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Title: "A Warning to people, Good and Evil ( This Is War)
Author![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
the_milky_way
Character(s)/Pairing: Sam Winchester (Sam/Dean)
Theme: 03 Paranormal
Prompt(s): 19. energy, 20. sacred, 21. heaven, 22. angels, 23. life, 24. shiver
Rating: R
Words: 5.509 overall.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Kripke and Warner. I don't own anything.
Warnings: heavy spoilers for 5.14 up until 5.16
Beta:fly_bluebird, Thank you.
Summary:
This is not what he thought it would be. Dean looks paralysed, Castiel is on his knees like a dog, and Sam…
This is not what he expected, what he came for. This is not the Famine he feared.
***
He turns around to see where he is, where Dean is.
No one’s there though. Just him on an empty road.
A road vanishing into the horizon. He almost snorts, it’s a cheap metaphor for his life, his journey…. He knows that much.
Notes: This is forkros_21, who wanted something about Famine finding out what Dean really hungers for. This was supposed to be her Birthday present but it took me longer than expected, so I am a little late.
Hope you still like it though. Thanks for the prompt... :)
Title is taken from 30 Seconds to Mars' "This is War"
A Warning to people, Good and Evil
This Is War
To the Soldier, The Civillian, The Martyr, The Victim
This is War
The second he steps, no, flies into the room, Sam thinks he is hallucinating.
This is not what he thought it would be. Dean looks paralysed, Castiel is on his knees like a dog, and Sam…
This is not what he expected, what he came for. This is not the Famine he feared.
He has thought about it ever since they encountered the first Horseman. He’s thought about how the others would manifest, would look like, what they would unleash.
Thought it, dreamed it, even tried to talk to Dean about it. Because this? This is the apocalypse and they’re right in the middle of it. He wants to be ready, tries to be even though that is impossible. The real thing behind the nightmares and myths always manages to be so much more horrible.
Sam’s tempted to blame the demon blood still pumping through his veins but for the second he stands stunned and mostly unnoticed by everyone in the room, he thinks Dean’s not really there.
It’s Dean’s body, caught between two demons and facing Famine. But everything else is missing; eyes dull, split lips pulled into a thin line, voice hollow when he answers. He sounds broken.
Even through the haze in his head, Sam knows this is wrong. Knows that this isn’t the way things are supposed to be, that this isn’t how Dean is supposed to be.
****
He has no memory of how he got out of the bathroom, how he managed to leave the bodies and blood behind., Doesn’t know where that energy came from.
The haze in his mind doesn’t settle, the fog doesn’t lift much but it’s still enough for him to focus on Dean instead of the craving.
The craving for blood that shouldn't even be there anymore. But it is. He fears that maybe it always will be..
Spikes of pain and nausea wreck his body. He has a hard time moving, thinking, just being.
He can listen though.
What he hears is not what he expected. Not at all… and it might even explain some things in the end.
***
Sam can hear Famine clearly, even through the blood haze in his brain.
He can hear the words and it doesn’t take long for them to register. What he doesn’t manage is to believe them. There has to be something left. There just has to be. Sam will fight for what’s left, won’t let Dean just go, just give up. Not yet. Not ever. Not when he can help.
Before he can move to finish off what he came for, Famine speaks again. A sick voice, rasping out in waves of vile breath. It makes Sam’s stomach roll in disgust. He is close to just ignoring the words, to go on with killing the demons, Famine’s fodder.
Something stops him though.
“Oh… Oh.” It preens. Smiles all sickly and mean. Sam’s stunned a second time, doesn’t know what’s going on and almost thinks he hallucinating when it all becomes just a little too clear. His mind twists around the words he hears, his heart speeds up, his stomach cramps and he’s so very close to just unleash his power into the room, not caring what it would do to him or everyone else inside.
It’s just too much. He can only take so much taunting.
“I almost missed that. How could I? Not so dead then, huh, Dean? Oh, you are hungering for something after all then. Or should I say someone? Blood, too. Blood and flesh. Your own blood and flesh even. Tsss… Dean, how very deviant of you. Yeah, you want that, don’t you? Have been lusting and wanting it for years now.”
If possible, Dean goes even paler, twists in the grip of the last remaining demon.
Sam knows he is as pale as Dean. Because this is just not happening. It can’t be.
Sam’s just moves in for the kill. Can’t stand watching, listening to It any longer.
In his head he screams ‘go to hell’ and feels a certain satisfaction as the dark swirls devouring their master. The choking noises send Sam over the edge though, and before he can even process everything, he is on his knees choking, heaving, weakly calling out for Dean.
***
Everything went black and the last thing he saw was Dean on his knees beside him. When he wakes up ,Sam finds himself in a room he never wanted to see again.
He chokes on a sob, on a desperate cry for help, on his begging for Dean, for Castiel. Chokes on his words, on his tears, on his fears. Surrenders to it all when it’s the only thing left to do.
Sam gives in to the pain. Gives up to the hallucinations and the words whispered in his mind. He gives in to the dreams that threaten to swallow what's left of his sanity.
Sam makes himself listen to the words that fill his nightmare visions until they lose their meaning, until they change, until they are the words that had Dean pale and casting fearful glances towards Sam. Those words are the ones getting Sam through the detox this time. Because those words are the ones he’ll hold close and use when it’s the right time.
They were meant to do harm, to make things worse, but they are actually making Sam think things might even be looking up again.
He falls asleep with a cry on his lips and the sudden clear knowledge that Dean isn’t dead inside at all.
Sam finally knows what Dean is hungry for.
It’s as much of a shock as it should have been.
***
They don’t talk about it, they just go on like they usually do. They don’t speak much at all these days anyway.
Not about Famine, not about what Famine said, and most definitely not about the fact that Sam had to detox again. Dean has been short with him ever since.
It hurts, it hurts even more than before. Logically Sam knows it wasn’t his fault, that Famine tempted him. He knows that even Castiel couldn’t resist so how could he? But he still gets why Dean’s mad at him.
Because clearly, Dean managed to resists and had expected Sam to do as well. Or that’s what Sam needs to believe because the other option is far too much to take. Dean’s not dead inside. Can’t be. Otherwise Sam would already be alone and fighting the apocalypse on his own. Dean wouldn’t care anymore.
Not speaking about things is sacred in the Winchester family. Always has been.
Dean’s silence, short answers, and stepping out of Sam’s way whenever he can manage are hard to ignore. Sam’s sort of clueless about what to do. He gives up trying a week in and starts to hole himself up, starts to hide in his head more and more.
Dean’s not saying anything, keeps his distance, doesn’t seem to care.
Maybe Famine was right after all, Dean is dead inside and Sam has just been too delusional to see it.
It hurts and the pain is a constant dull throb in his chest. Once he would have thought, hoped, Dean would come around, that Sam would be the one making him. Those times are long gone, and Sam’s pretty sure that the time he actually meant that much to Dean was lost along the way.
Hope has always been Sam's last line of defense. It seems as if it's time to give up on it now.
***
They only go through the motions. Take hunts and are chased by angels and demons alike.
Things fall even more apart when Zachariah deems them ready to be played with again. Sam curses him a thousand ways to hell and still has to admit defeat.
The amulet, the hopelessness, their versions of heaven; it all breaks Sam in more ways then he wants to acknowledge. It’s the little things that cut the deepest, the words not said, the actions not done. It’s the little things that pile up and create one big pain he can’t shake off anymore.
Nothing in their relationship seems to be sacred anymore. Not memories, not trust, not them sticking together. Nothing.
He has the amulet, took it before Dean could see. Has it hidden away like some dirty secret he has to keep from his brother. Again. It makes him physically sick thinking about it, thinking about what it used to mean, what it clearly doesn’t mean anymore.
Dean’s not there. Only his body and voice is present, but Dean… not so much. So Sam does the only thing he can think of. He hides, too. Protects himself from everything and anything, in the only way he knows.
Everything feels more and more disjointed, broken, impossible to repair. Like he himself, like Dean, like their relationship.
Not talking becomes the new direction their relationship is taking. There are grunts, words even, sometimes even names. But no conversations, no real conversations.
Sam misses his brother every day. Misses the bad jokes and pranks, misses the feeling of knowing that someone is there for him.
Misses the feeling of suppressing the want and still trying to be close to Dean. He somehow misses being a freak.
When his dreams get harder to ignore, Sam longs for someone to talk to.
But there is no one.
Something is going on, Sam knows that much. He can’t figure out what though, can’t get a grip on reality long enough to sit down and think. Everything is broken, in pieces. Sam’s helpless, unable to reach out, to say the word, to call for help.
No one there to answer the call anyway.
When it gets harder to wake up and Sam knows something is very, very wrong, he ignores it because he knows Dean doesn’t need something else to worry about. Especially when it’s connected to Sam.
Sam starts to hide in his mind and his dreams; all of them suddenly seem way more radiant and real. Sam doesn’t realize how far gone he is until it’s almost too late.
***
It’s a dream.
Can’t be anything else.
There is sunshine, bright and almost too radiant. Blue sky, no clouds. It’s like someone went over the scene with one of Photoshop’s awesome brushes. Yellow, bright light reflected from every surface, and he can’t look at it anymore.
He turns around to see where he is, where Dean is. No one’s there though. Just him on an empty road. A road vanishing into the horizon. He almost snorts, it’s a cheap metaphor for his life, his journey…. He knows that much.
He turns again, stops dead, and almost sighs in exasperation.
“Hello there, Sam. Lost? Sorry about that.”
He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t want to. Doesn’t know what to say.
“Not in a friendly mood today?” The smirk already grates on his nerves. It’s time to wake up and he closes his eyes. Nothing happens.
“Yeah, sorry. Not that easy this time. You’ll have to work a little harder here. So tell me, did you like Famine? Oh, I know he pulled the wrong hunger from your thoughts, how bad of him. I am sorry about that. But the other option would have been way too easy… seeing as brother dearest has chosen the same path. Nice surprise by the way, Samuel. Should have known this one.”
Sam closes his eyes again, tries to keep the image in front of him out. He doesn’t want to see it, deal with it, deal with the words. He can’t. Not now. Not without Dean.
He is gone when Sam opens his eyes. But nothing else has changed. Sam’s trapped, trapped in his own wasteland of a mind. And there is no one to pull him out, because no one knows he is there.
***
He sits in the dry, but still green grass. Watches the cloudless sky. Melts in the burning sun. Doesn’t think.
He just sits there and waits. He forgets what he is waiting for. Forgets who he is for a while even. No thoughts, no dreams, no visitors to keep him occupied.
The road glimmers in the bright light. His mouth tastes foul but he doesn’t care. He is craving something… anything. There is nothing but the wide open space in front of him, behind him, above him, next to him.
Then there is wind. It moves through the grass, the field close by and Sam’s hair. Makes the heat bearable all of a sudden. It’s takes him a very long time to register it, it takes him even longer to see the lone figure walking down the road.
Walking towards him.
***
Someone’s sitting next to him when he blinks again.
Relief about not being alone anymore mixes with confusion. He doesn’t know why someone is here now. After all this time. Must have been years now. Feels like eternity.
“Sammy.” It’s said casually, but there is worry, fear even. He knows the voice, can’t place it thought. But suddenly he knows again who he is.
“That’s me, isn’t it? I am Sammy. Forgot that for a while I think.”
The sob catches him by surprise and he looks at the man sitting next to him for the first time. He is gorgeous. Beautiful even. And it must all be a dream again. Nothing beautiful like this would come here, not to him. Why would it?
A sharp intake of breath, another sob, and he knows he’s said it all out loud. He doesn’t really care because it’s the truth after all, no reason to lie. Not around here.
“Why are you crying?” He asks the man and it earns him just another sob, harder this time. It’s breaking his heart and he doesn’t know what to do. So he goes back to watching the wind weave through the grass. Nothing really changes here anyway, but the wind is new, so he looks at it with interest. Wonders how he never ‘saw’ wind before or can’t remember seeing it.
Things take a strange greenish hue then, like there suddenly is a layer of new color pasted over them. He blinks, wonders what’s going on but doesn’t remember the words to articulate his confusion.
The man is looking at him though, eyes red rimmed and glassy but colored in the deepest green he’s ever seen. They are soulful, filled with feelings and emotions that go beyond the range he can grasp right now.
Those eyes are telling a story. A story full of love, hate, anger, trust and desire. A story full of things that should stay hidden but never can. This man loves someone fiercely, hates with a passion and would die to save his heart and the one of his loved one.
He blinks again and wonders how he knows this, how he can look so deep and find those hidden things. How?
Maybe he is dead. Maybe he is in heaven.
***
The wind grows stronger, ruffles his hair and makes him shiver with every cool gust that hits his over heated skin. He still can feel, so maybe he isn’t dead after all.
But…. Maybe he should ask. Just to make sure.
“Is this heaven? Are you an angel? Are there angels?”
“Wha… what?” The man next to him stutters, and he is almost surprised that he is still there.
“Heaven? Are there angels? Never thought I’d be all alone here. Makes you wonder what I did, huh?” He laughs a little even though he suddenly knows that it’s really rather sad to be all alone in Heaven. “I always thought I’d be with someone. Not sure who though. I can’t remember. Have been here too long. But there is someone… I love someone…. and he is not coming. I think.”
“Oh God, Sammy.”
The second the man touches him, Sam collapses right into his arms.
Maybe he is an angel after all, here to take Sam where he belongs.
***
The pounding in his head is annoying as hell. It won’t stop no matter how much he groans and buries himself under the pillow.
He stops dead in his movement. Carefully reaches out again and pats the pillow with uncertain movements. Something isn’t right here but he doesn’t really know what it is until a warm and very shaky hand grabs onto his and doesn’t let go.
“Sam?”
He slowly opens is eyes open. It takes a while to blink away the crust and then he just stares.
This is nothing like the vast open field he fell asleep in. There are walls caging him in, a closed door, another one open. Artificial bulbs casting the room in something that’s almost a sorry excuse for light.
The craving for the blue sky, blinding sunlight and overly green fields is strong. So strong that he gasps out loud in pain.
“Sammy? You okay? Hey, hey… breathe. Come on. In and out. Just take a deep breath. Please.” The voice, again, is familiar. Soothing even. His panic ebbs away the second his mind latches on to the voice, its rough cadence and undertones.
“Yeah, good. Come on. Another one.”
The second the hand settles on his back, everything crashes down around him. Whirls of emotions, spikes of pain, attacks of images in his head. It’s too much. Way too much and he succumbs to the darkness again.
***
“Fuck.” He says it out loud. He has too because the pain is overwhelming. Detox is nothing compared to what’s shooting through his head right now.
He wants to hurl, wants to shout, wants to stab himself only to have something else to focus on. It just has to go away. Right. Now.
“Hey.. stop it. Stop trashing, Sammy. It know it hurts. I know. Drink this. Please, just… Sam.”
Something cool is at his lips and he sucks it down greedily. Almost chokes on it, too, but can catch himself before it goes down the wrong way.
He knows where he is. He knows who he is again. He knows who is there.
“Dean?” he croaks out, just to see if he is right
Something crashes to the floor, he’s pretty sure it’s the glass he has just been drinking from and then he’s hauled up and in into strong arms.
“Dammit asshole, never do this to me again.” Dean says into his neck and then just holds him for a long time. Just holds, like he hasn’t in a while. Holds him and doesn’t speak.
***
“So what? He trapped me in my mind and I forgot about it?” Sam’s confused because the concept alone is scary and surreal. But he still remembers some of the wide open field and blue sky, just not all of it.
He knows Dean got him out of there with the help of a spell Bobby found after weeks of searching. He knows that he just went silent on Dean all of a sudden and just looking at Dean tells Sam that it took him a bit to realize it. There is guilt written all over his brother’s face.
Logically, he also knows that it one of Lucifer’s more perfidious plans to make him say yes. But it still is unbelievable.
“Sort of, yes. You.. Cas said you were already withdrawn, hiding… Lucifer just went for it. Apparently you wanted to be.. away from everything. Michael tried the same with me. Didn’t work, I was too… focused on other things.” Dean sounds rough when he says it, picks at his cuticles and doesn’t even dare to look anywhere near Sam.
"You had things to deal with."
"That's no excuse. Not... not when it comes to family."
They are still at Bobby’s, where Dean brought him when he wouldn’t wake up. Sam’s sitting on the bed, still feeling a little out of it. Dean’s at the other end of it, subdued in a way Sam hasn’t seen him in years.
It scares him.
He jumps a little when Dean speaks again.
“Fuck, Sammy. You scared the shit out of me there. When you… man, you wouldn’t open your eyes anymore. Just.. just sat there and.. nothing. Three weeks… Had you on IVs Sam. IVs!.... … I thought…”
Dean doesn’t have to say it out loud because Sam knows what he wants to say.
“You thought I had said yes and this was Lucifer playing games.”
Dean looks pale, pale like he did when Famine open its mouth. The stab in Sam’s chest is so unexpected that he reaches up to rub the skin above his heart. Dean’s eyes follow his fingers, have been following every one of Sam’s movements ever since he woke up.
It shouldn’t make his skin tingle the way it does. It really, really shouldn’t.
Famine’s words shouldn’t still be playing around in his head like they do, because Sam has long gone and convinced himself that it was just a trick, something the Horseman pulled to make them falter, tear them apart. Which still leaves the other option but Sam isn’t thinking about that one.
He still isn’t sure how Dean could have resisted the hunger though. If Famine was speaking the truth after all.
He wants to ask, wants to know, doesn’t want to hide anymore. He wants his life back.
He doesn’t dare.
***
The car is rumbling beneath him, reassuring him that he is really there and not back in his… whatever it was Lucifer had trapped him in.
The fields of green fly by, the sky is deep blue, and the sun is scorching hot. The road unwinds in front of them and he can’t help but stare.
He has to look at Dean every few seconds to make sure that everything is alright. It doesn’t take long for Dean to catch up on it. Sam expects a smirk, a comment about how Sam can’t resist looking at him or something similar Dean-ish. But nothing comes forth, just a small smile and a quirk of his eyebrow, and then Dean looks back towards the road.
Of course, Sam thinks. Things are still strained, nothing is solved. They’re still not talking about anything and Dean… well, Sam thinks Dean is still pissed at him for falling for Lucifer’s trap.
“I remember.” The words are low but clear. Sam jerks his head towards Dean so fast that he hisses in pain.
“What do your remember?” Sam’s curious as hell.
“I was in your head, Sammy. The spell put me right there… and you were so.. gone. Alone. Waiting. I remember what you said to me there… and… I…” Dean stops there and when nothing else comes, Sam actually lets go of the breath he’s been holding in.
“I… don’t.”
“Huh?” Deans looks over, confused.
“Remember. No, that’s not true. I do… some things. The fields, the sky, the sun. You being there. Me thinking how… how….” Now he can’t go on, feels his cheeks go hot and ducks his head. Because yeah, there is a reason why they usually don’t talk about things. Neither of them is very keen on embarrassing themselves in front of the other.
“You…. thought it was heaven and that I wouldn’t come for you.”
Sam swallows hard, because the second Dean says it, it’s all back. Right there, in his mind. Suddenly he knows again what he saw in Dean’s eyes, what was there and probably… maybe, still is there.
He feels the loneliness, feels it deep and aching in his bones.
“Lucifer wanted me to be like this. Lonely, so lonely that he could come back, sweep in and ask the question. But you came… Dean, you came.. and….”
“Of course, Sammy. Cas figured it out when I told him about Michael in my dreams. Said you’d been lonely ever since the… since Famine. Withdrawing. And, by God, I know it’s my fault, too. I… couldn’t face it. Thought you were hiding because of… because of what Famine said.” Dean almost chokes it out. Shudders and grips the wheel tightly.
“Dean… I…”
“I am sorry.” Dean says, calm and deep. But Sam can hear the emotions underneath the bland tone. “I am sorry for… not seeing you, not listening to you when you said your dreams were strange. And… I am so damn sorry for putting it all on you…”
“Putting what on me, Dean?”
“What Famine said…. I…. it’s.. true.” Dean pulls over then, heaves a sigh and then just sits there staring at the blacktop of the road. The car clicks, cools and silence spreads out like a blanket over them. Sam’s mind is reeling, it’s too much to take in. Too much all at once.
They never talk. It’s the rule of there lives. A rule he’s followed most of his life. So this right there? This is way too much for Sam to process.
He gets out of the car and the second he does it, he knows this is the wrong decision. Dean takes a deep breath like he squares himself for things to finally explode between them and all Sam can think of is how far away from the truth he is.
“Get out Dean.”
“What?”
“C’mere. Get out of the car and come here. Please?” Sam can’t help but ask… He can’t do that in the car. He has to face Dean, needs the wide open space of land behind and in front of him to do this.
He almost laughs at the irony of that scene.
Dean gets out slowly but still gets out. Sam almost sighs in relief because for a second he thought Dean would panic and drive off.
They stand there, in the field next to the road, and just look at each other for a while. Sam takes everything in. Takes in the man that has been there for most of his life and wonders how he could have missed so much about him.
There is a soft breeze, the sun’s hot and burning, and it’s nothing like the scene in his mind. Nothing at all. It’s beautiful and he isn’t alone.
Sam suddenly feels alive. Alive like he hasn’t for years now.
He smiles, all wide and happy, and it startles Dean. It takes a minute, but not long, before Dean’s smiling back. There is still fear in his eyes, panic even, and shame.
Sam can’t stand it.
He pulls Dean close, just holds him like Dean did when he woke up. Holds him and feels. Just feels him for the first time in his life.
“Sammy?” Sam loves how Dean’s been calling him that ever since the surreal scene in his mind.
“I am good. Just need to feel you. Need to make sure this is real and not a trick.”
Dean wraps his arms around him then.
And Sam thinks they must be a funny sight. But no one is around anyway, so Sam doesn’t care. He has Dean and he still has his life.
They will talk later.
Now he just needs to hold Dean and Dean to hold him in return.
***
Sam shivers.
Something is missing from his side and he immediately knows that Dean is not in bed anymore. He looks around, panicked for a second until he sees the silhouette at the other side of the room
Dean is standing at the window facing the field behind the motel. It’s full moon, bright enough to see it in the shadows.
Sam moves careful, makes noises though and knows Dean’s aware of him. He wraps his arms around his brother’s body, slides them up and down his bare chest and smiles against Dean’s neck when he shivers in response.
“Why are you up?” Sam mumbles against the still sleep-warm skin. He feels sleepy, close to falling asleep then and there, just because he’s close to Dean again.
“Freaking out a little, I think.” Dean’s words rumble beneath Sam’s fingers, and he pulls Dean closer to his body. Smiles again when Dean doesn’t try to pull away.
“Now? In the middle of the night?”
“Dreamed about the field. About how you called me beautiful and how nothing this beautiful would ever come to you… It hurt… to hear you say this. And I guess it made me realize how long I have avoided actually seeing you instead of just… a hunter.”
Sam’s chest aches with the sudden pull at his heart. This is not the time to have a conversation like this. They only really acknowledged Famine’s words and the truth behind them two days ago. They didn’t talk more about it. Sam’s afraid Dean will pull away again, will deny it, say how wrong and sinful it is.
Sam has been waiting for it if he is honest.
“I… made myself not see you. Made myself not think about it. It would have… It’s so fucked up, Sammy. Really, really fucked up. We are each other’s weakness… now more than ever. I didn’t want to risk it. But… just… Famine, the hunger almost had me.. God, I was so glad you were in that bathroom, handcuffed and out of my way. And then, the glimpse I got in your head… Man, you scared me… I think… maybe I really can’t live without you.”
Sam’s pretty sure that snorting at that isn’t exactly the reaction Dean has been hoping for. So Sam just holds him tighter when he squirms and waits for Dean to settle against him again. When he does, Sam kisses his shoulder and rest his chin there.
“Sorry… it’s just. This is so much to take in. So much… and it’s coming from you… I.. it means a lot. Just you saying it…”
“Is funny. I know, man. Don’t think I’ll ever come down to your level of girlishness ever again.” Sam can hear the smile in Dean’s voice and takes it the way it’s meant. This might be as close as he’ll get to hearing Dean say it… acknowledge it.
“We’re in this together, Dean. I know you don’t really believe it… but we are… and I… I’ll try not to vanish in my head again. Promise. Once is actually enough. Not fun forgetting who you are.”
Dean turns then, wraps his own arms around Sam and just looks at him in the moonlight. Dean smiles slow and warm.
Their first real kiss.
Sam doesn’t count the peck on the forehead Dean gave him while they were still standing on a deserted road hugging the hell out of each other.
It’s the most erotic and intimate kiss Sam’s ever experienced. Slow and passionate. Hot and loving. Like a caress of lips, feather-light and then heavy with teeth and tongue. Sam moans against Dean’s mouth, tries to get a better grip, a better hold on his brother.
He’s never letting go again.
***
They fuck with abandon, wild and still gentle in their very own way. No boundaries anymore, no limits. Just them.. and them alone. No freak outs about how wrong it is, just having it and taking it.
They take it all, take each other, take what they can get. It’s more than Sam has ever hoped for, more than he thinks he deservers.
But Dean is there, wound around him, wrapped tightly close to Sam. Not letting go.
They ruin the bed. Ruin the sheets, ripped them apart. They don’t care. Not for meaningless things like that. Right then and there they only care for each other. For the heat their bodies emit, for the love so very visible in each movement, in each touch.
Sam thinks that this might be the first time he’s able to really let go. To give control to someone he trusts completely. He sobs out with relief, clings to Dean, scratches deeply and revels in the fact that Dean comes just then.
***
The amulet has been burning a whole into Sam’s duffel ever since he picked it out of the trash can. He fears facing Dean with it. Is scared of the rejection, doesn’t know if it means as much to Dean as it does to Sam.
It’s just sort of anticlimatic when he finally hands it over. In the middle of the night, tangled in soiled sheets and around his brother.
Dean lets him put it around his neck again. Doesn’t say a word until Sam starts to squirm.
“I’m sorry.”
It’s enough.
***
“So you hunger for my blood and flesh. Huh? Man, the way he said it, it sounded like you wanted to eat me. But then… you just did.”
Sam’s shaking through laughter and hiccups when Dean digs his fingers deep into Sam’s side.
“Oh God, Sam. Just shut up.”
Sam can only grin widely. He’s got Dean back and he hasn’t said yes yet. Things might really be looking up now. Sam hopes so anyway. And hope has always been his last defense.
They gonna fight this war together.
Author
the_milky_wayCharacter(s)/Pairing: Sam Winchester (Sam/Dean)
Theme: 03 Paranormal
Prompt(s): 19. energy, 20. sacred, 21. heaven, 22. angels, 23. life, 24. shiver
Rating: R
Words: 5.509 overall.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Kripke and Warner. I don't own anything.
Warnings: heavy spoilers for 5.14 up until 5.16
Beta:
fly_bluebird, Thank you. Summary:
This is not what he thought it would be. Dean looks paralysed, Castiel is on his knees like a dog, and Sam…
This is not what he expected, what he came for. This is not the Famine he feared.
***
He turns around to see where he is, where Dean is.
No one’s there though. Just him on an empty road.
A road vanishing into the horizon. He almost snorts, it’s a cheap metaphor for his life, his journey…. He knows that much.
Notes: This is for
kros_21, who wanted something about Famine finding out what Dean really hungers for. This was supposed to be her Birthday present but it took me longer than expected, so I am a little late.Hope you still like it though. Thanks for the prompt... :)
Title is taken from 30 Seconds to Mars' "This is War"
A Warning to people, Good and Evil
This Is War
To the Soldier, The Civillian, The Martyr, The Victim
This is War
The second he steps, no, flies into the room, Sam thinks he is hallucinating.
This is not what he thought it would be. Dean looks paralysed, Castiel is on his knees like a dog, and Sam…
This is not what he expected, what he came for. This is not the Famine he feared.
He has thought about it ever since they encountered the first Horseman. He’s thought about how the others would manifest, would look like, what they would unleash.
Thought it, dreamed it, even tried to talk to Dean about it. Because this? This is the apocalypse and they’re right in the middle of it. He wants to be ready, tries to be even though that is impossible. The real thing behind the nightmares and myths always manages to be so much more horrible.
Sam’s tempted to blame the demon blood still pumping through his veins but for the second he stands stunned and mostly unnoticed by everyone in the room, he thinks Dean’s not really there.
It’s Dean’s body, caught between two demons and facing Famine. But everything else is missing; eyes dull, split lips pulled into a thin line, voice hollow when he answers. He sounds broken.
Even through the haze in his head, Sam knows this is wrong. Knows that this isn’t the way things are supposed to be, that this isn’t how Dean is supposed to be.
****
He has no memory of how he got out of the bathroom, how he managed to leave the bodies and blood behind., Doesn’t know where that energy came from.
The haze in his mind doesn’t settle, the fog doesn’t lift much but it’s still enough for him to focus on Dean instead of the craving.
The craving for blood that shouldn't even be there anymore. But it is. He fears that maybe it always will be..
Spikes of pain and nausea wreck his body. He has a hard time moving, thinking, just being.
He can listen though.
What he hears is not what he expected. Not at all… and it might even explain some things in the end.
***
Sam can hear Famine clearly, even through the blood haze in his brain.
He can hear the words and it doesn’t take long for them to register. What he doesn’t manage is to believe them. There has to be something left. There just has to be. Sam will fight for what’s left, won’t let Dean just go, just give up. Not yet. Not ever. Not when he can help.
Before he can move to finish off what he came for, Famine speaks again. A sick voice, rasping out in waves of vile breath. It makes Sam’s stomach roll in disgust. He is close to just ignoring the words, to go on with killing the demons, Famine’s fodder.
Something stops him though.
“Oh… Oh.” It preens. Smiles all sickly and mean. Sam’s stunned a second time, doesn’t know what’s going on and almost thinks he hallucinating when it all becomes just a little too clear. His mind twists around the words he hears, his heart speeds up, his stomach cramps and he’s so very close to just unleash his power into the room, not caring what it would do to him or everyone else inside.
It’s just too much. He can only take so much taunting.
“I almost missed that. How could I? Not so dead then, huh, Dean? Oh, you are hungering for something after all then. Or should I say someone? Blood, too. Blood and flesh. Your own blood and flesh even. Tsss… Dean, how very deviant of you. Yeah, you want that, don’t you? Have been lusting and wanting it for years now.”
If possible, Dean goes even paler, twists in the grip of the last remaining demon.
Sam knows he is as pale as Dean. Because this is just not happening. It can’t be.
Sam’s just moves in for the kill. Can’t stand watching, listening to It any longer.
In his head he screams ‘go to hell’ and feels a certain satisfaction as the dark swirls devouring their master. The choking noises send Sam over the edge though, and before he can even process everything, he is on his knees choking, heaving, weakly calling out for Dean.
***
Everything went black and the last thing he saw was Dean on his knees beside him. When he wakes up ,Sam finds himself in a room he never wanted to see again.
He chokes on a sob, on a desperate cry for help, on his begging for Dean, for Castiel. Chokes on his words, on his tears, on his fears. Surrenders to it all when it’s the only thing left to do.
Sam gives in to the pain. Gives up to the hallucinations and the words whispered in his mind. He gives in to the dreams that threaten to swallow what's left of his sanity.
Sam makes himself listen to the words that fill his nightmare visions until they lose their meaning, until they change, until they are the words that had Dean pale and casting fearful glances towards Sam. Those words are the ones getting Sam through the detox this time. Because those words are the ones he’ll hold close and use when it’s the right time.
They were meant to do harm, to make things worse, but they are actually making Sam think things might even be looking up again.
He falls asleep with a cry on his lips and the sudden clear knowledge that Dean isn’t dead inside at all.
Sam finally knows what Dean is hungry for.
It’s as much of a shock as it should have been.
***
They don’t talk about it, they just go on like they usually do. They don’t speak much at all these days anyway.
Not about Famine, not about what Famine said, and most definitely not about the fact that Sam had to detox again. Dean has been short with him ever since.
It hurts, it hurts even more than before. Logically Sam knows it wasn’t his fault, that Famine tempted him. He knows that even Castiel couldn’t resist so how could he? But he still gets why Dean’s mad at him.
Because clearly, Dean managed to resists and had expected Sam to do as well. Or that’s what Sam needs to believe because the other option is far too much to take. Dean’s not dead inside. Can’t be. Otherwise Sam would already be alone and fighting the apocalypse on his own. Dean wouldn’t care anymore.
Not speaking about things is sacred in the Winchester family. Always has been.
Dean’s silence, short answers, and stepping out of Sam’s way whenever he can manage are hard to ignore. Sam’s sort of clueless about what to do. He gives up trying a week in and starts to hole himself up, starts to hide in his head more and more.
Dean’s not saying anything, keeps his distance, doesn’t seem to care.
Maybe Famine was right after all, Dean is dead inside and Sam has just been too delusional to see it.
It hurts and the pain is a constant dull throb in his chest. Once he would have thought, hoped, Dean would come around, that Sam would be the one making him. Those times are long gone, and Sam’s pretty sure that the time he actually meant that much to Dean was lost along the way.
Hope has always been Sam's last line of defense. It seems as if it's time to give up on it now.
***
They only go through the motions. Take hunts and are chased by angels and demons alike.
Things fall even more apart when Zachariah deems them ready to be played with again. Sam curses him a thousand ways to hell and still has to admit defeat.
The amulet, the hopelessness, their versions of heaven; it all breaks Sam in more ways then he wants to acknowledge. It’s the little things that cut the deepest, the words not said, the actions not done. It’s the little things that pile up and create one big pain he can’t shake off anymore.
Nothing in their relationship seems to be sacred anymore. Not memories, not trust, not them sticking together. Nothing.
He has the amulet, took it before Dean could see. Has it hidden away like some dirty secret he has to keep from his brother. Again. It makes him physically sick thinking about it, thinking about what it used to mean, what it clearly doesn’t mean anymore.
Dean’s not there. Only his body and voice is present, but Dean… not so much. So Sam does the only thing he can think of. He hides, too. Protects himself from everything and anything, in the only way he knows.
Everything feels more and more disjointed, broken, impossible to repair. Like he himself, like Dean, like their relationship.
Not talking becomes the new direction their relationship is taking. There are grunts, words even, sometimes even names. But no conversations, no real conversations.
Sam misses his brother every day. Misses the bad jokes and pranks, misses the feeling of knowing that someone is there for him.
Misses the feeling of suppressing the want and still trying to be close to Dean. He somehow misses being a freak.
When his dreams get harder to ignore, Sam longs for someone to talk to.
But there is no one.
Something is going on, Sam knows that much. He can’t figure out what though, can’t get a grip on reality long enough to sit down and think. Everything is broken, in pieces. Sam’s helpless, unable to reach out, to say the word, to call for help.
No one there to answer the call anyway.
When it gets harder to wake up and Sam knows something is very, very wrong, he ignores it because he knows Dean doesn’t need something else to worry about. Especially when it’s connected to Sam.
Sam starts to hide in his mind and his dreams; all of them suddenly seem way more radiant and real. Sam doesn’t realize how far gone he is until it’s almost too late.
***
It’s a dream.
Can’t be anything else.
There is sunshine, bright and almost too radiant. Blue sky, no clouds. It’s like someone went over the scene with one of Photoshop’s awesome brushes. Yellow, bright light reflected from every surface, and he can’t look at it anymore.
He turns around to see where he is, where Dean is. No one’s there though. Just him on an empty road. A road vanishing into the horizon. He almost snorts, it’s a cheap metaphor for his life, his journey…. He knows that much.
He turns again, stops dead, and almost sighs in exasperation.
“Hello there, Sam. Lost? Sorry about that.”
He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t want to. Doesn’t know what to say.
“Not in a friendly mood today?” The smirk already grates on his nerves. It’s time to wake up and he closes his eyes. Nothing happens.
“Yeah, sorry. Not that easy this time. You’ll have to work a little harder here. So tell me, did you like Famine? Oh, I know he pulled the wrong hunger from your thoughts, how bad of him. I am sorry about that. But the other option would have been way too easy… seeing as brother dearest has chosen the same path. Nice surprise by the way, Samuel. Should have known this one.”
Sam closes his eyes again, tries to keep the image in front of him out. He doesn’t want to see it, deal with it, deal with the words. He can’t. Not now. Not without Dean.
He is gone when Sam opens his eyes. But nothing else has changed. Sam’s trapped, trapped in his own wasteland of a mind. And there is no one to pull him out, because no one knows he is there.
***
He sits in the dry, but still green grass. Watches the cloudless sky. Melts in the burning sun. Doesn’t think.
He just sits there and waits. He forgets what he is waiting for. Forgets who he is for a while even. No thoughts, no dreams, no visitors to keep him occupied.
The road glimmers in the bright light. His mouth tastes foul but he doesn’t care. He is craving something… anything. There is nothing but the wide open space in front of him, behind him, above him, next to him.
Then there is wind. It moves through the grass, the field close by and Sam’s hair. Makes the heat bearable all of a sudden. It’s takes him a very long time to register it, it takes him even longer to see the lone figure walking down the road.
Walking towards him.
***
Someone’s sitting next to him when he blinks again.
Relief about not being alone anymore mixes with confusion. He doesn’t know why someone is here now. After all this time. Must have been years now. Feels like eternity.
“Sammy.” It’s said casually, but there is worry, fear even. He knows the voice, can’t place it thought. But suddenly he knows again who he is.
“That’s me, isn’t it? I am Sammy. Forgot that for a while I think.”
The sob catches him by surprise and he looks at the man sitting next to him for the first time. He is gorgeous. Beautiful even. And it must all be a dream again. Nothing beautiful like this would come here, not to him. Why would it?
A sharp intake of breath, another sob, and he knows he’s said it all out loud. He doesn’t really care because it’s the truth after all, no reason to lie. Not around here.
“Why are you crying?” He asks the man and it earns him just another sob, harder this time. It’s breaking his heart and he doesn’t know what to do. So he goes back to watching the wind weave through the grass. Nothing really changes here anyway, but the wind is new, so he looks at it with interest. Wonders how he never ‘saw’ wind before or can’t remember seeing it.
Things take a strange greenish hue then, like there suddenly is a layer of new color pasted over them. He blinks, wonders what’s going on but doesn’t remember the words to articulate his confusion.
The man is looking at him though, eyes red rimmed and glassy but colored in the deepest green he’s ever seen. They are soulful, filled with feelings and emotions that go beyond the range he can grasp right now.
Those eyes are telling a story. A story full of love, hate, anger, trust and desire. A story full of things that should stay hidden but never can. This man loves someone fiercely, hates with a passion and would die to save his heart and the one of his loved one.
He blinks again and wonders how he knows this, how he can look so deep and find those hidden things. How?
Maybe he is dead. Maybe he is in heaven.
***
The wind grows stronger, ruffles his hair and makes him shiver with every cool gust that hits his over heated skin. He still can feel, so maybe he isn’t dead after all.
But…. Maybe he should ask. Just to make sure.
“Is this heaven? Are you an angel? Are there angels?”
“Wha… what?” The man next to him stutters, and he is almost surprised that he is still there.
“Heaven? Are there angels? Never thought I’d be all alone here. Makes you wonder what I did, huh?” He laughs a little even though he suddenly knows that it’s really rather sad to be all alone in Heaven. “I always thought I’d be with someone. Not sure who though. I can’t remember. Have been here too long. But there is someone… I love someone…. and he is not coming. I think.”
“Oh God, Sammy.”
The second the man touches him, Sam collapses right into his arms.
Maybe he is an angel after all, here to take Sam where he belongs.
***
The pounding in his head is annoying as hell. It won’t stop no matter how much he groans and buries himself under the pillow.
He stops dead in his movement. Carefully reaches out again and pats the pillow with uncertain movements. Something isn’t right here but he doesn’t really know what it is until a warm and very shaky hand grabs onto his and doesn’t let go.
“Sam?”
He slowly opens is eyes open. It takes a while to blink away the crust and then he just stares.
This is nothing like the vast open field he fell asleep in. There are walls caging him in, a closed door, another one open. Artificial bulbs casting the room in something that’s almost a sorry excuse for light.
The craving for the blue sky, blinding sunlight and overly green fields is strong. So strong that he gasps out loud in pain.
“Sammy? You okay? Hey, hey… breathe. Come on. In and out. Just take a deep breath. Please.” The voice, again, is familiar. Soothing even. His panic ebbs away the second his mind latches on to the voice, its rough cadence and undertones.
“Yeah, good. Come on. Another one.”
The second the hand settles on his back, everything crashes down around him. Whirls of emotions, spikes of pain, attacks of images in his head. It’s too much. Way too much and he succumbs to the darkness again.
***
“Fuck.” He says it out loud. He has too because the pain is overwhelming. Detox is nothing compared to what’s shooting through his head right now.
He wants to hurl, wants to shout, wants to stab himself only to have something else to focus on. It just has to go away. Right. Now.
“Hey.. stop it. Stop trashing, Sammy. It know it hurts. I know. Drink this. Please, just… Sam.”
Something cool is at his lips and he sucks it down greedily. Almost chokes on it, too, but can catch himself before it goes down the wrong way.
He knows where he is. He knows who he is again. He knows who is there.
“Dean?” he croaks out, just to see if he is right
Something crashes to the floor, he’s pretty sure it’s the glass he has just been drinking from and then he’s hauled up and in into strong arms.
“Dammit asshole, never do this to me again.” Dean says into his neck and then just holds him for a long time. Just holds, like he hasn’t in a while. Holds him and doesn’t speak.
***
“So what? He trapped me in my mind and I forgot about it?” Sam’s confused because the concept alone is scary and surreal. But he still remembers some of the wide open field and blue sky, just not all of it.
He knows Dean got him out of there with the help of a spell Bobby found after weeks of searching. He knows that he just went silent on Dean all of a sudden and just looking at Dean tells Sam that it took him a bit to realize it. There is guilt written all over his brother’s face.
Logically, he also knows that it one of Lucifer’s more perfidious plans to make him say yes. But it still is unbelievable.
“Sort of, yes. You.. Cas said you were already withdrawn, hiding… Lucifer just went for it. Apparently you wanted to be.. away from everything. Michael tried the same with me. Didn’t work, I was too… focused on other things.” Dean sounds rough when he says it, picks at his cuticles and doesn’t even dare to look anywhere near Sam.
"You had things to deal with."
"That's no excuse. Not... not when it comes to family."
They are still at Bobby’s, where Dean brought him when he wouldn’t wake up. Sam’s sitting on the bed, still feeling a little out of it. Dean’s at the other end of it, subdued in a way Sam hasn’t seen him in years.
It scares him.
He jumps a little when Dean speaks again.
“Fuck, Sammy. You scared the shit out of me there. When you… man, you wouldn’t open your eyes anymore. Just.. just sat there and.. nothing. Three weeks… Had you on IVs Sam. IVs!.... … I thought…”
Dean doesn’t have to say it out loud because Sam knows what he wants to say.
“You thought I had said yes and this was Lucifer playing games.”
Dean looks pale, pale like he did when Famine open its mouth. The stab in Sam’s chest is so unexpected that he reaches up to rub the skin above his heart. Dean’s eyes follow his fingers, have been following every one of Sam’s movements ever since he woke up.
It shouldn’t make his skin tingle the way it does. It really, really shouldn’t.
Famine’s words shouldn’t still be playing around in his head like they do, because Sam has long gone and convinced himself that it was just a trick, something the Horseman pulled to make them falter, tear them apart. Which still leaves the other option but Sam isn’t thinking about that one.
He still isn’t sure how Dean could have resisted the hunger though. If Famine was speaking the truth after all.
He wants to ask, wants to know, doesn’t want to hide anymore. He wants his life back.
He doesn’t dare.
***
The car is rumbling beneath him, reassuring him that he is really there and not back in his… whatever it was Lucifer had trapped him in.
The fields of green fly by, the sky is deep blue, and the sun is scorching hot. The road unwinds in front of them and he can’t help but stare.
He has to look at Dean every few seconds to make sure that everything is alright. It doesn’t take long for Dean to catch up on it. Sam expects a smirk, a comment about how Sam can’t resist looking at him or something similar Dean-ish. But nothing comes forth, just a small smile and a quirk of his eyebrow, and then Dean looks back towards the road.
Of course, Sam thinks. Things are still strained, nothing is solved. They’re still not talking about anything and Dean… well, Sam thinks Dean is still pissed at him for falling for Lucifer’s trap.
“I remember.” The words are low but clear. Sam jerks his head towards Dean so fast that he hisses in pain.
“What do your remember?” Sam’s curious as hell.
“I was in your head, Sammy. The spell put me right there… and you were so.. gone. Alone. Waiting. I remember what you said to me there… and… I…” Dean stops there and when nothing else comes, Sam actually lets go of the breath he’s been holding in.
“I… don’t.”
“Huh?” Deans looks over, confused.
“Remember. No, that’s not true. I do… some things. The fields, the sky, the sun. You being there. Me thinking how… how….” Now he can’t go on, feels his cheeks go hot and ducks his head. Because yeah, there is a reason why they usually don’t talk about things. Neither of them is very keen on embarrassing themselves in front of the other.
“You…. thought it was heaven and that I wouldn’t come for you.”
Sam swallows hard, because the second Dean says it, it’s all back. Right there, in his mind. Suddenly he knows again what he saw in Dean’s eyes, what was there and probably… maybe, still is there.
He feels the loneliness, feels it deep and aching in his bones.
“Lucifer wanted me to be like this. Lonely, so lonely that he could come back, sweep in and ask the question. But you came… Dean, you came.. and….”
“Of course, Sammy. Cas figured it out when I told him about Michael in my dreams. Said you’d been lonely ever since the… since Famine. Withdrawing. And, by God, I know it’s my fault, too. I… couldn’t face it. Thought you were hiding because of… because of what Famine said.” Dean almost chokes it out. Shudders and grips the wheel tightly.
“Dean… I…”
“I am sorry.” Dean says, calm and deep. But Sam can hear the emotions underneath the bland tone. “I am sorry for… not seeing you, not listening to you when you said your dreams were strange. And… I am so damn sorry for putting it all on you…”
“Putting what on me, Dean?”
“What Famine said…. I…. it’s.. true.” Dean pulls over then, heaves a sigh and then just sits there staring at the blacktop of the road. The car clicks, cools and silence spreads out like a blanket over them. Sam’s mind is reeling, it’s too much to take in. Too much all at once.
They never talk. It’s the rule of there lives. A rule he’s followed most of his life. So this right there? This is way too much for Sam to process.
He gets out of the car and the second he does it, he knows this is the wrong decision. Dean takes a deep breath like he squares himself for things to finally explode between them and all Sam can think of is how far away from the truth he is.
“Get out Dean.”
“What?”
“C’mere. Get out of the car and come here. Please?” Sam can’t help but ask… He can’t do that in the car. He has to face Dean, needs the wide open space of land behind and in front of him to do this.
He almost laughs at the irony of that scene.
Dean gets out slowly but still gets out. Sam almost sighs in relief because for a second he thought Dean would panic and drive off.
They stand there, in the field next to the road, and just look at each other for a while. Sam takes everything in. Takes in the man that has been there for most of his life and wonders how he could have missed so much about him.
There is a soft breeze, the sun’s hot and burning, and it’s nothing like the scene in his mind. Nothing at all. It’s beautiful and he isn’t alone.
Sam suddenly feels alive. Alive like he hasn’t for years now.
He smiles, all wide and happy, and it startles Dean. It takes a minute, but not long, before Dean’s smiling back. There is still fear in his eyes, panic even, and shame.
Sam can’t stand it.
He pulls Dean close, just holds him like Dean did when he woke up. Holds him and feels. Just feels him for the first time in his life.
“Sammy?” Sam loves how Dean’s been calling him that ever since the surreal scene in his mind.
“I am good. Just need to feel you. Need to make sure this is real and not a trick.”
Dean wraps his arms around him then.
And Sam thinks they must be a funny sight. But no one is around anyway, so Sam doesn’t care. He has Dean and he still has his life.
They will talk later.
Now he just needs to hold Dean and Dean to hold him in return.
***
Sam shivers.
Something is missing from his side and he immediately knows that Dean is not in bed anymore. He looks around, panicked for a second until he sees the silhouette at the other side of the room
Dean is standing at the window facing the field behind the motel. It’s full moon, bright enough to see it in the shadows.
Sam moves careful, makes noises though and knows Dean’s aware of him. He wraps his arms around his brother’s body, slides them up and down his bare chest and smiles against Dean’s neck when he shivers in response.
“Why are you up?” Sam mumbles against the still sleep-warm skin. He feels sleepy, close to falling asleep then and there, just because he’s close to Dean again.
“Freaking out a little, I think.” Dean’s words rumble beneath Sam’s fingers, and he pulls Dean closer to his body. Smiles again when Dean doesn’t try to pull away.
“Now? In the middle of the night?”
“Dreamed about the field. About how you called me beautiful and how nothing this beautiful would ever come to you… It hurt… to hear you say this. And I guess it made me realize how long I have avoided actually seeing you instead of just… a hunter.”
Sam’s chest aches with the sudden pull at his heart. This is not the time to have a conversation like this. They only really acknowledged Famine’s words and the truth behind them two days ago. They didn’t talk more about it. Sam’s afraid Dean will pull away again, will deny it, say how wrong and sinful it is.
Sam has been waiting for it if he is honest.
“I… made myself not see you. Made myself not think about it. It would have… It’s so fucked up, Sammy. Really, really fucked up. We are each other’s weakness… now more than ever. I didn’t want to risk it. But… just… Famine, the hunger almost had me.. God, I was so glad you were in that bathroom, handcuffed and out of my way. And then, the glimpse I got in your head… Man, you scared me… I think… maybe I really can’t live without you.”
Sam’s pretty sure that snorting at that isn’t exactly the reaction Dean has been hoping for. So Sam just holds him tighter when he squirms and waits for Dean to settle against him again. When he does, Sam kisses his shoulder and rest his chin there.
“Sorry… it’s just. This is so much to take in. So much… and it’s coming from you… I.. it means a lot. Just you saying it…”
“Is funny. I know, man. Don’t think I’ll ever come down to your level of girlishness ever again.” Sam can hear the smile in Dean’s voice and takes it the way it’s meant. This might be as close as he’ll get to hearing Dean say it… acknowledge it.
“We’re in this together, Dean. I know you don’t really believe it… but we are… and I… I’ll try not to vanish in my head again. Promise. Once is actually enough. Not fun forgetting who you are.”
Dean turns then, wraps his own arms around Sam and just looks at him in the moonlight. Dean smiles slow and warm.
Their first real kiss.
Sam doesn’t count the peck on the forehead Dean gave him while they were still standing on a deserted road hugging the hell out of each other.
It’s the most erotic and intimate kiss Sam’s ever experienced. Slow and passionate. Hot and loving. Like a caress of lips, feather-light and then heavy with teeth and tongue. Sam moans against Dean’s mouth, tries to get a better grip, a better hold on his brother.
He’s never letting go again.
***
They fuck with abandon, wild and still gentle in their very own way. No boundaries anymore, no limits. Just them.. and them alone. No freak outs about how wrong it is, just having it and taking it.
They take it all, take each other, take what they can get. It’s more than Sam has ever hoped for, more than he thinks he deservers.
But Dean is there, wound around him, wrapped tightly close to Sam. Not letting go.
They ruin the bed. Ruin the sheets, ripped them apart. They don’t care. Not for meaningless things like that. Right then and there they only care for each other. For the heat their bodies emit, for the love so very visible in each movement, in each touch.
Sam thinks that this might be the first time he’s able to really let go. To give control to someone he trusts completely. He sobs out with relief, clings to Dean, scratches deeply and revels in the fact that Dean comes just then.
***
The amulet has been burning a whole into Sam’s duffel ever since he picked it out of the trash can. He fears facing Dean with it. Is scared of the rejection, doesn’t know if it means as much to Dean as it does to Sam.
It’s just sort of anticlimatic when he finally hands it over. In the middle of the night, tangled in soiled sheets and around his brother.
Dean lets him put it around his neck again. Doesn’t say a word until Sam starts to squirm.
“I’m sorry.”
It’s enough.
***
“So you hunger for my blood and flesh. Huh? Man, the way he said it, it sounded like you wanted to eat me. But then… you just did.”
Sam’s shaking through laughter and hiccups when Dean digs his fingers deep into Sam’s side.
“Oh God, Sam. Just shut up.”
Sam can only grin widely. He’s got Dean back and he hasn’t said yes yet. Things might really be looking up now. Sam hopes so anyway. And hope has always been his last defense.
They gonna fight this war together.
