...Let Me Go Now (2/2) - Some Things Are Meant to Be 'Verse, Part 3, Slash, NC-17
Title: ...Let Me Go Now (2/2)
Series: Some Things Are Meant to Be
Author:
thelonejuliet
Character/Pairing: Sam, Dean
Word Count: 2,396
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Violence, language, incest
Disclaimer: I don't own them...they totally own me.
Spoilers: Maybe a slight one for In My Time of Dying, and Hunted.
Summary: Heavy decisions are made...
Author's Notes: My beta, the lovely and talented tempestquill (and her equally lovely sister), is wonderful beyond belief! And I owe them cookies of various delicious kinds!
Also!! This is turning into an AU. John is still alive and kicking - but he doesn't really come into play yet.
The title of this story/series comes from the song "Some Things are Meant to Be" from the musical, Little Women. Lyrics found here.
Previous Stories in the 'Verse - which you do need to read first -
Tide Turning Endlessly
All My Life, I've Live For Loving You...
...Let Me Go Now, Part One
* * *
When Sam awoke the next morning, he instantly noticed the cold spot on the bed next to him. He was up in second, eyes scouring the room frantically. No Dean. The shower wasn’t on, bathroom door wide open. He was fully dressed and just beginning to toe into his shoes, gun safely in hand, when the door to the room suddenly opened.
On instinct, he raised the gun - only to find he was aiming for his brother. Dean smiled warmly at him, and held up his left hand in surrender. In his right hand were two cups of coffee from the diner they’d seen next door. “Alright, Cowboy, you can put that away now.”
Sam clicked the safety back on and sighed, shaking his head. He looked up at Dean, irritated as all-get out and demanded, “What the hell were you thinking? Just leaving like that?”
Dean’s eyes widened in surprised innocence as he point to the pillow where his head had been. Sam, instantly feeling ridiculous, grabbed the motel stationery with Dean’s loose scrawl on it stating exactly where he was. He just let out a mumbled “Sorry,” and grabbed the coffee cup Dean was offering to him.
He sat back down on the bed, heavily. He didn’t know what to say or do now. Two weeks in the hospital, and neither one of them had brought up the fight that led to the whole ordeal. And, then, after last night…Well, he figured it was bound to come up sometime, so they may as well do it now.
Sam was just about to turn around and open his mouth when, behind him, he heard Dean say, “Uh… Sam? I think we need to talk.”
Sam turned around to see Dean standing rigidly, still not having moved from the entranceway, one hand in his pocket and the other gripping the coffee cup for dear life. Tension was written all across his face and in his shoulders. His eyes had something in them that Sam had never seen before. He couldn’t place the look on his brother’s face and that bothered him a lot more than the tense stance.
Dean gave him a half-hearted smile and nodded. He seemed like he was trying to work up the courage to say something, and that thought made the bottom drop out of Sam’s stomach. He suddenly felt incredibly nervous, and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to hear what Dean had to say. It couldn’t be good if Dean wanted to talk.
Dean walked over and sat stiffly on the edge of the bed. He leaned over and put his elbows on his knees, gripping the coffee cup in both hands, so hard his knuckles were white. He let out a heavy sigh and glanced up at Sam quickly before continuing, “You’re not going to like this. Okay? You’re going to fight me every step of the way, but I need you to hear me out before you say anything. Okay? I - …is that okay?”
At Sam’s nod, he went on once again. “I need to leave,” he said quickly, holding up a hand to stop Sam from interrupting, as he’d been ready to do. “We need to…I just need a little space. I…it’s not you… Sam, God, it’s not you. This…thing with us is throwing me off my game, man. The night…that night in the bar…I didn’t even try to explain to those bastards that we weren’t lovers…that we’re just brothers…I mean… Dammit, why is this so hard?... I’m not even gay, Sammy…or bi, really, I…I just seem to have something of a Sammy fetish.”
Dean stopped and glanced up at Sam with a small smile at his feeble attempt to make a joke. Sam had always wondered about that. Before he’d kissed Dean at that rest stop, he’d never really seen his brother with a guy. Of course, Sam himself was bi. He’d always known that, but he also knew that it was only because of his fixation on Dean at a young age. The fact that he was the sole reason for his brother’s attack had never really registered before now. He’d just thought the guys were assholes and used the gay thing as an excuse. The guilt that had been subdued since he’d found his brother lying in that parking lot flared up, suddenly making him sick. He was the reason? Oh, God.
Sam could see the tears welling up in his brother’s eyes, and he felt the matching pressure behind his own. Looking at Dean, looking into his so-very troubled eyes, all he wanted to do was pull the older man towards him and kiss the hurt out of his face. But, he knew that would be the wrong thing to do right now. Whatever happened next, Dean obviously needed to get this out.
Sam swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to prompt Dean to continue, to explain, to say he was joking. Anything but the unbearable silence. “So…you, uh…wanna leave? I…I don’t understand…I mean… What’s really going on here, Dean?”
Dean looked away again. He blinked his eyes rapidly in an attempt to clear the tears out, but one lone tear trailed down the right side of his face, breaking Sam’s heart with every centimeter. He took a deep breath and said, so softly Sam wasn’t sure he heard it, “I can’t protect you like this.”
Damn if that wasn’t a punch to the gut. Dean wanted to leave because of him? Because he couldn’t protect him? What the hell was that even supposed to mean? Was it because of his injuries? Yeah, they were extensive, but Sam had every intention of holing up someplace so they could both get some rest.
“Dean. You don’t need to protect me; I’m a grown man. I can take care of myself, you know. And, even if I did need your protection…sure, you’re hurt, but you’ll heal. You’ll get better and then we’ll get you back to full strength again. I know you’ll always have my ba - ”
Dean exploded. The empty coffee cup fell to floor as Dean shot up, shouting, “Dammit, Sammy! That’s not what I’m talking about here! I don’t care about my getting hurt; it wasn’t my first bar fight!”
Sam was shocked to see tears streaming down Dean’s cheeks, unchecked and seemingly unnoticed. The older man was physically trembling, hands clenched into fists at his sides. He closed his eyes tight, trying to hide the pain that Sam had seen there. He took one deep breath after another, holding the sobs at bay. When he finally did speak again, it was slowly, each word forced out, like he was on the verge of losing control.
“I can’t protect you if I can’t even protect myself!”
At that, Sam stood up too. He was trembling almost as violently as his brother and he knew he was seconds away from breaking down into a crying heap on the floor. He was not going to lose Dean, not out of some misguided duty. If Dean wanted to walk out the door, fine - but he’d better come up with a helluva better reason for doing so.
“No,” he spat out. “I’m not letting you do this, Dean. You are not fucking walking away from me because you’re think a danger to me, or what the fuck ever. Goddammit, Dean! Did you really think you could do this? Tell me you’re leaving because you think you screwed up by getting your ass kicked? Dean, none of that was your fault, not a single second. You’d had some alcohol and you were upset, both of those would be factors in severely lowering your inhibitions. Those guys were looking for trouble and you just served their purpose. So, don’t give me this bullshit about how you can’t protect yourself, because there is not one man alive who could protect himself against seven men!”
Sam finished his tirade and just stood there, staring, challenging. He was panting with the exertion of barely-controlled anger. He couldn’t believe this was happening, any of it. Dean was all he had left, especially since Dad was Godknowswhere once again. And now he was trying to walk out. With a shitty explanation, at that. At least when he’d left, he’d had a damn good reason; school was a great reason to leave a fucked up life. But, he didn’t view his life as being so fucked up anymore. He had Dean - brother, lover, protector, all in one - and he didn’t really see when he would ever need more. Dean was right all along; hunting was normal for them, and so, apparently, was sleeping with your brother. In all of his desire for normalcy, he had never once looked upon what he and Dean were as something wrong. It was more right than anything he’d ever felt and it always would be. He couldn’t fathom Dean believing that it was wrong either, no matter what happened.
Dean was just looking at him, sadness still an overwhelming force in his deep green eyes. He looked so much older than his 27 years. The lines around his eyes were deeper-set, only serving to make the dark circles underneath more noticeable. With the weight of what Sam had just said hanging in the air, his shoulders had slumped, all the tension draining out of his previously rigid body. He looked like he was coming apart at the seams - and he wouldn’t let Sam stitch him together this time. Sam wasn’t sure which part of that hurt more though: that his brother was hurting, or that he wasn’t allowed to fix it.
“You have to let me go, man.”
Sam shook his head, as if that act would erase those words. He looked at the ground and tried to keep the statement from making its way to his brain, to his memory. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t true. He owed Dean one.
He was shocked to look up and see that Dean was standing right in front of him now. Years of hunter training allowed the brothers to be quieter than mice if they wanted to, and it showed. Dean reached up and ran his fingers through his brother’s hair, bringing his head down so that their foreheads were resting against one another. He closed his eyes and could feel his brother’s heavy breathing blowing across the distance between their mouths and mixing with his own rapid exhalations.
“Sam…You need to do this for me. Please, man. You have to let me do this. I’ve given my whole life to you, every part of who I am...let me go now…please just do this for me. I need some time…to…to…figure things out. Sammy,” Dean’s voice broke on his name and he felt Dean’s lips close the distance and brush gently across his own. He could feel tears on his cheeks, but he had no idea if they were from his own eyes or from Dean’s - he figured maybe a mixture of both.
Dean pulled away, leaving Sam aching for more contact. He knew that he was going to let this happen; he was going to let Dean go and do whatever it was he needed to do. He’d left Dean once before and he saw the damage it had done. But, Dean hadn’t fought it. He hadn’t complained or yelled like their Dad. He’d driven Sam to the bus stop. He’d hugged his little brother goodbye, and was sure to slip an envelope stuffed with $700 in his jacket pocket. He needed to let Dean go, no matter how much it hurt.
When he finally opened his eyes, Dean had gotten most of his stuff packed up. He was sniffling and wiping his face in vain every 30 seconds or so to get rid of the tears that just kept coming. Sam hadn’t even bothered to try with his own face, knowing that it would just be wet again in two seconds flat. He sat down on the bed and pulled his shoes on. He was getting on a bus or he was taking Dean to get on a bus - either way, he’d need shoes.
He heard Dean clear his throat behind him before a tear-choked voice said, “Sammy…could you…do you think you could drive me to the bus station?”
Sam smiled slightly to himself, turning his head to look at his older brother. “Sure Dean…whatever you need.”
Dean returned the teary smile and nodded his head. “I’ll…uh…be in the car then.”
He grabbed his keys and his duffel bag and headed out the door.
Sam just sat on the bed for a minute, staring at the floor. He’d just agreed to let his brother walk out of his life, and he had no idea why. He also had no idea how he was going to manage to live without him now. Ever since Jessica’s death, there had only been one time they’d been truly separated and that was Sam’s fault for walking away. And, that was before they’d kissed. Just before, actually. He remembered the overwhelming sense of loss that he’d felt as he sat in the bus stop, listening to Dean talk about the scarecrow and say his goodbyes. Dean was such a big part of who he was now that he felt like his body was being split in half; like he was going to be constantly off-balance from here on out.
He stood up and wiped the tears from his face. This was the best thing for Dean, and in his heart of hearts, he knew that. But, he also knew that this was his fault. If he hadn’t started their “relationship,” or started the fight that night, Dean never would have been in the position to be attacked by those men. But, he had. And there was no erasing that. Dean was broken beyond his repair now, and if he needed to go somewhere to do the repairing himself, then that was okay. It had to be okay. Besides, Dean never said that he had to like the idea.
No matter what happened, he’d still have his brother. He just hoped that, if Dean - no, he couldn’t think like that. He hoped that when his brother returned, he would still have Dean. ‘Cause without Dean? There was no Sam.
4th Story - The Promise of Who You Are
*******
Please review!! Feedback is LOVE! :)
Series: Some Things Are Meant to Be
Author:
thelonejuliet
Character/Pairing: Sam, Dean
Word Count: 2,396
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Violence, language, incest
Disclaimer: I don't own them...they totally own me.
Spoilers: Maybe a slight one for In My Time of Dying, and Hunted.
Summary: Heavy decisions are made...
Author's Notes: My beta, the lovely and talented tempestquill (and her equally lovely sister), is wonderful beyond belief! And I owe them cookies of various delicious kinds!
Also!! This is turning into an AU. John is still alive and kicking - but he doesn't really come into play yet.
The title of this story/series comes from the song "Some Things are Meant to Be" from the musical, Little Women. Lyrics found here.
Previous Stories in the 'Verse - which you do need to read first -
Tide Turning Endlessly
All My Life, I've Live For Loving You...
...Let Me Go Now, Part One
* * *
When Sam awoke the next morning, he instantly noticed the cold spot on the bed next to him. He was up in second, eyes scouring the room frantically. No Dean. The shower wasn’t on, bathroom door wide open. He was fully dressed and just beginning to toe into his shoes, gun safely in hand, when the door to the room suddenly opened.
On instinct, he raised the gun - only to find he was aiming for his brother. Dean smiled warmly at him, and held up his left hand in surrender. In his right hand were two cups of coffee from the diner they’d seen next door. “Alright, Cowboy, you can put that away now.”
Sam clicked the safety back on and sighed, shaking his head. He looked up at Dean, irritated as all-get out and demanded, “What the hell were you thinking? Just leaving like that?”
Dean’s eyes widened in surprised innocence as he point to the pillow where his head had been. Sam, instantly feeling ridiculous, grabbed the motel stationery with Dean’s loose scrawl on it stating exactly where he was. He just let out a mumbled “Sorry,” and grabbed the coffee cup Dean was offering to him.
He sat back down on the bed, heavily. He didn’t know what to say or do now. Two weeks in the hospital, and neither one of them had brought up the fight that led to the whole ordeal. And, then, after last night…Well, he figured it was bound to come up sometime, so they may as well do it now.
Sam was just about to turn around and open his mouth when, behind him, he heard Dean say, “Uh… Sam? I think we need to talk.”
Sam turned around to see Dean standing rigidly, still not having moved from the entranceway, one hand in his pocket and the other gripping the coffee cup for dear life. Tension was written all across his face and in his shoulders. His eyes had something in them that Sam had never seen before. He couldn’t place the look on his brother’s face and that bothered him a lot more than the tense stance.
Dean gave him a half-hearted smile and nodded. He seemed like he was trying to work up the courage to say something, and that thought made the bottom drop out of Sam’s stomach. He suddenly felt incredibly nervous, and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to hear what Dean had to say. It couldn’t be good if Dean wanted to talk.
Dean walked over and sat stiffly on the edge of the bed. He leaned over and put his elbows on his knees, gripping the coffee cup in both hands, so hard his knuckles were white. He let out a heavy sigh and glanced up at Sam quickly before continuing, “You’re not going to like this. Okay? You’re going to fight me every step of the way, but I need you to hear me out before you say anything. Okay? I - …is that okay?”
At Sam’s nod, he went on once again. “I need to leave,” he said quickly, holding up a hand to stop Sam from interrupting, as he’d been ready to do. “We need to…I just need a little space. I…it’s not you… Sam, God, it’s not you. This…thing with us is throwing me off my game, man. The night…that night in the bar…I didn’t even try to explain to those bastards that we weren’t lovers…that we’re just brothers…I mean… Dammit, why is this so hard?... I’m not even gay, Sammy…or bi, really, I…I just seem to have something of a Sammy fetish.”
Dean stopped and glanced up at Sam with a small smile at his feeble attempt to make a joke. Sam had always wondered about that. Before he’d kissed Dean at that rest stop, he’d never really seen his brother with a guy. Of course, Sam himself was bi. He’d always known that, but he also knew that it was only because of his fixation on Dean at a young age. The fact that he was the sole reason for his brother’s attack had never really registered before now. He’d just thought the guys were assholes and used the gay thing as an excuse. The guilt that had been subdued since he’d found his brother lying in that parking lot flared up, suddenly making him sick. He was the reason? Oh, God.
Sam could see the tears welling up in his brother’s eyes, and he felt the matching pressure behind his own. Looking at Dean, looking into his so-very troubled eyes, all he wanted to do was pull the older man towards him and kiss the hurt out of his face. But, he knew that would be the wrong thing to do right now. Whatever happened next, Dean obviously needed to get this out.
Sam swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to prompt Dean to continue, to explain, to say he was joking. Anything but the unbearable silence. “So…you, uh…wanna leave? I…I don’t understand…I mean… What’s really going on here, Dean?”
Dean looked away again. He blinked his eyes rapidly in an attempt to clear the tears out, but one lone tear trailed down the right side of his face, breaking Sam’s heart with every centimeter. He took a deep breath and said, so softly Sam wasn’t sure he heard it, “I can’t protect you like this.”
Damn if that wasn’t a punch to the gut. Dean wanted to leave because of him? Because he couldn’t protect him? What the hell was that even supposed to mean? Was it because of his injuries? Yeah, they were extensive, but Sam had every intention of holing up someplace so they could both get some rest.
“Dean. You don’t need to protect me; I’m a grown man. I can take care of myself, you know. And, even if I did need your protection…sure, you’re hurt, but you’ll heal. You’ll get better and then we’ll get you back to full strength again. I know you’ll always have my ba - ”
Dean exploded. The empty coffee cup fell to floor as Dean shot up, shouting, “Dammit, Sammy! That’s not what I’m talking about here! I don’t care about my getting hurt; it wasn’t my first bar fight!”
Sam was shocked to see tears streaming down Dean’s cheeks, unchecked and seemingly unnoticed. The older man was physically trembling, hands clenched into fists at his sides. He closed his eyes tight, trying to hide the pain that Sam had seen there. He took one deep breath after another, holding the sobs at bay. When he finally did speak again, it was slowly, each word forced out, like he was on the verge of losing control.
“I can’t protect you if I can’t even protect myself!”
At that, Sam stood up too. He was trembling almost as violently as his brother and he knew he was seconds away from breaking down into a crying heap on the floor. He was not going to lose Dean, not out of some misguided duty. If Dean wanted to walk out the door, fine - but he’d better come up with a helluva better reason for doing so.
“No,” he spat out. “I’m not letting you do this, Dean. You are not fucking walking away from me because you’re think a danger to me, or what the fuck ever. Goddammit, Dean! Did you really think you could do this? Tell me you’re leaving because you think you screwed up by getting your ass kicked? Dean, none of that was your fault, not a single second. You’d had some alcohol and you were upset, both of those would be factors in severely lowering your inhibitions. Those guys were looking for trouble and you just served their purpose. So, don’t give me this bullshit about how you can’t protect yourself, because there is not one man alive who could protect himself against seven men!”
Sam finished his tirade and just stood there, staring, challenging. He was panting with the exertion of barely-controlled anger. He couldn’t believe this was happening, any of it. Dean was all he had left, especially since Dad was Godknowswhere once again. And now he was trying to walk out. With a shitty explanation, at that. At least when he’d left, he’d had a damn good reason; school was a great reason to leave a fucked up life. But, he didn’t view his life as being so fucked up anymore. He had Dean - brother, lover, protector, all in one - and he didn’t really see when he would ever need more. Dean was right all along; hunting was normal for them, and so, apparently, was sleeping with your brother. In all of his desire for normalcy, he had never once looked upon what he and Dean were as something wrong. It was more right than anything he’d ever felt and it always would be. He couldn’t fathom Dean believing that it was wrong either, no matter what happened.
Dean was just looking at him, sadness still an overwhelming force in his deep green eyes. He looked so much older than his 27 years. The lines around his eyes were deeper-set, only serving to make the dark circles underneath more noticeable. With the weight of what Sam had just said hanging in the air, his shoulders had slumped, all the tension draining out of his previously rigid body. He looked like he was coming apart at the seams - and he wouldn’t let Sam stitch him together this time. Sam wasn’t sure which part of that hurt more though: that his brother was hurting, or that he wasn’t allowed to fix it.
“You have to let me go, man.”
Sam shook his head, as if that act would erase those words. He looked at the ground and tried to keep the statement from making its way to his brain, to his memory. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t true. He owed Dean one.
He was shocked to look up and see that Dean was standing right in front of him now. Years of hunter training allowed the brothers to be quieter than mice if they wanted to, and it showed. Dean reached up and ran his fingers through his brother’s hair, bringing his head down so that their foreheads were resting against one another. He closed his eyes and could feel his brother’s heavy breathing blowing across the distance between their mouths and mixing with his own rapid exhalations.
“Sam…You need to do this for me. Please, man. You have to let me do this. I’ve given my whole life to you, every part of who I am...let me go now…please just do this for me. I need some time…to…to…figure things out. Sammy,” Dean’s voice broke on his name and he felt Dean’s lips close the distance and brush gently across his own. He could feel tears on his cheeks, but he had no idea if they were from his own eyes or from Dean’s - he figured maybe a mixture of both.
Dean pulled away, leaving Sam aching for more contact. He knew that he was going to let this happen; he was going to let Dean go and do whatever it was he needed to do. He’d left Dean once before and he saw the damage it had done. But, Dean hadn’t fought it. He hadn’t complained or yelled like their Dad. He’d driven Sam to the bus stop. He’d hugged his little brother goodbye, and was sure to slip an envelope stuffed with $700 in his jacket pocket. He needed to let Dean go, no matter how much it hurt.
When he finally opened his eyes, Dean had gotten most of his stuff packed up. He was sniffling and wiping his face in vain every 30 seconds or so to get rid of the tears that just kept coming. Sam hadn’t even bothered to try with his own face, knowing that it would just be wet again in two seconds flat. He sat down on the bed and pulled his shoes on. He was getting on a bus or he was taking Dean to get on a bus - either way, he’d need shoes.
He heard Dean clear his throat behind him before a tear-choked voice said, “Sammy…could you…do you think you could drive me to the bus station?”
Sam smiled slightly to himself, turning his head to look at his older brother. “Sure Dean…whatever you need.”
Dean returned the teary smile and nodded his head. “I’ll…uh…be in the car then.”
He grabbed his keys and his duffel bag and headed out the door.
Sam just sat on the bed for a minute, staring at the floor. He’d just agreed to let his brother walk out of his life, and he had no idea why. He also had no idea how he was going to manage to live without him now. Ever since Jessica’s death, there had only been one time they’d been truly separated and that was Sam’s fault for walking away. And, that was before they’d kissed. Just before, actually. He remembered the overwhelming sense of loss that he’d felt as he sat in the bus stop, listening to Dean talk about the scarecrow and say his goodbyes. Dean was such a big part of who he was now that he felt like his body was being split in half; like he was going to be constantly off-balance from here on out.
He stood up and wiped the tears from his face. This was the best thing for Dean, and in his heart of hearts, he knew that. But, he also knew that this was his fault. If he hadn’t started their “relationship,” or started the fight that night, Dean never would have been in the position to be attacked by those men. But, he had. And there was no erasing that. Dean was broken beyond his repair now, and if he needed to go somewhere to do the repairing himself, then that was okay. It had to be okay. Besides, Dean never said that he had to like the idea.
No matter what happened, he’d still have his brother. He just hoped that, if Dean - no, he couldn’t think like that. He hoped that when his brother returned, he would still have Dean. ‘Cause without Dean? There was no Sam.
4th Story - The Promise of Who You Are
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Please review!! Feedback is LOVE! :)