt up over his head and dropped it, his hands moving around Dean’s waist, his thumbs rubbing circles under the waistband of his jeans. He could feel an echo of it on his own skin, coupled with the feeling of Dean’s hands pulling on the fly of his own jeans. Then there were lips on his chest, kissing over skin and they were turning, falling…laughing as the bed groaned and they tried to continue undressing without letting their hands leave each other’s bodies.
They tossed around and somehow managed to find nakedness, and Dean was under Sam who was kissing his way around his navel, his hair tickling and sending shivers through Dean’s stomach. When Sam’s lips found their way to his thigh, everything stilled for a moment. His tongue traced over the curves of the W…the mark that had changed them. Mine. He could feel the ghost of his movements on his own thigh, on his own mark.
Dean’s hands were in his hair, his cock hard, his breathing harder. Yours. Forever, Sammy. Sam moved a hand closer, never really touching it…never had except for lips and tongue. He hadn’t wanted it for Dean…and it never failed…when he saw it…when he saw the evidence of what his brother gave him, it awed him in ways he had never found words for.
“Fuck me, Sammy. Please.” Dean’s voice was needy and raspy and Sam could feel the desire in the pit of his stomach.
Can’t. Sam moved, rolling them so that he was on his back and Dean was curled up beside him.
Need. Want.
Sam closed his eyes, a part of him disconnecting, hiding the images his brother’s request brought to mind. He hadn’t, not since he’d done it to save them both. He always managed to maneuver them into something else, to sucking Dean off or Dean fucking him. Can’t.
Dean’s hands moved to cup his face, his lips brushing over Sam’s, and…unexpectedly, his thoughts pushing past the wall. Want you…all of you…don’t shut me out.
Sam swallowed, but didn’t fight, didn’t want to hurt him…and Dean’s hand closed around Sam’s cock, and there was lube and Sam didn’t remember Dean even looking for lube. Dean’s eyes held Sam’s as the image lay there between them.
Dean bound, beaten and naked. Sam slowly preparing him. It’s me or him, Dean. I don’t want him doing this to you. I need you.
Dean positioned himself, holding Sam’s cock and guiding it into him. Sam stiffened, a whimper in his throat. “Please Dean,” he whined, though he wasn’t sure what he was begging for.
Right here, Sammy. Trust you.
Sam’s breathing hitched as Dean’s ass opened up, taking him slowly inside. He felt the echo in his own ass and shifted just a little, easing the passage. He tried to shut off the memory, but Dean held it between them. Stay here…just you and me…alone…
Dean began moving, stroking Sam in and out of himself, his hands cupped again around Sam’s face, as the image Sam had created for him when they’d been Garrett’s prisoners bloomed around the memory of what had actually happened. You saved me, Sammy. Here. Right here.
“Dean!” Sam arched up, pushing into his brother. The motel room in their shared memory slowly took on characteristics of the motel room around them, bringing Sam back to the now, back to the feeling of his cock filling Dean and Dean’s voice chanting his name both in his head and out loud.
Sam grabbed Dean’s hips and pulled him harder onto him as he came. Dean’s own orgasm was only a split second behind and he collapsed bonelessly on top of Sam, sweaty skin to sweaty skin, his head tucking neatly in the crook of Sam’s neck.
After a moment, when their breathing had slowed, Sam rolled them onto their sides, Dean already on his way toward sleep. He kissed Dean’s forehead and settled in, not so much to sleep, but to hold this moment for a while, his thoughts tangled messily around Dean’s...nightmares forgotten for now.
Somewhere near dawn, Sam drifted into dreams that were as much Dean’s as his own, childhood games and lessons in hunting when they could pretend it was still a game. When he woke, it was well past noon and Dean was sitting at the table with a newspaper. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself. Everything okay?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, you?”
Dean smiled. “Just looking for something to hunt.” He held up the newspaper. “Looks like the pickings are slim around here.”
Sam crawled out of the sheets, feeling sticky and slightly self conscious. “Why’d you let me sleep?”
Dean shrugged. “Thought you needed it.” He met Sam’s eyes. I’m okay, Sammy.
Sam sighed. Don’t want to hurt you again. He turned to head to the bathroom, noticing Dean had brought in their things. Dean stopped him, a hand on his arm, drawing him back, into his arms. He pulled Sam close.
“Sam, maybe we need to talk.”
Sam smirked a little, though he wouldn’t meet Dean’s eyes. “Gonna get girly on me, Dean?”
Dean squeezed him. If I have to. Out loud he said, “Come sit down.”
Sam let himself be drawn back to the bed and sank down beside his brother. “You know I wanted that last night, right?”
Sam sighed again, but nodded. “On some level, yeah, I know, Dean.”
“I mean it, Sammy. I’ve wanted it for a long time.”
They were quiet then and Dean’s desire, the truth of it was there for Sam to feel, even if he didn’t want to feel it just yet. “I-hurt you. I let him make me hurt you.” Sam took a deep breath.
“You could have let him do it.” Dean said, his voice cold. Wanted you, Sammy…only you.
Sam shook his head, lowering it so that his hair covered his eyes, protected him from…from admitting…No. No. Not that..
“You did what you had to, Sammy.” Don’t cut me out.
“What do you want Dean?”
Everything.
Sam sucked in a shuddering breath and turned to his brother, eyes brimming with tears. Are you sure?
Dean’s hand squeezed Sam’s and pulled it up to cover the spot on his thigh where he had taken his vow in flesh. Everything.
Sam nodded once. He took Dean’s free hand and placed it on his own thigh. He dropped the wall, all control over the connection, and there was a tangled moment as their minds and bodies crashed together. Yours…everything.
Images filled them, some from Sam’s mind, some from Dean’s until it sorted out into a kind of retroactive SamDean and they were in the dirty little room in the broken down manor at the outskirts of Juarez.
“Do you see now? How he is mine?” Garrett’s voice swam through the swamp of emotions and pain. “Shall I show you?”
Don’t panic. Concentrate. Dean. Oh, God Dean…understand, please.
Sam was on his knees, his mouth filled with Garrett’s cock. Dean seethed. Want me to touch Dean. Me…obeying you…break Dean, show him how much I belong to you.
Dean gasped, but didn’t let Sam pull away.
Sam’s hand was on Dean’s chest. Dean. That first touch. Dean was on the floor, Sam beside him. Oh Dean, god…I can’t…I can’t… Sam’s hands stroked over Dean’s back, reaching out to him through touch, his mind dancing closer and closer to the contact he needed. Do you understand Dean? It’s me or him.
Dean felt Sam shuddering. He shifted slightly closer, swallowing as the memory moved.
Sam was inside him, his body pressed against Dean’s. Forgive me….oh god, just understand….Dean…I don’t want him doing this to you….I need you…I have a plan…but god, Dean…
“Sam.” Dean groaned out loud and it was as if some final dam broke. There was shame, so much shame for what he’d done, for knowing that he had been helpless, for….No, Sam…not your fault… It flooded through him, images and emotions and pain…so much that he felt his stomach roll, threatening to explode.
It was worse than the nightmares, even the really ugly one that seemed to last forever in those first early weeks after Garrett died, because it wasn’t Sam transmitting the pain, it was SamDean living it…the beatings, the rape…the way Garrett had discovered about their twisted, guilty secret, the way Sam had come, violently at Garrett’s hands, screaming Dean’s name…how he broke, bit by bit by bit, until he’d simply stopped…the branding…the searing, incredible pain…god Sammy…love you so damn much.
Dean could barely form coherent thought beyond that…beyond wrapping everything that was left of him around his brother and holding this sharing sacred, a trust that could shatter them both…or cement them together forever.
Dean broke the physical contact briefly, then pulled Sam close, kissing his cheeks, drying his tears, despite the ones pouring down his own cheeks. My precious Sammy. Dean let the pain and grief and anguish wash through them for a moment, then consciously turned to another memory, equally painful, but filled with a commitment worthy of this trust.
"All for one and one for all," Dean muttered.
Sam hyperventilated as John moved to tie him down. John. Have to do this to be safe, keep you from hurting yourself or Dean.
Sam swallowed and closed his eyes. I know I know I know.Just scary.Can't stand being locked down. Scary Scary Scary.
Dean’s touch was gentle, loving. It's ok Sammy. I'm here, right next to you. It will be over in 2 minutes and Dad will untie you. Stay with me. Stay with me. Stay with me. Stay with me.
Dean had come to first, and was cradling Sam’s head when he came round, their thighs side by side, angry red and swollen around the black char of the mark. The morphine had dulled the pain some, but not the loving pride that bound them together, SamDean and then, as their father asked them to mark him too, SamDeanJohn.
Sam shuddered, his body covered in a sheen of sweat. Dean’s hands stroked through Sam’s hair, consciously keeping his hands in the safest of places, slowly drawing them apart enough to function. They both took deep breaths and deliberately moved away from one another, Dean’s hand stroked down the back of Sam’s head, cupping the back of his neck briefly.
“Okay?”
Sam nodded, but didn’t look up. “Why don’t you shower. I’ll see if I can find us someplace to eat.” Dean could feel Sam pulling himself together, his thoughts sluggishly turning to realize he was hungry.
As the bathroom door closed and the shower started, Dean reached for his cell. “Hey Dad.”
“Is everything okay?”
Dean smiled sadly. “Yeah. Sam’s just got this…feeling. He wanted me to check in with you.”
“Where are you?”
Dean shook his head. “Not sure. North Texas.”
Dean stood up and paced away from the bed. “Sam’s…better…I think, but he’s on edge.”
Dean
Dean turned for the bathroom. There was a giant spike making its way between his eyes…Sam’s eyes. “Dad.” Dean gasped as he started for the bathroom. Random images fired in his head…a girl, a demon…the demon…furniture flying…
“Dean?” Concern flooded his father’s voice.
Dean gasped as it struck harder and he felt Sam’s knees hit the tile of the shower. “Vision,” he gasped out. “Call you back.”
He dropped the phone and went to Sam, even as more images washed through them. A little girl possessed. A house in chaos. Demons. Lots of demons. The pain radiated even after the images stopped and Dean shook a little as he helped Sam stand up. “Are they always like that?”
Sam nodded. “Pretty much.”
“Wow.”
Sam smiled a little. “Go take an aspirin. Let me finish my shower,” he said weakly.
“Will you translate that whole thing for me later?”
Sam shook his head. “No need. Its got one of us. One of us.” The little girl is like me…it’s starting.
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