No Fate, Sam/Dean, NC-17
kellifer_fic did express interest in this (despite it being Sam/Deany) and I am delighted to have this ready on her birthday!
Title: No Fate
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warnings: Age Gap Sex (Dean 31, Sam 18), Bad Language
Words: 7360 approx.
Summary: It’s another night out at Stanford for Sam, but then he gets two unexpected visitors from the future. The movie Terminator was an influence. Spoilers for series 2 finale.
Thanks hugely to deirdre_c for her very helpful beta and for putting up with all of my time travel questions.
A producer’s credit to mel_b_angel for letting me go on and on about this, especially when I took up her whole lunch hour. I would have clubbed me over the head with my turkey sandwich.
Disclaimer: The Winchesters do not belong to me. Any similarity to the Terminator movie is all in time travel fun!
Sam twists his head to see where the shout’s coming from. Just a girl who’s pushing her way into the bar, and Sam curses himself for still being on edge all the time.
“So you'll come to the party?” Zach raises his beer in hope. Sam frowns.
“I don’t know. I've got a lot of work to do.” Sam says it as firmly as possible, but Zach grins widely and Sam knows it’s futile.
“But Becky's bringing-Fuck, that girl's strong!”
Sam follows Zach's beer with his eyes and sees the same girl working through the crowd toward them. She’s shoving people to the floor like skittles. She moves like a machine, determined and focused. She turns her head to and fro, glancing around the bar. Her eyes fix on Sam’s and she speeds up her movements.
That's when Sam knows something's wrong.
“I think we'd better get outta here.” Sam rises quickly and when Zach doesn't move he says, “I mean it, Zach.” It’s a tone Zach hasn’t heard before. Zach looks like he's gonna tell Sam to go to hell, but then swallows nervously.
“Dude, she's heading straight--”
Sam automatically grabs a knife off the table, needing to feel the weight of some kind of weapon in his hand. Old habits die hard. It'd be easier to learn to breathe differently. The girl is still heading directly for them, eyes boring through Sam. One, two, three people get pushed aside in the time it takes Sam to glance over his shoulder.
“Let's move,” Sam says, and he knows it sounds like an order, but thank Christ, Zach follows. “Everyone! Get out,” he shouts to the bar at large. A girl screams and breaks whatever spell has kept people frozen in place.
Then it's pandemonium, and for the first time in a while, Sam thinks it's gonna be difficult to get out of here alive.
A girl trips over her high heels and blocks Sam's path. Sam picks her up and gives her a push toward the door. He glances to make sure Zach's still close behind and sees the menacing stranger is gaining on them. She's only a few feet away. Sam pushes Zach behind him and turns to try and fight the girl off. He'll never manage to outrun her now. Sam attacks first, but the girl blocks his fist and pushes Sam to the floor with ease.
Zach runs off. To get help, to run away, Sam'll never know. The girl stalks up to Sam and looms over him. Sam tries to get up but she leans down and kneels on him, pressing him down with more than her body weight. Her eyes are dark pools in her face. She’s possessed, Sam realizes.
“Sam Winchester. Nice to see you again. Cute as ever. Oh, what might have been, honey.”
The stranger gives a twisted smile. She opens her mouth to speak again, but only bloodcurdling screams emerge from it as water lands over her head. She scrambles off Sam, continuing to scream as the holy water burns through her. Sam turns and sees Dean there, uncapping another bottle. He tosses it over the girl then strides over to Sam.
He gestures for Sam to get up, eyes intense.
“Come with me if you want to live.”
Sam scrambles to his feet, and lets Dean push him toward the exit. Sam hears Dean toss more water behind them and focuses on finding their way and trying to work out what Dean's doing there, in equal measure.
What’s going on? Dean's hunting in Palo Alto? Random post cards and unanswered phone calls for six months and now he just turns up out of the blue? Who… what is that girl?
Sam heads them toward the kitchen and at the last minute pulls Dean into the door for the club, then left into a back room. Dean slams him against the wall and they wait tensely for the thing to pass by them. Dean glances around the room for another way out while Sam watches Dean, his heart racing. Something's wrong. Dean looks different. He's wearing a shirt that's too small for him and jeans that don't reach his feet. He looks older. He’s much more muscular than Sam remembers. He looks dulled, like the years have taken away his brightness. It’s not Dean. Dean can't have aged that much since Sam saw him.
“Dean? That’s you, right? You look… different.” Sam tenses and shifts his feet so he can move quickly if he needs to.
Dean holds Sam’s look for a long second, and the look tells Sam that he doesn’t know what to say. Sam sees the love that was always there, behind Dean’s eyes, and knows that it is his Dean.
Dean rubs the back of his neck and breaks their gaze, as always. A flush of desire floods through Sam and he hides it away, as always.
“Some welcome, Sam. What? No hug?” Dean says. He nods toward the door. “I think we’re good to go.”
Okay, Sam thinks, maybe this is his brother. Annoying and cocky as ever.
**
Dean steals a Porsche. Fastest car in the lot, Dean says, and bitches about students who can afford Porsches.
“You don't have the Chevy?” Sam asks as soon as they've peeled out of the lot. Something's definitely off.
“I couldn't exactly fit it on me,” Dean says wryly. “Are you injured, are you hurt?” Dean's tone is clipped, military, like Dad's, and Sam doesn't answer. Dean reaches a hand out and runs it over Sam's shoulders and chest, tracing Sam's body with a hand covered in scars Sam hasn’t seen before. “Sam, you have to do as I say. Exactly what I say. Do you understand?”
Sam tries to focus on Dean's words but his eyes are concentrating on the lines on Dean's face and the scars that Sam doesn't recognize. “Dean. If that is you. I need to know what the hell is going on.”
“First, you need to stay alive. Then you need to know what's going on. We gotta get on the road. We'll stop for weapons soon as we're outta town.”
“I can't just leave,” Sam says, knowing he sounds stupid but needing to protest anyway. Needing to stop the momentum that's pulling him forward and think while he still can. “I've got classes, friends--”
“A demon on your ass,” Dean finishes.
“A demon? That thing was a demon? What'd I do?” Dean takes a turn so fast it throws Sam against the window.
“Sorry. Seeing what this baby can do.” Dean's gaze is soft when he glances over at Sam. “You haven't done anything yet, but you will. It's very important that you live.”
“What the fuck, Dean?” Sam narrows his eyes at Dean and tries to keep his voice calm. “What the hell is going on?”
“Okay, look. I'm from the future.” Dean laughs. “Man, how cool is it to say that?”
“This isn't funny, Dean.” Sam bites his lip. “ Tell me the truth.”
“Sam, that is the truth.” Dean lowers his voice and turns his head to look properly at Sam. “I'm from 2010. The demon. It targeted you and came back in time. And I followed it.”
“It ... Dean. Stop talking like you're in a movie. This isn’t Terminator.”
“It’s fucking close. Just no cyborgs.” Dean snorts.
A light flashes in their rearview. A cop car is bearing down on them.
“Just a second,” Dean says. He peels the car off to the right, inches in front of a tractor-trailer rig, then brakes hard and slides into a drift onto a ramp. The cop car skids right past them and crashes into the side of the road. Dean curses, starts the car, and they sail onto a tree-lined side street.
“How much do we know about this demon?” Information, that's what Dad always said. Knowing your enemy will keep you alive.
“Some. It worked for the demon that killed Mom, Sam.”
”It worked, past tense? And now it’s gone renegade?” Sam eyes Dean closely.
Dean taps his hands on the wheel. “Kinda. We called her Meg. Called it Meg. We kinda sent it to hell. And it came back and possessed you. Which was a particularly fun week for me.” Dean glances across at Sam and gives a rueful smile. Sam itches to reach out and touch it, but he doesn’t. “We exorcised it from you, and well, it came back. Again. Around about the time the gates of hell got opened.”
“Gates of hell? I don’t understand. Why would it come for me? What happened to the demon that killed Mom? Tell me everything.”
“Alright. Listen.” Sam keeps his eyes on Dean, but Dean keeps his on the road, talking softly and urgently as he handles the car. “In a few years Dad vanishes going to find the demon. I come and find you and we look for him. The demon comes and kills your girlfriend.” A million questions hang in the air but Dean stills them with a raised hand. “We go and find Dad, and we hunt things. Together.” Resignation wells inside and replaces Sam’s hope. He never made it out, despite leaving. “In the end, we find a way to kill it. We do kill it. And the gates of hell open. Which is kinda a bummer.”
“Look, Dean. I know you want to help but...” Sam loses the end of his sentence among all the choices. But this sounds crazy? But I chose a different life? But I don't want to believe it? But how can we stop it? There are actually gates to hell? “So, it's from the future?” Sam asks in the end.
“One possible future. From your point of view. The past for me. I don't...” Dean pulls over. “If I think too much about it, it scrambles my brain.” Dean stops at a red light. “Listen. Understand. The main thing is that that demon is out there. And it’s pissed. It can't be bargained with. It doesn't feel pity or remorse or fear. It's come to kill you and it absolutely will not stop ever. Until you are dead.”
Dean pulls over.
Sam meets Dean's gaze. “Can you stop it?”
“Maybe,” Dean says. “With these weapons? No. I need to arm up. Then we need to find the right exorcism, and trap it. Again.” Dean smirks as he glances over at Sam. “First time for you though.”
Sam nods and steadies himself before following Dean out of the car.
**
Dean insists on collecting more holy water from a nearby church, then breaks into an antique store for some knives. He bitches that they need a couple of decent guns and in the end steals both the owner’s from under the counter.
“He has those for protection,” Sam says, picking up a sword that must be a couple of hundred years old and a small dagger. The metal presses cold into his ankle as he slides the dagger into place. It feels like moving back in time.
“He's got a store full of old weapons. He won't miss it. Let's go.”
They walk quietly down the road. There's a gray hair at Dean's temple, just one, stubbornly threading through to show Dean's age.
“Dude, you've got a gray hair.” Sam resists the urge to run his hand through Dean's hair. “You're old!”
Dean scowls. “I'm not old.”
“What are you? Like, 31?”
Dean nods his assent as they reach a row of shops.
“Heh, that's old. What's it like being that old? Do you ache more after a hunt? Drink camomile tea in the evenings?”
“Laugh it up, Sam. You're 27 now. You got a couple of lines yourself.” Dean nods to a store up ahead and then freezes. Sam cocks his head. A siren, in the distance.
“Cops? For us, you think?”
“Shots? Stolen car? Maybe.” The siren sound gets louder. “Probably.” Dean pulls Sam into a seated position behind a car and they hold their breath while the cop car roars into their street. Dean's head is close to Sam's. Sam can smell the sweat on Dean. He could twist his head and meet Dean's lips with his own.
Sam wonders what the real Dean, his Dean, is doing? Hunting with Dad? Not thinking about Sam at all? The idea makes him ache.
Sam wants to ask Dean about future Sam. He wonders if that Sam started hunting with Dean again, how he managed to keep his desire hidden? Moving cross country and cutting Dean out of his life has done jack after all for Sam right now. Dean's still the one Sam sees in his dreams and the one he pictures when he's jerking off. Sam flushes, burning hot in the darkness.
“Can you tell me more?” Sam whispers. Distraction. That'll help. “What happened when the gates of hell opened?”
“Demons got out,” Dean says. “A lot of ‘em. We’re kinda in a war. The Yellow Eyed…the demon that killed Mom…” Dean hesitates, then shutters slam over his face. “We’re winning and the demons are pissed. I guess Meg- whatever it’s called- found a way to move through time and came here.”
“Why here? Why me?” Sam elbows Dean. “You’re not telling me everything.”
“It’s pissed at me,” Dean says. “And it always kinda had a soft spot for you. It’ll come for me next.” Dean cocks his head and points at a car. They move quietly toward it and break in.
“What happened with the Yellow Eyed demon? What were you gonna say? Dean? I don’t understand why it killed my girlfriend. What’d I do?”
Dean hesitates. Sam pushes himself flat against the door. “Dean? Tell me.”
“It had plans for you. Wanted you to lead the demons’ side in this war. I guess we kinda screwed that up, huh?”
Silence falls as Sam digests this. He watches Dean stealing glances at him every few seconds. Dean finally lets out a slow sigh. “It's good to see you, Sammy. Like this.”
“Like what?”
Dean shrugs. “Young.” He flexes his hands on the wheel. “Relaxed.” Sam bites back a retort that future Sam probably isn’t that relaxed if he’s responsible for an entire war. He slouches down into the seat.
A siren sounds, and they both twist their heads at the same time.
“Cops?”
“Or the demon. Either way...” Dean leaves the threat hanging. “Hold on tight.”
Sam nods. He keeps his hand resting on his gun and his eyes trained on the mirror.
“I miss my car already,” Dean curses. He takes the corner fast and the wheels spin as Dean tries struggles to right it. The sirens get closer, and there's more than one of them now. The front police car gets nearer to them and Sam sees dark eyes and a future he wants to escape glaring from the driver's seat.
“It's ... it.” Sam's unsure what to call it, but Dean nods. Engines roar as all the cars put on a burst of speed. The buildings become a blur as Dean goes flat out. The police car with the demon arcs in behind them, then more cars, legitimate police probably, enter the pursuit one by one. Sam sees the sign to the freeway. They're nearly outta there. They're nearly okay. Then Dean turns a corner and wrestles the wheel to one side to avoid a police car thrown across the road in front of them. They come to a skidding halt in a cloud of tire smoke and Sam flies forward into the dashboard.
By the time Sam opens his eyes again, he can see Dean being led off in cuffs, and the police are holding a pair out to him too. The demon is nowhere to be seen.
**
“I'd like you to tell me everything Dean said to you.” The cop holds out a coffee. Sam sips at it.
“You think my brother's crazy?”
“I think that that's what we need to find out. There have been several deaths this morning and witnesses placed your brother in the area. Then he was at the scene of a disturbance in a bar, stole a car...didn't stop when a police car told him to.” The cop leans forward in his seat, and furrows his brow in fake concern. “If you were just along for the ride, you need to tell us that.”
Sam gets up from his chair and wanders over to the window. He wishes he knew where they were keeping Dean.
“You're a promising college student, Sam. This can all go away for you.” Sam looks back and the cop-- Traxler, whoever--, gestures his arms at the papers in front of him.
Sam bites his lip and looks out the window. They've a code for this, Sam knows and it's burned into his brain so deep Sam'll never forget it. Even when he's struggling to get math and science and law in there, Dad's rules for capture will always remain.
“You should hear the crazy shit he's saying.” Traxler walks over to a television monitor and flicks it on. The screen clears and Sam sees Dean in shackles, looking as calm as if he’s in class at school.
“Are you supposed to show me this?” Sam says.
“Maybe it'll help you remember what the truth is.”
Dean looks up at the camera and smiles. He gives a small nod and Sam knows it's for him, in case he's watching. He sips the coffee slowly and waits for his moment.
“This...demon. It thinks it can win by killing Sam, before you go to war with it?” The policeman interviewing Dean leans forward toward him. He’s looking at Dean like he’s lost his mind.
“That's right,” Dean says impatiently. He bangs his hands on the table. “We'd won. Taking us out then would make no difference.”
“Right. So you followed this demon through...”
“A portal,” Dean says. “I didn't have much time before it closed. Only enough time for one of us to follow. So I came.”
“So, if you're coming from the future, Dean, why didn't you bring more advanced weapons? Like, Ray guns or something?” The policeman gives a small laugh.
Dean laughs. “I'm from 2010 dude, not the 25th century. I'm no Buck Rogers. Besides, I tried and arrived naked. Nothing dead will go, apparently.”
“Why?”
“It's not my fucking magic.” Dean leans across the table. ”Look. I'm playing along here answering your dumb questions. When can I see Sam?”
“Right. Sam. Your brother. We're still talking to him.” The policeman gestures toward the door.
“Look. You still don't get it. It'll find him. That's what it does. All it does.” Dean’s face is inches away from the other policeman’s. “You can't stop it. It'll wade right through you. Then it'll kill you all.”
“But you can stop it?”
Dean leans back. “I'll die trying.” Dean frowns up at the camera. Traxler leans forward to switch the tv off, and Sam lifts his arm, and punches.
The lights flicker and go out as Sam heads through the door. “Fuck.” Sam hears the voice from the tv and he heads straight toward it. To Dean. Dean'll know what to do.
The distant sound of furniture hitting a wall resounds in Sam’s ears. Heavy footsteps move determinedly in the distance. It's nearly here. Sam waits outside the door until he sees the cop from the tv poking around the corner, then he knocks him out with a well-timed fist to the jaw. Sam leans down and takes the keys off his belt, then heads into the room to find Dean tugging furiously on his chains.
“About damn time, Sam.”
“What? No hug?” Sam fumbles with the key as he unlocks Dean. Dean flexes his wrists once they are off him.
“They took your weapons too?”
“Yeah. There's an office behind the desk I think they keep them in. I saw them head off toward it.”
Dean nods his assent. Footsteps sound in the hall again, and Dean pushes Sam down and nods for him to hide behind the door. He raises a finger to his lips and crouches down behind Sam. Sam can feel Dean's chest pressing into his back. Every breath Dean makes reverberates through Sam's body. Sam jumps when Dean whispers hot in his ear, “Quiet now, Sam.”
Sam realizes his own breath is really loud and focuses on making it slow. He grips his knees tightly with his fingers. Dean starts to steady his breath, in out, in out, and Sam matches it. Dean's hair tickles Sam's cheek as Dean shifts his weight, and Sam's ashamed that there's a warmth in the bottom of his belly that he's not felt in a while. He shifts to disguise a growing hard on and chastises himself, This is not the best time. Whatever time period Dean's from, he stills turns Sam on. Zero to sixty in no time at all.
Sam wishes his Dean were there, wants to call him and tell him that he's met future Dean, tell him he only gets hotter with age and that he's even more fuckable than he ever was. That his lips are still made for kissing and that Sam wants him, no matter what. Of course, he’d never really say those things aloud to his own Dean.
But he'd settle for calling Dean and just telling him what the fuck is going on, and hearing Dean joke about it.
Dean's arm flits past Sam's and Sam focuses on the Dean that's with him. Dean pushes the door closed a little more. The footsteps seem to be going the other way, checking out different rooms, and Dean murmurs, “Now.”
Sam follows Dean out of the door and quickly down the corridor. Dean gets to the front desk and Sam gestures to a closed door.
“We'll need to pick it.” Dean frowns.
Sam connects a sharp elbow with Dean’s ribs. “Let me do this.”
“You carry a lock pick set around with you?”
Sam shrugs and opens the door easily. “I kept losing my key.”
Dean slaps Sam on the back. “Awesome.”
They walk into the evidence room. There's a box marked “Winchester” near the door and Dean pulls if off, throwing Sam his weapons. Sam arms up and looks to see Dean pocketing another gun or two.
“Dean! We gotta go!” Sam hisses, heading for the door.
“May as well take another .45 while I'm here. Nice piece.” Dean twirls the gun around his fingers and smiles, a shaft of light hitting the gun and lighting an eerie path up his face.
Sam turns and races through the door. A shot fires, plaster flaking off the wall and around Sam's head. The demon's armed up too.
“Sam, go!” Dean throws the keys to Sam and Sam catches them but doesn't move. He takes his gun out and takes up position behind Dean. “What the...you don't understand plain English Sammy?”
They back up past a door and push it closed. Dean grabs the edge of some shelves and Sam helps him lift it into place. “Run!”
Sam turns and runs for the exit. He hears Dean hammering along behind him, and the sound of gunfire as the demon clears their block. Sam skids across the lot and gestures. “They towed it. There.”
They race toward the car and get in, leaving the demon in their rear-view.
Dean drives straight out of the city and doesn't stop for six hours straight. It’s only when he shifts in his seat at a light that Sam catches sight of red glistening through Dean’s denim shirt.
“Dean, you caught one? Back there?” Sam reaches over and tugs at Dean's shirt but he bats Sam's hand off.
“Yeah. It's fine. Forget it.”
“Forget it? Are you crazy? Let me see.”
Dean's jaw tightens and Sam sets his face. “Dean. It's not following. We got time to stitch you up, to rest. Pull over.” He glares at the side of Dean's face until Dean winces, and nods.
The motel has a small shop and Sam makes Dean go straight to the room while he wanders through it. Sewing kit, alcohol, salt that they still need. Sam gathers together everything he can think of and tries to get himself together. Dean's got Sam's thoughts in a muddle, like he always does.
Sam gets hurries into the motel room and sees Dean poking at the wound. “See? It's fine. Missed everything. Passed right through the meat.”
“Let me see it.” Sam pushes Dean's hand out of the way and gently runs his fingers around the wound. Dean winces from the lightest touch. Sam gets the sharpest needle he can find and pours vodka over it. “Here.” Dean grabs the bottle from Sam and glugs it down. Sam rests the needle and sets about cleaning the wound first. “Talk about something. Tell me about the future,” Sam asks, partly because he wants to know, but mostly because he wants to take Dean's mind off the pain.
“It's like I said: we're winning. Fighting the demons, and they knew it. Ah fuck, Sam.”
“Sorry.” Sam makes his moves even gentler and Dean settles back into his story.
“We saw it with a trickster, and a genie. We knew it was looking for ways to shift reality. Maybe our reality, so we'd stop fighting. It was looking into everything. In the end, we had it cornered. Some kind of portal opened. And it...” Sam stopped his movements to let Dean continue. Dean gritted his teeth. “Keep going, I'm okay. It said some words, and you recognized them from an old grimoire of Bobby’s. A spell you didn't think was possible, but man, we should know all kinds of crazy shit can happen, right? A spell to shift through time, open a portal? Fucking seriously crazy... I guess it got magic from something to be able to do it. Anyway, it said it was coming to get you. When you were alone. We knew what it was gonna do.”
Sam grunts assent and drops the cotton wool onto the bed. He lifts up the needle and threads it. He glances up and Dean gives a small nod.
“So...argh, shit.” Dean swigs more vodka and Sam sews as quickly as he can. “So I followed through. We only had a few seconds before it shut.”
Sam cuts the string neatly off and sits back to examine his work. "Why'd you come back?” He sticks a dressing gently over his stitches.
“’Cause we're our best soldiers. And you can't meet yourself, can you? Haven’t you seen Back To the Future? It’d cause the world to explode or time to collapse or somethin’.” Dean drops back onto the bed. “Ah, man.”
Sam fusses with the med supplies for a minute, then lies down next to him. “Dean?”
“Yeah?”
Sam hesitates.
“Spit it out, Sam.”
“What's it like moving through time?”
“White light. Pain. Like being ripped inside out...slowly. Like being born, maybe.” Dean touches his chest and grimaces.
Sam nods. “And if we kill it, could we kill the Yellow Eyed demon now? Stop the gates of hell from opening and the war from happening?”
“I hope so. We can try. The future is not set. You roll over and die, or you fight." Dean's face darkens. "You do good, or bad. If we kill it... we save a lotta people.”
Sam nods. “And it would be over, truly over, for us all? Killing the thing we've been hunting our whole lives?”
”There's always things to hunt. It's not the only evil thing out there." Dean sits up. He looks away from Sam and speaks quietly. "In my future, you get that. That what we do is important. That we sacrifice stuff, but that it matters.”
Sam frowns. “It's just a possible future though. Right?”
Dean looks back at Sam. He furrows his brow. “Right. Good field dressing, Sammy.”
“Yeah. Not my first,” Sam quips. Dean smiles.
Sam reaches out and touches the dressing softly and Dean jumps at the touch. Sam looks up and sees Dean's face darken over. Sam touches the dressing again and rubs a small circle around it. Dean doesn’t push Sam’s hand away so Sam carries on rubbing and and listens as Dean’s breathing gets more shallow. It’s a turn-on for Dean, too, Sam realizes. He looks up at Dean, his Dean, but not really. It’s some other Dean, from some other time, but he talks the same and smells the same and it’s close enough for Sam, for now. It's a Dean he can do this with, without the world crashing in. If Dean rejects Sam, he still has his Dean out there somewhere, unaware of his secret.
Sam slowly reaches up and softly meets Dean's lips with his own. They kiss for a second, gentle, Sam pushes Dean back on the bed. Then Dean pushes Sam away.
“I can't... we don't do this yet.” The words sweep away all of Sam's fears. Dean does want Sam; they do have each other; they are together in this way.
“So, we--" It's inevitable. Right.
“Sam...not yet.”
“How do you know? Sam climbs over Dean and pushes Dean's knees apart with his own. “How'd you know in your time this didn't happen already and I just never said?”
“Don't head-fuck me.” Dean wriggles underneath Sam and Sam ignores it, pushing Dean down with his weight and kissing him. Dean's protest is lost under the feel of Sam's tongue against his own. Dean kisses back fervently, and Sam groans into Dean's mouth as he massages Dean's tongue with his own. Sam slides his hand under Dean's tee and Dean breaks off the kiss. “You're too young, I have to stop this. I can't...”
“I'm not too young,” Sam says. “If we do it anyway, what's it matter when?” He tugs at Dean's tee again. “Maybe some futures always come true,” Sam says. He meets Dean's eyes and reaches up for another kiss. Dean freezes as Sam's lips touch his. He breaks the kiss again and Sam stills. “I want this,” Sam says.
He's not sure where the bravery comes from, but it's enough to make Dean pull at Sam's tee with his hands. Sam lets Dean pull it roughly over his head but is gentle when he removes Dean's, running his hand around the dressing again. Dean rolls them over and starts to pull Sam's jeans off. Sam bucks his hips and soon they're gone and Sam's half hard dick is freed. Dean reaches down and tugs loosely on Sam's balls. Sam's dick swells into Dean's touch.
He moans into Dean's neck, then his ear, then his mouth. Dean's hand is sweaty and Sam sees the gleam in his eye as he lowers himself down and wraps his mouth around Sam's dick. He licks the underside of Sam's dick and twirls his tongue around the top and Sam nearly loses it. He digs his heels into the coverlet and reaches out and grabs Dean's hair, pushing Dean further down, making Dean take more in. Dean sucks on Sam, hums and the vibrations send Sam over the edge. He empties himself into Dean's mouth, his hands tensing and relaxing in Dean's hair as Dean swallows him down. A pop sounds as Dean slides off Sam.
Dean wipes a thumb over the corner of his mouth with a cocky smile. “You always like that,” Dean says and Sam tastes himself when Dean kisses him. He's surprised how much that turns him on.
“Did you used to think about me? Like I think about you? Now, I mean, when we're apart?”
“All the time,” Dean whispers.
Sam feels for Dean's jeans and gets his hand into the waist band.
“What do you like?” Sam whispers. He pulls Dean's jeans fully down and takes Dean's cock in his hand. “Is just my touch enough? You want me to touch you like this?” Sam shifts his hand, feels the weight of Dean's balls then runs his hand back up Dean's cock again. Now that he's with Dean, he's got Dean, Sam feels like he can do anything. Say anything without being afraid it'll turn Dean away. It's more freeing than anything Sam's ever felt before. “Maybe you want my hand someplace else.” Sam lifts his spare hand to his mouth and licks it slowly, keeping his eyes on Dean's fully blown pupils as he does. Sam licks his hand and Dean's eyes roll back in his head. Sam runs a finger down the cleft of Dean's ass. “Or maybe you like this.” Dean moans as Sam's finger feels the entrance.
“When'd you become so dirty Sam?” Dean mutters.
“You tell me,” Sam replies. He works his spit-soaked finger into Dean. Dean's sharp intake of breath blows Sam's hair out of his eyes. Sam pauses to let Dean adjust then works in another. He moves them in and out and he guesses he's found the right spot because Dean cries out and his face contorts. Dean's dick is engorged in Sam's other hand and he starts to jerk Dean off at the same time.
It's only when he's lying with Dean on top of him, with his breath in Sam's ear and his limp cock heavy on Sam's belly, that Sam realizes he’s finally done it. He’s slept with Dean. A Dean, at least.
**
Sam wakes and runs a hand over the empty side of the bed next to him. Dean comes into the room and holds out a coffee.
“We gotta go.” Dean turns away from him and sits on the side of the bed. He doesn't meet Sam's gaze. His shoulders are set and his face impassive. Fuck. Dark fear wells inside Sam.
“Tell me,” Sam says, swinging his legs over and shuffling to sit beside Dean. He makes his voice as light as possible. “Were you weird like this the first time, too?” He wants to kiss away Dean's guilt, to tell him it's okay, that being with Dean makes everything okay. He settles for sitting as close to Dean as possible.
Dean looks at him sideways and screws up his face. “You wanted to talk about it then, too.”
“It's my way,” Sam says, in the same light voice that's much more cheerful than he feels. “It's okay.” Dean doesn't reply. His eyes flicker down Sam's naked body then back to Sam's ear and Sam smiles. “How would you put it - ‘morning horn,’ Dean?'
Dean scowls. “No time for jokes, Sam.” He gets up and stands near the door. “We shouldn't have done that. I'm like, ten years older than you dude. It's not right.”
“You hardly took advantage.” Sam stands up and stands behind him. At least he hasn't blown it with his Dean, Sam thinks. At least he knows someday it'll happen. At least he had it once, if it never does. Sam runs his eyes over Dean's careworn face. Over an older man's filled out body.
“You're still...”
“What? I'm a man, Dean. You can't pretend this isn't right. You said yourself, we get here in the end. This has just moved it up a notch.”
“I can't see it that way.”
”I do.” There's silence for a moment.
Dean takes a couple of paces and pauses at the door. “Get dressed, Sam. We're off in five.”
Dean doesn't speak as they head down the freeway. He pulls over in Utah, at a small place Sam recognises from their childhood. “We need the exorcism,” Dean says shortly. “Unless you can remember the exact right Latin.” Sam shakes his head. “I didn’t think so.”
The woman inside remembers them both, asking how their Dad is and what’s happening, apparently not noticing that Dean’s aged ten years. Sam watches Dean lie easily, tell her that Dad’s on a hunt of his own. Dean holds himself stiffly, and Sam sees pain in his eyes.
They drive onward. Dean says the demon will find them soon enough, that it would help to get to Bobby’s and get the exact right plan for the Devil’s Trap first. He can do it close enough if he has to, Dean claims, but he'd rather not guess.
Sam nods. “And this Devil’s Trap, they can’t get out of it?”
Dean nods. “That’s right. Makes exorcising a bit easier.”
Sam watches the next mile marker as it passes, wanting to note how far he’s being taken away from normality and back into this world.
“If you kill it, what then? How will you get back?” Sam tears his eyes from the flat brush outside.
Dean's eyes flicker from one side of the road to the other. Sam only notices because he's watching Dean closely.
Dean doesn't answer. He bites his lip and that gives Sam his answer. Dean can't go back. Sam wonders if future him is going crazy around now, wondering where Dean is, or if he let him go. Let him leave him all alone. He wonders how Dean could've brought himself to leave him. He sees Dean taking in the road, expression set, determined. Dean who always looked out for Sam, no matter what.
Dean wouldn't trust anybody else to do the job, not if it involved his baby brother.
They pull off into an industrial district. A single headlight arcs radically across all the lanes behind them and grows brighter.
Sam fumbles for the book and glances in the rear mirror. Dean swerves to avoid a car, pulls in front of a huge truck but the light of the bike comes closer. Dean twists the wheel and slams the bike, sending it flying into a guardrail. The demon goes over the handle bars at a hundred miles per hour. Dean struggles to right their car but it crashes through the divider on the side of the freeway. The car stalls. Dean tries to start the car again. And again.
“Come on come on come on. Run you...” Dean mutters. “Fucking car. Let's go.”
They get out the car and run. Dean nods toward a nearby factory. “Good place to hide out.”
They enter the machinery floor and Sam helps Dean bolt the door behind them. Dean goes to a nearby breaker panel and starts throwing switches. Machines start up one by one. The demon throws itself against the door behind them and Sam exchanges nervous glances with Dean. Dean reaches his hand out for the book and Sam hands it over. “Sam, go hide.”
“I'm not leaving you here.”
“Sam! Follow orders!” The door bursts open and Dean fires, clipping its leg. Sam turns and runs. Stay outta sight and maybe he can help, Sam thinks. The demon heads straight toward Dean, punching him hard in the chest. Dean deflects its blows as much as possible with one hand, clutching the book to him with the other. A glancing blow sends him careening backwards, until he hits head on a machine. The book falls to the floor. Sam lets out a cry and runs toward Dean. The demon twists to look toward Sam. Sam hesitates, then takes off, looking over his shoulder to make sure the demon’s following him. Sam prays that Dean isn't dead. He prays that he can get back to Dean.
“How you doing, Sam? Long time no see,” the demon shouts after him. “How are you finding your brother? Pleased with how he turned out?”
Sam flops onto the moving strip of a conveyor belt. The demon tracks him unerringly. Sam hops onto another platform and starts to thread back toward Dean. He turns a corner and comes face to face with the demon.
“Come now, Sammy. You’ll hurt a girl’s feelings.” It waves its hand in the air. Sam hears footsteps and twists his head to look. The demon looks too, swears, and utters a few words. “Back up plan,” it mutters. “Never can rely on you two not to mess up a girl’s plans.”
Sam watches as a portal opens up behind it. He can't see through it. It's like a shimmering wall of light. If he peers really closely he thinks he can see shapes moving behind it.
Dean opens the book. The demon moves toward Dean and stops a few feet away. “You won’t get the end of that sentence out, Dean.”
“Oh yeah?” Dean cocks his head and turns the page. The demon strides toward Dean and he turns and runs back a few steps, ducking underneath a machine to avoid the demon, coming out the other side. The demon laughs and walks around the back to get to Dean.
Sam runs to help, tossing water on to it. He catches Dean’s eye and Dean nods toward a machine just behind it. Sam sees some faint chalk marks. The trap Dean was talking about. Sam edges his way around.
The demon looks at Sam. “Where do you think you’re going? You can’t leave a girl wanting like this.”
Sam clears his throat. “I think I can,” he mutters hoarsely. He’s only a few feet from the edge of the trap.
The demon takes a step toward Sam. Sam makes a break for the trap and hears its footsteps moving quickly behind him. He clears the edge of the trap and turns back. Dean’s coming up behind it, muttering words in Latin already.
“Winchester, I told you, you won’t…” The demon looks down at its feet with astonishment. “Not again,” it deadpans. Sam sees relief flicker over Dean's face. The demon looks from Dean to Sam. “Sammy. For you, anyway, I’ll be back.”
Dean utters the last few words, and the demon leans its head back and opens its mouth. Black smoke expels from it, then the body slumps to the floor. “What? Where?” She faints away behind them.
Sam looks and sees Dean collapse to the floor behind it. Sam scrambles over. “Dean! You ok?”
“Peachy,” Dean breathes. “It's dead, right?”
“Yeah. It's dead.” Sam runs his hand over Dean's chest to make sure. Light from the portal glimmers at the edges of Sam's gaze. Sam draws back slowly. “Dean...you gotta go.”
“What?” Dean sits up slowly. “No, Sam. No. I'm not going until the thing that killed Mom is dead. This isn't over yet.”
“It is for you.” Sam cocks his head toward the portal. “Dean, you already did that. We don't know that we'll succeed. We don't know you'll make it. Maybe we won't change anything, and if we don't...then you've left me alone out there. Alone without you to protect me and... This is your one chance to go back. You gotta take it.”
“I can't Sam. I can't go without...” Dean shuts his eyes tight and when he opens them there are tears shining in the corners. “I have to save Da-so many people... I have to stop the war...I have to tell you... you need the colt that Elkins has got, that’s key and...”
“So that’s what we do? Go find this Elkins and get the colt?”
Dean nods. “I have to change it. I can’t leave before I have.”
Sam pulls Dean into a sitting position. “You've changed all that just by being here.”
“You just said maybe I changed nothing.”
“Don't head fuck me, Dean.” Sam kisses Dean’s lips gently. “We have to cover either way. I'll come find the real you now and you can leave this to us.”
Dean struggles to his feet. “I don't know, Sam.”
“I do,” Sam says, and he pushes Dean into the portal.
**
Nevada, the last postcard had said. Lincoln, and Dean had made it sound like they would be there a few weeks. Sam picks up the phone to call Dean a hundred times then hangs up. He has to see him in person. He can't explain this anything but face to face.
He has to see his Dean as soon as possible, 'cause Sam's scared as all hell and only Dean can help him.
He spies the Impala, of course, sitting outside a small motel on the outskirts. Their usual kinda home base.
Sam breaks in. He pads through the apartment. He'll wake Dean first, explain to Dean without Dad. See Dean without Dad. He'll...
A punch dances off Sam’s arm and Sam defends himself automatically. Dean, of course. He fends off several blows and manages to get one in on Dean’s chest. Dean slams Sam to the floor.
”Outta practice,” Dean breathes. Sam twists and slams Dean underneath him. “Maybe not,” Dean says. Sam pulls Dean up. “What are you doing here Sammy?”
"Dean...we got work to do."
**
Feedback would be awesome. Hope you enjoyed.
Title: No Fate
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warnings: Age Gap Sex (Dean 31, Sam 18), Bad Language
Words: 7360 approx.
Summary: It’s another night out at Stanford for Sam, but then he gets two unexpected visitors from the future. The movie Terminator was an influence. Spoilers for series 2 finale.
Thanks hugely to deirdre_c for her very helpful beta and for putting up with all of my time travel questions.
A producer’s credit to mel_b_angel for letting me go on and on about this, especially when I took up her whole lunch hour. I would have clubbed me over the head with my turkey sandwich.
Disclaimer: The Winchesters do not belong to me. Any similarity to the Terminator movie is all in time travel fun!
Sam twists his head to see where the shout’s coming from. Just a girl who’s pushing her way into the bar, and Sam curses himself for still being on edge all the time.
“So you'll come to the party?” Zach raises his beer in hope. Sam frowns.
“I don’t know. I've got a lot of work to do.” Sam says it as firmly as possible, but Zach grins widely and Sam knows it’s futile.
“But Becky's bringing-Fuck, that girl's strong!”
Sam follows Zach's beer with his eyes and sees the same girl working through the crowd toward them. She’s shoving people to the floor like skittles. She moves like a machine, determined and focused. She turns her head to and fro, glancing around the bar. Her eyes fix on Sam’s and she speeds up her movements.
That's when Sam knows something's wrong.
“I think we'd better get outta here.” Sam rises quickly and when Zach doesn't move he says, “I mean it, Zach.” It’s a tone Zach hasn’t heard before. Zach looks like he's gonna tell Sam to go to hell, but then swallows nervously.
“Dude, she's heading straight--”
Sam automatically grabs a knife off the table, needing to feel the weight of some kind of weapon in his hand. Old habits die hard. It'd be easier to learn to breathe differently. The girl is still heading directly for them, eyes boring through Sam. One, two, three people get pushed aside in the time it takes Sam to glance over his shoulder.
“Let's move,” Sam says, and he knows it sounds like an order, but thank Christ, Zach follows. “Everyone! Get out,” he shouts to the bar at large. A girl screams and breaks whatever spell has kept people frozen in place.
Then it's pandemonium, and for the first time in a while, Sam thinks it's gonna be difficult to get out of here alive.
A girl trips over her high heels and blocks Sam's path. Sam picks her up and gives her a push toward the door. He glances to make sure Zach's still close behind and sees the menacing stranger is gaining on them. She's only a few feet away. Sam pushes Zach behind him and turns to try and fight the girl off. He'll never manage to outrun her now. Sam attacks first, but the girl blocks his fist and pushes Sam to the floor with ease.
Zach runs off. To get help, to run away, Sam'll never know. The girl stalks up to Sam and looms over him. Sam tries to get up but she leans down and kneels on him, pressing him down with more than her body weight. Her eyes are dark pools in her face. She’s possessed, Sam realizes.
“Sam Winchester. Nice to see you again. Cute as ever. Oh, what might have been, honey.”
The stranger gives a twisted smile. She opens her mouth to speak again, but only bloodcurdling screams emerge from it as water lands over her head. She scrambles off Sam, continuing to scream as the holy water burns through her. Sam turns and sees Dean there, uncapping another bottle. He tosses it over the girl then strides over to Sam.
He gestures for Sam to get up, eyes intense.
“Come with me if you want to live.”
Sam scrambles to his feet, and lets Dean push him toward the exit. Sam hears Dean toss more water behind them and focuses on finding their way and trying to work out what Dean's doing there, in equal measure.
What’s going on? Dean's hunting in Palo Alto? Random post cards and unanswered phone calls for six months and now he just turns up out of the blue? Who… what is that girl?
Sam heads them toward the kitchen and at the last minute pulls Dean into the door for the club, then left into a back room. Dean slams him against the wall and they wait tensely for the thing to pass by them. Dean glances around the room for another way out while Sam watches Dean, his heart racing. Something's wrong. Dean looks different. He's wearing a shirt that's too small for him and jeans that don't reach his feet. He looks older. He’s much more muscular than Sam remembers. He looks dulled, like the years have taken away his brightness. It’s not Dean. Dean can't have aged that much since Sam saw him.
“Dean? That’s you, right? You look… different.” Sam tenses and shifts his feet so he can move quickly if he needs to.
Dean holds Sam’s look for a long second, and the look tells Sam that he doesn’t know what to say. Sam sees the love that was always there, behind Dean’s eyes, and knows that it is his Dean.
Dean rubs the back of his neck and breaks their gaze, as always. A flush of desire floods through Sam and he hides it away, as always.
“Some welcome, Sam. What? No hug?” Dean says. He nods toward the door. “I think we’re good to go.”
Okay, Sam thinks, maybe this is his brother. Annoying and cocky as ever.
**
Dean steals a Porsche. Fastest car in the lot, Dean says, and bitches about students who can afford Porsches.
“You don't have the Chevy?” Sam asks as soon as they've peeled out of the lot. Something's definitely off.
“I couldn't exactly fit it on me,” Dean says wryly. “Are you injured, are you hurt?” Dean's tone is clipped, military, like Dad's, and Sam doesn't answer. Dean reaches a hand out and runs it over Sam's shoulders and chest, tracing Sam's body with a hand covered in scars Sam hasn’t seen before. “Sam, you have to do as I say. Exactly what I say. Do you understand?”
Sam tries to focus on Dean's words but his eyes are concentrating on the lines on Dean's face and the scars that Sam doesn't recognize. “Dean. If that is you. I need to know what the hell is going on.”
“First, you need to stay alive. Then you need to know what's going on. We gotta get on the road. We'll stop for weapons soon as we're outta town.”
“I can't just leave,” Sam says, knowing he sounds stupid but needing to protest anyway. Needing to stop the momentum that's pulling him forward and think while he still can. “I've got classes, friends--”
“A demon on your ass,” Dean finishes.
“A demon? That thing was a demon? What'd I do?” Dean takes a turn so fast it throws Sam against the window.
“Sorry. Seeing what this baby can do.” Dean's gaze is soft when he glances over at Sam. “You haven't done anything yet, but you will. It's very important that you live.”
“What the fuck, Dean?” Sam narrows his eyes at Dean and tries to keep his voice calm. “What the hell is going on?”
“Okay, look. I'm from the future.” Dean laughs. “Man, how cool is it to say that?”
“This isn't funny, Dean.” Sam bites his lip. “ Tell me the truth.”
“Sam, that is the truth.” Dean lowers his voice and turns his head to look properly at Sam. “I'm from 2010. The demon. It targeted you and came back in time. And I followed it.”
“It ... Dean. Stop talking like you're in a movie. This isn’t Terminator.”
“It’s fucking close. Just no cyborgs.” Dean snorts.
A light flashes in their rearview. A cop car is bearing down on them.
“Just a second,” Dean says. He peels the car off to the right, inches in front of a tractor-trailer rig, then brakes hard and slides into a drift onto a ramp. The cop car skids right past them and crashes into the side of the road. Dean curses, starts the car, and they sail onto a tree-lined side street.
“How much do we know about this demon?” Information, that's what Dad always said. Knowing your enemy will keep you alive.
“Some. It worked for the demon that killed Mom, Sam.”
”It worked, past tense? And now it’s gone renegade?” Sam eyes Dean closely.
Dean taps his hands on the wheel. “Kinda. We called her Meg. Called it Meg. We kinda sent it to hell. And it came back and possessed you. Which was a particularly fun week for me.” Dean glances across at Sam and gives a rueful smile. Sam itches to reach out and touch it, but he doesn’t. “We exorcised it from you, and well, it came back. Again. Around about the time the gates of hell got opened.”
“Gates of hell? I don’t understand. Why would it come for me? What happened to the demon that killed Mom? Tell me everything.”
“Alright. Listen.” Sam keeps his eyes on Dean, but Dean keeps his on the road, talking softly and urgently as he handles the car. “In a few years Dad vanishes going to find the demon. I come and find you and we look for him. The demon comes and kills your girlfriend.” A million questions hang in the air but Dean stills them with a raised hand. “We go and find Dad, and we hunt things. Together.” Resignation wells inside and replaces Sam’s hope. He never made it out, despite leaving. “In the end, we find a way to kill it. We do kill it. And the gates of hell open. Which is kinda a bummer.”
“Look, Dean. I know you want to help but...” Sam loses the end of his sentence among all the choices. But this sounds crazy? But I chose a different life? But I don't want to believe it? But how can we stop it? There are actually gates to hell? “So, it's from the future?” Sam asks in the end.
“One possible future. From your point of view. The past for me. I don't...” Dean pulls over. “If I think too much about it, it scrambles my brain.” Dean stops at a red light. “Listen. Understand. The main thing is that that demon is out there. And it’s pissed. It can't be bargained with. It doesn't feel pity or remorse or fear. It's come to kill you and it absolutely will not stop ever. Until you are dead.”
Dean pulls over.
Sam meets Dean's gaze. “Can you stop it?”
“Maybe,” Dean says. “With these weapons? No. I need to arm up. Then we need to find the right exorcism, and trap it. Again.” Dean smirks as he glances over at Sam. “First time for you though.”
Sam nods and steadies himself before following Dean out of the car.
**
Dean insists on collecting more holy water from a nearby church, then breaks into an antique store for some knives. He bitches that they need a couple of decent guns and in the end steals both the owner’s from under the counter.
“He has those for protection,” Sam says, picking up a sword that must be a couple of hundred years old and a small dagger. The metal presses cold into his ankle as he slides the dagger into place. It feels like moving back in time.
“He's got a store full of old weapons. He won't miss it. Let's go.”
They walk quietly down the road. There's a gray hair at Dean's temple, just one, stubbornly threading through to show Dean's age.
“Dude, you've got a gray hair.” Sam resists the urge to run his hand through Dean's hair. “You're old!”
Dean scowls. “I'm not old.”
“What are you? Like, 31?”
Dean nods his assent as they reach a row of shops.
“Heh, that's old. What's it like being that old? Do you ache more after a hunt? Drink camomile tea in the evenings?”
“Laugh it up, Sam. You're 27 now. You got a couple of lines yourself.” Dean nods to a store up ahead and then freezes. Sam cocks his head. A siren, in the distance.
“Cops? For us, you think?”
“Shots? Stolen car? Maybe.” The siren sound gets louder. “Probably.” Dean pulls Sam into a seated position behind a car and they hold their breath while the cop car roars into their street. Dean's head is close to Sam's. Sam can smell the sweat on Dean. He could twist his head and meet Dean's lips with his own.
Sam wonders what the real Dean, his Dean, is doing? Hunting with Dad? Not thinking about Sam at all? The idea makes him ache.
Sam wants to ask Dean about future Sam. He wonders if that Sam started hunting with Dean again, how he managed to keep his desire hidden? Moving cross country and cutting Dean out of his life has done jack after all for Sam right now. Dean's still the one Sam sees in his dreams and the one he pictures when he's jerking off. Sam flushes, burning hot in the darkness.
“Can you tell me more?” Sam whispers. Distraction. That'll help. “What happened when the gates of hell opened?”
“Demons got out,” Dean says. “A lot of ‘em. We’re kinda in a war. The Yellow Eyed…the demon that killed Mom…” Dean hesitates, then shutters slam over his face. “We’re winning and the demons are pissed. I guess Meg- whatever it’s called- found a way to move through time and came here.”
“Why here? Why me?” Sam elbows Dean. “You’re not telling me everything.”
“It’s pissed at me,” Dean says. “And it always kinda had a soft spot for you. It’ll come for me next.” Dean cocks his head and points at a car. They move quietly toward it and break in.
“What happened with the Yellow Eyed demon? What were you gonna say? Dean? I don’t understand why it killed my girlfriend. What’d I do?”
Dean hesitates. Sam pushes himself flat against the door. “Dean? Tell me.”
“It had plans for you. Wanted you to lead the demons’ side in this war. I guess we kinda screwed that up, huh?”
Silence falls as Sam digests this. He watches Dean stealing glances at him every few seconds. Dean finally lets out a slow sigh. “It's good to see you, Sammy. Like this.”
“Like what?”
Dean shrugs. “Young.” He flexes his hands on the wheel. “Relaxed.” Sam bites back a retort that future Sam probably isn’t that relaxed if he’s responsible for an entire war. He slouches down into the seat.
A siren sounds, and they both twist their heads at the same time.
“Cops?”
“Or the demon. Either way...” Dean leaves the threat hanging. “Hold on tight.”
Sam nods. He keeps his hand resting on his gun and his eyes trained on the mirror.
“I miss my car already,” Dean curses. He takes the corner fast and the wheels spin as Dean tries struggles to right it. The sirens get closer, and there's more than one of them now. The front police car gets nearer to them and Sam sees dark eyes and a future he wants to escape glaring from the driver's seat.
“It's ... it.” Sam's unsure what to call it, but Dean nods. Engines roar as all the cars put on a burst of speed. The buildings become a blur as Dean goes flat out. The police car with the demon arcs in behind them, then more cars, legitimate police probably, enter the pursuit one by one. Sam sees the sign to the freeway. They're nearly outta there. They're nearly okay. Then Dean turns a corner and wrestles the wheel to one side to avoid a police car thrown across the road in front of them. They come to a skidding halt in a cloud of tire smoke and Sam flies forward into the dashboard.
By the time Sam opens his eyes again, he can see Dean being led off in cuffs, and the police are holding a pair out to him too. The demon is nowhere to be seen.
**
“I'd like you to tell me everything Dean said to you.” The cop holds out a coffee. Sam sips at it.
“You think my brother's crazy?”
“I think that that's what we need to find out. There have been several deaths this morning and witnesses placed your brother in the area. Then he was at the scene of a disturbance in a bar, stole a car...didn't stop when a police car told him to.” The cop leans forward in his seat, and furrows his brow in fake concern. “If you were just along for the ride, you need to tell us that.”
Sam gets up from his chair and wanders over to the window. He wishes he knew where they were keeping Dean.
“You're a promising college student, Sam. This can all go away for you.” Sam looks back and the cop-- Traxler, whoever--, gestures his arms at the papers in front of him.
Sam bites his lip and looks out the window. They've a code for this, Sam knows and it's burned into his brain so deep Sam'll never forget it. Even when he's struggling to get math and science and law in there, Dad's rules for capture will always remain.
“You should hear the crazy shit he's saying.” Traxler walks over to a television monitor and flicks it on. The screen clears and Sam sees Dean in shackles, looking as calm as if he’s in class at school.
“Are you supposed to show me this?” Sam says.
“Maybe it'll help you remember what the truth is.”
Dean looks up at the camera and smiles. He gives a small nod and Sam knows it's for him, in case he's watching. He sips the coffee slowly and waits for his moment.
“This...demon. It thinks it can win by killing Sam, before you go to war with it?” The policeman interviewing Dean leans forward toward him. He’s looking at Dean like he’s lost his mind.
“That's right,” Dean says impatiently. He bangs his hands on the table. “We'd won. Taking us out then would make no difference.”
“Right. So you followed this demon through...”
“A portal,” Dean says. “I didn't have much time before it closed. Only enough time for one of us to follow. So I came.”
“So, if you're coming from the future, Dean, why didn't you bring more advanced weapons? Like, Ray guns or something?” The policeman gives a small laugh.
Dean laughs. “I'm from 2010 dude, not the 25th century. I'm no Buck Rogers. Besides, I tried and arrived naked. Nothing dead will go, apparently.”
“Why?”
“It's not my fucking magic.” Dean leans across the table. ”Look. I'm playing along here answering your dumb questions. When can I see Sam?”
“Right. Sam. Your brother. We're still talking to him.” The policeman gestures toward the door.
“Look. You still don't get it. It'll find him. That's what it does. All it does.” Dean’s face is inches away from the other policeman’s. “You can't stop it. It'll wade right through you. Then it'll kill you all.”
“But you can stop it?”
Dean leans back. “I'll die trying.” Dean frowns up at the camera. Traxler leans forward to switch the tv off, and Sam lifts his arm, and punches.
The lights flicker and go out as Sam heads through the door. “Fuck.” Sam hears the voice from the tv and he heads straight toward it. To Dean. Dean'll know what to do.
The distant sound of furniture hitting a wall resounds in Sam’s ears. Heavy footsteps move determinedly in the distance. It's nearly here. Sam waits outside the door until he sees the cop from the tv poking around the corner, then he knocks him out with a well-timed fist to the jaw. Sam leans down and takes the keys off his belt, then heads into the room to find Dean tugging furiously on his chains.
“About damn time, Sam.”
“What? No hug?” Sam fumbles with the key as he unlocks Dean. Dean flexes his wrists once they are off him.
“They took your weapons too?”
“Yeah. There's an office behind the desk I think they keep them in. I saw them head off toward it.”
Dean nods his assent. Footsteps sound in the hall again, and Dean pushes Sam down and nods for him to hide behind the door. He raises a finger to his lips and crouches down behind Sam. Sam can feel Dean's chest pressing into his back. Every breath Dean makes reverberates through Sam's body. Sam jumps when Dean whispers hot in his ear, “Quiet now, Sam.”
Sam realizes his own breath is really loud and focuses on making it slow. He grips his knees tightly with his fingers. Dean starts to steady his breath, in out, in out, and Sam matches it. Dean's hair tickles Sam's cheek as Dean shifts his weight, and Sam's ashamed that there's a warmth in the bottom of his belly that he's not felt in a while. He shifts to disguise a growing hard on and chastises himself, This is not the best time. Whatever time period Dean's from, he stills turns Sam on. Zero to sixty in no time at all.
Sam wishes his Dean were there, wants to call him and tell him that he's met future Dean, tell him he only gets hotter with age and that he's even more fuckable than he ever was. That his lips are still made for kissing and that Sam wants him, no matter what. Of course, he’d never really say those things aloud to his own Dean.
But he'd settle for calling Dean and just telling him what the fuck is going on, and hearing Dean joke about it.
Dean's arm flits past Sam's and Sam focuses on the Dean that's with him. Dean pushes the door closed a little more. The footsteps seem to be going the other way, checking out different rooms, and Dean murmurs, “Now.”
Sam follows Dean out of the door and quickly down the corridor. Dean gets to the front desk and Sam gestures to a closed door.
“We'll need to pick it.” Dean frowns.
Sam connects a sharp elbow with Dean’s ribs. “Let me do this.”
“You carry a lock pick set around with you?”
Sam shrugs and opens the door easily. “I kept losing my key.”
Dean slaps Sam on the back. “Awesome.”
They walk into the evidence room. There's a box marked “Winchester” near the door and Dean pulls if off, throwing Sam his weapons. Sam arms up and looks to see Dean pocketing another gun or two.
“Dean! We gotta go!” Sam hisses, heading for the door.
“May as well take another .45 while I'm here. Nice piece.” Dean twirls the gun around his fingers and smiles, a shaft of light hitting the gun and lighting an eerie path up his face.
Sam turns and races through the door. A shot fires, plaster flaking off the wall and around Sam's head. The demon's armed up too.
“Sam, go!” Dean throws the keys to Sam and Sam catches them but doesn't move. He takes his gun out and takes up position behind Dean. “What the...you don't understand plain English Sammy?”
They back up past a door and push it closed. Dean grabs the edge of some shelves and Sam helps him lift it into place. “Run!”
Sam turns and runs for the exit. He hears Dean hammering along behind him, and the sound of gunfire as the demon clears their block. Sam skids across the lot and gestures. “They towed it. There.”
They race toward the car and get in, leaving the demon in their rear-view.
Dean drives straight out of the city and doesn't stop for six hours straight. It’s only when he shifts in his seat at a light that Sam catches sight of red glistening through Dean’s denim shirt.
“Dean, you caught one? Back there?” Sam reaches over and tugs at Dean's shirt but he bats Sam's hand off.
“Yeah. It's fine. Forget it.”
“Forget it? Are you crazy? Let me see.”
Dean's jaw tightens and Sam sets his face. “Dean. It's not following. We got time to stitch you up, to rest. Pull over.” He glares at the side of Dean's face until Dean winces, and nods.
The motel has a small shop and Sam makes Dean go straight to the room while he wanders through it. Sewing kit, alcohol, salt that they still need. Sam gathers together everything he can think of and tries to get himself together. Dean's got Sam's thoughts in a muddle, like he always does.
Sam gets hurries into the motel room and sees Dean poking at the wound. “See? It's fine. Missed everything. Passed right through the meat.”
“Let me see it.” Sam pushes Dean's hand out of the way and gently runs his fingers around the wound. Dean winces from the lightest touch. Sam gets the sharpest needle he can find and pours vodka over it. “Here.” Dean grabs the bottle from Sam and glugs it down. Sam rests the needle and sets about cleaning the wound first. “Talk about something. Tell me about the future,” Sam asks, partly because he wants to know, but mostly because he wants to take Dean's mind off the pain.
“It's like I said: we're winning. Fighting the demons, and they knew it. Ah fuck, Sam.”
“Sorry.” Sam makes his moves even gentler and Dean settles back into his story.
“We saw it with a trickster, and a genie. We knew it was looking for ways to shift reality. Maybe our reality, so we'd stop fighting. It was looking into everything. In the end, we had it cornered. Some kind of portal opened. And it...” Sam stopped his movements to let Dean continue. Dean gritted his teeth. “Keep going, I'm okay. It said some words, and you recognized them from an old grimoire of Bobby’s. A spell you didn't think was possible, but man, we should know all kinds of crazy shit can happen, right? A spell to shift through time, open a portal? Fucking seriously crazy... I guess it got magic from something to be able to do it. Anyway, it said it was coming to get you. When you were alone. We knew what it was gonna do.”
Sam grunts assent and drops the cotton wool onto the bed. He lifts up the needle and threads it. He glances up and Dean gives a small nod.
“So...argh, shit.” Dean swigs more vodka and Sam sews as quickly as he can. “So I followed through. We only had a few seconds before it shut.”
Sam cuts the string neatly off and sits back to examine his work. "Why'd you come back?” He sticks a dressing gently over his stitches.
“’Cause we're our best soldiers. And you can't meet yourself, can you? Haven’t you seen Back To the Future? It’d cause the world to explode or time to collapse or somethin’.” Dean drops back onto the bed. “Ah, man.”
Sam fusses with the med supplies for a minute, then lies down next to him. “Dean?”
“Yeah?”
Sam hesitates.
“Spit it out, Sam.”
“What's it like moving through time?”
“White light. Pain. Like being ripped inside out...slowly. Like being born, maybe.” Dean touches his chest and grimaces.
Sam nods. “And if we kill it, could we kill the Yellow Eyed demon now? Stop the gates of hell from opening and the war from happening?”
“I hope so. We can try. The future is not set. You roll over and die, or you fight." Dean's face darkens. "You do good, or bad. If we kill it... we save a lotta people.”
Sam nods. “And it would be over, truly over, for us all? Killing the thing we've been hunting our whole lives?”
”There's always things to hunt. It's not the only evil thing out there." Dean sits up. He looks away from Sam and speaks quietly. "In my future, you get that. That what we do is important. That we sacrifice stuff, but that it matters.”
Sam frowns. “It's just a possible future though. Right?”
Dean looks back at Sam. He furrows his brow. “Right. Good field dressing, Sammy.”
“Yeah. Not my first,” Sam quips. Dean smiles.
Sam reaches out and touches the dressing softly and Dean jumps at the touch. Sam looks up and sees Dean's face darken over. Sam touches the dressing again and rubs a small circle around it. Dean doesn’t push Sam’s hand away so Sam carries on rubbing and and listens as Dean’s breathing gets more shallow. It’s a turn-on for Dean, too, Sam realizes. He looks up at Dean, his Dean, but not really. It’s some other Dean, from some other time, but he talks the same and smells the same and it’s close enough for Sam, for now. It's a Dean he can do this with, without the world crashing in. If Dean rejects Sam, he still has his Dean out there somewhere, unaware of his secret.
Sam slowly reaches up and softly meets Dean's lips with his own. They kiss for a second, gentle, Sam pushes Dean back on the bed. Then Dean pushes Sam away.
“I can't... we don't do this yet.” The words sweep away all of Sam's fears. Dean does want Sam; they do have each other; they are together in this way.
“So, we--" It's inevitable. Right.
“Sam...not yet.”
“How do you know? Sam climbs over Dean and pushes Dean's knees apart with his own. “How'd you know in your time this didn't happen already and I just never said?”
“Don't head-fuck me.” Dean wriggles underneath Sam and Sam ignores it, pushing Dean down with his weight and kissing him. Dean's protest is lost under the feel of Sam's tongue against his own. Dean kisses back fervently, and Sam groans into Dean's mouth as he massages Dean's tongue with his own. Sam slides his hand under Dean's tee and Dean breaks off the kiss. “You're too young, I have to stop this. I can't...”
“I'm not too young,” Sam says. “If we do it anyway, what's it matter when?” He tugs at Dean's tee again. “Maybe some futures always come true,” Sam says. He meets Dean's eyes and reaches up for another kiss. Dean freezes as Sam's lips touch his. He breaks the kiss again and Sam stills. “I want this,” Sam says.
He's not sure where the bravery comes from, but it's enough to make Dean pull at Sam's tee with his hands. Sam lets Dean pull it roughly over his head but is gentle when he removes Dean's, running his hand around the dressing again. Dean rolls them over and starts to pull Sam's jeans off. Sam bucks his hips and soon they're gone and Sam's half hard dick is freed. Dean reaches down and tugs loosely on Sam's balls. Sam's dick swells into Dean's touch.
He moans into Dean's neck, then his ear, then his mouth. Dean's hand is sweaty and Sam sees the gleam in his eye as he lowers himself down and wraps his mouth around Sam's dick. He licks the underside of Sam's dick and twirls his tongue around the top and Sam nearly loses it. He digs his heels into the coverlet and reaches out and grabs Dean's hair, pushing Dean further down, making Dean take more in. Dean sucks on Sam, hums and the vibrations send Sam over the edge. He empties himself into Dean's mouth, his hands tensing and relaxing in Dean's hair as Dean swallows him down. A pop sounds as Dean slides off Sam.
Dean wipes a thumb over the corner of his mouth with a cocky smile. “You always like that,” Dean says and Sam tastes himself when Dean kisses him. He's surprised how much that turns him on.
“Did you used to think about me? Like I think about you? Now, I mean, when we're apart?”
“All the time,” Dean whispers.
Sam feels for Dean's jeans and gets his hand into the waist band.
“What do you like?” Sam whispers. He pulls Dean's jeans fully down and takes Dean's cock in his hand. “Is just my touch enough? You want me to touch you like this?” Sam shifts his hand, feels the weight of Dean's balls then runs his hand back up Dean's cock again. Now that he's with Dean, he's got Dean, Sam feels like he can do anything. Say anything without being afraid it'll turn Dean away. It's more freeing than anything Sam's ever felt before. “Maybe you want my hand someplace else.” Sam lifts his spare hand to his mouth and licks it slowly, keeping his eyes on Dean's fully blown pupils as he does. Sam licks his hand and Dean's eyes roll back in his head. Sam runs a finger down the cleft of Dean's ass. “Or maybe you like this.” Dean moans as Sam's finger feels the entrance.
“When'd you become so dirty Sam?” Dean mutters.
“You tell me,” Sam replies. He works his spit-soaked finger into Dean. Dean's sharp intake of breath blows Sam's hair out of his eyes. Sam pauses to let Dean adjust then works in another. He moves them in and out and he guesses he's found the right spot because Dean cries out and his face contorts. Dean's dick is engorged in Sam's other hand and he starts to jerk Dean off at the same time.
It's only when he's lying with Dean on top of him, with his breath in Sam's ear and his limp cock heavy on Sam's belly, that Sam realizes he’s finally done it. He’s slept with Dean. A Dean, at least.
**
Sam wakes and runs a hand over the empty side of the bed next to him. Dean comes into the room and holds out a coffee.
“We gotta go.” Dean turns away from him and sits on the side of the bed. He doesn't meet Sam's gaze. His shoulders are set and his face impassive. Fuck. Dark fear wells inside Sam.
“Tell me,” Sam says, swinging his legs over and shuffling to sit beside Dean. He makes his voice as light as possible. “Were you weird like this the first time, too?” He wants to kiss away Dean's guilt, to tell him it's okay, that being with Dean makes everything okay. He settles for sitting as close to Dean as possible.
Dean looks at him sideways and screws up his face. “You wanted to talk about it then, too.”
“It's my way,” Sam says, in the same light voice that's much more cheerful than he feels. “It's okay.” Dean doesn't reply. His eyes flicker down Sam's naked body then back to Sam's ear and Sam smiles. “How would you put it - ‘morning horn,’ Dean?'
Dean scowls. “No time for jokes, Sam.” He gets up and stands near the door. “We shouldn't have done that. I'm like, ten years older than you dude. It's not right.”
“You hardly took advantage.” Sam stands up and stands behind him. At least he hasn't blown it with his Dean, Sam thinks. At least he knows someday it'll happen. At least he had it once, if it never does. Sam runs his eyes over Dean's careworn face. Over an older man's filled out body.
“You're still...”
“What? I'm a man, Dean. You can't pretend this isn't right. You said yourself, we get here in the end. This has just moved it up a notch.”
“I can't see it that way.”
”I do.” There's silence for a moment.
Dean takes a couple of paces and pauses at the door. “Get dressed, Sam. We're off in five.”
Dean doesn't speak as they head down the freeway. He pulls over in Utah, at a small place Sam recognises from their childhood. “We need the exorcism,” Dean says shortly. “Unless you can remember the exact right Latin.” Sam shakes his head. “I didn’t think so.”
The woman inside remembers them both, asking how their Dad is and what’s happening, apparently not noticing that Dean’s aged ten years. Sam watches Dean lie easily, tell her that Dad’s on a hunt of his own. Dean holds himself stiffly, and Sam sees pain in his eyes.
They drive onward. Dean says the demon will find them soon enough, that it would help to get to Bobby’s and get the exact right plan for the Devil’s Trap first. He can do it close enough if he has to, Dean claims, but he'd rather not guess.
Sam nods. “And this Devil’s Trap, they can’t get out of it?”
Dean nods. “That’s right. Makes exorcising a bit easier.”
Sam watches the next mile marker as it passes, wanting to note how far he’s being taken away from normality and back into this world.
“If you kill it, what then? How will you get back?” Sam tears his eyes from the flat brush outside.
Dean's eyes flicker from one side of the road to the other. Sam only notices because he's watching Dean closely.
Dean doesn't answer. He bites his lip and that gives Sam his answer. Dean can't go back. Sam wonders if future him is going crazy around now, wondering where Dean is, or if he let him go. Let him leave him all alone. He wonders how Dean could've brought himself to leave him. He sees Dean taking in the road, expression set, determined. Dean who always looked out for Sam, no matter what.
Dean wouldn't trust anybody else to do the job, not if it involved his baby brother.
They pull off into an industrial district. A single headlight arcs radically across all the lanes behind them and grows brighter.
Sam fumbles for the book and glances in the rear mirror. Dean swerves to avoid a car, pulls in front of a huge truck but the light of the bike comes closer. Dean twists the wheel and slams the bike, sending it flying into a guardrail. The demon goes over the handle bars at a hundred miles per hour. Dean struggles to right their car but it crashes through the divider on the side of the freeway. The car stalls. Dean tries to start the car again. And again.
“Come on come on come on. Run you...” Dean mutters. “Fucking car. Let's go.”
They get out the car and run. Dean nods toward a nearby factory. “Good place to hide out.”
They enter the machinery floor and Sam helps Dean bolt the door behind them. Dean goes to a nearby breaker panel and starts throwing switches. Machines start up one by one. The demon throws itself against the door behind them and Sam exchanges nervous glances with Dean. Dean reaches his hand out for the book and Sam hands it over. “Sam, go hide.”
“I'm not leaving you here.”
“Sam! Follow orders!” The door bursts open and Dean fires, clipping its leg. Sam turns and runs. Stay outta sight and maybe he can help, Sam thinks. The demon heads straight toward Dean, punching him hard in the chest. Dean deflects its blows as much as possible with one hand, clutching the book to him with the other. A glancing blow sends him careening backwards, until he hits head on a machine. The book falls to the floor. Sam lets out a cry and runs toward Dean. The demon twists to look toward Sam. Sam hesitates, then takes off, looking over his shoulder to make sure the demon’s following him. Sam prays that Dean isn't dead. He prays that he can get back to Dean.
“How you doing, Sam? Long time no see,” the demon shouts after him. “How are you finding your brother? Pleased with how he turned out?”
Sam flops onto the moving strip of a conveyor belt. The demon tracks him unerringly. Sam hops onto another platform and starts to thread back toward Dean. He turns a corner and comes face to face with the demon.
“Come now, Sammy. You’ll hurt a girl’s feelings.” It waves its hand in the air. Sam hears footsteps and twists his head to look. The demon looks too, swears, and utters a few words. “Back up plan,” it mutters. “Never can rely on you two not to mess up a girl’s plans.”
Sam watches as a portal opens up behind it. He can't see through it. It's like a shimmering wall of light. If he peers really closely he thinks he can see shapes moving behind it.
Dean opens the book. The demon moves toward Dean and stops a few feet away. “You won’t get the end of that sentence out, Dean.”
“Oh yeah?” Dean cocks his head and turns the page. The demon strides toward Dean and he turns and runs back a few steps, ducking underneath a machine to avoid the demon, coming out the other side. The demon laughs and walks around the back to get to Dean.
Sam runs to help, tossing water on to it. He catches Dean’s eye and Dean nods toward a machine just behind it. Sam sees some faint chalk marks. The trap Dean was talking about. Sam edges his way around.
The demon looks at Sam. “Where do you think you’re going? You can’t leave a girl wanting like this.”
Sam clears his throat. “I think I can,” he mutters hoarsely. He’s only a few feet from the edge of the trap.
The demon takes a step toward Sam. Sam makes a break for the trap and hears its footsteps moving quickly behind him. He clears the edge of the trap and turns back. Dean’s coming up behind it, muttering words in Latin already.
“Winchester, I told you, you won’t…” The demon looks down at its feet with astonishment. “Not again,” it deadpans. Sam sees relief flicker over Dean's face. The demon looks from Dean to Sam. “Sammy. For you, anyway, I’ll be back.”
Dean utters the last few words, and the demon leans its head back and opens its mouth. Black smoke expels from it, then the body slumps to the floor. “What? Where?” She faints away behind them.
Sam looks and sees Dean collapse to the floor behind it. Sam scrambles over. “Dean! You ok?”
“Peachy,” Dean breathes. “It's dead, right?”
“Yeah. It's dead.” Sam runs his hand over Dean's chest to make sure. Light from the portal glimmers at the edges of Sam's gaze. Sam draws back slowly. “Dean...you gotta go.”
“What?” Dean sits up slowly. “No, Sam. No. I'm not going until the thing that killed Mom is dead. This isn't over yet.”
“It is for you.” Sam cocks his head toward the portal. “Dean, you already did that. We don't know that we'll succeed. We don't know you'll make it. Maybe we won't change anything, and if we don't...then you've left me alone out there. Alone without you to protect me and... This is your one chance to go back. You gotta take it.”
“I can't Sam. I can't go without...” Dean shuts his eyes tight and when he opens them there are tears shining in the corners. “I have to save Da-so many people... I have to stop the war...I have to tell you... you need the colt that Elkins has got, that’s key and...”
“So that’s what we do? Go find this Elkins and get the colt?”
Dean nods. “I have to change it. I can’t leave before I have.”
Sam pulls Dean into a sitting position. “You've changed all that just by being here.”
“You just said maybe I changed nothing.”
“Don't head fuck me, Dean.” Sam kisses Dean’s lips gently. “We have to cover either way. I'll come find the real you now and you can leave this to us.”
Dean struggles to his feet. “I don't know, Sam.”
“I do,” Sam says, and he pushes Dean into the portal.
**
Nevada, the last postcard had said. Lincoln, and Dean had made it sound like they would be there a few weeks. Sam picks up the phone to call Dean a hundred times then hangs up. He has to see him in person. He can't explain this anything but face to face.
He has to see his Dean as soon as possible, 'cause Sam's scared as all hell and only Dean can help him.
He spies the Impala, of course, sitting outside a small motel on the outskirts. Their usual kinda home base.
Sam breaks in. He pads through the apartment. He'll wake Dean first, explain to Dean without Dad. See Dean without Dad. He'll...
A punch dances off Sam’s arm and Sam defends himself automatically. Dean, of course. He fends off several blows and manages to get one in on Dean’s chest. Dean slams Sam to the floor.
”Outta practice,” Dean breathes. Sam twists and slams Dean underneath him. “Maybe not,” Dean says. Sam pulls Dean up. “What are you doing here Sammy?”
"Dean...we got work to do."
**
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