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For Warnings and Summary, see Master Post
Part Eleven
They’d had it out with Bobby, and, after a long battle, the man had grudgingly agreed to leave his house. The plan was to take off before nightfall. Dean couldn’t deny his defensive irritation on his brother’s behalf. Sam had been jumpy, edgy, since he’d woken up, and it had only gotten worse during their argument with Bobby. Sam seemed to think that they should leave right away, but he’d looked like he was about to drop by the time Bobby finally conceded the point. The man was a fucking genius. He couldn’t see that his stubbornness was affecting Sam?
And then Sam had looked at Dean stupidly when Dean had ordered him back to bed. There wasn’t a hint of defiance in his eyes, just complete and utter exhaustion. For a moment, it had looked like Sam had wanted to protest, but he’d merely turned and trudged listlessly up the stairs. Dean had followed Sam up, but Sam had simply fallen into his bed as soon as he’d walked into the room, and was out equally as fast.
There wasn’t much to do; Dean was done throwing their stuff into bags in less than five minutes, and then he’d just stood there in the middle of the room, watching Sam sleep. Sam slept fitfully, small whimpers and moans escaping every so often, and while he’d certainly had nightmares before Ruby, he’d never really shown them. Not like this.
This felt… unnatural, wrong. Sam was emo on the best of days, but his brother was usually pretty damn stoic about it. Dean pushed his fears down. Sam had seemed okay when they’d talked earlier. This was just another dream. Sam would get over them eventually.
Suddenly tired himself, he sat down on the small bed next to his brother. It was a tight fit for both of them – Sam’s arm was pressed against Dean’s lower back where he perched on the edge of the bed, warm and slightly sweaty. Dean listed to the side, and his head hit the pillow a moment later.
He should feel awkward about sharing a twin-sized bed with his little brother. Hell, he should feel awkward about the fact that he’d kissed Sam earlier. He knew this. Well, at least, intellectually he knew it. His time in hell had left his instincts a little deadened to the concepts of right and wrong, but he hadn’t forgotten the rules. People aren’t supposed to want to fuck their brothers. …and he didn’t, not really… but he couldn’t deny that being so close to Sam had filled something, something that he’d been missing in his soul, missing so long that he hadn’t even realized the absence.
His eyes were burning, and he jabbed his fingers into them angrily. He’d resisted Cas’ idea, at first, not because the idea of sex with Sam repulsed him, not like it might have 40 years ago, but because he sure as fuck hadn’t wanted to do the deed while Sam was so completely screwed up by whatever Lucifer had done to him.
“Dean…”
The quiet, forlorn whimper froze Dean’s heart in his chest. Shit. It was impossible to know why Sam had said his name, but Dean couldn’t quite keep himself from thinking the worst. He sat up slowly, guilt driving him to turn and peer closely at Sam’s face in an effort to determine if it was his presence that was upsetting his brother.
“Dean!”
Sam started shaking, silent tears sneaking out from under his closed lids, his head thrashing in denial, and there was suddenly no question that it was not Dean that was hurting Sam in the dream. Dean crumpled over Sam’s sleeping form, pulling Sam into his arms in a tight embrace. “Shhh,” he whispered, trying his best to sound soothing instead of frantic. “Shhh…”
“Dean!!!” Sam screamed out.
It sounded like Sam’s heart was being ripped out of his chest, and Dean rocked him roughly, more than half hoping it would wake Sam up despite his need for sleep. “Shhh, Sam. It’s okay…” Dean murmured.
Sam didn’t listen to Dean’s unvoiced hope, however. His sobs increased – hopeless anguished cries of, “Dean, Dean…No. No.”
“Sam, I’m here. I’m right here.”
Sam’s face abruptly morphed into a rictus of anger and pain, and he started thrashing blindly, throwing frantic punches that would have probably hurt if he’d been alert enough to land them. Dean grappled Sam, forced to use a full body pin to keep Sam from hurting either one of them. “I’m here. Please wake up,” Dean begged, “God, Sam, please wake up…”
Sam went still in Dean’s arms, and for some reason, that was even more terrifying than Sam’s angry tears had been.
“YES!” Sam suddenly screamed, loud and angry enough to wake the dead. Sam’s eyes snapped open, seeing nothing, and he arched up under Dean, every muscle in his body rigid with tension.
“Sam!” Dean’s voice was sharp, maybe too sharp, but at least it finally seemed to do something. Sam collapsed down, his long gorilla arms wrapping securely around Dean as he curled himself close against Dean’s body like he was never going to let Dean go.
His eyes fluttered closed again, and his breathing slowly evened out as he relaxed into Dean’s embrace.
“Good, Sammy, that’s good. I’m right here. I’m not leaving.” Dean held Sam carefully, soothing a hand through his hair over and over again, hoping against desperate hope for Sam to simply fall back into a dreamless sleep. For once, somebody seemed to listen to his prayer.
~o0O0o~
“Samuel… time to wake up, now.”
Sam wakes up with a muffled scream. “No… no…” he pleads to no one in particular, the words helplessly whispered. It’s over. It’s supposed to be over.
“Shhh…” Nick soothes. “Did you really think you could win so easily?” He laughs derisively. “You really are stupid.”
Sam opens his eyes, and Bobby’s room swims into view through his tired eyes. No. No, this isn’t…
Lucifer grabs him by the hair and drags him roughly over to the bed, pushing him forward to sprawl over the edge. Sam tries to jerk back, but Lucifer grips his neck, and pushes his head face down into the mattress. He can’t breathe through the heavy layers of blankets and thick mattress fabric, and he flails his arms and legs wildly to try to push Lucifer away, but it has no effect. His world narrows down to gasping in warm, stuffy air through the material and into his starving lungs, a struggle that gets increasingly harder as his despairing tears leave the material damp.
Lucifer reaches around and grabs his dick, holding it tightly, and Sam realizes he’s already hard and aching. Something sharp prods at the tip, and Sam rears back into Lucifer’s arms as, once more, the painful burn of the rod sinks into him, slides slowly deeper, leaving him more violated than anal penetration ever has. His dick aches with the flame that’s licking up inside of him. Suddenly, he has to pee so bad it feels like he’s going to burst, but there’s nothing he can do about it now; even his ability to deal with his own bodily functions has been stolen from him.
The rod bottoms out. Lucifer rubs over the tip of his dick, using the small ball at the end to spin the metal around and around. He can feel it moving against his insides as he ineffectively shrinks back, until his ass is grinding against Lucifer’s dick. Lucifer chuckles cruelly and whispers, “You ready for the rest of it?” Without waiting for an answer, he roughly shoves the piercing through the side of Sam’s dick and the ring is snapped closed. The pain can’t get much worse, Sam thinks hopelessly, but then Lucifer grabs his testicles and twists.
Sam screams, praying for Dean, for Cas, for anyone to come save him. He doesn’t deserve this; no one does.
“You need to be punished, child,” Lucifer says coldly, “for what you tried to do. And I think you no longer have any need for these.”
Lucifer twists harder, pulling down at the same time, and he can feel the moment the skin splits.
He screams again, loud enough shred his vocal cords.
“Sam!” Dean yells, slamming the door open. Sam throws a fearful look towards the door – No, he hadn’t meant it, not really. Dean’s not supposed to be here.
“No!” Sam screams again. “No, please, Dean. Get out of here!”
Lucifer pushes Sam to the ground, and Sam’s legs give out, refuse to move at all beyond the tremors jerking through them as Lucifer crowds Dean against the wall.
“Say yes and this all stops, Sam,” Lucifer growls.
“Sam, please!” Dean yells desperately.
Lucifer spins Dean around and slams him face first into the wall, and Dean’s naked, his ass on display as Lucifer pushes a couple of fingers deep inside.
“Say yes.” Lucifer orders.
Sam can’t talk, can’t even whisper as he lays on the floor, watching his brother’s violation. All four fingers are inside of Dean now, and blood is already dripping from his hole. Dean’s pleading already, “Sam, please! Don’t let him do this. You can’t let him do this to me!”
“For the last time, Sam. Say yes,” Lucifer adds coldly, his voice easily sounding over Dean’s helpless stream of words.
Lucifer squeezes his thumb inside along with his fingers. His entire hand pushes in, up Dean’s ass, buried to the wrist. Dean goes incoherent, his frantic entreaties devolving into wounded screams and sobs.
It’s on the tip of Sam’s tongue to say yes. He can’t bear to watch this anymore. He opens his mouth to say it.
“Too late,” Lucifer whispers. He reaches out, and the sound of Dean’s neck snapping echoes around the room. Lucifer yanks his hand free and tosses Dean’s limp body to the floor in front of the bedroom door. Sam screams, his heart ripped from his body as he crawls forward to reach his brother’s body.
“Dean!” he sobs.
Lucifer grabs him by the hair again and flings him back against the far wall, laughing when Sam again tries to crawl forward to reach his brother, lets him get halfway there before Lucifer picks him up and flings him back once more.
“Dean!” It’s the only word he has left, and he can’t give up the fight, even though Lucifer’s laughter is turning manic, clown-like.
“Shhh, Sam. It’s okay!”
“Dean,” he begs, “Dean…” he collapses to the floor, sobbing out his anguish. His brother can’t be dead. He can’t be.
“Sam, I’m here. I’m right here.”
Lucifer’s words stab at his heart. He doesn’t want the monster here. Not at Bobby’s. Not when they were supposed to be safe. He launches himself at the devil, he knows he can’t win, but he’s intent only on hurting, on maiming. Lucifer wards Sam off easily, wraps his arms around Sam, pinning him against his chest as he sits them together on the bed.
“I’m here. Please, wake up. God, Sam, please, wake up…”
Lucifer’s rocking him back and forth, as if he’s trying to comfort, and the very idea is ridiculous, but Dean’s blank eyes are still staring up at him accusingly, and there’s nothing Sam can do.
“Dean,” he whispers mournfully. An inferno of white hot rage suddenly tears through him so hard he has to yell it out or it’s going to take him out. He’s done. There’s nothing left for him anymore. Everything is pain and suffering. He’s never been allowed to be happy, has sacrificed everything and for what? The fucking world has never done anything to deserve his protection. It doesn’t matter what happens, because there’s nothing left to care about anymore. Nothing.
“YES!” he screams his assent with hate and fury. “Make it end, make it all end!”
“Sam!” Dean’s voice was sharp, and he was wrapped around Sam like he was never going to let him go. Sam collapsed into his brother’s arms, not sure what the tears falling ceaselessly down his face were about: relief, grief, anger… all his emotions had bleed together in a tangled mess, and all he really cared about was the fact that Dean was holding him, and he was never going to have to watch his brother leave again.
His eyes fell closed, his breathing leveling out slowly as he relaxed into the embrace.
“Good, Sammy, that’s good. I’m right here. I’m not leaving.” Dean was holding him carefully, carding a hand through his hair again and again – a ceaseless offer of comfort that Sam couldn’t be anything but grateful for. He let himself be pulled into the quiet peace. His thoughts scattered, and he slept.
~o0O0o~
Dean was too busy watching his brother sleep to get any for himself, but he wasn’t in anywhere near as rough shape as Sam was, so it didn’t matter that much. He hadn’t exactly missed the weight loss, the paleness, the dark smudges under Sam’s eyes, eyes that never smiled anymore, but he hadn’t really acknowledged the problem either. He’d assumed it was Sam’s deserved penance for not listening to Dean and starting the apocalypse, and then later, he’d assumed it was the demon blood again, something Sam was doing to himself despite every objection Dean had been able to raise.
He’d let himself be so fucking wounded by the things Sam had done after he went to hell for the little shit… that he’d never even entertained the notion that something else could be causing Sam to look like he was fading away.
He struggled to pull up memories of his time before hell. Cas had distanced Dean’s memories of that place when he’d pulled Dean out, and time had faded everything else, leaving his entire past muted, colorless. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud. He knew it was a weakness he couldn’t afford to show.
Sam had laughed sometimes though, before Dean had made his deal, laughed even more when he was younger, before he’d run away to Stanford, before he’d hit puberty. That inherent happiness had been beaten out of him, beaten out of them both, really, until neither one of them could focus on anything good.
If it was the last thing he did, he needed to find a way to put that smile back on Sam’s face. Otherwise, neither one of them had anything left to fight for.
Sam twitched, let out a small whimper, and Dean couldn’t help the tension and worry that forced his arms tighter around his brother. He blinked back the burning wetness in his eyes. Sam needed him to be strong. Somehow, Dean was going to have to find a way to be what Sam needed again. Not because Sam was weak or because he was too self-involved to see what he was doing to Dean, but because every evil thing in the universe seemed to be hell-bent on forcing them into pre-ordained roles.
They’d both been manipulated until they couldn’t see anything clearly anymore. That ended. Now.
It looked like Sam was slowly relaxing, and Dean released the breath he’d been holding. Sam was slipping back into a deeper, more restful sleep. Thank God.
Dean’s heart almost leapt out of his chest when Sam suddenly jerked himself backwards, pulling himself forcefully from Dean’s hold.
“Sam?” Dean muttered, a vague, uneasy discomfort crawling through his stomach. He reached out, intending to put a hand on Sam’s arm.
The response was immediate. Panic filled Sam’s widening eyes and he scrambled backwards, almost instantly hitting the side of the small bed and tumbling off backwards to land in a tangled mess on the floor.
Dean leaned forward to look over the edge at Sam, not sure if it would be better to offer a hand or simply leave the bedroom to give Sam some space.
Avoidance wasn’t going to get rid of the elephant in the room, though. “God, Sam, please don’t keep pushing me away like this. We…” Dean took in a deep, hitching breath. “We need to talk.”
“I said yes…How could I say yes?” Sam muttered. He was shaking and sweaty, his eyes wide and far away, not quite seeing Dean.
Fear crawled up Dean’s spine as he tried to make sense of Sam’s words. “What?” Dean replied in confusion.
Sam’s eyes snapped to Dean’s at the question, his breaths speeding up even more, until Dean was starting to think Sam was going to hyperventilate. “I take it back. Please, I… I take it back…” Sam was frantic, his tone pleading, his words a desperate spill from his lips as he crawled back into the corner of the room and covered his head with his arms, hiding his face. “I’m sorry… Oh, God, I take it back… please… I take it back…”
Dean stared at his usually stoic younger brother who seemed to be literally falling apart, and he was only barely able to keep the panicked tears inside his fucking head. He cautiously moved off the bed and gripped Sam’s arms, gently pulling them down before ducking to try and catch Sam’s gaze. “Sam, calm down, please. You… you gotta tell me what’s wrong. I can’t help you if you keep shutting me out.”
“You aren’t Dean,” Sam spat, rage twisting his features and voice between one heartbeat and the next. “Get the hell away from me! Better I burn in hell than this...”
“What? Sam, I…” Dream Sam was reacting to something he had dreamed, that’s all. Sam clearly thought it wasn’t though – he thought he’d said yes to Lucifer for real. The anguish in Sam’s eyes was an arrow through Dean’s soul. “Sam, it was a dream, okay? Whatever you think happened, it was just a dream.”
“No, I…”
Dean cut Sam’s protest off, not even caring to hear what it was. “No, no, Sam. You didn’t,” Dean said forcefully. “We blocked him, remember? Lucifer’s not here to say yes to. It’s okay, it was just a dream.”
Dean grew a little braver, put both of his hands on Sam’s shoulders and gently rubbed them over the thin t-shirt that Sam had been sleeping in. He could feel the fearful tremors shaking through Sam’s heavy frame easing back slightly as he looked at Dean. Dean’s gut twisted in on itself – Sam’s eyes were liquid pools of terror. For all of Sam’s emo tendencies, he was the strongest man Dean knew. This was…
“It’s not…” Sam whispered in a small, little-boy voice. “If… Why is he still finding me when I sleep, then?”
Dean slowly pulled Sam close, worried Sam might push him away at any moment, but the shaking was increasing again, turning almost violent, and Dean couldn’t keep his distance any more than he could stop breathing.
“Shhh…” he muttered, pressing his lips to the top of Sam’s head. “I’m so sorry, Sammy. God, I’m so… I know I let you down, okay? I wrecked everything, but… you gotta let me fix this. It was just a nightmare. That’s all. Just a nightmare.”
Sam crumpled forward into Dean’s embrace, huddling into Dean’s arms like he’d never done, even as a child. It was like holding a stranger, and Dean could barely hold back his rage – just another thing the monsters had taken from him… from them. They stayed knotted together on the floor for a while, Sam crying in Dean’s arms, holding on like he was afraid Dean would disappear. Shame gradually added itself to the knot of emotions twisting in his stomach – he’d given Sam so much shit for running away, and then he’d turned around and done exactly the same thing.
Sam’s tears gradually faded, but Dean wasn’t allowed any time to feel relief. Sam started tensing up, his breathing matching pace, almost as soon as his drying tears registered. His agitation sucked any last bits of lingering comfort from the room.
“How do I know what’s…” Sam started to choke out, and then his voice abruptly cut out and his eyes widened with terror. He started scrambling out of Dean’s arms, raw panic etched into every line of his body.
Desperate to go back to the calm they’d been sharing only moments before, Dean clutched at his brother, trying to pull him back into his arms. “Sam…”
“No!” Sam shouted. He swung, catching Dean square on his chin, slamming him to the floor. Sam was up and running before Dean had a chance to recover, a chance to pull his brother back.
He stumbled as quickly as he could to his feet and dashed out into the hallway. Sam was standing at the head of the stairs, back to Dean, looking frantically back and forth between the front door at the bottom and the bathroom, which… What the fuck? Dean cautiously approached Sam, and placed a soft hand against Sam’s back.
Sam whirled around, at the same time stepping back away from Dean, and suddenly he was tumbling backwards down the stairs. At least Sam knew how to fall so that he didn’t break anything, but Sam was panicked enough that Dean couldn’t keep the fear from twisting through his gut anyway.
“Sammy?” Sam’s name ripped from Dean’s throat as he dashed down the stairs after Sam. Dean hit the bottom and dropped to his knees to run anxious hands over his brother, checking for injuries. Sam didn’t resist, didn’t pull or flinch way, only looked up at Dean dazedly.
“That’d make twice in one week. He okay?” Bobby asked gruffly, startling them both. Tension seized Sam’s muscles once more, and Dean couldn’t spare even a second to look back and acknowledge Bobby’s presence.
“He… he freaked out on me, Bobby,” Dean moaned helplessly, praying for Bobby to tell him what to do, to tell him how to fix this. Sam looked so young, so lost, and this time Dean couldn’t stop the fearful tears from tracking down his face.
Nothing felt seriously wrong. Sam was leaning into Dean’s touch, and Dean couldn’t help pulling Sam up to sitting so he could wrap his arms around Sam’s shaking shoulders. Sam leaned back a little, his eyes finally tracking on Dean’s, but still lost, still broken. Then he stretched up and pressed his mouth to Dean’s, licking over Dean’s lips in a silent plea to be let inside.
Dean stiffened, his awareness of Bobby, standing there, watching them, too keen to do otherwise. He couldn’t… he wanted to… but, he couldn’t. He kept his mouth tightly shut. Sam whimpered in frustration, his attempts not abating in the slightest.
“Well, shit.” Bobby muttered.
Dean had no idea what to do, torn between backing away, like he knew Bobby expected, and just giving in to Sam’s need.
Sam seemed to have no such qualms. He cupped the back of Dean’s head and pushed his tongue against Dean’s lips more forcefully. Dean parted for him with a wounded sound, responding in spite of himself, letting Sam win.
They lost themselves in the kiss for few precious moments, blocking out the world and all the evil it contained. Dean couldn’t let it continue. With a soft sigh, he tenderly put a hand against Sam’s cheek and pushed him back, whispering gently, “Sam, we… I can’t… You have to stop, okay?”
“Dean,” Bobby cleared his throat uncomfortably, “What…”
“Leave it alone, Bobby,” Dean growled, anger snaking through his body. Bobby had no right to judge. No one had a right to do that, not to them. “Why don’t you give us… you know what, never mind, we’re gonna go get some air. Come on, Sam.”
Dean stood abruptly and grabbed Sam’s shirt to haul him up as well. Sam moaned, his body obviously stiff, and Dean cursed himself for forgetting that Sam was likely sore from his fall. It didn’t stop his fierce desire to be outside, though.
Sam was staring dumbly at the stairs, so Dean opened the door and gripped Sam’s shoulders to steer him out. The air was brisk against his skin. It smelled cool and clean, and he dragged Sam out into the maze of cars.
Dean kept moving Sam forward until they were as lost as they could be in the familiar terrain. Finally stopping when it felt like they were truly alone, he turned and faced his brother. Sam looked… shit, he didn’t know how to fix this. He opened his mouth to say something, but he had no idea what so he closed it just as fast. He probably looked like a drowning fish.
Sam took a hesitant step back, then another. He was visibly shaking again. Dean didn’t know what the hell to do. Lucifer was gone, at least for now. There was nothing left to kill. Whatever Sam was going through, it was clearly too bad to just shove down and pretend away. He wondered if this is what he would have looked like, if Cas hadn’t made his memories so murky.
“What… I don’t… Is this real? How do I know what’s real?” Sam stammered out.
“Lucifer’s gone, Sam. I swear. He’s not going to find us again until we’re ready.”
“I don’t…” Sam cut his words off, looking pole-axed, and suddenly he slipped his shirt off and through it to the ground absently, his hands immediately going to the skin of his chest to twist and pull roughly over the skin.
“Sam…” Dean started, confused, “What the hell…”
“How could…” Sam scraped his fingers across his chest, and his nails left angry red welts across his skin. “It felt so real…” His hand dipped lower, catching at the edge of his low-slung sweat-pants and boxers.
Dean grabbed Sam’s hand, stopping him from pulling his clothes any further down.
Sam’s gaze snapped to Dean’s, his eyes hazy with fear. “Are you real, Dean?” he whispered. “God, I… How do I know what’s real?”
Dean looked away, unable to bear the pain and despair that seemed to be curling through Sam’s entire being.
“I’m real,” he muttered, knowing word’s couldn’t possibly be enough to fix anything, but unable to come up with anything else. “Sam,” he said quietly, forcing himself to reconnect, looking imploringly into his brother’s eyes. “You gotta talk to me, man. What the hell did Lucifer do to you?”
Sam let out a slightly hysterical laugh. “Um, nothing?” The laughter rode the words, but Sam’s voice cracked at the end, and Dean could see Sam’s eyes distancing as he withdrew back into himself again.
“Sam!” he said sharply, giving Sam’s shoulders a small shake. “It wasn’t nothing. I saw some of the damage, man. Just because you’re healed, it doesn’t mean that nothing happened. This is the voice of experience talking here, right?”
Sam’s gaze sharpened, taking in Dean’s words before he whispered, “But nothing did happen; it was all in my head, and now it’s over, except… I still had another dream today, at least, I think it was a dream, but what if it wasn’t? What if I really… and then what if this isn’t real? What if you’re just what Lucifer thinks I want? He bends and he twists and I can’t…” Sam’s frantic rambling trailed off and he started to sink slowly to the ground.
Dean took a small risk and grabbed Sam’s arms, stopping his brother’s decent to wrap himself protectively around his brother in a full body hug. Sam wrapped around Dean just as tightly and buried his head against Dean’s shoulder, the terror and despair that shown so clearly in his eyes driving matching tremors through his body. Dean abandoned himself to the embrace, and despite Sam’s pain, he felt more human than he had in a long, long time.
Dean felt the tension creeping gradually back into Sam’s back and shoulders. He clung tighter, willing his brother to relax again, to linger in their mutual comfort for just a little while longer. They both needed it. He could admit that in his thoughts where no one else could overhear.
Sam suddenly shoved Dean away angrily, stumbling backwards until he ran into one of the cars. “What the hell, Dean? Fuck, this… this isn’t us… You don’t have to keep babying me. I’m fine!” he shouted, as if enough volume would make the protest so. Angrily, he snatched up his shirt, fumbling it back on while sulking back to the house.
Dean watched his brother walk away helplessly. He had no fucking clue what to do.
~o0O0o~
Dean opened heavy lids to peer at the ancient alarm clock – complete with bells, seriously – that was sitting next to the bed. The stupid hands were luminescent, but he couldn’t see the numbers in the dark so the clock wasn’t much help to his sleep addled brain. It was still the middle of the night though, obviously, and Sam’s heavy breathing was what had woken him up. If it was a sex dream, that’d be one thing, but he was pretty sure that sounded more like work-out panting, which, what the hell time was it again?
They’d gotten a late start from Bobby’s the day before, and Dean had driven through the night and then all the way through the next day. They’d both been exhausted when they’d finally gotten into the room. He groaned and rolled over, mumbled a questioning, “Sammy?”
There was no answer, so he flung out a hand and groped around until he found the lamp switch and turned it on. Ow! He moaned again, his eyes complaining loudly about the sudden light.
Sam’s rhythmic breaths didn’t falter. Suddenly alarmed, Dean sat up to peer at his brother, who was doing crunches on the floor in a slow, steady pace. He was covered in sweat; he’d clearly been at it for a while.
“Sam?” he asked again. Still nothing. Sam seemed zoned out, and it was more than a little disturbing. Dean kicked his blankets off and moved over to crouch next to Sam, who didn’t react to his presence in the slightest. He reached out and placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder to stop him. That got a reaction. Sam jerked from his grasp, practically doing a backwards summersault to get to the farthest wall.
Dean followed, moving over slowly until he was close enough to touch, but he held off. Sam was breathing hard, far harder than he had been when he was working out.
“Hey,” Dean murmured, trying to keep his voice casual, “You went to sleep the same time I did. How come you aren’t still asleep?”
Sam’s eyes slowly traced to Dean’s wide and filled with terror. Dean knew that look – he’d worn it far too many times himself. “Sam?” he prodded.
“Ne… never went to sleep,” his brother gasped out.
Now that he had Sam’s attention, he took a risk and placed his hands on either side of Sam’s face pulling him a little closer. This time, Sam didn’t flinch away, but he was shaking like a leaf under Dean’s hands. “Hey, breathe with me. You gotta calm down or you’re gonna pass out, which is not the best way to get a well rested morning.” Dean breathed in, deep and slow, and was gratified when Sam actually humored him and went along with it.
They sat like that for a while, getting lost in the almost hypnotic exchange of air, and Sam finally started to relax. Dean pulled Sam in and rested his head on Dean’s chest, and Dean couldn’t help but feel a little grateful for the dark.
“You didn’t tell me you weren’t ready to hit the hay, dude. I would’ve stayed up. They were gonna show Women in Cages tonight. We could’ve watched it together.”
Sam snorted softly, and his small acknowledgement of Dean’s attempt at humor warmed Dean’s heart.
“Talk to me, Sam. You’re better at this than I am.”
“I just… I was going to go to sleep; I was, but then… I can’t. I just… can’t.”
Dean could feel Sam’s agitation coming back, so he interrupted Sam’s stammered floundering, “Sam, what are you afraid of?”
Sam sucked in a deep breath, and the single word flowed out on his exhale, “Lucifer.”
The thump of Sam’s heart was definitely speeding up now. “Lucifer’s been blocked. He’s not coming back.”
“You don’t… There’s no…”
Dean didn’t allow himself time to think. He pulled Sam up and pressed his lips against Sam’s. Licking against the lower one, nipping and teasing in an attempt to get Sam to let him in.
Sam let out a low whimper, his hands fisting into the thin material of Dean’s t-shirt, and he opened with a low, needful moan. Dean snaked his tongue inside to run along the inside of Sam’s lower lip, letting the tangy taste of Sam explode over his tongue. Sam surged against him, thrusting his own tongue into Dean’s mouth to tickle over the roof and lick over his teeth, a slow exploration that was pulling Dean’s dick to instant attention. He pulled back, his eyes lingering on the small glint of saliva on Sam’s lips, before hungrily covering Sam’s mouth with his own and biting down possessively.
He needed more.
Trailing off to the side, Dean licked over Sam’s stubble covered chin. Sam tasted like salt, and Dean couldn’t help biting down hard on the skin, pulling it into his mouth with a hard pull that would likely leave a bruise. His dick was definitely on board with that plan, and Dean let the prickly flesh go and moved down an inch to do it again. Sam arched against him while Dean worked his way down Sam’s chin to his neck, where the skin softened, pliable enough to suck a much larger area into Dean’s mouth. He laved over the skin, let it go and then did it again and again, until there was no question that Sam would be sporting his mark for days...
And then he pulled back. He couldn’t let this go any further, couldn’t risk Sam coming to his senses in a few days or a month or a year and end up hating Dean for taking advantage of him when he was weak. They were both breathing heavily now, Sam’s lids heavy, his eyes dark and glittering with lust. “Dean?” he moaned, the question clear.
“Cas said,” Dean huffed, “that I needed to refresh my claim. That’s… that’s done. Lucifer’s blocked now, Sam. You can go to sleep.”
Sam stared at Dean for a minute, the lust falling away to be replaced by fatigue. “Yeah, okay,” he finally responded. Dean helped Sam up and moved him over to the bed, and Sam fell onto it.
Dean sat on the opposite bed, unable to take his eyes off his brother.
“Dean?” Sam whispered.
“Yeah?” Dean answered quietly into the dark.
“Can you… sleep over here?”
Dean knew he should say no, but he couldn’t stop himself from immediately getting up and moving silently to the bed. He lay down and Sam immediately curled up against him.
They were both out within moments.
Part Ten | Part Twelve
Part Eleven
They’d had it out with Bobby, and, after a long battle, the man had grudgingly agreed to leave his house. The plan was to take off before nightfall. Dean couldn’t deny his defensive irritation on his brother’s behalf. Sam had been jumpy, edgy, since he’d woken up, and it had only gotten worse during their argument with Bobby. Sam seemed to think that they should leave right away, but he’d looked like he was about to drop by the time Bobby finally conceded the point. The man was a fucking genius. He couldn’t see that his stubbornness was affecting Sam?
And then Sam had looked at Dean stupidly when Dean had ordered him back to bed. There wasn’t a hint of defiance in his eyes, just complete and utter exhaustion. For a moment, it had looked like Sam had wanted to protest, but he’d merely turned and trudged listlessly up the stairs. Dean had followed Sam up, but Sam had simply fallen into his bed as soon as he’d walked into the room, and was out equally as fast.
There wasn’t much to do; Dean was done throwing their stuff into bags in less than five minutes, and then he’d just stood there in the middle of the room, watching Sam sleep. Sam slept fitfully, small whimpers and moans escaping every so often, and while he’d certainly had nightmares before Ruby, he’d never really shown them. Not like this.
This felt… unnatural, wrong. Sam was emo on the best of days, but his brother was usually pretty damn stoic about it. Dean pushed his fears down. Sam had seemed okay when they’d talked earlier. This was just another dream. Sam would get over them eventually.
Suddenly tired himself, he sat down on the small bed next to his brother. It was a tight fit for both of them – Sam’s arm was pressed against Dean’s lower back where he perched on the edge of the bed, warm and slightly sweaty. Dean listed to the side, and his head hit the pillow a moment later.
He should feel awkward about sharing a twin-sized bed with his little brother. Hell, he should feel awkward about the fact that he’d kissed Sam earlier. He knew this. Well, at least, intellectually he knew it. His time in hell had left his instincts a little deadened to the concepts of right and wrong, but he hadn’t forgotten the rules. People aren’t supposed to want to fuck their brothers. …and he didn’t, not really… but he couldn’t deny that being so close to Sam had filled something, something that he’d been missing in his soul, missing so long that he hadn’t even realized the absence.
His eyes were burning, and he jabbed his fingers into them angrily. He’d resisted Cas’ idea, at first, not because the idea of sex with Sam repulsed him, not like it might have 40 years ago, but because he sure as fuck hadn’t wanted to do the deed while Sam was so completely screwed up by whatever Lucifer had done to him.
“Dean…”
The quiet, forlorn whimper froze Dean’s heart in his chest. Shit. It was impossible to know why Sam had said his name, but Dean couldn’t quite keep himself from thinking the worst. He sat up slowly, guilt driving him to turn and peer closely at Sam’s face in an effort to determine if it was his presence that was upsetting his brother.
“Dean!”
Sam started shaking, silent tears sneaking out from under his closed lids, his head thrashing in denial, and there was suddenly no question that it was not Dean that was hurting Sam in the dream. Dean crumpled over Sam’s sleeping form, pulling Sam into his arms in a tight embrace. “Shhh,” he whispered, trying his best to sound soothing instead of frantic. “Shhh…”
“Dean!!!” Sam screamed out.
It sounded like Sam’s heart was being ripped out of his chest, and Dean rocked him roughly, more than half hoping it would wake Sam up despite his need for sleep. “Shhh, Sam. It’s okay…” Dean murmured.
Sam didn’t listen to Dean’s unvoiced hope, however. His sobs increased – hopeless anguished cries of, “Dean, Dean…No. No.”
“Sam, I’m here. I’m right here.”
Sam’s face abruptly morphed into a rictus of anger and pain, and he started thrashing blindly, throwing frantic punches that would have probably hurt if he’d been alert enough to land them. Dean grappled Sam, forced to use a full body pin to keep Sam from hurting either one of them. “I’m here. Please wake up,” Dean begged, “God, Sam, please wake up…”
Sam went still in Dean’s arms, and for some reason, that was even more terrifying than Sam’s angry tears had been.
“YES!” Sam suddenly screamed, loud and angry enough to wake the dead. Sam’s eyes snapped open, seeing nothing, and he arched up under Dean, every muscle in his body rigid with tension.
“Sam!” Dean’s voice was sharp, maybe too sharp, but at least it finally seemed to do something. Sam collapsed down, his long gorilla arms wrapping securely around Dean as he curled himself close against Dean’s body like he was never going to let Dean go.
His eyes fluttered closed again, and his breathing slowly evened out as he relaxed into Dean’s embrace.
“Good, Sammy, that’s good. I’m right here. I’m not leaving.” Dean held Sam carefully, soothing a hand through his hair over and over again, hoping against desperate hope for Sam to simply fall back into a dreamless sleep. For once, somebody seemed to listen to his prayer.
~o0O0o~
“Samuel… time to wake up, now.”
Sam wakes up with a muffled scream. “No… no…” he pleads to no one in particular, the words helplessly whispered. It’s over. It’s supposed to be over.
“Shhh…” Nick soothes. “Did you really think you could win so easily?” He laughs derisively. “You really are stupid.”
Sam opens his eyes, and Bobby’s room swims into view through his tired eyes. No. No, this isn’t…
Lucifer grabs him by the hair and drags him roughly over to the bed, pushing him forward to sprawl over the edge. Sam tries to jerk back, but Lucifer grips his neck, and pushes his head face down into the mattress. He can’t breathe through the heavy layers of blankets and thick mattress fabric, and he flails his arms and legs wildly to try to push Lucifer away, but it has no effect. His world narrows down to gasping in warm, stuffy air through the material and into his starving lungs, a struggle that gets increasingly harder as his despairing tears leave the material damp.
Lucifer reaches around and grabs his dick, holding it tightly, and Sam realizes he’s already hard and aching. Something sharp prods at the tip, and Sam rears back into Lucifer’s arms as, once more, the painful burn of the rod sinks into him, slides slowly deeper, leaving him more violated than anal penetration ever has. His dick aches with the flame that’s licking up inside of him. Suddenly, he has to pee so bad it feels like he’s going to burst, but there’s nothing he can do about it now; even his ability to deal with his own bodily functions has been stolen from him.
The rod bottoms out. Lucifer rubs over the tip of his dick, using the small ball at the end to spin the metal around and around. He can feel it moving against his insides as he ineffectively shrinks back, until his ass is grinding against Lucifer’s dick. Lucifer chuckles cruelly and whispers, “You ready for the rest of it?” Without waiting for an answer, he roughly shoves the piercing through the side of Sam’s dick and the ring is snapped closed. The pain can’t get much worse, Sam thinks hopelessly, but then Lucifer grabs his testicles and twists.
Sam screams, praying for Dean, for Cas, for anyone to come save him. He doesn’t deserve this; no one does.
“You need to be punished, child,” Lucifer says coldly, “for what you tried to do. And I think you no longer have any need for these.”
Lucifer twists harder, pulling down at the same time, and he can feel the moment the skin splits.
He screams again, loud enough shred his vocal cords.
“Sam!” Dean yells, slamming the door open. Sam throws a fearful look towards the door – No, he hadn’t meant it, not really. Dean’s not supposed to be here.
“No!” Sam screams again. “No, please, Dean. Get out of here!”
Lucifer pushes Sam to the ground, and Sam’s legs give out, refuse to move at all beyond the tremors jerking through them as Lucifer crowds Dean against the wall.
“Say yes and this all stops, Sam,” Lucifer growls.
“Sam, please!” Dean yells desperately.
Lucifer spins Dean around and slams him face first into the wall, and Dean’s naked, his ass on display as Lucifer pushes a couple of fingers deep inside.
“Say yes.” Lucifer orders.
Sam can’t talk, can’t even whisper as he lays on the floor, watching his brother’s violation. All four fingers are inside of Dean now, and blood is already dripping from his hole. Dean’s pleading already, “Sam, please! Don’t let him do this. You can’t let him do this to me!”
“For the last time, Sam. Say yes,” Lucifer adds coldly, his voice easily sounding over Dean’s helpless stream of words.
Lucifer squeezes his thumb inside along with his fingers. His entire hand pushes in, up Dean’s ass, buried to the wrist. Dean goes incoherent, his frantic entreaties devolving into wounded screams and sobs.
It’s on the tip of Sam’s tongue to say yes. He can’t bear to watch this anymore. He opens his mouth to say it.
“Too late,” Lucifer whispers. He reaches out, and the sound of Dean’s neck snapping echoes around the room. Lucifer yanks his hand free and tosses Dean’s limp body to the floor in front of the bedroom door. Sam screams, his heart ripped from his body as he crawls forward to reach his brother’s body.
“Dean!” he sobs.
Lucifer grabs him by the hair again and flings him back against the far wall, laughing when Sam again tries to crawl forward to reach his brother, lets him get halfway there before Lucifer picks him up and flings him back once more.
“Dean!” It’s the only word he has left, and he can’t give up the fight, even though Lucifer’s laughter is turning manic, clown-like.
“Shhh, Sam. It’s okay!”
“Dean,” he begs, “Dean…” he collapses to the floor, sobbing out his anguish. His brother can’t be dead. He can’t be.
“Sam, I’m here. I’m right here.”
Lucifer’s words stab at his heart. He doesn’t want the monster here. Not at Bobby’s. Not when they were supposed to be safe. He launches himself at the devil, he knows he can’t win, but he’s intent only on hurting, on maiming. Lucifer wards Sam off easily, wraps his arms around Sam, pinning him against his chest as he sits them together on the bed.
“I’m here. Please, wake up. God, Sam, please, wake up…”
Lucifer’s rocking him back and forth, as if he’s trying to comfort, and the very idea is ridiculous, but Dean’s blank eyes are still staring up at him accusingly, and there’s nothing Sam can do.
“Dean,” he whispers mournfully. An inferno of white hot rage suddenly tears through him so hard he has to yell it out or it’s going to take him out. He’s done. There’s nothing left for him anymore. Everything is pain and suffering. He’s never been allowed to be happy, has sacrificed everything and for what? The fucking world has never done anything to deserve his protection. It doesn’t matter what happens, because there’s nothing left to care about anymore. Nothing.
“YES!” he screams his assent with hate and fury. “Make it end, make it all end!”
“Sam!” Dean’s voice was sharp, and he was wrapped around Sam like he was never going to let him go. Sam collapsed into his brother’s arms, not sure what the tears falling ceaselessly down his face were about: relief, grief, anger… all his emotions had bleed together in a tangled mess, and all he really cared about was the fact that Dean was holding him, and he was never going to have to watch his brother leave again.
His eyes fell closed, his breathing leveling out slowly as he relaxed into the embrace.
“Good, Sammy, that’s good. I’m right here. I’m not leaving.” Dean was holding him carefully, carding a hand through his hair again and again – a ceaseless offer of comfort that Sam couldn’t be anything but grateful for. He let himself be pulled into the quiet peace. His thoughts scattered, and he slept.
~o0O0o~
Dean was too busy watching his brother sleep to get any for himself, but he wasn’t in anywhere near as rough shape as Sam was, so it didn’t matter that much. He hadn’t exactly missed the weight loss, the paleness, the dark smudges under Sam’s eyes, eyes that never smiled anymore, but he hadn’t really acknowledged the problem either. He’d assumed it was Sam’s deserved penance for not listening to Dean and starting the apocalypse, and then later, he’d assumed it was the demon blood again, something Sam was doing to himself despite every objection Dean had been able to raise.
He’d let himself be so fucking wounded by the things Sam had done after he went to hell for the little shit… that he’d never even entertained the notion that something else could be causing Sam to look like he was fading away.
He struggled to pull up memories of his time before hell. Cas had distanced Dean’s memories of that place when he’d pulled Dean out, and time had faded everything else, leaving his entire past muted, colorless. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud. He knew it was a weakness he couldn’t afford to show.
Sam had laughed sometimes though, before Dean had made his deal, laughed even more when he was younger, before he’d run away to Stanford, before he’d hit puberty. That inherent happiness had been beaten out of him, beaten out of them both, really, until neither one of them could focus on anything good.
If it was the last thing he did, he needed to find a way to put that smile back on Sam’s face. Otherwise, neither one of them had anything left to fight for.
Sam twitched, let out a small whimper, and Dean couldn’t help the tension and worry that forced his arms tighter around his brother. He blinked back the burning wetness in his eyes. Sam needed him to be strong. Somehow, Dean was going to have to find a way to be what Sam needed again. Not because Sam was weak or because he was too self-involved to see what he was doing to Dean, but because every evil thing in the universe seemed to be hell-bent on forcing them into pre-ordained roles.
They’d both been manipulated until they couldn’t see anything clearly anymore. That ended. Now.
It looked like Sam was slowly relaxing, and Dean released the breath he’d been holding. Sam was slipping back into a deeper, more restful sleep. Thank God.
Dean’s heart almost leapt out of his chest when Sam suddenly jerked himself backwards, pulling himself forcefully from Dean’s hold.
“Sam?” Dean muttered, a vague, uneasy discomfort crawling through his stomach. He reached out, intending to put a hand on Sam’s arm.
The response was immediate. Panic filled Sam’s widening eyes and he scrambled backwards, almost instantly hitting the side of the small bed and tumbling off backwards to land in a tangled mess on the floor.
Dean leaned forward to look over the edge at Sam, not sure if it would be better to offer a hand or simply leave the bedroom to give Sam some space.
Avoidance wasn’t going to get rid of the elephant in the room, though. “God, Sam, please don’t keep pushing me away like this. We…” Dean took in a deep, hitching breath. “We need to talk.”
“I said yes…How could I say yes?” Sam muttered. He was shaking and sweaty, his eyes wide and far away, not quite seeing Dean.
Fear crawled up Dean’s spine as he tried to make sense of Sam’s words. “What?” Dean replied in confusion.
Sam’s eyes snapped to Dean’s at the question, his breaths speeding up even more, until Dean was starting to think Sam was going to hyperventilate. “I take it back. Please, I… I take it back…” Sam was frantic, his tone pleading, his words a desperate spill from his lips as he crawled back into the corner of the room and covered his head with his arms, hiding his face. “I’m sorry… Oh, God, I take it back… please… I take it back…”
Dean stared at his usually stoic younger brother who seemed to be literally falling apart, and he was only barely able to keep the panicked tears inside his fucking head. He cautiously moved off the bed and gripped Sam’s arms, gently pulling them down before ducking to try and catch Sam’s gaze. “Sam, calm down, please. You… you gotta tell me what’s wrong. I can’t help you if you keep shutting me out.”
“You aren’t Dean,” Sam spat, rage twisting his features and voice between one heartbeat and the next. “Get the hell away from me! Better I burn in hell than this...”
“What? Sam, I…” Dream Sam was reacting to something he had dreamed, that’s all. Sam clearly thought it wasn’t though – he thought he’d said yes to Lucifer for real. The anguish in Sam’s eyes was an arrow through Dean’s soul. “Sam, it was a dream, okay? Whatever you think happened, it was just a dream.”
“No, I…”
Dean cut Sam’s protest off, not even caring to hear what it was. “No, no, Sam. You didn’t,” Dean said forcefully. “We blocked him, remember? Lucifer’s not here to say yes to. It’s okay, it was just a dream.”
Dean grew a little braver, put both of his hands on Sam’s shoulders and gently rubbed them over the thin t-shirt that Sam had been sleeping in. He could feel the fearful tremors shaking through Sam’s heavy frame easing back slightly as he looked at Dean. Dean’s gut twisted in on itself – Sam’s eyes were liquid pools of terror. For all of Sam’s emo tendencies, he was the strongest man Dean knew. This was…
“It’s not…” Sam whispered in a small, little-boy voice. “If… Why is he still finding me when I sleep, then?”
Dean slowly pulled Sam close, worried Sam might push him away at any moment, but the shaking was increasing again, turning almost violent, and Dean couldn’t keep his distance any more than he could stop breathing.
“Shhh…” he muttered, pressing his lips to the top of Sam’s head. “I’m so sorry, Sammy. God, I’m so… I know I let you down, okay? I wrecked everything, but… you gotta let me fix this. It was just a nightmare. That’s all. Just a nightmare.”
Sam crumpled forward into Dean’s embrace, huddling into Dean’s arms like he’d never done, even as a child. It was like holding a stranger, and Dean could barely hold back his rage – just another thing the monsters had taken from him… from them. They stayed knotted together on the floor for a while, Sam crying in Dean’s arms, holding on like he was afraid Dean would disappear. Shame gradually added itself to the knot of emotions twisting in his stomach – he’d given Sam so much shit for running away, and then he’d turned around and done exactly the same thing.
Sam’s tears gradually faded, but Dean wasn’t allowed any time to feel relief. Sam started tensing up, his breathing matching pace, almost as soon as his drying tears registered. His agitation sucked any last bits of lingering comfort from the room.
“How do I know what’s…” Sam started to choke out, and then his voice abruptly cut out and his eyes widened with terror. He started scrambling out of Dean’s arms, raw panic etched into every line of his body.
Desperate to go back to the calm they’d been sharing only moments before, Dean clutched at his brother, trying to pull him back into his arms. “Sam…”
“No!” Sam shouted. He swung, catching Dean square on his chin, slamming him to the floor. Sam was up and running before Dean had a chance to recover, a chance to pull his brother back.
He stumbled as quickly as he could to his feet and dashed out into the hallway. Sam was standing at the head of the stairs, back to Dean, looking frantically back and forth between the front door at the bottom and the bathroom, which… What the fuck? Dean cautiously approached Sam, and placed a soft hand against Sam’s back.
Sam whirled around, at the same time stepping back away from Dean, and suddenly he was tumbling backwards down the stairs. At least Sam knew how to fall so that he didn’t break anything, but Sam was panicked enough that Dean couldn’t keep the fear from twisting through his gut anyway.
“Sammy?” Sam’s name ripped from Dean’s throat as he dashed down the stairs after Sam. Dean hit the bottom and dropped to his knees to run anxious hands over his brother, checking for injuries. Sam didn’t resist, didn’t pull or flinch way, only looked up at Dean dazedly.
“That’d make twice in one week. He okay?” Bobby asked gruffly, startling them both. Tension seized Sam’s muscles once more, and Dean couldn’t spare even a second to look back and acknowledge Bobby’s presence.
“He… he freaked out on me, Bobby,” Dean moaned helplessly, praying for Bobby to tell him what to do, to tell him how to fix this. Sam looked so young, so lost, and this time Dean couldn’t stop the fearful tears from tracking down his face.
Nothing felt seriously wrong. Sam was leaning into Dean’s touch, and Dean couldn’t help pulling Sam up to sitting so he could wrap his arms around Sam’s shaking shoulders. Sam leaned back a little, his eyes finally tracking on Dean’s, but still lost, still broken. Then he stretched up and pressed his mouth to Dean’s, licking over Dean’s lips in a silent plea to be let inside.
Dean stiffened, his awareness of Bobby, standing there, watching them, too keen to do otherwise. He couldn’t… he wanted to… but, he couldn’t. He kept his mouth tightly shut. Sam whimpered in frustration, his attempts not abating in the slightest.
“Well, shit.” Bobby muttered.
Dean had no idea what to do, torn between backing away, like he knew Bobby expected, and just giving in to Sam’s need.
Sam seemed to have no such qualms. He cupped the back of Dean’s head and pushed his tongue against Dean’s lips more forcefully. Dean parted for him with a wounded sound, responding in spite of himself, letting Sam win.
They lost themselves in the kiss for few precious moments, blocking out the world and all the evil it contained. Dean couldn’t let it continue. With a soft sigh, he tenderly put a hand against Sam’s cheek and pushed him back, whispering gently, “Sam, we… I can’t… You have to stop, okay?”
“Dean,” Bobby cleared his throat uncomfortably, “What…”
“Leave it alone, Bobby,” Dean growled, anger snaking through his body. Bobby had no right to judge. No one had a right to do that, not to them. “Why don’t you give us… you know what, never mind, we’re gonna go get some air. Come on, Sam.”
Dean stood abruptly and grabbed Sam’s shirt to haul him up as well. Sam moaned, his body obviously stiff, and Dean cursed himself for forgetting that Sam was likely sore from his fall. It didn’t stop his fierce desire to be outside, though.
Sam was staring dumbly at the stairs, so Dean opened the door and gripped Sam’s shoulders to steer him out. The air was brisk against his skin. It smelled cool and clean, and he dragged Sam out into the maze of cars.
Dean kept moving Sam forward until they were as lost as they could be in the familiar terrain. Finally stopping when it felt like they were truly alone, he turned and faced his brother. Sam looked… shit, he didn’t know how to fix this. He opened his mouth to say something, but he had no idea what so he closed it just as fast. He probably looked like a drowning fish.
Sam took a hesitant step back, then another. He was visibly shaking again. Dean didn’t know what the hell to do. Lucifer was gone, at least for now. There was nothing left to kill. Whatever Sam was going through, it was clearly too bad to just shove down and pretend away. He wondered if this is what he would have looked like, if Cas hadn’t made his memories so murky.
“What… I don’t… Is this real? How do I know what’s real?” Sam stammered out.
“Lucifer’s gone, Sam. I swear. He’s not going to find us again until we’re ready.”
“I don’t…” Sam cut his words off, looking pole-axed, and suddenly he slipped his shirt off and through it to the ground absently, his hands immediately going to the skin of his chest to twist and pull roughly over the skin.
“Sam…” Dean started, confused, “What the hell…”
“How could…” Sam scraped his fingers across his chest, and his nails left angry red welts across his skin. “It felt so real…” His hand dipped lower, catching at the edge of his low-slung sweat-pants and boxers.
Dean grabbed Sam’s hand, stopping him from pulling his clothes any further down.
Sam’s gaze snapped to Dean’s, his eyes hazy with fear. “Are you real, Dean?” he whispered. “God, I… How do I know what’s real?”
Dean looked away, unable to bear the pain and despair that seemed to be curling through Sam’s entire being.
“I’m real,” he muttered, knowing word’s couldn’t possibly be enough to fix anything, but unable to come up with anything else. “Sam,” he said quietly, forcing himself to reconnect, looking imploringly into his brother’s eyes. “You gotta talk to me, man. What the hell did Lucifer do to you?”
Sam let out a slightly hysterical laugh. “Um, nothing?” The laughter rode the words, but Sam’s voice cracked at the end, and Dean could see Sam’s eyes distancing as he withdrew back into himself again.
“Sam!” he said sharply, giving Sam’s shoulders a small shake. “It wasn’t nothing. I saw some of the damage, man. Just because you’re healed, it doesn’t mean that nothing happened. This is the voice of experience talking here, right?”
Sam’s gaze sharpened, taking in Dean’s words before he whispered, “But nothing did happen; it was all in my head, and now it’s over, except… I still had another dream today, at least, I think it was a dream, but what if it wasn’t? What if I really… and then what if this isn’t real? What if you’re just what Lucifer thinks I want? He bends and he twists and I can’t…” Sam’s frantic rambling trailed off and he started to sink slowly to the ground.
Dean took a small risk and grabbed Sam’s arms, stopping his brother’s decent to wrap himself protectively around his brother in a full body hug. Sam wrapped around Dean just as tightly and buried his head against Dean’s shoulder, the terror and despair that shown so clearly in his eyes driving matching tremors through his body. Dean abandoned himself to the embrace, and despite Sam’s pain, he felt more human than he had in a long, long time.
Dean felt the tension creeping gradually back into Sam’s back and shoulders. He clung tighter, willing his brother to relax again, to linger in their mutual comfort for just a little while longer. They both needed it. He could admit that in his thoughts where no one else could overhear.
Sam suddenly shoved Dean away angrily, stumbling backwards until he ran into one of the cars. “What the hell, Dean? Fuck, this… this isn’t us… You don’t have to keep babying me. I’m fine!” he shouted, as if enough volume would make the protest so. Angrily, he snatched up his shirt, fumbling it back on while sulking back to the house.
Dean watched his brother walk away helplessly. He had no fucking clue what to do.
~o0O0o~
Dean opened heavy lids to peer at the ancient alarm clock – complete with bells, seriously – that was sitting next to the bed. The stupid hands were luminescent, but he couldn’t see the numbers in the dark so the clock wasn’t much help to his sleep addled brain. It was still the middle of the night though, obviously, and Sam’s heavy breathing was what had woken him up. If it was a sex dream, that’d be one thing, but he was pretty sure that sounded more like work-out panting, which, what the hell time was it again?
They’d gotten a late start from Bobby’s the day before, and Dean had driven through the night and then all the way through the next day. They’d both been exhausted when they’d finally gotten into the room. He groaned and rolled over, mumbled a questioning, “Sammy?”
There was no answer, so he flung out a hand and groped around until he found the lamp switch and turned it on. Ow! He moaned again, his eyes complaining loudly about the sudden light.
Sam’s rhythmic breaths didn’t falter. Suddenly alarmed, Dean sat up to peer at his brother, who was doing crunches on the floor in a slow, steady pace. He was covered in sweat; he’d clearly been at it for a while.
“Sam?” he asked again. Still nothing. Sam seemed zoned out, and it was more than a little disturbing. Dean kicked his blankets off and moved over to crouch next to Sam, who didn’t react to his presence in the slightest. He reached out and placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder to stop him. That got a reaction. Sam jerked from his grasp, practically doing a backwards summersault to get to the farthest wall.
Dean followed, moving over slowly until he was close enough to touch, but he held off. Sam was breathing hard, far harder than he had been when he was working out.
“Hey,” Dean murmured, trying to keep his voice casual, “You went to sleep the same time I did. How come you aren’t still asleep?”
Sam’s eyes slowly traced to Dean’s wide and filled with terror. Dean knew that look – he’d worn it far too many times himself. “Sam?” he prodded.
“Ne… never went to sleep,” his brother gasped out.
Now that he had Sam’s attention, he took a risk and placed his hands on either side of Sam’s face pulling him a little closer. This time, Sam didn’t flinch away, but he was shaking like a leaf under Dean’s hands. “Hey, breathe with me. You gotta calm down or you’re gonna pass out, which is not the best way to get a well rested morning.” Dean breathed in, deep and slow, and was gratified when Sam actually humored him and went along with it.
They sat like that for a while, getting lost in the almost hypnotic exchange of air, and Sam finally started to relax. Dean pulled Sam in and rested his head on Dean’s chest, and Dean couldn’t help but feel a little grateful for the dark.
“You didn’t tell me you weren’t ready to hit the hay, dude. I would’ve stayed up. They were gonna show Women in Cages tonight. We could’ve watched it together.”
Sam snorted softly, and his small acknowledgement of Dean’s attempt at humor warmed Dean’s heart.
“Talk to me, Sam. You’re better at this than I am.”
“I just… I was going to go to sleep; I was, but then… I can’t. I just… can’t.”
Dean could feel Sam’s agitation coming back, so he interrupted Sam’s stammered floundering, “Sam, what are you afraid of?”
Sam sucked in a deep breath, and the single word flowed out on his exhale, “Lucifer.”
The thump of Sam’s heart was definitely speeding up now. “Lucifer’s been blocked. He’s not coming back.”
“You don’t… There’s no…”
Dean didn’t allow himself time to think. He pulled Sam up and pressed his lips against Sam’s. Licking against the lower one, nipping and teasing in an attempt to get Sam to let him in.
Sam let out a low whimper, his hands fisting into the thin material of Dean’s t-shirt, and he opened with a low, needful moan. Dean snaked his tongue inside to run along the inside of Sam’s lower lip, letting the tangy taste of Sam explode over his tongue. Sam surged against him, thrusting his own tongue into Dean’s mouth to tickle over the roof and lick over his teeth, a slow exploration that was pulling Dean’s dick to instant attention. He pulled back, his eyes lingering on the small glint of saliva on Sam’s lips, before hungrily covering Sam’s mouth with his own and biting down possessively.
He needed more.
Trailing off to the side, Dean licked over Sam’s stubble covered chin. Sam tasted like salt, and Dean couldn’t help biting down hard on the skin, pulling it into his mouth with a hard pull that would likely leave a bruise. His dick was definitely on board with that plan, and Dean let the prickly flesh go and moved down an inch to do it again. Sam arched against him while Dean worked his way down Sam’s chin to his neck, where the skin softened, pliable enough to suck a much larger area into Dean’s mouth. He laved over the skin, let it go and then did it again and again, until there was no question that Sam would be sporting his mark for days...
And then he pulled back. He couldn’t let this go any further, couldn’t risk Sam coming to his senses in a few days or a month or a year and end up hating Dean for taking advantage of him when he was weak. They were both breathing heavily now, Sam’s lids heavy, his eyes dark and glittering with lust. “Dean?” he moaned, the question clear.
“Cas said,” Dean huffed, “that I needed to refresh my claim. That’s… that’s done. Lucifer’s blocked now, Sam. You can go to sleep.”
Sam stared at Dean for a minute, the lust falling away to be replaced by fatigue. “Yeah, okay,” he finally responded. Dean helped Sam up and moved him over to the bed, and Sam fell onto it.
Dean sat on the opposite bed, unable to take his eyes off his brother.
“Dean?” Sam whispered.
“Yeah?” Dean answered quietly into the dark.
“Can you… sleep over here?”
Dean knew he should say no, but he couldn’t stop himself from immediately getting up and moving silently to the bed. He lay down and Sam immediately curled up against him.
They were both out within moments.
Part Ten | Part Twelve
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