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The World Devours Me - Part Twelve
For Warnings and Summary, see Master Post
Part Twelve
“We’re here.”
Sam startled awake at Dean’s sudden words, groaning when his neck twinged from the awkward angle he’d been maintaining against the Impala’s window. He looked around, and drew in a sharp breath at the panoramic view in front of them.
Dean had gotten them close enough to the edge of canyon that it looked like they were hanging in space, and Sam straightened a little just to confirm it wasn’t true. A foot or two of ground was all that separated them from a drop to their deaths that would probably take long enough that they could have a conversation, because the Grand Canyon was breathtakingly, mind-blowingly huge.
He had no idea when Dean had decided to come here; Dean hadn’t said anything about it.
They sat in silence for a while… well, almost silence. The Impala’s engine was still running, and there was a surprising amount of wildlife sounds considering the impression of emptiness the canyon gave. Sam didn’t know why they were there, but the sheer vastness was enough to lose himself in. He relaxed back, letting the calm fill his thoughts.
The car lurched forward slightly when Dean threw her into drive from park, and Sam straightened, looking at Dean in confusion.
“What do you say, Sammy?” Dean asked quietly. “We could do a Thelma and Louise. Bet it would be a total rush.”
“Dean?” Sam questioned back, fear for his brother filling him like it hadn’t in ages. Sam swallowed convulsively; the look on Dean’s face was of stony determination, and it occurred to Sam that, despite his flippant words, Dean might actually be serious about driving them to their death.
Dean eased his foot ever so slightly off the brake, and the car crunched forward an inch or two. Sam’s hand snapped out, grabbing Dean’s shoulder in a tight grip. “Dean?! What the hell are you doing?”
“Ending this.”
The raspy response tore through Sam’s heart like an arrow. “What? Dean, it… Lucifer would just bring me back. This wouldn’t be an end, at least not for me, and I nee…”
“That’s only if Lucifer could find you,” Dean interrupted dully. “There’d be so little left of us I’m not sure he could. I don’t think either of them could.” Dean eased off the brake again, eating away another bit of the scant earth separating them from certain death, sending Sam’s heart into his throat before Dean halted the progress.
“Dean, stop!” Sam yelled, beginning to panic, beginning to believe Dean really was completely serious about this. “We don’t know for sure that you’d end up someplace good, and we can’t just sit back and let the apocalypse happen just because…”
“We can’t?” Dean growled back, finally turning to look at Sam. “I thought that was precisely what we’ve been doing?”
“What?”
“We’ve been driving around aimlessly for weeks now, curling up together in random motels at night only to repeat ourselves again the next day, and you haven’t said anything. We haven’t talked about anything. We don’t have time for you to get over what Lucifer did to you in a leisurely fashion, Sammy. You need to man-up and get over yourself…”
“You’re an ass,” Sam interrupted, feeling the sting of betrayal in his gut.
Dean didn’t even pause in his speech, “…so we can fight the sons of bitches trying to destroy the world. ‘Cause if we aren’t going to do that then I’m sick of wandering around miserably. At least when I was in hell I could lose myself in the blood and gore and other-peoples-pain. There isn’t a point in staying here and wallowing in our own shit if we’re just going to let the end come without a fight.”
“That’s not my plan, Dean, but you’ve gotta give…”
“Yeah?” Dean threw the car back into park and turned to look at Sam fully. “So what is your plan, ‘cause you sure as shit haven’t let me in on it!”
Taken aback, Sam looked at Dean blankly and the misery that he’d forgotten just for a moment was pouring back in as fast as it had been forgotten. “I don’t know,” he whispered hopelessly.
“Fuck it then.” Dean slammed out of the car, moving quickly over to stand right at the edge of the cliff.
Sam was scrambling out of the car almost as fast, coming up short a couple of feet from Dean, his heart rate picking up speed at the realization that one false move on his part could send Dean hurtling to his death.
“Dean, please, man. Step back from the edge. You’re scaring me.”
“I remember hell.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” Dean snapped back. “Do you know what that means? Forty years, Sam. I’ve been dead longer than I’ve been alive.”
“I kn…”
“But do you get what that fucking means?” Dean interrupted, his gaze not wavering from the panoramic view. “Cas distanced the memories for me, made it possible for me to exist top-side without being bat-shit insane,” he turned then, looking steadily at Sam, “but I still remember hell far better than I remember you.”
Sam stumbled back a bit, until the car was pressing reassuringly into his back. The coldly stated words created a hot burn behind his eyes, leaving him dizzy and nauseous. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t think of anything to say. He didn’t know how to apologize for letting his brother down so completely. He didn’t have any defense for being such a colossal fuck-up. He looked at the ground, his feet, at a shrub 10 feet away, at anything except the profound betrayal that must be shining in Dean’s eyes like points of fire.
“It’s not… I never forgot about you, not exactly. But… I had this image in my head. Of you taking yourself out of the hunt, going back to school and starting a family. Of you acknowledging the sacrifices that Dad and I made for you, and living the perfect life because of them. I clung to the fact that you loved me enough to do what I’d asked you to do. I trusted you.
“But when I came back, fuck, you weren’t the guy I remembered sacrificing myself for. You lied, you kept secrets, you were with her, trusting her to have your back in every way you didn’t trust me. What was I supposed to do with that, Sammy? It was like I’d made that sacrifice for a ghost, because the brother I thought I remembered turned out to be complete fiction.”
“God, Dean, I never meant to hurt you…”
Dean stepped right up into Sam’s space, not stopping until their faces were mere inches apart, and spit out, “But you did.”
Sam shoved Dean backwards, needing distance as he yelled back, “I was trying, Dean!” Anger curled in his stomach like smoke, dancing slowly upwards, “I know I wasn’t worth the sacrifice you made, but shit, I was trying to prove I was worth something!”
“And are you, Sam? Are you worth the sacrifice I made?” Dean yelled back.
“No! I never was! Damn it, Dean, I never asked you to make that sacrifice for me, and I’m never, never going to live up to it.”
Dean’s fist crashed into Sam’s face before he even saw it coming, sending him sprawling, igniting a fire in his cheek bone that left him dizzy. He was on his feet a moment later anyway, cold fury launching him against Dean hard enough to crash them both to the ground. They rolled together a couple of feet before coming to a stop in a tangle of limbs. Dean was faster to react, freeing a fist and crashing it against Sam’s face once more. This time, Sam was ready for it, and sent his own fist flying in return.
“Fuck you, Dean! Fuck you for leaving me alone! I’m not the only one who let somebody down!” A second punch connected with Dean’s face as Sam yelled, unable to think, almost unable to breathe past his fury. “I fucking tried, but I was never strong enough to make it without you!”
Tears were blurring Sam’s vision, and Dean took advantage, rolling them over so he was on top, and slamming Sam’s hands above his head, taking advantage of his weight to keep Sam pinned.
Dean writhed against Sam, just once, but it was enough for Sam to realize… He gasped, a sharp, open-mouthed breath of surprise; Dean was fully hard, his dick an almost painful press of hard skin between them.
There was no time to process that as Dean dove down, crashing their mouths together hard, somehow still more angry than lustful. He covered Sam’s mouth with his own and scraped his teeth across Sam’s lips, setting off a burn that Sam couldn’t deny made his dick sit up and take notice. The small nips and bites Dean pressed into his lips were harsh, hard enough to cut, hard enough to make him bleed.
Sam thrust his hips up as the sharp, metallic taste flowed over his tongue. He needed more contact, needed to taste Dean and know that he was real, just needed more. There was no way Sam could force himself to push his brother away – he wanted this more than he’d ever wanted anything.
Dean gradually relaxed down against Sam’s body as they lost themselves in each other, twining their legs together as he continued to lick into Sam’s mouth hungrily. Sam couldn’t help surging upwards to meet Dean’s tongue with his own, drinking in Dean’s intoxicating taste. A low, needy whimper escaped from Sam as he pulsed his hips upwards against Dean’s.
Too many clothes. Too much… He needed…
A demanding whine escaped from Sam, and Dean responded by sliding his hands down Sam’s arms with a groan, lacing them through Sam’s hair in an impossible attempt to pull their mouths even closer. Sam’s arms were finally free and he took advantage, reaching down to grab the bottom of Dean’s t-shirt. He pulled it up around Dean’s armpits, then did the same to his own, groaning loudly at the slip slide of sweat-damp skin that resulted.
Still, Sam needed more. Dean was continuing to kiss him hungrily, and Sam let him plunder his mouth as he snaked a hand between their bodies to struggle Dean’s jeans open. When Dean’s dick finally sprang free, stiff and proud, Sam grabbed the silky skin, gripping it firmly before giving it a hard, firm tug. Dean stilled against Sam, a long, low moan issuing from his throat.
Suddenly, Dean threw himself backwards, breaking their contact.
Fear clenched Sam’s stomach fiercely. Dean was… Fuck! Dean didn’t want this. Sam had gone too far, misread all the signs…
Dean started stripping his clothes off clumsily, frantically, tossing them to the side and muttering for Sam to do the same. Sam wanted… but he couldn’t… Sam couldn’t move, frozen in place by too many conflicting emotions to even begin to process.
Dean didn’t let Sam’s lack of response deter him. As soon as he was completely nude, he grabbed Sam’s clothing and pulling it off as well. Sam couldn’t struggle against Dean’s desire anymore than he could push Dean away.
Between one blink and the next they were both stripped to the skin. Dean pushed Sam back down to sitting, forcing Sam’s hands to the ground behind them so that he could brace himself in a slightly leaned back position as Dean straddled Sam’s lap. The small rocks and pebbles in the dirt dug into Sam’s ass and hands, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as Dean’s passion-filled gaze met his own.
This time, only one hand wove through Sam’s hair to pull their mouths in close for a searing kiss. The other shoved between them and wrapped around both of their dicks, pressing the hard flesh together in a sinuous crush as he jacked them both.
Sam yelled, couldn’t keep the noise inside as exhilaration filled him, leaving him needy and restless. The muscles in Sam’s groin were already clenching up as Dean pumped his fist down and up, down and up, and Sam knew he wasn’t going to last long, could feel his climax almost ready to crest.
Sam tottered at the edge, almost… almost…
Dean’s hand disappeared.
“Dean?” Sam moaned out, pleading for… something, unable to think past his insatiable lust.
Saying nothing, Dean locked his gaze fiercely on Sam’s as he simply shifted slightly upward, then lined his ass up with Sam’s dick and started pushing himself down.
“Dean!” Sam huffed out, freezing in place, panic filling him. “You aren’t, you can’t…”
“I can take it, Sam, Just, let me…” Dean’s voice was cracking, his hitching breaths sounding pained as he continued to sink down.
“Dean, fuck, you can’t… fuck, stop!” Sam begged, fear for his brother making him struggle. He didn’t care about the burn of Dean’s tight ass scraping down his dick, the pain felt good, felt deserved, but Dean… His brother shook his head silently and continued inching down, little by little. Sam couldn’t imagine that Dean was able to do that without tearing himself up inside.
“I can… fuck… I can… I can take it!” Dean gasped out. His breaths were coming out hard and fast, interrupted by small, pained whimpers, but his face looked fierce and determined. This Dean, Sam’s Dean, was nothing like Lucifer’s façade had been. This was real, and this was… Dean was hurting himself… for Sam. Again.
His heart ached as he hastily spit into his hand and reached under his brother’s ass, smearing the saliva around the still exposed base of his dick, trying to do what he could to ease Dean’s steady push. Dean didn’t seem to notice, his eyes closed, his mouth clenched so hard the muscles in his jaw were jumping, never faltering in his continuous slide down until he yelled out a satisfied, “Fuck!” as he bottomed out.
Sam’s arms were still trapped behind him, the only thing keeping them both upright, but Dean wrapped himself around Sam like a koala bear, like he was never going to let Sam go. Dean’s mouth found his brother’s neck and he nuzzled against Sam’s skin as he jerked up and then back down, clenching hard around Sam, causing both of them to moan loudly. “Sam, I’m… shit, I’m sorry, I can’t… I’m gonna come,” Dean gasped as he pulsed up and down twice more.
Dean’s teeth found skin at the juncture of Sam’s neck, and he sucked it into his mouth sharply, biting down hard as his orgasm struck. The pain, the claim of the bite, the incredibly tight clench of Dean’s body around Sam’s dick, it all combined to pull Sam with him over the edge, making the pain-filled pleasure crest and flow over them both, crashing over them again and again until it faded away and Dean relaxed against Sam’s heaving chest.
Dean looked boneless, sated, content, and yet… Sam couldn’t hold back the rage that was suddenly filling him to bursting. He shoved Dean away, hard enough to rip Dean off of his dick and send him sliding backwards across the unforgiving ground.
Dean seemed to snap out of his daze and looked back at Sam with uncertain eyes. Unable to maintain the contact, Sam scrambled backwards, flipped himself over and slammed his right fist against the dirt. He wanted to hurt something, wanted to feel his skin slam against skin hard enough to break bones, but he didn’t want to hurt his brother. That much he knew, but there wasn’t anyone else around, and that left him with nowhere to vent his anger. He struck down again, and then again, letting the rocky dirt tear satisfying, dirty wounds into the skin of his knuckles.
His back abruptly slammed into the dirt hard enough to leave him winded. Dean was straddling him, gripping both of Sam’s fists tightly, and staring at him furiously. Sam still couldn’t meet his gaze, instead focusing on Dean’s chest. Sam let his eyes trail down to Dean’s stomach, smeared with dirt and come, down to his still semi-hard dick, down further to his legs. Sam’s come had leaked out of Dean’s ass, and a long, wet, partially smeared trail spiraled down from the back of his leg to the front. It was tinged pink.
Fuck.
The anger melted away as fast as it had come, leaving Sam hopeless and lost. His eyes burned, and he felt the wetness gather and slip over, leaving a trail of shame. Dean slammed Sam’s hands above his head, let them go with an insistent shake, and gripped the sides of Sam’s face, forcing their eyes to meet. “Don’t do this, Sammy. Don’t let that anger go. God, you… I can’t let you hurt yourself, but don’t let it go, please.”
“I’m tired of hurting you, Dean. I swear to god, I don’t mean to, but it keeps happening. No matter what I do. I’m so… I can’t keep doing that. I can’t.”
Dean’s thumbs were rubbing against Sam’s temples, sliding through the wet. “Despair is what Lucifer wants from you. Don’t you see that? He’s trying to get you to give up, so you’ll say yes.”
“No!” Sam raged, pushing at Dean, somehow unable to gather enough strength to dislodge his brother.
“Yes,” Dean hissed back. “Everything, everything they’ve done has been designed to pull us apart. I think us, together, strong, that’s what’s going to win this. That’s exactly what they don’t want. You’ve been carrying everything around on your own fucking shoulders, by yourself, for so long that it’s eating your soul away. You have to stop that. Your anger will help. I’m fucking sorry I had to push you into it, but you need it, Sam. You need it to keep yourself sane.”
Sam reached down, let his hand swipe through the come still drying on Dean’s leg and held it up accusingly. “I hurt you!”
Dean narrowed his eyes, grabbed Sam’s hand and wrapped his lips over Sam’s fingers. He licked his tongue over the digits, sensuously, lapping the tinged come away slowly, thoroughly, until Sam’s hand was clean. Continuing to suck, he pulled Sam’s hand out of his mouth with a noisy slurp. His tongue slipped out between his lips and he ran it over them obscenely, leaving them glistening in the harsh sunlight. “I did that, Sam, not you. You don’t get to claim responsibility for that one.”
“Fuck,” Sam breathed out, his oversensitive dick somehow managing to twitch with renewed interest. “Holy crap, Dean, we’re brothers. What the hell are we doing?”
Guilt flashed in Dean’s eyes and he struggled up to standing before he closed them helplessly. “Did you… it was too soon. I shouldn’t have… God, you didn’t want that… “
“Dean!” Sam interrupted anxiously, following his brother up.
Dean’s eyes snapped open and he backed away from Sam until his back hit the Impala. It looked like he looked like he was considering flight.
Sam grabbed Dean’s shoulders, pinning his brother in place and hastening to reassure, “No, it’s okay. It was… I wanted it, okay? I did. I’m okay, but…” Sam could feel himself shaking, fear filling his chest enough to make his voice breathy. “We shouldn’t… God, we’re brothers,” he repeated weakly.
Dean snorted, his guilty expression slowly fading away, turning into resolve. “The archangel of heaven and the king of hell are both after our asses. We’ve both been to hell and back because of that. I don’t think society gets to dictate what we do anymore.”
That was only a good enough excuse for one of them. “I’ve never…”
“Really?” Dean interrupted sharply, “What would you call what Lucifer did to you then, if not hell?”
Sam opened his mouth to reply, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Dean looked at him with big-brother triumph shining from his eyes, thinking he’d won, so Sam let the words come out without censor, “I’d call it… nothing. Nothing happened. It was all in my head. All those things he did. None of it was real. There aren’t even any scars.”
“So, you’re saying that just because I don’t have any scars, that those forty years I spent in hell were all in my head? Fuck that,” Dean snapped back. “It was real, for both of us. I was there with you. I saw what he put you through. Hell, Castiel bore witness too, and he left the evidence of that right here,” Dean placed his hand over the symbol on Sam’s chest. A warm pulse surged straight from Dean’s hand to Sam’s heart. Dean paused against him, looking at his hand, and Sam wondered if his brother could feel it as well.
Not breaking the connection, Dean pushed Sam around so that Sam was against the Impala. He pressed himself against Sam in a long line, weaving their legs together. Calmly, almost tenderly – almost, because he couldn’t quite bring himself to ascribe that attribute to his wanna-be-macho brother – Dean inched down to place a series of kisses over his chest. Dean’s hand drifted lower, settling over Sam’s hip and tracing against the scar there. He slid down Sam’s body until he was crouched down at Sam’s hip level. “This one didn’t go away either,” Dean whispered. Without moving his hand, he looked up at Sam’s face. “It was real, Sam.”
Suddenly uncomfortable with their closeness, Sam blurted out, “Why?”
Dean looked confused and slowly stood back up as he answered, a little confused, “Why what?”
“Why did we… why did you want to hurt yourself?” Sam answered slowly, feeling somewhat embarrassed, “During the sex, I mean. There were other ways we could have done it, other things we could have tried, that would’ve kept you from getting hurt.”
“Forty years in hell, Sam. You learn to like things. You aren’t the only one who’s fucked up six ways from Sunday.”
“Fuck,” Sam breathed out, unable to come up with any other response to that.
“Tell me about it,” Dean deflected with a grin. The grin slipped away quickly, and Dean added more seriously, “You’re gonna be okay, Sam. We’re gonna get each other through this.”
“I know,” Sam replied automatically, not really believing it.
Dean scowled and wrapped his hands around the sides of Sam’s head, forcing Sam’s gaze to his own. “We are,” Dean insisted. “Look, a long time ago, I made you a promise.”
“What?” Sam asked, confused, not following Dean’s train of thought.
“I made you a promise. I told you that if it was the last thing I did, I was gonna save you. I… forgot that for a little while. But I remember now. I’m gonna save you, Sam.”
Sam inhaled sharply, feeling less alone than he had in a long time. When he’d made the decision to go with Ruby, he’d truly hoped, but hadn’t really believed, that eventually he and Dean would be able to fix everything Sam had done to fuck up their relationship. It was a sacrifice he’d thought at the time was worth it. He’d had no idea.
Feeling raw he pressed his forehead against Dean’s, letting his brother’s solidity and presence hold him up. “Dude,” he husked out, “We’re fucking filthy. Sex on the ground next to the Grand Canyon isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Couldn’t you have fantasized about the Pacific Ocean? At least then we’d be able to go in the water to rinse the sand off.”
Dean snorted. “Yeah, and freeze our balls off while we did it. Might be your kink but it isn’t mine,” he teased back. “Why don’t I find us a motel; we can clean up and come back later. Maybe take one of those touristy tours that tourists take. This is as good a place as any to lay low. I doubt the powers of heaven and hell will think to look for us here.”
Dean pushed away from Sam, moving to pull his clothes back on over obviously sore muscles.
Dean was back, and he wasn’t leaving. Not this time.
Sam could feel the wounds he’d suffered by Lucifer’s hand buried just under the surface, knew that Dean was hiding much worse. They were weak apart, heaven and hell would rip them into little pieces if they were separate, of that Sam had no doubt, but together…
Together maybe they had a shot.
Part Eleven | Epilogue
Part Twelve
“We’re here.”
Sam startled awake at Dean’s sudden words, groaning when his neck twinged from the awkward angle he’d been maintaining against the Impala’s window. He looked around, and drew in a sharp breath at the panoramic view in front of them.
Dean had gotten them close enough to the edge of canyon that it looked like they were hanging in space, and Sam straightened a little just to confirm it wasn’t true. A foot or two of ground was all that separated them from a drop to their deaths that would probably take long enough that they could have a conversation, because the Grand Canyon was breathtakingly, mind-blowingly huge.
He had no idea when Dean had decided to come here; Dean hadn’t said anything about it.
They sat in silence for a while… well, almost silence. The Impala’s engine was still running, and there was a surprising amount of wildlife sounds considering the impression of emptiness the canyon gave. Sam didn’t know why they were there, but the sheer vastness was enough to lose himself in. He relaxed back, letting the calm fill his thoughts.
The car lurched forward slightly when Dean threw her into drive from park, and Sam straightened, looking at Dean in confusion.
“What do you say, Sammy?” Dean asked quietly. “We could do a Thelma and Louise. Bet it would be a total rush.”
“Dean?” Sam questioned back, fear for his brother filling him like it hadn’t in ages. Sam swallowed convulsively; the look on Dean’s face was of stony determination, and it occurred to Sam that, despite his flippant words, Dean might actually be serious about driving them to their death.
Dean eased his foot ever so slightly off the brake, and the car crunched forward an inch or two. Sam’s hand snapped out, grabbing Dean’s shoulder in a tight grip. “Dean?! What the hell are you doing?”
“Ending this.”
The raspy response tore through Sam’s heart like an arrow. “What? Dean, it… Lucifer would just bring me back. This wouldn’t be an end, at least not for me, and I nee…”
“That’s only if Lucifer could find you,” Dean interrupted dully. “There’d be so little left of us I’m not sure he could. I don’t think either of them could.” Dean eased off the brake again, eating away another bit of the scant earth separating them from certain death, sending Sam’s heart into his throat before Dean halted the progress.
“Dean, stop!” Sam yelled, beginning to panic, beginning to believe Dean really was completely serious about this. “We don’t know for sure that you’d end up someplace good, and we can’t just sit back and let the apocalypse happen just because…”
“We can’t?” Dean growled back, finally turning to look at Sam. “I thought that was precisely what we’ve been doing?”
“What?”
“We’ve been driving around aimlessly for weeks now, curling up together in random motels at night only to repeat ourselves again the next day, and you haven’t said anything. We haven’t talked about anything. We don’t have time for you to get over what Lucifer did to you in a leisurely fashion, Sammy. You need to man-up and get over yourself…”
“You’re an ass,” Sam interrupted, feeling the sting of betrayal in his gut.
Dean didn’t even pause in his speech, “…so we can fight the sons of bitches trying to destroy the world. ‘Cause if we aren’t going to do that then I’m sick of wandering around miserably. At least when I was in hell I could lose myself in the blood and gore and other-peoples-pain. There isn’t a point in staying here and wallowing in our own shit if we’re just going to let the end come without a fight.”
“That’s not my plan, Dean, but you’ve gotta give…”
“Yeah?” Dean threw the car back into park and turned to look at Sam fully. “So what is your plan, ‘cause you sure as shit haven’t let me in on it!”
Taken aback, Sam looked at Dean blankly and the misery that he’d forgotten just for a moment was pouring back in as fast as it had been forgotten. “I don’t know,” he whispered hopelessly.
“Fuck it then.” Dean slammed out of the car, moving quickly over to stand right at the edge of the cliff.
Sam was scrambling out of the car almost as fast, coming up short a couple of feet from Dean, his heart rate picking up speed at the realization that one false move on his part could send Dean hurtling to his death.
“Dean, please, man. Step back from the edge. You’re scaring me.”
“I remember hell.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” Dean snapped back. “Do you know what that means? Forty years, Sam. I’ve been dead longer than I’ve been alive.”
“I kn…”
“But do you get what that fucking means?” Dean interrupted, his gaze not wavering from the panoramic view. “Cas distanced the memories for me, made it possible for me to exist top-side without being bat-shit insane,” he turned then, looking steadily at Sam, “but I still remember hell far better than I remember you.”
Sam stumbled back a bit, until the car was pressing reassuringly into his back. The coldly stated words created a hot burn behind his eyes, leaving him dizzy and nauseous. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t think of anything to say. He didn’t know how to apologize for letting his brother down so completely. He didn’t have any defense for being such a colossal fuck-up. He looked at the ground, his feet, at a shrub 10 feet away, at anything except the profound betrayal that must be shining in Dean’s eyes like points of fire.
“It’s not… I never forgot about you, not exactly. But… I had this image in my head. Of you taking yourself out of the hunt, going back to school and starting a family. Of you acknowledging the sacrifices that Dad and I made for you, and living the perfect life because of them. I clung to the fact that you loved me enough to do what I’d asked you to do. I trusted you.
“But when I came back, fuck, you weren’t the guy I remembered sacrificing myself for. You lied, you kept secrets, you were with her, trusting her to have your back in every way you didn’t trust me. What was I supposed to do with that, Sammy? It was like I’d made that sacrifice for a ghost, because the brother I thought I remembered turned out to be complete fiction.”
“God, Dean, I never meant to hurt you…”
Dean stepped right up into Sam’s space, not stopping until their faces were mere inches apart, and spit out, “But you did.”
Sam shoved Dean backwards, needing distance as he yelled back, “I was trying, Dean!” Anger curled in his stomach like smoke, dancing slowly upwards, “I know I wasn’t worth the sacrifice you made, but shit, I was trying to prove I was worth something!”
“And are you, Sam? Are you worth the sacrifice I made?” Dean yelled back.
“No! I never was! Damn it, Dean, I never asked you to make that sacrifice for me, and I’m never, never going to live up to it.”
Dean’s fist crashed into Sam’s face before he even saw it coming, sending him sprawling, igniting a fire in his cheek bone that left him dizzy. He was on his feet a moment later anyway, cold fury launching him against Dean hard enough to crash them both to the ground. They rolled together a couple of feet before coming to a stop in a tangle of limbs. Dean was faster to react, freeing a fist and crashing it against Sam’s face once more. This time, Sam was ready for it, and sent his own fist flying in return.
“Fuck you, Dean! Fuck you for leaving me alone! I’m not the only one who let somebody down!” A second punch connected with Dean’s face as Sam yelled, unable to think, almost unable to breathe past his fury. “I fucking tried, but I was never strong enough to make it without you!”
Tears were blurring Sam’s vision, and Dean took advantage, rolling them over so he was on top, and slamming Sam’s hands above his head, taking advantage of his weight to keep Sam pinned.
Dean writhed against Sam, just once, but it was enough for Sam to realize… He gasped, a sharp, open-mouthed breath of surprise; Dean was fully hard, his dick an almost painful press of hard skin between them.
There was no time to process that as Dean dove down, crashing their mouths together hard, somehow still more angry than lustful. He covered Sam’s mouth with his own and scraped his teeth across Sam’s lips, setting off a burn that Sam couldn’t deny made his dick sit up and take notice. The small nips and bites Dean pressed into his lips were harsh, hard enough to cut, hard enough to make him bleed.
Sam thrust his hips up as the sharp, metallic taste flowed over his tongue. He needed more contact, needed to taste Dean and know that he was real, just needed more. There was no way Sam could force himself to push his brother away – he wanted this more than he’d ever wanted anything.
Dean gradually relaxed down against Sam’s body as they lost themselves in each other, twining their legs together as he continued to lick into Sam’s mouth hungrily. Sam couldn’t help surging upwards to meet Dean’s tongue with his own, drinking in Dean’s intoxicating taste. A low, needy whimper escaped from Sam as he pulsed his hips upwards against Dean’s.
Too many clothes. Too much… He needed…
A demanding whine escaped from Sam, and Dean responded by sliding his hands down Sam’s arms with a groan, lacing them through Sam’s hair in an impossible attempt to pull their mouths even closer. Sam’s arms were finally free and he took advantage, reaching down to grab the bottom of Dean’s t-shirt. He pulled it up around Dean’s armpits, then did the same to his own, groaning loudly at the slip slide of sweat-damp skin that resulted.
Still, Sam needed more. Dean was continuing to kiss him hungrily, and Sam let him plunder his mouth as he snaked a hand between their bodies to struggle Dean’s jeans open. When Dean’s dick finally sprang free, stiff and proud, Sam grabbed the silky skin, gripping it firmly before giving it a hard, firm tug. Dean stilled against Sam, a long, low moan issuing from his throat.
Suddenly, Dean threw himself backwards, breaking their contact.
Fear clenched Sam’s stomach fiercely. Dean was… Fuck! Dean didn’t want this. Sam had gone too far, misread all the signs…
Dean started stripping his clothes off clumsily, frantically, tossing them to the side and muttering for Sam to do the same. Sam wanted… but he couldn’t… Sam couldn’t move, frozen in place by too many conflicting emotions to even begin to process.
Dean didn’t let Sam’s lack of response deter him. As soon as he was completely nude, he grabbed Sam’s clothing and pulling it off as well. Sam couldn’t struggle against Dean’s desire anymore than he could push Dean away.
Between one blink and the next they were both stripped to the skin. Dean pushed Sam back down to sitting, forcing Sam’s hands to the ground behind them so that he could brace himself in a slightly leaned back position as Dean straddled Sam’s lap. The small rocks and pebbles in the dirt dug into Sam’s ass and hands, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as Dean’s passion-filled gaze met his own.
This time, only one hand wove through Sam’s hair to pull their mouths in close for a searing kiss. The other shoved between them and wrapped around both of their dicks, pressing the hard flesh together in a sinuous crush as he jacked them both.
Sam yelled, couldn’t keep the noise inside as exhilaration filled him, leaving him needy and restless. The muscles in Sam’s groin were already clenching up as Dean pumped his fist down and up, down and up, and Sam knew he wasn’t going to last long, could feel his climax almost ready to crest.
Sam tottered at the edge, almost… almost…
Dean’s hand disappeared.
“Dean?” Sam moaned out, pleading for… something, unable to think past his insatiable lust.
Saying nothing, Dean locked his gaze fiercely on Sam’s as he simply shifted slightly upward, then lined his ass up with Sam’s dick and started pushing himself down.
“Dean!” Sam huffed out, freezing in place, panic filling him. “You aren’t, you can’t…”
“I can take it, Sam, Just, let me…” Dean’s voice was cracking, his hitching breaths sounding pained as he continued to sink down.
“Dean, fuck, you can’t… fuck, stop!” Sam begged, fear for his brother making him struggle. He didn’t care about the burn of Dean’s tight ass scraping down his dick, the pain felt good, felt deserved, but Dean… His brother shook his head silently and continued inching down, little by little. Sam couldn’t imagine that Dean was able to do that without tearing himself up inside.
“I can… fuck… I can… I can take it!” Dean gasped out. His breaths were coming out hard and fast, interrupted by small, pained whimpers, but his face looked fierce and determined. This Dean, Sam’s Dean, was nothing like Lucifer’s façade had been. This was real, and this was… Dean was hurting himself… for Sam. Again.
His heart ached as he hastily spit into his hand and reached under his brother’s ass, smearing the saliva around the still exposed base of his dick, trying to do what he could to ease Dean’s steady push. Dean didn’t seem to notice, his eyes closed, his mouth clenched so hard the muscles in his jaw were jumping, never faltering in his continuous slide down until he yelled out a satisfied, “Fuck!” as he bottomed out.
Sam’s arms were still trapped behind him, the only thing keeping them both upright, but Dean wrapped himself around Sam like a koala bear, like he was never going to let Sam go. Dean’s mouth found his brother’s neck and he nuzzled against Sam’s skin as he jerked up and then back down, clenching hard around Sam, causing both of them to moan loudly. “Sam, I’m… shit, I’m sorry, I can’t… I’m gonna come,” Dean gasped as he pulsed up and down twice more.
Dean’s teeth found skin at the juncture of Sam’s neck, and he sucked it into his mouth sharply, biting down hard as his orgasm struck. The pain, the claim of the bite, the incredibly tight clench of Dean’s body around Sam’s dick, it all combined to pull Sam with him over the edge, making the pain-filled pleasure crest and flow over them both, crashing over them again and again until it faded away and Dean relaxed against Sam’s heaving chest.
Dean looked boneless, sated, content, and yet… Sam couldn’t hold back the rage that was suddenly filling him to bursting. He shoved Dean away, hard enough to rip Dean off of his dick and send him sliding backwards across the unforgiving ground.
Dean seemed to snap out of his daze and looked back at Sam with uncertain eyes. Unable to maintain the contact, Sam scrambled backwards, flipped himself over and slammed his right fist against the dirt. He wanted to hurt something, wanted to feel his skin slam against skin hard enough to break bones, but he didn’t want to hurt his brother. That much he knew, but there wasn’t anyone else around, and that left him with nowhere to vent his anger. He struck down again, and then again, letting the rocky dirt tear satisfying, dirty wounds into the skin of his knuckles.
His back abruptly slammed into the dirt hard enough to leave him winded. Dean was straddling him, gripping both of Sam’s fists tightly, and staring at him furiously. Sam still couldn’t meet his gaze, instead focusing on Dean’s chest. Sam let his eyes trail down to Dean’s stomach, smeared with dirt and come, down to his still semi-hard dick, down further to his legs. Sam’s come had leaked out of Dean’s ass, and a long, wet, partially smeared trail spiraled down from the back of his leg to the front. It was tinged pink.
Fuck.
The anger melted away as fast as it had come, leaving Sam hopeless and lost. His eyes burned, and he felt the wetness gather and slip over, leaving a trail of shame. Dean slammed Sam’s hands above his head, let them go with an insistent shake, and gripped the sides of Sam’s face, forcing their eyes to meet. “Don’t do this, Sammy. Don’t let that anger go. God, you… I can’t let you hurt yourself, but don’t let it go, please.”
“I’m tired of hurting you, Dean. I swear to god, I don’t mean to, but it keeps happening. No matter what I do. I’m so… I can’t keep doing that. I can’t.”
Dean’s thumbs were rubbing against Sam’s temples, sliding through the wet. “Despair is what Lucifer wants from you. Don’t you see that? He’s trying to get you to give up, so you’ll say yes.”
“No!” Sam raged, pushing at Dean, somehow unable to gather enough strength to dislodge his brother.
“Yes,” Dean hissed back. “Everything, everything they’ve done has been designed to pull us apart. I think us, together, strong, that’s what’s going to win this. That’s exactly what they don’t want. You’ve been carrying everything around on your own fucking shoulders, by yourself, for so long that it’s eating your soul away. You have to stop that. Your anger will help. I’m fucking sorry I had to push you into it, but you need it, Sam. You need it to keep yourself sane.”
Sam reached down, let his hand swipe through the come still drying on Dean’s leg and held it up accusingly. “I hurt you!”
Dean narrowed his eyes, grabbed Sam’s hand and wrapped his lips over Sam’s fingers. He licked his tongue over the digits, sensuously, lapping the tinged come away slowly, thoroughly, until Sam’s hand was clean. Continuing to suck, he pulled Sam’s hand out of his mouth with a noisy slurp. His tongue slipped out between his lips and he ran it over them obscenely, leaving them glistening in the harsh sunlight. “I did that, Sam, not you. You don’t get to claim responsibility for that one.”
“Fuck,” Sam breathed out, his oversensitive dick somehow managing to twitch with renewed interest. “Holy crap, Dean, we’re brothers. What the hell are we doing?”
Guilt flashed in Dean’s eyes and he struggled up to standing before he closed them helplessly. “Did you… it was too soon. I shouldn’t have… God, you didn’t want that… “
“Dean!” Sam interrupted anxiously, following his brother up.
Dean’s eyes snapped open and he backed away from Sam until his back hit the Impala. It looked like he looked like he was considering flight.
Sam grabbed Dean’s shoulders, pinning his brother in place and hastening to reassure, “No, it’s okay. It was… I wanted it, okay? I did. I’m okay, but…” Sam could feel himself shaking, fear filling his chest enough to make his voice breathy. “We shouldn’t… God, we’re brothers,” he repeated weakly.
Dean snorted, his guilty expression slowly fading away, turning into resolve. “The archangel of heaven and the king of hell are both after our asses. We’ve both been to hell and back because of that. I don’t think society gets to dictate what we do anymore.”
That was only a good enough excuse for one of them. “I’ve never…”
“Really?” Dean interrupted sharply, “What would you call what Lucifer did to you then, if not hell?”
Sam opened his mouth to reply, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Dean looked at him with big-brother triumph shining from his eyes, thinking he’d won, so Sam let the words come out without censor, “I’d call it… nothing. Nothing happened. It was all in my head. All those things he did. None of it was real. There aren’t even any scars.”
“So, you’re saying that just because I don’t have any scars, that those forty years I spent in hell were all in my head? Fuck that,” Dean snapped back. “It was real, for both of us. I was there with you. I saw what he put you through. Hell, Castiel bore witness too, and he left the evidence of that right here,” Dean placed his hand over the symbol on Sam’s chest. A warm pulse surged straight from Dean’s hand to Sam’s heart. Dean paused against him, looking at his hand, and Sam wondered if his brother could feel it as well.
Not breaking the connection, Dean pushed Sam around so that Sam was against the Impala. He pressed himself against Sam in a long line, weaving their legs together. Calmly, almost tenderly – almost, because he couldn’t quite bring himself to ascribe that attribute to his wanna-be-macho brother – Dean inched down to place a series of kisses over his chest. Dean’s hand drifted lower, settling over Sam’s hip and tracing against the scar there. He slid down Sam’s body until he was crouched down at Sam’s hip level. “This one didn’t go away either,” Dean whispered. Without moving his hand, he looked up at Sam’s face. “It was real, Sam.”
Suddenly uncomfortable with their closeness, Sam blurted out, “Why?”
Dean looked confused and slowly stood back up as he answered, a little confused, “Why what?”
“Why did we… why did you want to hurt yourself?” Sam answered slowly, feeling somewhat embarrassed, “During the sex, I mean. There were other ways we could have done it, other things we could have tried, that would’ve kept you from getting hurt.”
“Forty years in hell, Sam. You learn to like things. You aren’t the only one who’s fucked up six ways from Sunday.”
“Fuck,” Sam breathed out, unable to come up with any other response to that.
“Tell me about it,” Dean deflected with a grin. The grin slipped away quickly, and Dean added more seriously, “You’re gonna be okay, Sam. We’re gonna get each other through this.”
“I know,” Sam replied automatically, not really believing it.
Dean scowled and wrapped his hands around the sides of Sam’s head, forcing Sam’s gaze to his own. “We are,” Dean insisted. “Look, a long time ago, I made you a promise.”
“What?” Sam asked, confused, not following Dean’s train of thought.
“I made you a promise. I told you that if it was the last thing I did, I was gonna save you. I… forgot that for a little while. But I remember now. I’m gonna save you, Sam.”
Sam inhaled sharply, feeling less alone than he had in a long time. When he’d made the decision to go with Ruby, he’d truly hoped, but hadn’t really believed, that eventually he and Dean would be able to fix everything Sam had done to fuck up their relationship. It was a sacrifice he’d thought at the time was worth it. He’d had no idea.
Feeling raw he pressed his forehead against Dean’s, letting his brother’s solidity and presence hold him up. “Dude,” he husked out, “We’re fucking filthy. Sex on the ground next to the Grand Canyon isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Couldn’t you have fantasized about the Pacific Ocean? At least then we’d be able to go in the water to rinse the sand off.”
Dean snorted. “Yeah, and freeze our balls off while we did it. Might be your kink but it isn’t mine,” he teased back. “Why don’t I find us a motel; we can clean up and come back later. Maybe take one of those touristy tours that tourists take. This is as good a place as any to lay low. I doubt the powers of heaven and hell will think to look for us here.”
Dean pushed away from Sam, moving to pull his clothes back on over obviously sore muscles.
Dean was back, and he wasn’t leaving. Not this time.
Sam could feel the wounds he’d suffered by Lucifer’s hand buried just under the surface, knew that Dean was hiding much worse. They were weak apart, heaven and hell would rip them into little pieces if they were separate, of that Sam had no doubt, but together…
Together maybe they had a shot.
Part Eleven | Epilogue
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Yay!
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*whistles*
It's good to see Dean here, a little broken too, and Dean chose one HELL of a way to try to get Sam to wake up, fight back.
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