Follow You Home - Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Miles of open road stretched before Sam as he drove. Over the past few days he’d taken to travelling only during the very early morning when there was hardly any other traffic on the roads. Once the roads started to get busy he would find a place to stop for the day. Today, he wasn’t stopping.
Out of habit, he’d still been reading newspapers and checking online for signs of a hunt. The day before, he’d come across one description that had sounded suspiciously like Dean - a murder, someone like Dean had been seen driving away from a burning body - and he needed to check it out. Dean had asked him not to go looking for him but if his brother was in trouble he had to help him, had to at least make sure that he was alright.
He put his foot down, pushing the latest rental car faster and faster as he got further away from civilisation. His fingers tapped anxiously against the steering wheel as he drove; what if he was too late? What if Dean had been arrested, or worse? It would all be his fault.
“Relax, Sam.”
He jumped in his seat and only just managed to keep control of the car.
“Dammit, Cas.”
The angel coughed. “Sorry.”
“And what do you mean, calm down? Dean could be-”
“Dean is absolutely fine. He’s looking for you, actually.” Castiel looked out of the window, watching the cornfields as they rushed by.
He eased his foot off the pedal slightly, “He’s okay?”
“Yes. He was a little…injured but nothing serious.”
“Are you sure? Because Dean can be stubborn when he wants to, he’ll hide pain and-”
“I’m sure, Sam.”
He pulled over to the side of the road and looked down at his hands as they stopped shaking.
“He’s coming back to you, just as I said he would.”
If Sam didn’t know better, he’d say that Castiel was smirking. “But, why?”
“That’s not my place to say. You’ll find out soon enough, anyway. All you need to do now is find a motel and stay there until he finds you.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
“Good luck, Sam.” And Castiel was gone.
---
Sam had done exactly what Castiel had told him to; he’d driven on to the next town, found the first motel and had gotten himself a room - two singles. He’d spent the day researching demons, trying to find something that might help himself understand his own actions. But there had been nothing; it seemed that he was the only person on record who had allowed himself to be seduced -corrupted - that much by a demon.
Now, he paced up and down the room wondering when Dean was going to arrive, hoping that he wasn’t going to have to wait another night. Outside, the streetlamps were beginning to flicker on and some dogs were barking in the distance. Somewhere, Dean was driving towards him; ready to either return to him or cut him off for good.
In the car, earlier, he had felt hopeful; Castiel had seemed to be almost happy and he’d taken it as a good sign. But the hours that he’d spent worrying since had made him convince himself that it was the opposite. After all, why would an angel condone what he felt? Surely Castiel must have been happy because Dean was going to reject him.
That had to be it. Dean was going to leave for good. He stopped pacing and sat down on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on the door, his mind made up. If Dean was going to leave him, he was going to make it as easy as possible for his older brother; he wouldn’t cry - not until Dean had gone - and he wouldn’t try to stop him from going. It would be hard and it would hurt but, really, it was the least that he could do.
He swallowed, hard, as he heard the Impala’s familiar engine and crossed over to the window. Dean got out of the car and began walking towards the room, slower than usual. Sam frowned; Castiel had said that the injuries weren’t serious. As Dean got nearer, Sam moved back into the middle of the room and tried to calm himself down. He needed to stay strong, for Dean.
The door clicked open and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling because Dean was right there, in the same room as him. He looked tired; there was a cut on his forehead that hadn’t been patched up properly and his freckles were standing out more than usual against his too pale skin. As he watched, Dean lifted his head and smiled at him.
“Hi, Sammy.” He shut the door quietly behind him and made his way across the room, wincing slightly as he moved. He looked at Sam on his way, glad to see that he was unhurt and looking healthier than he had been the last time they’d been together.
“You’re hurt.”
Dean smirked, “Only a little bit.”
“That’s not funny, Dean.”
Dean lowered himself down onto one of the beds and pulled his shirt off over his head in one fluid motion.
“Um, Dean, what are you doing?”
“Don’t you want to check out my injuries? Make sure I’m not going to bleed out or whatever.”
“Right. Right, I thought - well, it doesn’t matter what I thought.”
Dean’s smirk appeared again, “I’m not that easy, Sammy.”
He blushed, and then scowled at Dean. “Jerk. Stay still, then.” He pulled back the dressings on Dean’s stomach and grimaced at the four deep scratches there. “Damn, Dean. What did this to you?”
Dean cleared his throat, “I don’t actually remember.”
On his way to get the first aid kit, Sam froze and turned around to look at Dean. “You don’t remember? I thought you said you were okay?”
“The son of a bitch knocked me out cold for a while and then tried to finish me off when I woke up. I remember everything, Sam, except from that hunt.”
Slightly calmer, he grabbed their first aid kit and began to clean the scratches. “Anything else I should know about?”
Dean took a deep breath. This was it; there would be no going back.
“Well, you should know that I’m not going to leave you again.”
“What?” Sam stepped away slightly.
“I’m not leaving, okay. I’m here to stay. Well, not here in this motel room but here with you.” Grunting slightly with the effort, he pushed himself up off the bed and grabbed hold of Sam’s shoulder.
“I still don’t-”
“Okay, just listen to me for a minute, Sam. I-damn.” He shook his head and turned away.
“Dean?”
“I love you, too, okay.” Dean pressed his hand up against the wall, “I love you, too.”
“Wh-what?”
“You heard me. I’m in love with you and no matter how hard I try not to be, I can’t stop it.”
Sam ran a hand over his mouth, walked up behind Dean and gently pulled his hand away from the wall.
“So don’t stop, Dean.” He stayed close as Dean turned around and he could feel his brother’s breath on his cheek as they stood, looking at each other.
No going back. “Okay then, Sammy.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
Dean surged forward and Sam readied himself for a kiss, or a punch, or something. He wasn’t prepared for his brother wrapping himself around him.
“Hugging, Dean. Really?”
“Don’t ruin the moment, Sam.”
“I won’t,” He smiled, “Never thought there would be a moment.” He pulled his arm a little tighter around Dean.
“You’re such a girl, Sammy.”
“Now who’s ruining the moment?”
Dean laughed, “Shut up.”
He shut up.
---
Sam grinned as he shoved clothes into his duffel; Dean had gone out to grab breakfast and then they were going to hit the road. Together. The night before, after they’d hugged - a lot - Dean had asked if they could wait a while before talking. After Sam had pushed him for a reason why, he’d finally admitted that he wanted to enjoy the first night of their whatever-it-is without worrying about everything else. They’d shared a bed, pressed up against each other and had woken up wrapped around one another.
“Are you going to stop smiling any time soon?”
He turned to see Dean standing in the doorway with a matching grin on his face. “No. Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, whenever you are.”
Sam zipped up the duffel and slung it over his shoulder, paused in the doorway next to Dean.
“We are going to talk about this, right?”
“Yeah, we’ll talk. Just, give me some time. This - it’s all new, okay. And I still haven’t got my head around the demon blood.”
It still stung; the disappointed look on Dean’s face when he talked about it.
“Sorry, Sam. I didn’t mean-”
“You know, I get that you’re disgusted with me, that you think I’m some kind of a freak.” He was shouting now, pressing Dean up against the doorway, “But you seem to be forgetting that it worked. I killed Lilith.”
He reeled back as Dean’s fist made contact with his jaw and, damn, his brother really hadn’t held back.
“Do you really think that that makes everything okay, Sam?” Now, it was Dean who had Sam cornered and it didn’t look like he was letting him move anytime soon. “Because it doesn’t. We would have found another way to kill Lilith. Hell, it was supposed to be me who killed her anyway. Are you really so damn stupid that you can’t see that nothing, nothing could make what you did right?”
“Oh right, because you’re so perfect. You’re the one who started this whole thing. You made that stupid deal. You refused to try and find a way to stop it. You tortured people in hell. You broke the first seal.”
“How can you-” Dean stepped away and moved into the room, all fight gone, “How can you tell me that you- that you love me and then say something like that?”
He was angry - angrier than he’d felt in days - but Dean’s words still made him feel guilty and he didn’t want to make it any worse. “I need some air.” He turned to leave and hesitated, “Just, don’t leave again. Please.”
Sam closed the door quietly behind him.
Cursing, Dean made to follow him then thought better of it; they’d only end up shouting again if he forced Sam to stay and talk. He sank down onto the bed and punched the mattress; he hadn’t wanted to fight with Sam, not so soon after they’d met up again. This time, Sam had left and he couldn’t decide whether that was good or not; it had stopped them from fighting but his brother hadn’t answered his question. Maybe Sam had realised that he wasn’t worth it, that he didn’t really love him.
He jumped as his cell phone rang and then accepted the call.
“Dean, I’m on my way back. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left.”
He relaxed slightly at the sound of Sam’s voice, “It’s okay - I get it.”
“No, it’s not okay. I’ll be there soon. I love you.”
“I - I’ll see you soon.” He hung up, took several deep breaths and lay back on the bed to wait for Sam.
---
Sam tucked his cell phone back into his pocket and rested his head back against the wall that he was leaning against. He’d hurt Dean more than he’d realised by walking out and it was going to take a lot to repair the damage that he’d done. For once, his older brother had been honest with him, had asked him a question, his emotions on display, and he’d just walked away.
He’d regretted it instantly and had almost gone straight back into the motel room but he’d needed a chance to calm down. They were never going to agree about Ruby, about the blood, but there was no way that he was going to let that force them apart.
He pushed himself off the wall, and walked back across the parking lot towards their room. He hadn’t gone far. Outside the door, he hesitated. What if they just started fighting again? He shook his head; he wasn’t going to let that happen.
Inside, Dean was talking on his cell phone. He span around as Sam walked through the door, apologised to Bobby, and ended the call.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Dean.”
He nodded, “Me too. I didn’t - don’t - want us to fight. Not again.”
“Me neither,” he stepped in front of Dean, placed his hands on his hips, “Can - can I kiss you?”
“Fuck, Sam. Of course you can.”
Dean surged forwards and pressed his mouth to Sam’s, winding an arm around his waist. Sam pushed back against him, grabbed hold of Dean’s thighs and pulled him up.
“Fuck, yes.”
Dean slid his tongue inside Sam’s mouth as he wrapped his legs around Sam’s waist, hands tangled in his hair. Sam held on tighter, scraping his teeth across Dean’s lower lip before kissing him again, smiling against Dean’s mouth as he felt his hands grip his shoulders. He walked as they kissed until he felt his knees hit the bed and then he stopped, lowered Dean down onto the bed and stood back to look at him. Face flushed and panting, his legs spread open as he gazed up at Sam.
“Dean.”
“What?” He reached out for Sam’s hand, pulled him down onto the bed.
He landed on top of Dean, pushed himself up so that he was holding his own weight, “You’re fucking hot.”
He snorted, “I know.” He moved to kiss Sam again but hands found his shoulders, pushed him back against the mattress.
“I love you.” That said, he leaned down to press his lips to Dean’s and pushed his hands up underneath his shirt, touching the warm skin beneath his fingers.
“You’re such a,” he gasped, arched his back as Sam’s hand found a nipple, “girl.”
Sam pulled Dean’s top up and over his head, tossed it onto the floor, “Believe me, I’m no girl.”
“Yeah?” He pressed his hand against Sam’s crotch, “Prove it.”
He didn’t speak, just tugged down the zipper on his brother’s jeans, pulled them off along with his boxers and added them both to the mess on the floor. He rocked back on his knee for a moment, taking in the sight.
“Sam. Come on, man. Don’t leave me hanging.”
Sam didn’t move.
He growled and reached for the zipper on Sam’s jeans, growled when Sam’s hand knocked his own away, “If you don’t-” He stopped speaking as Sam moved off the bed, already unbuttoning his shirt, “Freaking finally.”
Sam laughed as he rejoined him on the bed, “Impatient, much? You know,” He reached down and wrapped his hand around Dean’s cock, “I’ve been waiting much, much longer.” He pulled his hand away again, “Maybe I should make you wait.”
“Fucker. Sam, just, come on.” His hips moved involuntarily, snapping up against Sam’s and he moaned as their cocks finally touched. Sam leaned down, covered his mouth with his own as they moved against each other, flesh sliding against flesh.
Sam brushed his thumb over one of Dean’s nipples, his hips jolting at Dean’s gasp. He was babbling now, words that didn’t even make sense but he knew that Dean would understand him. Dean always had. He reached for the nipple again, scraped his nails over it gently and that was all it took. Throwing his head back, Dean came, hips still moving against Sam’s and Sam followed, lips meeting Dean’s as he climaxed.
He collapsed down, groaned as Dean shoved him over onto his side and threw an arm out, pulling Dean towards him. Dean huffed but settled against him, tangled their fingers together.
Sam squeezed Dean’s hand, “I can’t believe we fought the day after we got together. I’m sorry.”
“That’s just the way we work, Sam.” He moved closer, “How’s the whole blood thing going?”
“Better.”
“Good.”
“We should - Dean, we should clean up.”
He yawned, shook his head against Sam’s chest, “Later.”
“Okay, but don’t complain when-”
“Shut up, Sam”
They were silent for a minute or two, Sam’s thumb brushing against Dean’s hand as their breathing slowed.
“Sam?” Dean shifted so that his chin was on Sam’s shoulder, his face pressed into Sam’s neck.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t ever leave.”
He turned his head, met Dean’s lips with his own, “I won’t. Ever.”
---
Dean threw his muddy jacket down on the floor and began to pull his top off over his head, cursing the spirit that they’d just killed. He swore again when the material got caught and tugged at it as he walked, scowling when his knees hit the bed.
Laughing, Sam stepped forwards and touched his hands to Dean’s sides, stilling him. He left them there for a moment, running his thumbs back and forwards across Dean’s stomach before moving his hands up and pulling the t-shirt the rest of the way off.
He smiled as he took in the sight of Dean, face flushed, his hair mussed up. Slowly - slower than he’d thought possible - he leaned forwards, placed his hand on the back of Dean’s neck and pressed his forehead up against Dean’s. He could feel Dean’s breath against his face, soft puffs of air that made his nose wrinkle. Dean licked his lips, no sign of the familiar smirk on his face.
“This,” He linked his hand with Dean’s, “This is what I wanted.”
Dean smiled and tilted his head so that his lips met Sam’s. There was no force, no urgency, just a soft, lazy press of lips against lips. They pulled apart, breathing easily and Dean gripped Sam’s hips. The smirk was back.
“Was that all you wanted, Sam?”
He laughed, his head thrown back, dimples out full-force, “There might have been something else.”
“Hmm,” Dean shifted even closer, “Show me.”
He pulled Dean flush against his body, ran his tongue along the shell of his ear and then pulled away, “Maybe later.” He stepped backwards.
“What?”
“We’ve got laundry to do.”
Dean cursed and shoved him even further away, “Dick.”
He smirked, reached out and pulled Dean back towards him, “I’m only teasing. I’d never hold out on you, Dean.” His tone was suddenly serious; he needed Dean to know that he could always count on him, “This is it now, you and me. This is it.”
It should have felt wrong; his little brother kissing him, sucking on his collarbone, tugging his jeans down. But all he felt was an overwhelming sense of right, of home. This was it.
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