(fic: SPN) The Animal (3/3 + Epilogue)
Previous
A few months later...
It's an upward hill, but Sam feels like he's actually getting somewhere. The fog has faded, and he's getting better with being in the present.
He still has moments when he's not entirely sure that he's actually free of the compound. Sam's grateful that it doesn't happen often, but it still occurs when he least expects it.
Usually it's because he sees someone that looks familiar, like one of the other psychics. One day he thought he saw Ezekiel standing by a Coke machine in a county courthouse, his hair feathered like a blue jay's wing, but when Sam blinked he was gone.
When something like that happens he has this second's flash of suspicion that he's still in that sensory deprivation tank, still trapped and drugged and uncertain of what's real and what's not. Then one of the hounds, Kai or Sera (named after Dean sees them for the first time, though why his older brother chose those names Sam doesn't know - the names suit them, though), nips at his hand or Dean smiles at him and he's sure that he's no longer trapped. It's a nice feeling, and if he's blocked out some of what happened when the madness had a grip of him packlovemateDean, well, it's understandable. His life is messed up enough that he doesn't need anything else to fuck it up even more.
The days that everything's overwhelming are the days that Kai and Sera stay closest to him, though as he gets a better grasp on reality they start making themselves scarce more and more. He thinks that they've rejoined the pack from the compound, and hopes that they remain safe. Whenever he tries to talk to them now, they are quiet.
Or maybe it's because of his sanity that he's no longer able to hear them. Whatever the reason, his mind is no longer bombarded by thoughts and sensations from the hounds.
He misses it.
However, he's better, there's no doubt of that. If he has to lose the connection with the hellhounds to regain his sanity, it's not exactly a hard choice. He remembers what happened, knows who he is and who Dean is. He's glad that his watchband covers the barcode tattoo on his wrist.
When Dean first noticed it, he went quiet for a few hours then went out and got Sam a watch with a thicker band. Sam's glad he did; he no longer catches a glimpse of it.
So, over all things are going better, or at least as well as can be expected. And then everything changes again.
~~
Sam is actually pissing when he notices it. He'd been zoning out, absently staring straight ahead when a sharp pain rips through his lower torso, centering around his balls and then trickling down his cock. He hisses and looks down at himself. His penis is... changing. Shadows, what look like shadows are sliding around under the surface of his skin, and then urine stops coming out and instead a dark, thick liquid of some sort starts oozing from him like old blood. Madness rears up for a moment and he hears a girlchild in his head, singing.
Old blood dirty blood sick blood dead blood...
His mind snaps into focus for a moment and his entire body shakes from the effort. The pain gets more intense, and he has to catch himself on the wall behind the toilet with one hand. He grimaces, trying to stifle a scream. He manages to keep most of it down, but then another burning blaze shoots through him and more of the black stuff spurts out. A high-pitched whine escapes his throat and in the back of his mind he thinks he hears banging. He gets lost in the absolute agony, nearly collapsing in on himself, and as another spattering of the black ooze comes out of him like the antithesis of an orgasm alongside the intensifying of the torture, he has to release his grip on himself to keep from falling onto the toilet. His hands skitter across the countertop right next to the toilet and he clings to the edge, trying to find some focus. Madness edges his vision, promising a lessening of the pain that could protect his psyche if he'd just give into it again. He holds onto his sanity by pure willpower alone, cracking the veneer of the counter as another spasm causes his fingers to tighten their grip. He hears shouting, but it's all he can do to keep conscious when the madness tries a different route, that of oblivion.
Then the door is being kicked open and Sam registers his older brother's presence as a gust of hot wind. His head snaps up and the pain stops as suddenly as it came. It is replaced by heat, so strong that he thinks for a second that he's about to spontaneously combust. With a disturbed jolt, Sam realizes that he's hard, so hard it's painful, and a flicker of memory ricochets through his mind.
Oh, hell. “Dean,” he whispers.
Dean approaches him, but then stops. He eyes Sam warily. “What's with your face?”
Sam doesn't pay the question any attention. He's too busy holding on for dear life to his sanity.“Run.”
Dean stares at him for a second, then starts to back away slowly. They've discussed what to do when something's going on that they don't understand, that could be dangerous for the other to be around.
Sam lunges for him and barely keeps himself back in time. He doesn't want to do this, not really, and he doesn't know why it's happening now though it might explain why Kai and Sera are missing. “RUN, damnit!”
Dean turns and runs. Sam forces himself to not give immediate chase. He keeps control just barely, and hears the door to the room being yanked open then the satisfying sound of the door slamming shut.
Then his mind descends into a blur of red heat, and he knows no more.
Dean hears the motel room door slam shut behind him, and he pauses for a split second, trying to decide if he should go for the Impala or head for the field across the street from the parking lot instead. Before he has a chance to think on the matter for any longer, he hears loud racket coming from their room.
He takes off towards the field, and behind him he hears the door being yanked almost off its hinges as Sam comes after him.
Luckily he's got a head start, and is already halfway across the street by the time Sam gets out. He has thankfully put his pants back on (and what the fuck was that black stuff anyway?) and he's picking up the pace, trying to run Dean down.
Dean's not having any part of that. He isn't sure what the fuck is causing this or why the fuck Sam is after him other than the fact that he's the only one within range to get interested in chasing, but it doesn't matter. Dean doesn't want Sam to get to sniffing after someone else. A civilian might get hurt, and at least Dean can take care of himself, and his brother if need be.
In a small part of Dean's brain, he is grateful that there were so many cars parked in the lot at this motel, as it takes Sam a bit of time to maneuver between them. Dean needs all the time he can get so that he can get to the forest past the field. Sam can outpace him in long distances when racing flat out, but there, in the forest he'll be quicker. He's also had more experience with trying to keep away from something in a forest than Sam has, especially lately. He just needs to get through to those trees and he'll be safe.
But then what about the other motel occupants?
Damnit.
He'll have to keep ahead enough to be safe, and just close enough that Sam doesn't lose interest. Oh yeah, that'll be fun. He feels ridiculously like bait for a nasty critter, but at least this is his brother.
His brother who, until recently, had been fucking batshit insane. After all, does Dean really know much about how Sam might have changed while he was trapped in that fucked up lab?
No, his brother isn't a monster. Not by any stretch of the imagination.
Dean just has to be patient and ride this thing out, and maybe then he'll get some idea of just what is going on.
He hears Sam speeding up behind him, and runs faster. It's a good thing he's in pretty good shape, else Sam wouldn't have any problem whatsoever with catching him.
He reaches the edge of the field and heads into the forest beyond, dodging trees and thicker underbrush with ease. He nearly stumbles but catches himself in time to avoid a face-plant that would have ended the chase far too quickly.
Mind, he isn't really sure just what it is that Sam plans to do with him if he catches him, but Dean doesn't need a college degree to know that it would be best if he just lets whatever this is run its course. Preferably without getting caught.
Dean's too lost in thought and doesn't notice the sharp sudden incline just ahead of him. He stumbles again and falls, rolling down the hillside and hitting every single freaking rock and root there apparently is, as well as getting caught in the side more than once by a tree trunk.
He finally rolls to a stop down at the bottom of the hill, feeling more than a little bruised and battered. He is grateful he doesn't feel the sharp stabbing pain of a broken bone, and after a breath he heaves himself upright to keep going. He limps a bit at first but then starts speeding up again, trying to work through the mild pains.
From the looks of it, Sam has taken the hill more smoothly, though he's getting far too close to Dean for comfort. Dean glances over his shoulder for a second to consider the space between them and nearly brains himself on a low-hanging branch. He swears under his breath and keeps going, hoping to keep Sam distracted long enough for him to get worn out. Dean's little brother might be awesome at sprinting, but Dean had better endurance. It shouldn't take much longer until -
Sam lands on Dean's back with a solid thump. Dean is knocked down immediately. He struggles, but that doesn't make a difference - Sam's got him pinned firmly beneath him, and he's not going anywhere.
Shit. Should he hold still and play dead or try to fight back? Dean doesn't know, so he waits to see what Sam will do with him.
Sam... sniffs him, hum/growling low in his throat. He nuzzles the back of Dean's neck and licks the sweat-soaked skin just below his hairline.
What the fuck? Does he smell like a steak or something? Dean is not food.
He starts to struggle. This isn't his brother, and when Sammy comes back to himself he'd never be able to forgive himself if he took a few bites out of his brother, no way no how.
Struggling doesn't help at all. It just shoves his face a little deeper into the soft fragrant dirt and makes Sam sit a little more firmly on his back.
That is when he notices that his little brother is hard.
Oh, fuck no. This is just wrong and so so so fucked up and -
The thing that isn't quite Sam grinds down on him, snuffling at the back of Dean's neck like a big puppy. Now that is a disturbing thought, though preferable to getting-
It grinds down again, squirming with its - Sam's - cock pressed against the crack of Dean's ass. It whuffles and nips at the back of his neck.
Dean shivers.
Luckily, whatever it is that has Sam in its grips isn't too smart - it doesn't think to undo either his or its jeans and just ruts against Dean's ass before shuddering with a ringing howl. It stiffens then falls against Dean in a relaxed puddle.
Then Sam is back - Dean can almost smell the thoughts burning in his little brother's brain.
Shit. What the hell is he doing in the middle of a forest with Dean underneath him? Sam shuffles back, sitting on his haunches.
He catches a whiff of... something and Sam feels disturbingly lethargic and he has a sinking feeling he knows what happened -
His pants are soaking wet. He cringes and looks around.
“You feel better?”
Dean has rolled over and is looking up at Sam, an eyebrow raised.
Sam shivers, that heat still perched behind his eyes and in his spine. He feels... stressed, uncomfortable, not right in his own skin. He doesn't like whatever it is. “Not really,” he says softly. He fights the urge to cover his lap. “Are you okay?”
Dean lets out an explosive snort. “I'm fine.”
“Dean... what did... did I hurt you?”
“No. Other than a few bruises and scrapes and your jizz on my back, I'm pretty okay.”
Sam flinches. “I-”
“Christ, Sam, it's fine. Help me up and let's go back to the motel to clean up.”
Sam pushes himself the rest of the way up and offers Dean his hand. Dean yanks on Sam's hand and hauls himself up, staggering a moment before regaining his balance. He stares up at Sam for a moment then pulls away, heading back through the forest.
They don't talk when they get back to the motel. Sam feels like he's burning up again but he fights it all the harder now. He has a sinking feeling just what it was that happened while he was mentally out, and he's not sure just what he thinks about that, so he goes for the old Winchester standby - repression. At least they were both fully clothed. It could be so much fucking worse. After all, Sam could have ra-
No. Sam isn't going to think about that. He is never going to think about that, it simply isn't an option. He goes to go take a shower.
When he takes off his shirts, he notices strange dark patterns on his skin. It is as he'd feared in the very back of his mind - the markings look far too similar to the hellhounds' markings to be a coincidence.
He isn't a hellhound, he can't actually be going through a fucking mating season. It is impossible. Genetically speaking, humans aren't even anywhere near canines, or whatever the hounds are.
This can't be.
Sam doesn't even want to know what that says about the fact that he's fixating on his brother. He has no urge whatsoever to go hunting for a woman, or to even look around - he just wants Dean. And that scares him. What scares him even more is the sinking suspicion that this isn't the first time that his brain has fixated on the thought of Dean as his mate. He doesn't remember everything from before he escaped the compound, but he wonders...
He takes as fast a shower as he can, trying to ignore the primitive patterns on his arms and legs. Some even stretch from his spine to his sides, down to his feet.
He wishes he'd brought clean clothes into the bathroom with him, but he hasn't and as much as he'd like to, he can't actually stay in there until they fade away.
There is nothing for it; Sam is just going to have to go in there and face the music. He stands before the bathroom mirror for a moment, staring at the vertical tear lines that go from the corner of his eyes down almost to his jawline. He looks like he'd been wearing goth makeup and it's run. He still feels like he's being slowly boiled alive, but he tries to ignore it. He knows he can be stubborn as all fuck - there's no way he's actually going to let whatever this heat is do whatever it wants with him just along for the ride.
Unfortunately, as he's drying himself off and tying a towel around his waist, his mind latches onto the memory that the mating pair had kept at it for several hours.
Sam goes out of the bathroom and almost turns around and goes back in. Dean is sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing clean - or at least, cleaner - clothes. He's staring at him. Fuck.
“Yeah?” he asks, trying to look calm. The heat rages in him again, and he misses the majority of whatever it is that Dean's saying. “What?”
“I said,” Dean repeats with a funny look on his face, “Care to explain yourself? The fuck is wrong with you?”
Sam stifles a hysterical laugh. “You'd think I'm crazy.” At Dean's snort, he sighs and tries to put on some boxers. For some reason, his body isn't responding when his brain tells it to lower the underwear so he can step into it. He fumbles and tries to put on a shirt instead but gets about as far. He throws his shirt on the bed and sits down at the foot of it. He covers his face in his hands and tries to ignore the fact that he's getting hard again. This isn't working. “I think I spent too much time with the hellhounds.”
At Dean's blank silence, he continues.
“I think it ties in with my psychic abilities. When I was - “ insane “out of it, I remember that sometimes I'd get these markings when I was sleeping with the 'hounds, or playing with Kai and Sera. But never as dark as they are right now, more like shadows. And before they were born their mom went into heat, and -”
“You're fucking kidding me.” Sam can feel Dean staring at him.
“I wish I was,” Sam sighs and rubs at his forehead, ignoring the pulsing blazes inside him. “And for whatever reason, probably because we pretty much live in each other's pockets, whatever it is that's giving me the marks is really interested in you.” He doesn't point out that he doesn't even have the itch to go prowling anywhere else, and that it's more like Dean himself is in heat from the way all of Sam's focus was centered on him. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to do that, else Dean might punch him, and in the state Sam's in he might take that as foreplay.
Sam shudders. “I think it would be for the best if you left and locked me in here.” He doesn't look at his big brother. He can't look at him.
There is a long pause, and Sam starts picking at his nails as something to focus on. He almost jumps out of his skin when Dean speaks.
“So what happens if I leave you in here alone? You going to start tearing down the walls 'r something?”
“I don't know.”
“Are you going to get outta here and attack some civvie if I do?”
“I don't know.”
“You gonna -”
“Damnit, Dean I don't know.” Sam's head comes up and he glares at his brother. “This hasn't ever fucking happened before, so forgive me if I don't know what's going to happen.”
That's what he tries to say, anyway. He barely gets to 'hasn't' when the red starts to descend again. He closes his eyes hard and pushes the heels of his hands into his eye sockets.
“Lock the door behind you. Bar it if you can.” Sam feels himself starting to shake. He almost feels like a junkie being denied his fix, and he tries to do calculations in his head, recite mentally the Bill of Rights, anything to distract himself. The fog of madness tries to hide coherent thought, and apparently Dean sees something that worries him as next thing Sam knows, his brother is kneeling before him, pulling his hands away from his face and trying to make him meet Dean's eyes.
“It's just sex, do you understand?”
Before Sam has a chance to register just what it is that Dean just said, he finds lips pressed firmly against his own. Of their own volition, his lips part and the red threads through his vision and he loses time.
When he comes back to himself, he has Dean pinned underneath him, grinding down hard on Dean's half-hard cock. The rough material of Dean's jeans feel good against Sam's bare skin, but he knows that it'll be even better were Dean naked as well. Everything is tinged with a red hue, but he's actually present so it's not as terrifying as it was earlier.
However, that means that he's actually going to remember this, no matter how it turns out.
He pushes away that thought and licks and nips at Dean's chin and throat, gently and not hard enough to leave any marks. He doesn't have the right to do that, so he's not pushing his luck.
Dean groans in response and throws his head back, his hands scrabbling at Sam's back. One hand goes up to direct Sam to a spot high under Dean's earlobe, and when he licks softly Dean bucks up against him, muttering curses through weak pants. He squirms, and from the feel of it Dean's fully hard.
The animal part of Sam really likes that fact. The rest of Sam is trying to ignore what he's doing to his brother, and how it makes him react. This is not an easy task, and Sam winds up failing spectacularly when Dean actually hooks his leg over Sam's hip like a female would do, and that's all the invitation that the animal needs. He growls and tries to rip Dean's jeans off of his hips. Dean shoves him back for a moment to unzip and kick his jeans and jockeys down.
The animal doesn't really give a damn about Dean's cock, but the rest of Sam is rather curious about it. After all, that cock has seen more action than Sam's can even dream of, and a part Sam would rather never admit to is curious about just what the appeal is.
Sam glances down, muscles coiling with the urge to just yank Dean around and rut against his ass. He eyes Dean's cock with interest, and apparently Dean's not accustomed to this sort of attention.
His older brother actually blushes, starting in his cheeks and going down his chest. Sam finds it charming, and also ridiculously adorable, which is not a thought that he should be having when staring down at Dean's naked body, Dean's cock.
Dean's cock is nice, a bit thicker than Sam's but not quite as long. It curves delicately up towards towards Dean's navel, and as Sam stares a small droplet of liquid collects at the tip. His mouth starts to water just a bit, and before Dean has a chance to try and hide himself or, do anything at all, Sam is ducking his face down to lick lightly at that little droplet.
Taste explodes on his tongue, and he lets out a little groan at the same moment that Dean moans. He lets his fingers slide down and cup Dean's ass, spreading him open and pressing his fingertips into the crack. It's hot, and slightly sweaty and Sam's not really sure just why that surprises him as much as it does. He buries his face against Dean's groin and inhales deeply.
The animal approves of the smell. Sam's mouth waters and he swallows extra saliva though he has the urge to lick all of the area around Dean's cock and balls and ass, to bathe Dean's groin in Sam's scent. Dean is his, the animal whispers in Sam's mind. Matelovelifefamilybrotherlovertogether.
A part of Sam other than the animal agrees. That kind of terrifies him.
He feels a hand stroking through his hair, and he glances up to look at his brother. Dean's eyes are serious, and with the animal's eyes Sam sees the pulse in Dean's neck flutter like a trapped thing. It's contradictory, the look in Dean's eyes and the tremble of his pulse. “Sam,” Dean says quietly, and that's really all that needs to be said on the matter. As Dean touches his head like a benediction, Sam presses kisses against Dean's hips, teasing at Dean's hole with the fingers that still spread him open.
At a certain movement against Dean's entrance, he shakes and almost bucks back onto Sam's fingers. Sam watches his face, still pressing light, biting kisses into the pubic hair around Dean's cock. He is at war with himself; part of him, the little brother in him, is freaking out but also curious about seeing what he can do to his brother. Another part, distinctly male, wants to be damned good at what he's planning on doing. The main part, though, is just interested in making sure that his mate is ready for mounting.
Sam lowers his eyes and focuses on Dean's cock, trying to distract his brother from the pain that he knows will come if he's not careful. He doesn't know if Dean's done anything like this before, if he's been on his back for some other man. He both hopes that his brother has, and that he hasn't.
Dean shifts restlessly and mutters a curse. His cock bobs right in front of Sam's nose and Sam traces the very tip of his tongue over the very tip of Dean's cock, just enough to taste that explosion again. He growls in his throat and tries to pull more of that taste from Dean. This doesn't work too easily, as at every short lick Dean's cock leaps towards his own stomach. Sam finally captures the tip of Dean's cock in his mouth, sucking gently and lashing his tongue over the slit like he would a woman's clit. After all, they're close, aren't they? A clit is just a tiny penis, with all the sensitivity to touch and pressure and -
Dean bucks hard and one hand leaves Sam's hair to rise to his mouth. Dean bites his fist, trying to keep back something that sounds like a whine.
The red threads flicker over Sam's vision again, and without any thought his mouth opens further and he sucks down as much of Dean in one go as he can, at the same time flicking his fingertips over the hot wrinkly flesh of Dean's hole. He sucks harder and presses a finger in, dry and scratchy but Dean's not bitching. Instead, he's moaning and Sam's almost surprised that there isn't blood on Dean's teeth from the vicious hold he has on his own fist. Dean's other hand, still buried in Sam's hair, clenches and tugs hard.
Sam shivers. His cock jumps against his stomach. Dean glances down and grins.
“Looks like little brother's got a bit of a kink there,” he rasps around the fist between his teeth, his voice already shot to shit even though Sam hasn't even made him scream yet. Before Dean can say anything else, Sam twists the finger still inside of him and teases his tongue against the spot just below the head of Dean's cock, the place that usually makes Sam go incoherent and he's kinda hoping that genetics are at play or that being male -
He's right on the mark, for whatever reason, and Dean stifles a howl.
It sounds enough like the baying of the hellhounds that the animal rears up again, somehow managing to yank Dean's fist out of his mouth, yank his own face off of Dean's cock, and pull the fingers inside Dean out before spinning his brother roughly onto his stomach.
Dean goes still, and his back is almost rigid with tension. The animal wearing Sam's skin notices its mate's fear and nuzzles at the back of Dean's neck, whining low in its throat and rutting carefully against Dean's ass.
Sam tries to reason with the animal. He knows from the anal sex he's had with Jess that a single dry finger is nowhere near enough and more than anything else, more than his yearning to have his powers vanish one day or to wake up and not be afraid, he wants to not hurt his brother.
The animal gets that, somehow, and instead of plunging in right away like both brothers fear, it takes its time and slicks its fingers on the dark liquid dripping once again from Sam's cock. It's watery this time, thinner and slippery - more like lube than the viscous liquid from last time but still just as dark. It shimmers on Sam's fingers, and he's suddenly in control enough to take his time pressing his finger back into Dean, this time adding another one.
Dean stiffens, then apparently reminds himself of something and on his next deep exhalation he goes loose, pliant against the bed. The animal worries that Dean is leaving him, going somewhere in his mind away from what they are doing, and that just will not do. Fingers jab in deeper, searching for something that exists in both hellhounds and humans. The animal rubs against that spot, over and over until Dean's shaking under him, moaning and sweating and swearing brokenly. Finally Dean starts thrusting back against the fingers, and Sam is back long enough to spread his fingers to open Dean up faster, trying to avoid causing him pain at the same time. He leans up and presses his lips to the back of Dean's neck, and without any coaxing, Dean's head lowers and he exposes more of his neck to Sam's lips. That submissive movement delights the animal; it knows that its mate is ready and willing and won't hurt now. It draws fingers out and with a steady, fast thrust he is inside Dean.
Sam is inside Dean. Dean, his beautiful older brother, his guardian and protector and familymatelovehome-
Dean makes a low, pained noise but Sam teases his cock with one hand and holds Dean's shoulder to pull him closer with the other. He gently starts to thrust, careful to make sure not to hurt his brother any more than he apparently already has. Dean starts to relax and Sam pays the price of having some sort of control over the animal when it insists loudly in his head that he must mark his mate, at least once.
He can't fight the urge, as it's not just the animal's instinct but also his own, and then he's biting the back of Dean's neck, biting hard almost to the point of blood, and Dean's shaking under his hold, bucking back into the rhythm of Sam's hips and against the tightening grip of Sam's hand on his cock. Sam growls and Dean lets out a sound that neither of them are sure what to call, and all too soon that rhythm is ricocheting through both of them and then Sam's biting harder before tearing his mouth away to throw his head back and he howls with his climax and Dean's shaking underneath him, shattering into his own orgasm and then it fades to black.
~~
Sam wakes up slowly, and when he's finally alert enough to look around he registers that much has changed since he lost consciousness. It is nighttime, and Dean is no longer under him, and Sam has been left on the bed the bed they fucked on but at least Dean stripped away the comforter and left Sam on the relatively clean sheets. Sam looks around and spots his older brother curled on the other bed, his back turned to him and his face almost against the wall.
His brother looks small, and Sam feels sick.
That is Sam's fault.
He has to fix this. He's not sure how, just yet, but he's hopeful that something will come to him.
By the time dawn breaks, Sam's come to some disturbing conclusions. He's had to drag out the little box in the back of his mind that held fragments of memories from before, from just before he broke out of the compound with the hounds. The things in there howl and jibber, and what little he understands of what they're saying is matelovehomeDean and it freaks him the hell out.
What, had he been in love with Dean all these years? Surely not. That was just ridiculous. Preposterous.
Also, apparently buried so deeply in his subconscious that it took going insane for it to get unearthed.
He feels sick to his stomach. How had he missed this?
How can he put it back into that box now?
He can't deal with this right now. Not now, not any time in the future. If Dean even suspects -
Sam hopes that he hadn't started rambling about mates to his brother when they were in the middle of it, and if he had that Dean just assumed it was the animal talking.
Maybe it was the animal, right? Just the creature that lives in the madness, that ran with the pack and played with the pups and tried to rip out the throat of a lab technician that wanted to examine the newborns.
Sam sighs. He's never been good at lying to himself. Too many pieces clicked when he was on Dean, marking him and then resting on him afterwards.
Screw it. He's just going to block it and pretend it never happened, and hopefully he can salvage his brother's respect for him with time.
~~
Things are awkward as hell right after that day of madness, but they regain their equilibrium a lot faster than Sam was expecting. He's not sure what exactly that says about either of them, but after three hunts (black dogs, then a siren - and wasn't that a kick in the ass, and then a good old fashioned poltergeist) it's as if they'd never fucked. Dean doesn't even look at him strangely any more, though Sam's a bit suspicious and is waiting for the other shoe to drop.
He tries to just go with it, even if ignoring what had happened comes less easily to him than apparently it does to Dean. It is only right, though. Sam should suffer for screwing up - possibly permanently - the most important relationship (he really shouldn't use that word ever again in reference to his brother) in the world.
Sam thinks about what might have happened, and when he least expects it, the visions start trying to edge his sight again. They show him the other psychics at the compound, and things that don't make the slightest bit of sense. He wonders if it's the madness or the time in the sensory deprivation tank that led to this... shift in his visions and dreams, but ultimately it doesn't matter.
His dreams are bizarre. He finds himself yanked out of his dreams by either the bell-like howl of a far-away hellhound or the light touch of Dean's hand on his arm, and he is grateful for it as if he stays asleep for too long he's unsure if he's still asleep or awake and moving under someone else's control. He starts to dread his sleep, and tries to keep his issues from his brother but Dean is far more aware of what's going on in Sam's head than he ever was before, and so that fails. He tries sleeping in the car and the familiar sounds of Dean singing along to the music soothe him enough that sleep sneaks up on him when he least expects it -
They're riding the hellhounds, something Sam never expected to do, but they're moving quickly enough that everything is a blur. Then they're at the compound, and the cold of the grounds is unnatural but Sam knows what is going to happen.
The silver-eyed woman's skin has shadows underneath it, and then suddenly water is exploding out of her, ripping skin away and then there is a great scaled creature before him, and he cowers back at her power.
Leviathan.
He wakes when Dean asks him if he wants anything from the gas station they're sitting at, and Sam forces himself to move from the cramped position he'd fallen asleep in. He starts toward the entrance and Dean tosses a card at his head that he just barely manages to catch.
“Pay for the gas too, bitch. And get me some Twinkies and a Dr. Pepper.”
Sam mutters something in response and goes in to pay. He collects some beef jerky and a large bottle of water - his mouth is dry from sleep and tastes vaguely like sand a dog recently pissed on and he's hopeful that the crap'll wash away. He shakes his head to bring the cashier into focus and he's tired but manages to act coherent enough that the cashier ignores him after handing over the receipt.
It's nice, being ignored. Apathy actually feels like a cooling balm on a sunburn and that right there tells Sam just how much he needs sleep. Maybe then he can avoid Dean's eyes on him constantly, and lately something's been stirring back in the back of his mind that makes that sound like a vacation.
They're on their twelfth hunt since the incident when Sam sees what's going to happen in two months to the compound. He's grateful that he's in the library when the vision explodes through his head, as at least then he doesn't have to worry about Dean seeing it. He's in a secluded area and no one notices when he nearly cracks his head open falling from his chair.
Fire -
Screams -
Bodies strewn everywhere -
Scientists ripped apart by unseen hands -
Eve, her neck snapped and tossed aside like a broken doll -
A group of about twelve toddlers, their eyes vacant as they watch their caretaker being ripped to shreds -
He never sees what causes the damage, only the aftereffects. He doesn't see anything after a certain point, either, but that doesn't register until far later. Right now, he's more interested in the fact that he needs to deal with this.
Part of him would rather avoid what's happening, to ignore the visions. But he's come this far, and he'll be damned if he turns his back on someone who needs his help again.
Of course, talking to Dean about the matter doesn't go as easy as Sam would hope.
“Dean, I'm serious - I need to go back there. There are innocent people there that need my help.” Sam tries to ignore the fact that he doesn't really want to deal with this in the first place and waits for his brother's next response. They've been arguing over this for about an hour, ever since Dean got back to the motel after talking with the victim's partner in the bar downtown. True, they've been pretty much going around in circles, but maybe one of them'll come up with something new and original to counter the other's arguments.
Dean glares at him. “And what if they get hold of you again? What the hell am I supposed to do if that happens, go in and get you back?”
“They can't hold me there if I don't want them to.” God, he's so tired but they've got to get this over and done with. He wants to sleep but fears it. However, he fears the look in Dean's eyes quite a bit more. It's the looked of a trapped animal, and there's the edge of panic in the way that Dean can't seem to hold still.
“Are you absolutely sure? Because you've got to be completely sure about it. What if they've come up with some other way to cage you? What are you going to do if they try to take you down again?”
Sam stares him down. There is no way around it; he has to go back. The others have the right to live normal lives, not lives of lab rats or worse. “They won't get the chance.”
“And what about Kai and Sera? Are you going to leave them here or take them with you, where they might get hurt?”
“Kai and Sera can take care of themselves, and the other hounds will help me.”
“And what if the other hounds are dead?”
Sam blanches, but stays resolute. “They're alive. We'd know if they weren't.”
Dean sighs. “Damnit, Sam.” He leans closer to Sam, slumping as if he knows that he's already lost the fight.
Sam softens and rests his face against Dean's neck. “I know. It sucks.”
Dean mutters something that Sam can't hear, even though he is so close. Probably something about goddamned stubborn little brothers, as that's a typical response when Dean knows he's lost. “Fine.” Sam starts to relax, but then Dean continues. “I'm going with you.”
“Dean-”
“No, I'm not letting you go back there alone, y'hear me? No way in hell.”
It's useless to fight Dean on the matter, so Sam gives in with a sigh. “Fine. But you will listen to me, okay? I won't be able to get anywhere if I'm freaking out worried about you.”
Dean snorts, then pauses. “Uh, Sam? Where the hell is the compound, anyway?”
Had Dean asked that a day before, Sam wouldn't have had a clue, but luckily he's been researching possible locations and, based on what Sam remembers of the outside of the compound, he is able to answer with confidence, “Guatemala. From what I can tell, I think the best location is somewhere between Potreron and La Libertad. There wasn't any sort of city nearby, I know that much, and-” Sam gestures vaguely. “It feels right. And don't give me any bullshit about trusting my intuition or anything like that, okay? I'll know better when I actually, y'know, get there.”
Dean purses his lips and shakes his head. “We're not taking a fucking plane. Don't got a passport, and considering the hell since nine eleven I'm so not wanting to try forging anything or carrying weapons onto a goddamned plane headed to Central America.”
Sam sighs and nods. “I didn't think a plane would work. Which means we've got work to do.”
It takes longer than expected to have everything ready, but at least they're not flying down to Cancun with ordinance. They fight over taking the Impala, but Sam bullies his brother into getting something that can handle the backroads better than Dean's baby ever could. They wind up with a battered Hummer that one of Dad's old cohorts had rebuilt, and damn if Sam isn't grateful for the room for storage, though he isn't too sure about the space - or lack, thereof - for his legs.
At least it should survive the trip to and from.
The border-crossing into Mexico is as tricky as Sam expects it to be, but they manage to get across with only a short high-speed chase. At first, they think that they have plenty of time to get there ahead of Sam's vision, but by the time they get to Guatemala and then just outside Potreron, they're not sure they're going to make it in time. Dean's time spent in the southwestern states and Sam remembers some of his high school Spanish but their experience and skills barely gets them there. It doesn't help that, as they run closer and closer to the day that the fire happens, they get more and more tense and less and less communicative with both each other and the natives. Which is probably just as well, because Guatemala isn't exactly the safest country in the world. Sam really kind of wishes that he hadn't looked up the country on the internet, but he's pretty sure that, with their training, they won't wind up dead in a ditch somewhere before they reach the compound.
The day of Sam's vision, they get to the area of the compound. They leave the Hummer hidden in the brush and hike though the heat and the humidity until Sam starts recognizing parts of the area. His memory of his escape is still blurred, but the vision has remained clear in his mind and he knows the feel of the land they're traveling through.
It's when they get close enough to actually see the compound - how did Sam not know that he'd been kept in fake Mayan ruins for months on end? - that things start getting a little... weird.
~
“Uh, Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“...Do you feel anything funny in this jungle?”
“...No... what're you talking about?”
“Just... like it's electrified or something.”
Dean shifts protectively closer to his little brother, glaring around warily. Sam does the same thing at the same moment and their sides brush momentarily but Dean jumps back like he's been shot. He stifles the urge to laugh at their jumpiness.
“Shit.”
Before Sam gets a chance to respond to that, he sees a patrol approaching. He ducks low, tugging Dean with him. “Shh.”
Dean brushes his lips against Sam's ear, whispering, “Demon's mine, got it?”
They slink into the shadows, Sam going in one direction and Dean going the other. Without a word or second thought, Dean launches himself at the possessed soldier, slashing holy water across his face.
The demon hisses and its eyes go pitch black. “Winchesters,” it snarls but before it can do anything else Dean is pressing the Colt's muzzle into the soft flesh under its chin and blowing its brains out.
Sam is busy slitting the throats of the other soldiers, and they take a moment to hope that the demon didn't sound an alarm. As the humans fall to the dirt, that feeling of electricity ricochets through Sam's body again and he shivers.
There's something there with them. Several somethings, all underground.
“Dean,” Sam breathes. Dean turns to look at him and as he shifts his footing something rears out of the ground by his boots.
Dean jumps back with a swallowed curse and stares at the thing crawling out of the ground. He glances around and sees that more are pulling themselves up and out. Dean swears and starts to pull out one of the cooked up Molotov cocktail bottles and light it, but his wrist is caught by his little brother.
“Dean.”
“What?” he snaps, one eye still on the things he assumes are old-school zombies. Shit, if he'd've known that there was going to be an undead army blocking his way into the freaking compound he'd've packed more-
“Don't attack them.”
“What? Are you insane?”
Sam is staring at them with the most peculiar expression on his face. “Uh. I think. I think they're mine.”
“Yours,” Dean repeats blankly. The fuck?
~
Sam isn't really sure how to explain it any further, all he knows is that he knows these dead things, knows how old they are and knows that they were killed by the same scientists that got such a kick out of experimenting on the others.
They were psychics, all of them, and Sam actually recognizes one of them. The one closest is the teenager from the dorm of mind-readers, the kid who'd had Sam's nightmares and couldn't scream because his vocal chords were slit.
It-he moves towards Sam, but Dean gets in its way and shoves it back. “Sammy, I suggest you come up with a way to put these things back down again, if it really is you that woke these things up.”
“I-I don't know how to, Dean.” Sam hears his voice creeping higher and he thinks for a second that he's going to crack but then everything snaps back into focus. “Wait. Dean. We can use them.”
Dean glances over his shoulder at him before focusing on the zombies again. “Use them how? As cannon fodder?”
“As a distraction.”
“... huh.”
Sam is unsurprised that Dean brought along some higher-grade explosives than just the cocktails. Hell, he's rather surprised that Dean didn't try to bring along a freaking Uzi, considering how paranoid he was over coming to this place. He knows now there's a reason that Dean kept him away from the kitchen space in the last motel they'd been in, though why Dean treated him like a child that might blow itself up if it got too close to the explosives, he doesn't know. Ah well, at least they have some C-4.
He watches Dean set up several small bombs around the outside of the compound, keeping an eye out for any more guards and trying to contain the zombies from just wandering away.
Before much longer, Dean is finished and Sam follows him back into the forest. They squabble momentarily over who gets to push the detonator, and Sam wins. They watch with interest as the explosives go off and wait for the hysteria.
Soldiers start filing out of the compound, crouching low in case of gunfire. Sam has the zombies lying down, out of sight through the thick underbrush. After the soldiers have started looking around in confusion, Sam gives them free reign.
The zombies push themselves up and start attacking the soldiers. Both brothers try to ignore the rending of limbs and the shrieks of the damned.
Chaos reigns. Dean manages to find two uniforms that haven't been too bloodied and they enter the compound, walking with a purpose as if they belong there.
Sam searches for Alice, or Hawk, someone he'd know that can get the other psychics out.
He doesn't find them, but one of them finds him.
“There you are,” someone whispers beside him. Sam starts and turns quickly. Michael looks like hell but he's smiling a bit. “Alice told us you'd come, though how she knew I have no idea.”
“Michael, you've got to-”
The young man nods, his face going solemn and tense. “I know. We've got a plan pretty much ready and we're waiting to get everyone out. Eve is getting the infants, and Jobe's helping her.” Michael smiles a second, then it fades again just as quickly as it had appeared. “Thank you for helping me.”
“You're welcome,” Sam says softly. “What can I do?”
“Erica's dealing with the demons... somehow. We just need to get the people locked in the labs and dorms out, though I'm not sure how many we can get free without getting into the main control center.” Michael's eyes glaze over for a moment. “Saph is working on the fog, but sometimes it gets past her. We don't know where the controller is, though-”
“I know, I've seen it,” Sam says quickly. “I'll take care of the controller,” he turned to Dean, “and my brother will deal with the center, right, Dean?” Dean nods, eyeing Michael suspiciously but following him when the young man starts to lead him in the right direction.
The compound reverberates and everything goes blurry. Sam staggers then catches himself, running as fast as he can. He'd seen the thing months ago, when he'd first found Dean, and since then -
He jerks back from a soldier then knocks the man out before he has a chance to yell. He keeps going.
Deeper into the compound. Lower down until he passed where he had ever been.
His thoughts skitter around and he knows that he's getting closer.
He knows he's there when he turns a corner and sees several guards by a locked door with 'AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY' written in bold red letters. It takes very little time to dispatch the guards, but the locking mechanism takes a bit longer. When he finally gets it unlocked he knows he's almost out of time.
Sam opens the door.
The blonde woman with the silver eyes stands there, leaning against the wall close to the fog-producing machine.
It is black cast-iron and hulking and massive. She is small and pale and delicate-looking.
Sam is suddenly more afraid of her than he is of the machine.
He stifles his fear and stands before her. He can't show just how much the woman terrifies him, yet he has a sinking feeling that the woman is all too well-aware of that. He barely stops himself from flinching when she speaks.
“You broke our deal, Samuel.” She's leaning as if she has no worry in the world, even though the human she's inhabiting must be affected by the pure emotional bile that's oozing from the machine. Sam finds he can't even look at the thing without feeling ill. He focuses on the demon, instead.
“You broke it first. The scientists-”
The demon smiles. “Aren't under my command. You've forfeited your brother.” She cocks her head. “Convenient that he's sitting right above us, isn't it?”
The room shudders, everything going out of focus for a moment before Sam shakes his head and Dean is in front of him.
“Haven't you learned not to make deals with devils yet, Samuel Winchester?” She turns towards Dean and raises her hand. Dean looks at Sam in betrayal.
“Sam, what did you do?”
“Dean-”
“Sam. What- ” Before he can say another thing, Dean doubles over. Water dribbles from his mouth, too thin to really be drool. His whole body jolts and he clutches at his stomach.
Sam tries to run towards him, but the silver-eyed woman holds him steady, frozen in his spot. “You should have asked what would happen if you failed to follow through with your deal, Samuel Winchester.”
Stupid, so fucking stupid, Sam thinks. It doesn't stop him from fighting her hold on him.
“I know several demons who are looking forward to your brother returning to the fold, but I think that I'll keep him for myself.” She smiles coldly, and something moves under her skin.
As the shadows move under her skin, Sam feels the madness rearing up again within him. He fights it, knowing that if it overwhelms him there's no way he's going to be able to save Dean. Dean, his brother. Dean, the kid who raised him and loved him and -
The madness sweeps over his mind and he is lost.
But not entirely.
The room is saturated with red and he sees a thin rope of heart blood tying Deanbrotherlovermatepack's wrist to his. From Dean's chest to the silver woman is a geyser of water. He hears the howling of the pack and tastes blood on his lips and then blue rears up from within him, through the thread to Dean and shatters the geyser like it's fragile ice and Dean's breathing again.
He breathes. The pack howls. Someone whispers in his mind that the others are safe, that someone is going to teleport him and his brother to safety.
Sam regains control of his mind and knows that he's going to die. He holds the silver-eyed woman in his power as long as he can, though she's already shattering his control and mind.
When the expected psychic appears before him, he tells the dead-eyed woman to take Dean away and tells her male twin to go with her. They do, even though Andy's abilities didn't allow control of other psychics.
“Traitor,” the silver-eyed woman hisses, and then she is changing, her body exploding into water and the shadows under her skin shift until it is a great scaled beast like that in his visions.
Leviathan.
Her power in her true form is awe-inspiring, and Sam feels like an insect beside her.
But.
Sam remembers the demons in the compound, staring at him as if he was food. He remembers that later he'd forced a demon down, and earlier he shattered the crossroads demon, and his power builds within him, blue-tinged red madness and shards of glass and those immense beasts within the power and he feels his eyes change like a flicker of fire and -
“Stop. Die.”
Leviathan's eyes widen and she shrieks with rage, but everything that Azazel had cultivated and the animal the pack ran with and the human boy that Dean reared and everything that Sam has explodes outward. A small part of Sam thinks that it's like Leviathan's change but then he thinks no more.
~
The compound explodes, and Dean watches with wide eyes and tries to fight his way back to Sammy, to his brother, to-
As shrapnel flies towards him, Dean prepares to duck but is jolted away when the woman touches him again. He finds himself beside the Hummer, and someone orders him to return to the United States, and he finds himself doing so.
He drives for three days, only stopping to fuel up and to piss by the side of the road. The psychic who did this to him is fucking powerful, and when he gets his hands on her -
He's left his brother behind. They didn't stop Sam's vision.
They failed.
~~
Previous | Main post | Epilogue
A few months later...
It's an upward hill, but Sam feels like he's actually getting somewhere. The fog has faded, and he's getting better with being in the present.
He still has moments when he's not entirely sure that he's actually free of the compound. Sam's grateful that it doesn't happen often, but it still occurs when he least expects it.
Usually it's because he sees someone that looks familiar, like one of the other psychics. One day he thought he saw Ezekiel standing by a Coke machine in a county courthouse, his hair feathered like a blue jay's wing, but when Sam blinked he was gone.
When something like that happens he has this second's flash of suspicion that he's still in that sensory deprivation tank, still trapped and drugged and uncertain of what's real and what's not. Then one of the hounds, Kai or Sera (named after Dean sees them for the first time, though why his older brother chose those names Sam doesn't know - the names suit them, though), nips at his hand or Dean smiles at him and he's sure that he's no longer trapped. It's a nice feeling, and if he's blocked out some of what happened when the madness had a grip of him packlovemateDean, well, it's understandable. His life is messed up enough that he doesn't need anything else to fuck it up even more.
The days that everything's overwhelming are the days that Kai and Sera stay closest to him, though as he gets a better grasp on reality they start making themselves scarce more and more. He thinks that they've rejoined the pack from the compound, and hopes that they remain safe. Whenever he tries to talk to them now, they are quiet.
Or maybe it's because of his sanity that he's no longer able to hear them. Whatever the reason, his mind is no longer bombarded by thoughts and sensations from the hounds.
He misses it.
However, he's better, there's no doubt of that. If he has to lose the connection with the hellhounds to regain his sanity, it's not exactly a hard choice. He remembers what happened, knows who he is and who Dean is. He's glad that his watchband covers the barcode tattoo on his wrist.
When Dean first noticed it, he went quiet for a few hours then went out and got Sam a watch with a thicker band. Sam's glad he did; he no longer catches a glimpse of it.
So, over all things are going better, or at least as well as can be expected. And then everything changes again.
~~
Sam is actually pissing when he notices it. He'd been zoning out, absently staring straight ahead when a sharp pain rips through his lower torso, centering around his balls and then trickling down his cock. He hisses and looks down at himself. His penis is... changing. Shadows, what look like shadows are sliding around under the surface of his skin, and then urine stops coming out and instead a dark, thick liquid of some sort starts oozing from him like old blood. Madness rears up for a moment and he hears a girlchild in his head, singing.
Old blood dirty blood sick blood dead blood...
His mind snaps into focus for a moment and his entire body shakes from the effort. The pain gets more intense, and he has to catch himself on the wall behind the toilet with one hand. He grimaces, trying to stifle a scream. He manages to keep most of it down, but then another burning blaze shoots through him and more of the black stuff spurts out. A high-pitched whine escapes his throat and in the back of his mind he thinks he hears banging. He gets lost in the absolute agony, nearly collapsing in on himself, and as another spattering of the black ooze comes out of him like the antithesis of an orgasm alongside the intensifying of the torture, he has to release his grip on himself to keep from falling onto the toilet. His hands skitter across the countertop right next to the toilet and he clings to the edge, trying to find some focus. Madness edges his vision, promising a lessening of the pain that could protect his psyche if he'd just give into it again. He holds onto his sanity by pure willpower alone, cracking the veneer of the counter as another spasm causes his fingers to tighten their grip. He hears shouting, but it's all he can do to keep conscious when the madness tries a different route, that of oblivion.
Then the door is being kicked open and Sam registers his older brother's presence as a gust of hot wind. His head snaps up and the pain stops as suddenly as it came. It is replaced by heat, so strong that he thinks for a second that he's about to spontaneously combust. With a disturbed jolt, Sam realizes that he's hard, so hard it's painful, and a flicker of memory ricochets through his mind.
Oh, hell. “Dean,” he whispers.
Dean approaches him, but then stops. He eyes Sam warily. “What's with your face?”
Sam doesn't pay the question any attention. He's too busy holding on for dear life to his sanity.“Run.”
Dean stares at him for a second, then starts to back away slowly. They've discussed what to do when something's going on that they don't understand, that could be dangerous for the other to be around.
Sam lunges for him and barely keeps himself back in time. He doesn't want to do this, not really, and he doesn't know why it's happening now though it might explain why Kai and Sera are missing. “RUN, damnit!”
Dean turns and runs. Sam forces himself to not give immediate chase. He keeps control just barely, and hears the door to the room being yanked open then the satisfying sound of the door slamming shut.
Then his mind descends into a blur of red heat, and he knows no more.
Dean hears the motel room door slam shut behind him, and he pauses for a split second, trying to decide if he should go for the Impala or head for the field across the street from the parking lot instead. Before he has a chance to think on the matter for any longer, he hears loud racket coming from their room.
He takes off towards the field, and behind him he hears the door being yanked almost off its hinges as Sam comes after him.
Luckily he's got a head start, and is already halfway across the street by the time Sam gets out. He has thankfully put his pants back on (and what the fuck was that black stuff anyway?) and he's picking up the pace, trying to run Dean down.
Dean's not having any part of that. He isn't sure what the fuck is causing this or why the fuck Sam is after him other than the fact that he's the only one within range to get interested in chasing, but it doesn't matter. Dean doesn't want Sam to get to sniffing after someone else. A civilian might get hurt, and at least Dean can take care of himself, and his brother if need be.
In a small part of Dean's brain, he is grateful that there were so many cars parked in the lot at this motel, as it takes Sam a bit of time to maneuver between them. Dean needs all the time he can get so that he can get to the forest past the field. Sam can outpace him in long distances when racing flat out, but there, in the forest he'll be quicker. He's also had more experience with trying to keep away from something in a forest than Sam has, especially lately. He just needs to get through to those trees and he'll be safe.
But then what about the other motel occupants?
Damnit.
He'll have to keep ahead enough to be safe, and just close enough that Sam doesn't lose interest. Oh yeah, that'll be fun. He feels ridiculously like bait for a nasty critter, but at least this is his brother.
His brother who, until recently, had been fucking batshit insane. After all, does Dean really know much about how Sam might have changed while he was trapped in that fucked up lab?
No, his brother isn't a monster. Not by any stretch of the imagination.
Dean just has to be patient and ride this thing out, and maybe then he'll get some idea of just what is going on.
He hears Sam speeding up behind him, and runs faster. It's a good thing he's in pretty good shape, else Sam wouldn't have any problem whatsoever with catching him.
He reaches the edge of the field and heads into the forest beyond, dodging trees and thicker underbrush with ease. He nearly stumbles but catches himself in time to avoid a face-plant that would have ended the chase far too quickly.
Mind, he isn't really sure just what it is that Sam plans to do with him if he catches him, but Dean doesn't need a college degree to know that it would be best if he just lets whatever this is run its course. Preferably without getting caught.
Dean's too lost in thought and doesn't notice the sharp sudden incline just ahead of him. He stumbles again and falls, rolling down the hillside and hitting every single freaking rock and root there apparently is, as well as getting caught in the side more than once by a tree trunk.
He finally rolls to a stop down at the bottom of the hill, feeling more than a little bruised and battered. He is grateful he doesn't feel the sharp stabbing pain of a broken bone, and after a breath he heaves himself upright to keep going. He limps a bit at first but then starts speeding up again, trying to work through the mild pains.
From the looks of it, Sam has taken the hill more smoothly, though he's getting far too close to Dean for comfort. Dean glances over his shoulder for a second to consider the space between them and nearly brains himself on a low-hanging branch. He swears under his breath and keeps going, hoping to keep Sam distracted long enough for him to get worn out. Dean's little brother might be awesome at sprinting, but Dean had better endurance. It shouldn't take much longer until -
Sam lands on Dean's back with a solid thump. Dean is knocked down immediately. He struggles, but that doesn't make a difference - Sam's got him pinned firmly beneath him, and he's not going anywhere.
Shit. Should he hold still and play dead or try to fight back? Dean doesn't know, so he waits to see what Sam will do with him.
Sam... sniffs him, hum/growling low in his throat. He nuzzles the back of Dean's neck and licks the sweat-soaked skin just below his hairline.
What the fuck? Does he smell like a steak or something? Dean is not food.
He starts to struggle. This isn't his brother, and when Sammy comes back to himself he'd never be able to forgive himself if he took a few bites out of his brother, no way no how.
Struggling doesn't help at all. It just shoves his face a little deeper into the soft fragrant dirt and makes Sam sit a little more firmly on his back.
That is when he notices that his little brother is hard.
Oh, fuck no. This is just wrong and so so so fucked up and -
The thing that isn't quite Sam grinds down on him, snuffling at the back of Dean's neck like a big puppy. Now that is a disturbing thought, though preferable to getting-
It grinds down again, squirming with its - Sam's - cock pressed against the crack of Dean's ass. It whuffles and nips at the back of his neck.
Dean shivers.
Luckily, whatever it is that has Sam in its grips isn't too smart - it doesn't think to undo either his or its jeans and just ruts against Dean's ass before shuddering with a ringing howl. It stiffens then falls against Dean in a relaxed puddle.
Then Sam is back - Dean can almost smell the thoughts burning in his little brother's brain.
Shit. What the hell is he doing in the middle of a forest with Dean underneath him? Sam shuffles back, sitting on his haunches.
He catches a whiff of... something and Sam feels disturbingly lethargic and he has a sinking feeling he knows what happened -
His pants are soaking wet. He cringes and looks around.
“You feel better?”
Dean has rolled over and is looking up at Sam, an eyebrow raised.
Sam shivers, that heat still perched behind his eyes and in his spine. He feels... stressed, uncomfortable, not right in his own skin. He doesn't like whatever it is. “Not really,” he says softly. He fights the urge to cover his lap. “Are you okay?”
Dean lets out an explosive snort. “I'm fine.”
“Dean... what did... did I hurt you?”
“No. Other than a few bruises and scrapes and your jizz on my back, I'm pretty okay.”
Sam flinches. “I-”
“Christ, Sam, it's fine. Help me up and let's go back to the motel to clean up.”
Sam pushes himself the rest of the way up and offers Dean his hand. Dean yanks on Sam's hand and hauls himself up, staggering a moment before regaining his balance. He stares up at Sam for a moment then pulls away, heading back through the forest.
They don't talk when they get back to the motel. Sam feels like he's burning up again but he fights it all the harder now. He has a sinking feeling just what it was that happened while he was mentally out, and he's not sure just what he thinks about that, so he goes for the old Winchester standby - repression. At least they were both fully clothed. It could be so much fucking worse. After all, Sam could have ra-
No. Sam isn't going to think about that. He is never going to think about that, it simply isn't an option. He goes to go take a shower.
When he takes off his shirts, he notices strange dark patterns on his skin. It is as he'd feared in the very back of his mind - the markings look far too similar to the hellhounds' markings to be a coincidence.
He isn't a hellhound, he can't actually be going through a fucking mating season. It is impossible. Genetically speaking, humans aren't even anywhere near canines, or whatever the hounds are.
This can't be.
Sam doesn't even want to know what that says about the fact that he's fixating on his brother. He has no urge whatsoever to go hunting for a woman, or to even look around - he just wants Dean. And that scares him. What scares him even more is the sinking suspicion that this isn't the first time that his brain has fixated on the thought of Dean as his mate. He doesn't remember everything from before he escaped the compound, but he wonders...
He takes as fast a shower as he can, trying to ignore the primitive patterns on his arms and legs. Some even stretch from his spine to his sides, down to his feet.
He wishes he'd brought clean clothes into the bathroom with him, but he hasn't and as much as he'd like to, he can't actually stay in there until they fade away.
There is nothing for it; Sam is just going to have to go in there and face the music. He stands before the bathroom mirror for a moment, staring at the vertical tear lines that go from the corner of his eyes down almost to his jawline. He looks like he'd been wearing goth makeup and it's run. He still feels like he's being slowly boiled alive, but he tries to ignore it. He knows he can be stubborn as all fuck - there's no way he's actually going to let whatever this heat is do whatever it wants with him just along for the ride.
Unfortunately, as he's drying himself off and tying a towel around his waist, his mind latches onto the memory that the mating pair had kept at it for several hours.
Sam goes out of the bathroom and almost turns around and goes back in. Dean is sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing clean - or at least, cleaner - clothes. He's staring at him. Fuck.
“Yeah?” he asks, trying to look calm. The heat rages in him again, and he misses the majority of whatever it is that Dean's saying. “What?”
“I said,” Dean repeats with a funny look on his face, “Care to explain yourself? The fuck is wrong with you?”
Sam stifles a hysterical laugh. “You'd think I'm crazy.” At Dean's snort, he sighs and tries to put on some boxers. For some reason, his body isn't responding when his brain tells it to lower the underwear so he can step into it. He fumbles and tries to put on a shirt instead but gets about as far. He throws his shirt on the bed and sits down at the foot of it. He covers his face in his hands and tries to ignore the fact that he's getting hard again. This isn't working. “I think I spent too much time with the hellhounds.”
At Dean's blank silence, he continues.
“I think it ties in with my psychic abilities. When I was - “ insane “out of it, I remember that sometimes I'd get these markings when I was sleeping with the 'hounds, or playing with Kai and Sera. But never as dark as they are right now, more like shadows. And before they were born their mom went into heat, and -”
“You're fucking kidding me.” Sam can feel Dean staring at him.
“I wish I was,” Sam sighs and rubs at his forehead, ignoring the pulsing blazes inside him. “And for whatever reason, probably because we pretty much live in each other's pockets, whatever it is that's giving me the marks is really interested in you.” He doesn't point out that he doesn't even have the itch to go prowling anywhere else, and that it's more like Dean himself is in heat from the way all of Sam's focus was centered on him. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to do that, else Dean might punch him, and in the state Sam's in he might take that as foreplay.
Sam shudders. “I think it would be for the best if you left and locked me in here.” He doesn't look at his big brother. He can't look at him.
There is a long pause, and Sam starts picking at his nails as something to focus on. He almost jumps out of his skin when Dean speaks.
“So what happens if I leave you in here alone? You going to start tearing down the walls 'r something?”
“I don't know.”
“Are you going to get outta here and attack some civvie if I do?”
“I don't know.”
“You gonna -”
“Damnit, Dean I don't know.” Sam's head comes up and he glares at his brother. “This hasn't ever fucking happened before, so forgive me if I don't know what's going to happen.”
That's what he tries to say, anyway. He barely gets to 'hasn't' when the red starts to descend again. He closes his eyes hard and pushes the heels of his hands into his eye sockets.
“Lock the door behind you. Bar it if you can.” Sam feels himself starting to shake. He almost feels like a junkie being denied his fix, and he tries to do calculations in his head, recite mentally the Bill of Rights, anything to distract himself. The fog of madness tries to hide coherent thought, and apparently Dean sees something that worries him as next thing Sam knows, his brother is kneeling before him, pulling his hands away from his face and trying to make him meet Dean's eyes.
“It's just sex, do you understand?”
Before Sam has a chance to register just what it is that Dean just said, he finds lips pressed firmly against his own. Of their own volition, his lips part and the red threads through his vision and he loses time.
When he comes back to himself, he has Dean pinned underneath him, grinding down hard on Dean's half-hard cock. The rough material of Dean's jeans feel good against Sam's bare skin, but he knows that it'll be even better were Dean naked as well. Everything is tinged with a red hue, but he's actually present so it's not as terrifying as it was earlier.
However, that means that he's actually going to remember this, no matter how it turns out.
He pushes away that thought and licks and nips at Dean's chin and throat, gently and not hard enough to leave any marks. He doesn't have the right to do that, so he's not pushing his luck.
Dean groans in response and throws his head back, his hands scrabbling at Sam's back. One hand goes up to direct Sam to a spot high under Dean's earlobe, and when he licks softly Dean bucks up against him, muttering curses through weak pants. He squirms, and from the feel of it Dean's fully hard.
The animal part of Sam really likes that fact. The rest of Sam is trying to ignore what he's doing to his brother, and how it makes him react. This is not an easy task, and Sam winds up failing spectacularly when Dean actually hooks his leg over Sam's hip like a female would do, and that's all the invitation that the animal needs. He growls and tries to rip Dean's jeans off of his hips. Dean shoves him back for a moment to unzip and kick his jeans and jockeys down.
The animal doesn't really give a damn about Dean's cock, but the rest of Sam is rather curious about it. After all, that cock has seen more action than Sam's can even dream of, and a part Sam would rather never admit to is curious about just what the appeal is.
Sam glances down, muscles coiling with the urge to just yank Dean around and rut against his ass. He eyes Dean's cock with interest, and apparently Dean's not accustomed to this sort of attention.
His older brother actually blushes, starting in his cheeks and going down his chest. Sam finds it charming, and also ridiculously adorable, which is not a thought that he should be having when staring down at Dean's naked body, Dean's cock.
Dean's cock is nice, a bit thicker than Sam's but not quite as long. It curves delicately up towards towards Dean's navel, and as Sam stares a small droplet of liquid collects at the tip. His mouth starts to water just a bit, and before Dean has a chance to try and hide himself or, do anything at all, Sam is ducking his face down to lick lightly at that little droplet.
Taste explodes on his tongue, and he lets out a little groan at the same moment that Dean moans. He lets his fingers slide down and cup Dean's ass, spreading him open and pressing his fingertips into the crack. It's hot, and slightly sweaty and Sam's not really sure just why that surprises him as much as it does. He buries his face against Dean's groin and inhales deeply.
The animal approves of the smell. Sam's mouth waters and he swallows extra saliva though he has the urge to lick all of the area around Dean's cock and balls and ass, to bathe Dean's groin in Sam's scent. Dean is his, the animal whispers in Sam's mind. Matelovelifefamilybrotherlovertogether.
A part of Sam other than the animal agrees. That kind of terrifies him.
He feels a hand stroking through his hair, and he glances up to look at his brother. Dean's eyes are serious, and with the animal's eyes Sam sees the pulse in Dean's neck flutter like a trapped thing. It's contradictory, the look in Dean's eyes and the tremble of his pulse. “Sam,” Dean says quietly, and that's really all that needs to be said on the matter. As Dean touches his head like a benediction, Sam presses kisses against Dean's hips, teasing at Dean's hole with the fingers that still spread him open.
At a certain movement against Dean's entrance, he shakes and almost bucks back onto Sam's fingers. Sam watches his face, still pressing light, biting kisses into the pubic hair around Dean's cock. He is at war with himself; part of him, the little brother in him, is freaking out but also curious about seeing what he can do to his brother. Another part, distinctly male, wants to be damned good at what he's planning on doing. The main part, though, is just interested in making sure that his mate is ready for mounting.
Sam lowers his eyes and focuses on Dean's cock, trying to distract his brother from the pain that he knows will come if he's not careful. He doesn't know if Dean's done anything like this before, if he's been on his back for some other man. He both hopes that his brother has, and that he hasn't.
Dean shifts restlessly and mutters a curse. His cock bobs right in front of Sam's nose and Sam traces the very tip of his tongue over the very tip of Dean's cock, just enough to taste that explosion again. He growls in his throat and tries to pull more of that taste from Dean. This doesn't work too easily, as at every short lick Dean's cock leaps towards his own stomach. Sam finally captures the tip of Dean's cock in his mouth, sucking gently and lashing his tongue over the slit like he would a woman's clit. After all, they're close, aren't they? A clit is just a tiny penis, with all the sensitivity to touch and pressure and -
Dean bucks hard and one hand leaves Sam's hair to rise to his mouth. Dean bites his fist, trying to keep back something that sounds like a whine.
The red threads flicker over Sam's vision again, and without any thought his mouth opens further and he sucks down as much of Dean in one go as he can, at the same time flicking his fingertips over the hot wrinkly flesh of Dean's hole. He sucks harder and presses a finger in, dry and scratchy but Dean's not bitching. Instead, he's moaning and Sam's almost surprised that there isn't blood on Dean's teeth from the vicious hold he has on his own fist. Dean's other hand, still buried in Sam's hair, clenches and tugs hard.
Sam shivers. His cock jumps against his stomach. Dean glances down and grins.
“Looks like little brother's got a bit of a kink there,” he rasps around the fist between his teeth, his voice already shot to shit even though Sam hasn't even made him scream yet. Before Dean can say anything else, Sam twists the finger still inside of him and teases his tongue against the spot just below the head of Dean's cock, the place that usually makes Sam go incoherent and he's kinda hoping that genetics are at play or that being male -
He's right on the mark, for whatever reason, and Dean stifles a howl.
It sounds enough like the baying of the hellhounds that the animal rears up again, somehow managing to yank Dean's fist out of his mouth, yank his own face off of Dean's cock, and pull the fingers inside Dean out before spinning his brother roughly onto his stomach.
Dean goes still, and his back is almost rigid with tension. The animal wearing Sam's skin notices its mate's fear and nuzzles at the back of Dean's neck, whining low in its throat and rutting carefully against Dean's ass.
Sam tries to reason with the animal. He knows from the anal sex he's had with Jess that a single dry finger is nowhere near enough and more than anything else, more than his yearning to have his powers vanish one day or to wake up and not be afraid, he wants to not hurt his brother.
The animal gets that, somehow, and instead of plunging in right away like both brothers fear, it takes its time and slicks its fingers on the dark liquid dripping once again from Sam's cock. It's watery this time, thinner and slippery - more like lube than the viscous liquid from last time but still just as dark. It shimmers on Sam's fingers, and he's suddenly in control enough to take his time pressing his finger back into Dean, this time adding another one.
Dean stiffens, then apparently reminds himself of something and on his next deep exhalation he goes loose, pliant against the bed. The animal worries that Dean is leaving him, going somewhere in his mind away from what they are doing, and that just will not do. Fingers jab in deeper, searching for something that exists in both hellhounds and humans. The animal rubs against that spot, over and over until Dean's shaking under him, moaning and sweating and swearing brokenly. Finally Dean starts thrusting back against the fingers, and Sam is back long enough to spread his fingers to open Dean up faster, trying to avoid causing him pain at the same time. He leans up and presses his lips to the back of Dean's neck, and without any coaxing, Dean's head lowers and he exposes more of his neck to Sam's lips. That submissive movement delights the animal; it knows that its mate is ready and willing and won't hurt now. It draws fingers out and with a steady, fast thrust he is inside Dean.
Sam is inside Dean. Dean, his beautiful older brother, his guardian and protector and familymatelovehome-
Dean makes a low, pained noise but Sam teases his cock with one hand and holds Dean's shoulder to pull him closer with the other. He gently starts to thrust, careful to make sure not to hurt his brother any more than he apparently already has. Dean starts to relax and Sam pays the price of having some sort of control over the animal when it insists loudly in his head that he must mark his mate, at least once.
He can't fight the urge, as it's not just the animal's instinct but also his own, and then he's biting the back of Dean's neck, biting hard almost to the point of blood, and Dean's shaking under his hold, bucking back into the rhythm of Sam's hips and against the tightening grip of Sam's hand on his cock. Sam growls and Dean lets out a sound that neither of them are sure what to call, and all too soon that rhythm is ricocheting through both of them and then Sam's biting harder before tearing his mouth away to throw his head back and he howls with his climax and Dean's shaking underneath him, shattering into his own orgasm and then it fades to black.
~~
Sam wakes up slowly, and when he's finally alert enough to look around he registers that much has changed since he lost consciousness. It is nighttime, and Dean is no longer under him, and Sam has been left on the bed the bed they fucked on but at least Dean stripped away the comforter and left Sam on the relatively clean sheets. Sam looks around and spots his older brother curled on the other bed, his back turned to him and his face almost against the wall.
His brother looks small, and Sam feels sick.
That is Sam's fault.
He has to fix this. He's not sure how, just yet, but he's hopeful that something will come to him.
By the time dawn breaks, Sam's come to some disturbing conclusions. He's had to drag out the little box in the back of his mind that held fragments of memories from before, from just before he broke out of the compound with the hounds. The things in there howl and jibber, and what little he understands of what they're saying is matelovehomeDean and it freaks him the hell out.
What, had he been in love with Dean all these years? Surely not. That was just ridiculous. Preposterous.
Also, apparently buried so deeply in his subconscious that it took going insane for it to get unearthed.
He feels sick to his stomach. How had he missed this?
How can he put it back into that box now?
He can't deal with this right now. Not now, not any time in the future. If Dean even suspects -
Sam hopes that he hadn't started rambling about mates to his brother when they were in the middle of it, and if he had that Dean just assumed it was the animal talking.
Maybe it was the animal, right? Just the creature that lives in the madness, that ran with the pack and played with the pups and tried to rip out the throat of a lab technician that wanted to examine the newborns.
Sam sighs. He's never been good at lying to himself. Too many pieces clicked when he was on Dean, marking him and then resting on him afterwards.
Screw it. He's just going to block it and pretend it never happened, and hopefully he can salvage his brother's respect for him with time.
~~
Things are awkward as hell right after that day of madness, but they regain their equilibrium a lot faster than Sam was expecting. He's not sure what exactly that says about either of them, but after three hunts (black dogs, then a siren - and wasn't that a kick in the ass, and then a good old fashioned poltergeist) it's as if they'd never fucked. Dean doesn't even look at him strangely any more, though Sam's a bit suspicious and is waiting for the other shoe to drop.
He tries to just go with it, even if ignoring what had happened comes less easily to him than apparently it does to Dean. It is only right, though. Sam should suffer for screwing up - possibly permanently - the most important relationship (he really shouldn't use that word ever again in reference to his brother) in the world.
Sam thinks about what might have happened, and when he least expects it, the visions start trying to edge his sight again. They show him the other psychics at the compound, and things that don't make the slightest bit of sense. He wonders if it's the madness or the time in the sensory deprivation tank that led to this... shift in his visions and dreams, but ultimately it doesn't matter.
His dreams are bizarre. He finds himself yanked out of his dreams by either the bell-like howl of a far-away hellhound or the light touch of Dean's hand on his arm, and he is grateful for it as if he stays asleep for too long he's unsure if he's still asleep or awake and moving under someone else's control. He starts to dread his sleep, and tries to keep his issues from his brother but Dean is far more aware of what's going on in Sam's head than he ever was before, and so that fails. He tries sleeping in the car and the familiar sounds of Dean singing along to the music soothe him enough that sleep sneaks up on him when he least expects it -
They're riding the hellhounds, something Sam never expected to do, but they're moving quickly enough that everything is a blur. Then they're at the compound, and the cold of the grounds is unnatural but Sam knows what is going to happen.
The silver-eyed woman's skin has shadows underneath it, and then suddenly water is exploding out of her, ripping skin away and then there is a great scaled creature before him, and he cowers back at her power.
Leviathan.
He wakes when Dean asks him if he wants anything from the gas station they're sitting at, and Sam forces himself to move from the cramped position he'd fallen asleep in. He starts toward the entrance and Dean tosses a card at his head that he just barely manages to catch.
“Pay for the gas too, bitch. And get me some Twinkies and a Dr. Pepper.”
Sam mutters something in response and goes in to pay. He collects some beef jerky and a large bottle of water - his mouth is dry from sleep and tastes vaguely like sand a dog recently pissed on and he's hopeful that the crap'll wash away. He shakes his head to bring the cashier into focus and he's tired but manages to act coherent enough that the cashier ignores him after handing over the receipt.
It's nice, being ignored. Apathy actually feels like a cooling balm on a sunburn and that right there tells Sam just how much he needs sleep. Maybe then he can avoid Dean's eyes on him constantly, and lately something's been stirring back in the back of his mind that makes that sound like a vacation.
They're on their twelfth hunt since the incident when Sam sees what's going to happen in two months to the compound. He's grateful that he's in the library when the vision explodes through his head, as at least then he doesn't have to worry about Dean seeing it. He's in a secluded area and no one notices when he nearly cracks his head open falling from his chair.
Fire -
Screams -
Bodies strewn everywhere -
Scientists ripped apart by unseen hands -
Eve, her neck snapped and tossed aside like a broken doll -
A group of about twelve toddlers, their eyes vacant as they watch their caretaker being ripped to shreds -
He never sees what causes the damage, only the aftereffects. He doesn't see anything after a certain point, either, but that doesn't register until far later. Right now, he's more interested in the fact that he needs to deal with this.
Part of him would rather avoid what's happening, to ignore the visions. But he's come this far, and he'll be damned if he turns his back on someone who needs his help again.
Of course, talking to Dean about the matter doesn't go as easy as Sam would hope.
“Dean, I'm serious - I need to go back there. There are innocent people there that need my help.” Sam tries to ignore the fact that he doesn't really want to deal with this in the first place and waits for his brother's next response. They've been arguing over this for about an hour, ever since Dean got back to the motel after talking with the victim's partner in the bar downtown. True, they've been pretty much going around in circles, but maybe one of them'll come up with something new and original to counter the other's arguments.
Dean glares at him. “And what if they get hold of you again? What the hell am I supposed to do if that happens, go in and get you back?”
“They can't hold me there if I don't want them to.” God, he's so tired but they've got to get this over and done with. He wants to sleep but fears it. However, he fears the look in Dean's eyes quite a bit more. It's the looked of a trapped animal, and there's the edge of panic in the way that Dean can't seem to hold still.
“Are you absolutely sure? Because you've got to be completely sure about it. What if they've come up with some other way to cage you? What are you going to do if they try to take you down again?”
Sam stares him down. There is no way around it; he has to go back. The others have the right to live normal lives, not lives of lab rats or worse. “They won't get the chance.”
“And what about Kai and Sera? Are you going to leave them here or take them with you, where they might get hurt?”
“Kai and Sera can take care of themselves, and the other hounds will help me.”
“And what if the other hounds are dead?”
Sam blanches, but stays resolute. “They're alive. We'd know if they weren't.”
Dean sighs. “Damnit, Sam.” He leans closer to Sam, slumping as if he knows that he's already lost the fight.
Sam softens and rests his face against Dean's neck. “I know. It sucks.”
Dean mutters something that Sam can't hear, even though he is so close. Probably something about goddamned stubborn little brothers, as that's a typical response when Dean knows he's lost. “Fine.” Sam starts to relax, but then Dean continues. “I'm going with you.”
“Dean-”
“No, I'm not letting you go back there alone, y'hear me? No way in hell.”
It's useless to fight Dean on the matter, so Sam gives in with a sigh. “Fine. But you will listen to me, okay? I won't be able to get anywhere if I'm freaking out worried about you.”
Dean snorts, then pauses. “Uh, Sam? Where the hell is the compound, anyway?”
Had Dean asked that a day before, Sam wouldn't have had a clue, but luckily he's been researching possible locations and, based on what Sam remembers of the outside of the compound, he is able to answer with confidence, “Guatemala. From what I can tell, I think the best location is somewhere between Potreron and La Libertad. There wasn't any sort of city nearby, I know that much, and-” Sam gestures vaguely. “It feels right. And don't give me any bullshit about trusting my intuition or anything like that, okay? I'll know better when I actually, y'know, get there.”
Dean purses his lips and shakes his head. “We're not taking a fucking plane. Don't got a passport, and considering the hell since nine eleven I'm so not wanting to try forging anything or carrying weapons onto a goddamned plane headed to Central America.”
Sam sighs and nods. “I didn't think a plane would work. Which means we've got work to do.”
It takes longer than expected to have everything ready, but at least they're not flying down to Cancun with ordinance. They fight over taking the Impala, but Sam bullies his brother into getting something that can handle the backroads better than Dean's baby ever could. They wind up with a battered Hummer that one of Dad's old cohorts had rebuilt, and damn if Sam isn't grateful for the room for storage, though he isn't too sure about the space - or lack, thereof - for his legs.
At least it should survive the trip to and from.
The border-crossing into Mexico is as tricky as Sam expects it to be, but they manage to get across with only a short high-speed chase. At first, they think that they have plenty of time to get there ahead of Sam's vision, but by the time they get to Guatemala and then just outside Potreron, they're not sure they're going to make it in time. Dean's time spent in the southwestern states and Sam remembers some of his high school Spanish but their experience and skills barely gets them there. It doesn't help that, as they run closer and closer to the day that the fire happens, they get more and more tense and less and less communicative with both each other and the natives. Which is probably just as well, because Guatemala isn't exactly the safest country in the world. Sam really kind of wishes that he hadn't looked up the country on the internet, but he's pretty sure that, with their training, they won't wind up dead in a ditch somewhere before they reach the compound.
The day of Sam's vision, they get to the area of the compound. They leave the Hummer hidden in the brush and hike though the heat and the humidity until Sam starts recognizing parts of the area. His memory of his escape is still blurred, but the vision has remained clear in his mind and he knows the feel of the land they're traveling through.
It's when they get close enough to actually see the compound - how did Sam not know that he'd been kept in fake Mayan ruins for months on end? - that things start getting a little... weird.
~
“Uh, Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“...Do you feel anything funny in this jungle?”
“...No... what're you talking about?”
“Just... like it's electrified or something.”
Dean shifts protectively closer to his little brother, glaring around warily. Sam does the same thing at the same moment and their sides brush momentarily but Dean jumps back like he's been shot. He stifles the urge to laugh at their jumpiness.
“Shit.”
Before Sam gets a chance to respond to that, he sees a patrol approaching. He ducks low, tugging Dean with him. “Shh.”
Dean brushes his lips against Sam's ear, whispering, “Demon's mine, got it?”
They slink into the shadows, Sam going in one direction and Dean going the other. Without a word or second thought, Dean launches himself at the possessed soldier, slashing holy water across his face.
The demon hisses and its eyes go pitch black. “Winchesters,” it snarls but before it can do anything else Dean is pressing the Colt's muzzle into the soft flesh under its chin and blowing its brains out.
Sam is busy slitting the throats of the other soldiers, and they take a moment to hope that the demon didn't sound an alarm. As the humans fall to the dirt, that feeling of electricity ricochets through Sam's body again and he shivers.
There's something there with them. Several somethings, all underground.
“Dean,” Sam breathes. Dean turns to look at him and as he shifts his footing something rears out of the ground by his boots.
Dean jumps back with a swallowed curse and stares at the thing crawling out of the ground. He glances around and sees that more are pulling themselves up and out. Dean swears and starts to pull out one of the cooked up Molotov cocktail bottles and light it, but his wrist is caught by his little brother.
“Dean.”
“What?” he snaps, one eye still on the things he assumes are old-school zombies. Shit, if he'd've known that there was going to be an undead army blocking his way into the freaking compound he'd've packed more-
“Don't attack them.”
“What? Are you insane?”
Sam is staring at them with the most peculiar expression on his face. “Uh. I think. I think they're mine.”
“Yours,” Dean repeats blankly. The fuck?
~
Sam isn't really sure how to explain it any further, all he knows is that he knows these dead things, knows how old they are and knows that they were killed by the same scientists that got such a kick out of experimenting on the others.
They were psychics, all of them, and Sam actually recognizes one of them. The one closest is the teenager from the dorm of mind-readers, the kid who'd had Sam's nightmares and couldn't scream because his vocal chords were slit.
It-he moves towards Sam, but Dean gets in its way and shoves it back. “Sammy, I suggest you come up with a way to put these things back down again, if it really is you that woke these things up.”
“I-I don't know how to, Dean.” Sam hears his voice creeping higher and he thinks for a second that he's going to crack but then everything snaps back into focus. “Wait. Dean. We can use them.”
Dean glances over his shoulder at him before focusing on the zombies again. “Use them how? As cannon fodder?”
“As a distraction.”
“... huh.”
Sam is unsurprised that Dean brought along some higher-grade explosives than just the cocktails. Hell, he's rather surprised that Dean didn't try to bring along a freaking Uzi, considering how paranoid he was over coming to this place. He knows now there's a reason that Dean kept him away from the kitchen space in the last motel they'd been in, though why Dean treated him like a child that might blow itself up if it got too close to the explosives, he doesn't know. Ah well, at least they have some C-4.
He watches Dean set up several small bombs around the outside of the compound, keeping an eye out for any more guards and trying to contain the zombies from just wandering away.
Before much longer, Dean is finished and Sam follows him back into the forest. They squabble momentarily over who gets to push the detonator, and Sam wins. They watch with interest as the explosives go off and wait for the hysteria.
Soldiers start filing out of the compound, crouching low in case of gunfire. Sam has the zombies lying down, out of sight through the thick underbrush. After the soldiers have started looking around in confusion, Sam gives them free reign.
The zombies push themselves up and start attacking the soldiers. Both brothers try to ignore the rending of limbs and the shrieks of the damned.
Chaos reigns. Dean manages to find two uniforms that haven't been too bloodied and they enter the compound, walking with a purpose as if they belong there.
Sam searches for Alice, or Hawk, someone he'd know that can get the other psychics out.
He doesn't find them, but one of them finds him.
“There you are,” someone whispers beside him. Sam starts and turns quickly. Michael looks like hell but he's smiling a bit. “Alice told us you'd come, though how she knew I have no idea.”
“Michael, you've got to-”
The young man nods, his face going solemn and tense. “I know. We've got a plan pretty much ready and we're waiting to get everyone out. Eve is getting the infants, and Jobe's helping her.” Michael smiles a second, then it fades again just as quickly as it had appeared. “Thank you for helping me.”
“You're welcome,” Sam says softly. “What can I do?”
“Erica's dealing with the demons... somehow. We just need to get the people locked in the labs and dorms out, though I'm not sure how many we can get free without getting into the main control center.” Michael's eyes glaze over for a moment. “Saph is working on the fog, but sometimes it gets past her. We don't know where the controller is, though-”
“I know, I've seen it,” Sam says quickly. “I'll take care of the controller,” he turned to Dean, “and my brother will deal with the center, right, Dean?” Dean nods, eyeing Michael suspiciously but following him when the young man starts to lead him in the right direction.
The compound reverberates and everything goes blurry. Sam staggers then catches himself, running as fast as he can. He'd seen the thing months ago, when he'd first found Dean, and since then -
He jerks back from a soldier then knocks the man out before he has a chance to yell. He keeps going.
Deeper into the compound. Lower down until he passed where he had ever been.
His thoughts skitter around and he knows that he's getting closer.
He knows he's there when he turns a corner and sees several guards by a locked door with 'AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY' written in bold red letters. It takes very little time to dispatch the guards, but the locking mechanism takes a bit longer. When he finally gets it unlocked he knows he's almost out of time.
Sam opens the door.
The blonde woman with the silver eyes stands there, leaning against the wall close to the fog-producing machine.
It is black cast-iron and hulking and massive. She is small and pale and delicate-looking.
Sam is suddenly more afraid of her than he is of the machine.
He stifles his fear and stands before her. He can't show just how much the woman terrifies him, yet he has a sinking feeling that the woman is all too well-aware of that. He barely stops himself from flinching when she speaks.
“You broke our deal, Samuel.” She's leaning as if she has no worry in the world, even though the human she's inhabiting must be affected by the pure emotional bile that's oozing from the machine. Sam finds he can't even look at the thing without feeling ill. He focuses on the demon, instead.
“You broke it first. The scientists-”
The demon smiles. “Aren't under my command. You've forfeited your brother.” She cocks her head. “Convenient that he's sitting right above us, isn't it?”
The room shudders, everything going out of focus for a moment before Sam shakes his head and Dean is in front of him.
“Haven't you learned not to make deals with devils yet, Samuel Winchester?” She turns towards Dean and raises her hand. Dean looks at Sam in betrayal.
“Sam, what did you do?”
“Dean-”
“Sam. What- ” Before he can say another thing, Dean doubles over. Water dribbles from his mouth, too thin to really be drool. His whole body jolts and he clutches at his stomach.
Sam tries to run towards him, but the silver-eyed woman holds him steady, frozen in his spot. “You should have asked what would happen if you failed to follow through with your deal, Samuel Winchester.”
Stupid, so fucking stupid, Sam thinks. It doesn't stop him from fighting her hold on him.
“I know several demons who are looking forward to your brother returning to the fold, but I think that I'll keep him for myself.” She smiles coldly, and something moves under her skin.
As the shadows move under her skin, Sam feels the madness rearing up again within him. He fights it, knowing that if it overwhelms him there's no way he's going to be able to save Dean. Dean, his brother. Dean, the kid who raised him and loved him and -
The madness sweeps over his mind and he is lost.
But not entirely.
The room is saturated with red and he sees a thin rope of heart blood tying Deanbrotherlovermatepack's wrist to his. From Dean's chest to the silver woman is a geyser of water. He hears the howling of the pack and tastes blood on his lips and then blue rears up from within him, through the thread to Dean and shatters the geyser like it's fragile ice and Dean's breathing again.
He breathes. The pack howls. Someone whispers in his mind that the others are safe, that someone is going to teleport him and his brother to safety.
Sam regains control of his mind and knows that he's going to die. He holds the silver-eyed woman in his power as long as he can, though she's already shattering his control and mind.
When the expected psychic appears before him, he tells the dead-eyed woman to take Dean away and tells her male twin to go with her. They do, even though Andy's abilities didn't allow control of other psychics.
“Traitor,” the silver-eyed woman hisses, and then she is changing, her body exploding into water and the shadows under her skin shift until it is a great scaled beast like that in his visions.
Leviathan.
Her power in her true form is awe-inspiring, and Sam feels like an insect beside her.
But.
Sam remembers the demons in the compound, staring at him as if he was food. He remembers that later he'd forced a demon down, and earlier he shattered the crossroads demon, and his power builds within him, blue-tinged red madness and shards of glass and those immense beasts within the power and he feels his eyes change like a flicker of fire and -
“Stop. Die.”
Leviathan's eyes widen and she shrieks with rage, but everything that Azazel had cultivated and the animal the pack ran with and the human boy that Dean reared and everything that Sam has explodes outward. A small part of Sam thinks that it's like Leviathan's change but then he thinks no more.
~
The compound explodes, and Dean watches with wide eyes and tries to fight his way back to Sammy, to his brother, to-
As shrapnel flies towards him, Dean prepares to duck but is jolted away when the woman touches him again. He finds himself beside the Hummer, and someone orders him to return to the United States, and he finds himself doing so.
He drives for three days, only stopping to fuel up and to piss by the side of the road. The psychic who did this to him is fucking powerful, and when he gets his hands on her -
He's left his brother behind. They didn't stop Sam's vision.
They failed.
~~
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