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gilascaveTitle: Heart's Desire VII: The Way Home
Authors: Wolfling (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wolfling) and James (zortified)
Sequel: to Heart's Desire VI: Seeing Through Different Eyes
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 41,800 (story total)
Disclaimer: not ours, no profit made
Spoilers: none
Warnings: angst, smut, hugging.
Summary: The Winchesters hunt a ghost, while Dean's ghosts hunt him.
Notes: As always, we'd like to thankwesleysgirl for the awesome beta job. We'd also like to thank Hansen's, Diet Rite, and Pepsi for their diet sodas that zortified can drink without getting dizzy. Caffeine makes the world go 'round, people!
The entire series can be found in Gila's Cave and Wolfling's Den.
Continued from Chapter Three
Chapter Four
When he woke up, the first thing Dean thought was that his mouth tasted like the inside of a trash can. The second thing he thought was that Sammy was hanging onto him and trying to tug at him to get out of the car. He tried opening his eyes and saw the motel, room 11's door right in front of him. He looked up to the second floor: room 21.
Right. Clayton. Poltergeists.
"Dean?" Sam asked, seeing his eyes open. "You back with me?"
"Muh?" Dean lifted his head and remembered why he didn't like sleeping in the front seat of the car. He looked around again, saw a cheap motel with a mostly empty parking lot and a spate of fast food restaurants and bars scattered along both sides of the street. He looked at Sam again.
Sam smiled at him. "You aren't, are you?"
He flipped Sam off, because it seemed like an appropriate response.
Sam laughed. "Come on," he said, tugging on Dean's arm. "Let's get you up to the room."
He let Sam manhandle him, though he was pretty much awake by the time he was standing up. He leaned against his brother, letting Sam hold a bit more of his weight with every step.
Halfway up the stairs, Sam stopped, looked closer at Dean and then pushed him off with a dirty look. "I'm not hauling you around for your amusement," he said, exasperated.
"Geez, first no blowing up gas stations, now this. Don't I get any fun?"
"Didn't we have this conversation already?"
Dean made a face. "Yeah. Don't really wanna have it again." He continued up the steps, wondering if Dad was here or if he'd walked down to the diner. He tried to get himself settled, just in case Dad was waiting for them in the room.
Sam followed him. "I think we might have to because I think you heard something different than I was saying. But that can wait."
Frowning, Dean looked over at him. "What?" He didn't remember hearing anything... well, of course, he told himself. Sam just said Dean had heard something that wasn't what Sam thought he was saying.
A quick glance around as he opened the door to their motel room showed him Dad wasn't there. He relaxed, a little, and stepped inside. Sam dropped the backpack he'd had slung over one shoulder on the bed furthest from the door. Then he turned back to Dean, eyeing him speculatively.
Dean shifted nervously from one foot to the other. "What?" he asked, a bit more seriously.
Sam grinned. "Just trying to figure out how long we're going to have the room to ourselves."
"The second you try anything, I guarantee Dad will walk through that door." Dean gestured at the door, scowling at Sam. Not that he didn't want to make use of the bed, but they'd just figured out how to keep Dad from finding out. He didn't want to make that a moot point by being caught in mid-orgasm.
"Yeah, probably." Sam didn't stop staring at him though.
"Sam," Dean said, warning him. "Stop thinking that, right now. I mean it."
"Thinking what?" Sam asked, still staring. He didn't even try to sound innocent.
"You're thinking about throwing me face-first onto the bed and fucking me until my brain bleeds out of my skull." At least he hoped that was what Sam was thinking.
Sam shook his head. "Not quite, though that sounds pretty good too."
"You were thinking of stripping down and me sucking you off?" He glanced at his watch as if trying to decide if they might have time. They didn't -- there was no way he was having sex with Sam in a room Dad had the key to.
But talking about it was better than thinking about...other stuff.
"Nope, but also another excellent suggestion."
"So tell me, smarty pants, what are you thinking?" He knew he was asking for trouble, since they couldn't follow through.
But he still wanted to hear.
"Oh, I was thinking about stripping you naked, tying you to the bed, then seeing if I could lick every inch of your body without letting you come." Sam kicked off his sneakers and flopped down on the bed, leaning against the headboard. "Then I'd fuck you until your brain bleeds out of your skull."
"We can barricade the door." Dean dropped his hands to his jeans, thinking of all the things in the room they could use for bonds.
Sam shook his head. "No, you're right. It's too dangerous when we don't know when Dad will be back."
"You're evil," Dean told his brother. "I just want you to know. If anyone ever says you're the good brother? They're lying."
"But you love me anyway."
"Right now I want to smack you." Dean glared at him. "Call Dad and tell him the poltergeist went to Seattle. The drive'll give us some time."
"We can do it when we get home," Sam said, eyeing Dean speculatively again. "Mm, yeah, I think I like the idea of you tied to our bed, on our black sheets, totally at my mercy."
Dean held out his wrists.
He was hard enough that even if Dad did walk in the door right that second, Dean wouldn't care. Sam crooked a finger in the universal "come here" gesture.
Dean went.
Sam took one of the leather ties he wore as a bracelet off his wrist and tied it around Dean's. "Best I can do for now," he said as he tied it up, he glanced up at Dean, eyes dark and intense. "But this means you're mine."
Looking down at his wrist, Dean didn't try to stop the huge fucking smile that split his face. God, he was so... well, owned. He knew he should be embarrassed as all hell and he ought to try for something to prove he still had balls.
He gave Sam a kiss, deep as he could.
Sam kissed him back, smiling a little smugly at Dean when they broke off. "I should've done that ages ago."
"You could have," Dean nodded. Then he rubbed his bottom lip. "Ugh. Sorry, shoulda brushed my teeth first." He took a step towards the bathroom to do that, and said, "You wanna call Dad and let him know we're here? See if we need to meet up with him?" He fingered the leather tie around his wrist. Thin, almost like a lace -- nothing like the thick band on his other wrist.
"Yeah, suppose we should," Sam said with a sigh, digging in his bag for his phone.
Dean left him to go brush his teeth -- the water had rinsed most of it out, but his mouth still tasted like vomit. He grabbed his toothbrush and the small travel tube of toothpaste, noting that he was going to have to replace it in a day or two. Dad had some, but there was still the problem of dealing with Dad's lectures about being prepared. There was a K-Mart in town, they'd driven past it once.
The thought of K-Mart made him smile, remembering his and Sam's trip when they'd first moved to Palo Alto.
He brushed his teeth quickly, then rinsed a couple extra times before heading back out. He rubbed at his stomach -- maybe he should grab a 7-Up from the machine to make sure his stomach would stay settled.
Sam was on the phone, speaking to, Dean assumed, their dad. "Yes, sir."
He walked up behind Sam and slipped his hand inside Sam's front jeans pocket.
"No, we haven't eaten." Sam smiled at him and leaned back against him.
Dean mouthed a spot on Sam's neck, making it clear that he had a preferred menu. He wriggled his fingers a little deeper into Sam's pocket, looking for anything fun.
"Whatever you can pick up will be fine," Sam said. He kind of... wriggled a little against Dean's body.
Dean didn't really think he wanted to risk real food -- but neither did he want to have that conversation with Dad about why he didn't want dinner. He slid his fingers all the way into Sam's pocket, and found a promising sort of bump under the fabric. He stroked it, to see if it would respond.
Sam's free hand went to Dean's wrist, one finger tracing the leather that he'd tied there. "Yes sir."
Dean stopped moving his fingers, not sure if Sam's touch was meant as a warning that he'd kill Dean if he kept that up while talking to Dad, or if it was encouragement in the 'I'll stroke you and you stroke me' sense. He rested his chin on Sam's shoulder blade, remembering a time when he could see over the top of his little brother. He gave Sam's shoulder a scowl. Stupid genes.
"We'll be ready," Sam said. "Bye." He clicked the phone off and tossed it on the bed, before turning around to wrap his arms around Dean and kiss him.
"Hey," Dean said, when Sam finally broke the kiss. "Was that Dad?" he asked, with as straight a face as he could manage.
"Yeah," Sam answered. "He's checking out a lead, then is going to pick up some food before coming back. So he's going to be at least an hour." He moved in for another kiss.
"He want us to do anything?"
"You're supposed to bring me up to speed about what you've already found out and he wanted me to look through his notes," Sam said, in between nuzzling Dean's neck.
"We...haven't found the poltergeist yet," Dean said, trying to think -- but not trying too hard. "Don't know if it's one, or three, or kids making trouble," he added as Sam's tongue started pressing against his jugular. "Um. And an hour's plenty of time to tie me up and fuck me."
"No, it's not," Sam countered, breathing the words directly into Dean's ear. "Not for what I have planned. We'll just have to improvise for now."
Frowning, Dean argued, "It's enough time. We don't have to get fancy. Tie me to the bed, fuck me, hose me off. Forty-five minutes." He gave Sam a kiss, because really he was happy to do anything -- except maybe sit and watch Sam read through Dad's notes for an hour.
"The whole point of tying you up is so I can take my time. It'll have to wait."
"I thought the whole point of tying me up was to tie me up," Dean said. He got his fingers underneath Sam's shirt and focused for a moment on the feel of his skin.
Sam chuckled. "You're really getting off on the idea, aren't you?"
He paused, then shrugged. "I've never been tied up before. I kinda think I'd like it." He suspected he was only turned on by the idea of Sam tying him up -- but that was fine, since Sam was the only one who would be getting the chance.
Sam pulled back and looked at him.
Dean had no idea what the expression on his brother's face meant. "What?" he asked, voice dipping a little sharper than maybe he wanted, if he expected to have sex instead of an argument.
"You've never been tied up before," Sam repeated. He smiled. "I'll be your first."
Grinning, Dean rolled his eyes. "I haven't done everything before, you know." Which meant as he tried to think of another example, all he could come up with was, "I've never had sex in a hot air balloon."
Sam laughed. "Do you want to?" he asked, going back to nuzzling Dean's neck.
He had his mouth open to say sure, when he realised they'd be up in the fucking air. "Oh, hell no. Not unless it's deflated and on the ground."
"That's what I thought," Sam said, chuckling again.
"How about if we have sex now, and we can talk about what I haven't done later?"
"Sounds like a plan. We can make a list."
~~~
They ended up not making a list -- Dean got as far as 'blowjob' then there was being naked and trying not to make a mess they couldn't clean up before Dad arrived. They actually had gotten cleaned up and dressed, and Sam was sitting at the table reading over Dad's notes with ten minutes to spare before the hour deadline was up.
"Hi Dad," Sam said, flashing a quick smile when their father came in, bags of fast food in his hand.
"Boys." Their dad gave them each a nod, then handed over one of the bags to Dean, who was already clearing a spot on the other end of the table from where Sam had Dad's notes spread out.
Sam noticed that Dean was being careful not to actually move any of the papers. Well-trained, the both of them, Sam thought with amusement even as he turned back to their father. "Find out anything new?" he asked.
"Just that our possible second haunting isn't a haunting at all, but someone having an affair with her co-worker." Dad handed over a second bag of food to Dean, who took it, then frowned at the table as if trying to figure out where there was room to put it or the food inside, without disturbing the papers.
After a second, Dean pulled one of the chairs out from the table and set the bag down on it.
"That changes the pattern," Sam said, looking over the list of hauntings and what they had in common. He moved the papers closer to him as well, freeing up a little more of the table's surface for the food Dean was getting out.
"One less house to clean out," Dean said, as he began setting everything out, arranging the burgers and fries for each of them using all the free space.
"Might not mean less work, though," Dad said easily. "The people who own that house own the other two. Even if it isn't haunted it might still be related to whatever's happening."
"You think the affair has something to do with it?" Sam asked, looking up at his Dad. "The poltergeist was triggered by infidelity?"
But Dad shook his head as he sat down in the third chair, taking the burger Dean had set closest towards him. "I doubt it. It's only been going on for a year; the poltergeist has been showing activity for five years."
"But it's only in the last couple months it's gotten bad," Dean put in. "Could still be connected. Maybe she got pregnant."
"Or maybe it's not the first affair," Sam counter-suggested, reaching for his fries that Dean had placed within easy reach for him. "The poltergeist hasn't been consistently active; it might be worth it to check and see what was happening with the family when it was."
"Why bother the other two houses, though, if it's the woman's affair?" Dean put in, picking up one of the sodas. "Unless she had affairs with people living there? One of the landlords is jealous?"
"We'll have to check into their backgrounds," Dad said, nodding his agreement that the affair might still be related. "Dean, why don't you and Sam look into her background while I check the first house again see if there's anything else to explain this."
"Yes, sir," Dean said, as he reached across his fries to snag two of Sam's.
Sam automatically reached out and slapped Dean's hand away from his food. "Dude, eat your own."
Dean's hand jerked back reflexively, then his brother scowled at him. "Geez, make a simple mistake...." Though it was perfectly clear by his tone that he hadn't been any sort of mistake.
"Hands off the fries," Sam said succinctly.
Dean flipped him off and started eating his own. There was a brief look of amusement from their dad before he pulled one of the papers closer to him and looked it over. "She never lived in the first house," he said after a moment.
"So we need to see if we can find a connection she does have to it," Sam said, unwrapping his burger.
They continued to talk shop while they ate, Dad and Dean offering observations and facts they'd remembered, rehashing what Sam had read in Dad's notes. At least Dad and Sam were eating; Dean seemed to be picking at his food -- though when he caught Sam looking, he began eating normally.
It made Sam frown, then watch Dean more closely. His brother had seemed to pull himself together when they got to the motel room, but it wouldn't be the first time Dean had put a front on over whatever was bothering him.
Dean kept talking about the case, and he sounded perfectly normal -- as normal as Dean ever got when he talked about whether they'd have to break into a series of private residences and where they could get more gasoline in case they had several bodies to burn. Dad, for his part, didn't seem to notice anything unusual.
They made plans for the next things to check out, and it felt like they were making progress even though they didn't know anything more for sure than they did when they sat down at the table.
"So we can get started tonight," Dad said, picking up the street map of Clayton. The table was almost covered in paperwork again, Dad having finished his dinner and let the notes reclaim his portion of the table. Dean still had some of his left, but he kept scooting it closer towards him as the paperwork encroached on the available table space.
Thinking turnabout was fairplay, Sam leaned over and went to steal some of Dean's leftover fries. Dean didn't stop him, didn't even tease him about it. He was looking at the map as Dad talked about things the three residences had in common; Sam noticed when Dean suddenly went pale.
"Dean?" he asked, letting his worry show in his voice.
Dad stopped talking and looked at Dean. Dean just frowned -- then he was up and running for the bathroom. Sam was on his feet and following him before he'd formed the conscious thought to do so. He heard Dad standing, but his attention was on Dean -- catching up with his brother as Dean landed on his knees in front of the toilet just in time as he vomited. Sam immediately went to his side, rubbing Dean's back in soothing circles as his brother was sick.
He heard Dad walk up behind him, but he didn't say anything as Dean threw up his dinner. Finally Dean leaned back, breathing hard, and Sam could see from how tense he was that he was keeping a very tight control on himself.
Behind him, at the sink, there was the sound of water running. Then Dad was handing over a damp washcloth.
"Thanks," Sam said absently, taking the cloth from their father and running it lightly over Dean's face.
Dean let him for just a moment, then he pulled back and scowled. "I'm all right," he said, voice harsh.
Sam wanted to argue the point because it was blatantly obvious that Dean wasn't all right, but with Dad standing right there, it was difficult to talk as freely as he wanted to.
"Flu or food poisoning?" Dad asked, and his voice was a mix of all-business -- he'd have to know what was wrong so he could change their plans accordingly. But there was a note of concern as well, that Sam thought sounded new.
"I'm fine," Dean said again, obviously forcing himself to sound it. But he was still pale, and his hand was twitching towards Sam's arm.
"No, you're not," Sam said, sliding an arm around Dean under the cover of helping him stand. "Maybe you are coming down with the flu." He didn't think so but it was a good enough explanation to let him bully Dean into taking care of himself.
The glance Dean gave him showed him his brother appreciated the cover story, and he let Sam help him to his feet. As soon as he was standing he tried to pull away, looking past Sam at where their dad was standing, and Sam could literally see him pulling on the mask he recognised as 'the good soldier.'
"I'm all right," he said, looking at their dad.
"No, you're not," Sam repeated, holding onto Dean in spite of his brother's efforts to pull away.
"Sam, I just--" Dean began, glaring at him angrily.
"You're not," Sam said, holding Dean's gaze with his own. He could be just as stubborn as his brother.
They glared at each other for a moment, neither backing down. From behind Sam, Dad said, "If Dean says he's all right to work, that's his decision."
Dean's glare at Sam sharpened, defiantly. Sam could practically hear him say, 'So there.' Sam just raised an eyebrow at Dean, silently letting him know he'd pay for it later if he pushed himself too hard now.
The look he got in return was hard to read. The glare pretty much vanished, and Dean pulled himself away from Sam, dismissing the need for support. Like he was dismissing the fact he'd been sick at all. It might have even been convincing if he weren't for the fact Sam could see the tiny tremors Dean was fighting to stop.
"Dean," Sam breathed softly, not sure if his voice carried any further than Dean's ears. Dean looked at him, eyes widening just enough and he could see what Dean wanted, what he probably needed. But there was no way he was going to break down in front of their dad.
"I'm--" Dean began, and his eyes flickered past Sam again, at their dad, and he went a little paler.
"Dad," Sam said, not looking away from Dean, "can you excuse us for a few minutes?"
"Sam, if Dean says he isn't sick," Dad began, and the tone of reprimand was soft, but there.
But then Dean told him, "It's OK." He looked at Sam, expression pleading for the sort of comfort Sam knew he wouldn't let himself indulge in while they were in front of Dad.
There was silence for a moment, then Dad said, "I'll be outside."
"Thanks," Sam said softly, then waited until the door shut behind Dad as he left the bathroom. Then he was taking the few steps forward needed to wrap his arms around Dean.
He felt Dean lean into him -- almost but not quite collapsing on him, arms coming up around Sam's waist to hold on like his legs weren't quite strong enough. "I hate this," Dean whispered. "Why the fuck--"
"Because you finally feel safe enough to deal with it," Sam answered, taking comfort in that fact. He paused, then added in a teasing tone, "And because you've always had the worst timing."
At that, Dean laughed once. "I have great timing," he countered. "Or are you forgetting all the times I've saved your ass just in the nick of time?"
"I wouldn't protest if sometimes you saved it before the nick of time," Sam said, sliding a hand up into Dean's hair. "But yeah, you're always there when I need you."
Dean chuckled, then rested against Sam, pressing himself close in a brief but tight hug. He felt steadier on his feet when he loosened his hold, but he didn't make any effort to get away. "It's my job," he said lightly.
"That? Makes me very lucky," Sam whispered fiercely.
"The pay sucks, but the benefits...used to suck, too," Dean said, thoughtfully. His voice was still quiet. "But lately they've gotten pretty good."
"That's because I finally figured out that looking after you is my job, too," Sam said, kissing him gently.
"I thought it was the sex."
Sam chuckled. "That's just a fringe benefit."
Dean didn't respond, and Sam heard him sigh. Then Dean started to pull away. "Dad's gonna be shitting nails if we don't stop dicking around in here."
"He can handle it," Sam said, not letting Dean go quite yet.
"Sam--" Dean leaned back, trying to pull away. "We have to get back to the job."
"You're more important than the job."
Dean scowled and stepped backwards out of Sam's hold. "And I didn't come up here to goof off," he said, angrily. "I don't have a choice -- I know you...came up here for other reasons, but I came up here to hunt down this poltergeist."
"You know how I just said how my job is looking after you?" Sam said, his voice getting low and intense as he tried to get through his brother's thick skull that his well-being was more important than any stupid ghost. "That's why I came up here. And that's what I'm trying to do now."
"I'm all right," Dean insisted. "I can handle this."
"Yeah, you can," Sam affirmed. "But you're not handling it alone."
"So what do you want from me?" Dean demanded. "Should I start shrieking like a little kid because I had to have sex?"
"Would it make you feel better?"
"It'd make me feel stupid," his brother snapped. "And it'd make Dad ask me what the hell was wrong with me."
"Forget about Dad for a moment," Sam told him. "I'll handle Dad if he needs to be handled."
"I can't exactly forget about Dad, since he's the one--" Dean stopped and looked away. "Can we please just drop this?"
Sam frowned. "Since he's the one... what?"
"He's the reason I--" Dean stopped, still not looking up at Sam. "Had to," he finally said, quietly but giving a half-shrug as though it didn't mean anything.
"What do you mean?" Sam asked, frown deepening. It couldn't be what it was sounding like. He'd seen Dad's reaction to Dean's hustling and it had been all concern for Dean and had had nothing of guilt about it.
Dean scowled at him. "To save his fucking life," he said shortly. "Or do you think I should have done something else--" Dean jerked himself away from Sam, expression suddenly thunderous and closed off.
Something that had been momentary askew with his reality clicked back into the place. Though Sam wondered how the possibility had even crossed his mind. But he'd worry about that later; right now there were more important things to deal with. He reached for Dean but didn't force it when his brother resisted. "I think that you did what you had to in a horrible situation. I'd never presume to second guess you." Sam sighed. "I only wish I'd been old enough at the time to help."
"You... did, though," Dean said, looking away again, apparently embarrassed. "You were the only normal thing in my life after that."
Sam swallowed hard at that, taken by surprise by the strength of emotion Dean's words invoked. He'd been going through such a bratty stage back then and to think that Dean.... He swallowed again and promised, "I'll always be here."
"Yeah." Dean nodded, slowly. "I think I'm getting that." He moved forward, then, wrapping himself back into Sam's embrace. "Dad really is going to be shitting nails," he said, and he sounded a lot calmer than before.
"Yeah," Sam agreed. He hesitated, considering asking Dean for permission to talk to their dad about this, but finally decided not to. Dean might just say no after all and Sam was of the opinion that Dad really needed to know what was going on. Better to beg forgiveness after the fact.
"We should get going," Dean said quietly. "Before he comes in and kicks our asses."
"Okay," Sam said, knowing that was a distinct possibility. "But the only place you're going is bed."
His brother pulled away and gave him a flat look. "I don't really have the flu, you know."
"You're exhausted though," Sam pointed out. "Don't try and deny it."
"We're not chasing down werewolves," Dean retorted. "We're going to talk to a lady about her sex life. The only way that could be exhausting is if we got a re-enactment."
"I'm not talking about what our plans are, I'm talking about you. Exhausted. You'd be asleep on your feet if you let yourself relax for two seconds."
"So who says I have to relax?"
"Me."
Dean just glared at him.
Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. "Come here," he said, pulling Dean into his arms.
His brother made an inquiring, protesting noise, but he went back into Sam's hold. He settled himself easily into place, like they'd been molded that way. Sam closed his eyes and just relished it for a few seconds before raising a hand and stroking the back of Dean's neck in a way he knew always soothed him. "Relax," he said softly. "I've got you."
Dean made another protesting noise, but this one was slightly...whinier, was the only way Sam could describe it. Sam let himself grin, but only because Dean couldn't see it. He kept up with the rubbing, feeling Dean getting heavier and less tense in his arms. There was a soft moan -- Dean was definitely nearly asleep on his feet.
"Hate you're always right," Dean mumbled, as he turned his head, pressing his face into the crook of Sam's neck like he did when they were lying down.
Turning his head, Sam pressed a kiss to Dean's temple. "Come on," he said, gently steering Dean towards the door. "Let's go find you a bed."
This time Dean barely made a protest, and he shuffled along more or less willingly as Sam maneouvred him out of the bathroom, shifting their positions so it was less of an embrace, then got Dean across the bedroom and into bed and settled. He resisted the urge to kiss him one more time as Dean drifted off, acutely aware of their father behind him.
When he turned around, Dad was watching him closely with an expression Sam recognised -- and not just because that determined expression was one he saw on his brother all the time. Dad's gaze flickered over to Dean, but all he said was, "Are you coming?"
Sam turned to look at his brother for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah."
Dad already had his small bag by the door; he grabbed it on the way out. They weren't expecting to encounter anything dangerous tonight -- just more research, gathering information. But his dad was never unprepared to fight off just about anything they could come across. Sam noticed that the bag he carried was the exact same style as the one Dean carried, too.
Sam followed Dad to his truck, silent as he tried to figure out the best way to say what he needed to. What Dad needed to know about Dean.
As soon as they got in, Dad looked at him. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" His tone was gentle, but the glint in his eyes said he wasn't going anywhere until he got an answer.
"I... you're not going to like it," Sam said, meeting his father's eyes.
His dad turned towards him, obviously settling himself in. He frowned, but said nothing, just waited.
"I think... I'm pretty sure... Dean's having flashbacks. To the first time he..." Yeah, this was as hard to say as he'd thought it was going to be.
"To the first time he what?" Dad asked.
Sam just looked at his father.
His dad looked back, scowling slightly. "To what, Sam?"
"When he... hustled," Sam finally got out.
Dad frowned, clearly confused. "He's having flashbacks?"
"The first time... He told me a little about it," Sam said, licking his lips nervously. "It hadn't exactly been his idea."
His dad's eyes went wide. "What?"
"It was back when he was 14 and you went missing when we were in South Carolina," Sam told him, staring out the windshield. "Dean found a woman -- Dorinda -- who knew where you were, but she'd only tell him if he... y'know. Slept with her."
For a moment his dad just sat there and looked at him. Sam wondered if Dad even got it, from the look of confusion still on his face. Maybe Dean had been right about not wanting Dad to know.
But Sam kept trying to explain it; what else could he do. "It was his first time. He'd never... Hell, maybe that's what the bitch wanted."
Dad narrowed his eyes. "She traded me, for that?"
Sam nodded.
He could see Dad's fists clench. "She forced him to have sex with her, in order to save my life?" He didn't wait for a confirmation; he looked back up at the motel room, no doubt seeing Dean, lying on the bed, asleep. The anger drained out of him in a rush, and when he whispered, "Oh, god," he sounded broken.
"Dean did his best with a horrible situation," Sam said, trying to put the best spin on it, the way he tried to think about it in his own mind. Otherwise it might just make him cry. "He got you back."
"He did," his dad whispered. "They were about to... Dean showed up just in time. Saved my life." He kept staring up at the room, then he looked down and rubbed a hand over his face. In a quiet, wavering tone, he said, "Sam... I'm going to have to go back to Carolina and kill that bitch."
Sam nodded silently, then heard himself ask, "Can I help?"
Dad nodded. "You have a break next month for Thanksgiving," he said.
Sam smiled tightly, though he thought it was probably more a baring of teeth. "Nothing like a little family togetherness."
Dad kept staring at the motel room for another moment, then he looked over at Sam. "Will it be all right if I go back up there?"
"He really does seem to need the sleep," Sam said after a moment's hesitation. "But it would be good if we're there when he wakes up."
He watched as his dad looked at the room for another moment, then, suddenly, his dad got out of the truck. Sam followed silently. As they headed for the stairs, Dad glanced over and gave a sort of half smile. "This job was the only thing I could find on the west coast."
That confession made Sam smile as well. "You know, you don't need an excuse to come visit."
Dad shrugged, dismissively. "I miss hunting with my boys."
"We've missed it too," Sam said, finding with a little surprise it was true for himself as much as for Dean. He'd spent so much time in the last few years just counting the days until he could get out, his new outlook was sometimes still a little disorienting.
The look Dad gave him was surprised. "I didn't think you would."
Sam gave a half smile. "Me neither. But I do."
"Maybe... this summer we can--" Dad stopped himself, but the hopeful look in his eyes didn't quite dim. But they'd reached the motel room and Dad looked at it, hesitating a moment before getting out his key and very quietly opening the door.
They walked in, both of them leaving the lights off. Dean was motionless in the bed, not stirring as they entered the room. Dad walked over to the bed and stood there, looking down at his son. Dean still didn't move, giving lie to his claim that he could have gone out this evening.
Dad crouched by the side of the bed nearest Dean; Dean's face was turned towards him. Carefully, Dad raised his hand and placed it lightly on Dean's head, brushing his hair back. The look on their dad's face said quite clearly how much he was aching.
Sam swallowed hard at the emotion he saw there. He almost wished that Dean was awake to see this proof of how much their dad cared about him.
Almost as if he'd heard Sam's thought, Dean shifted, then Sam heard him mumble, "Dad?"
"Shh, it's all right," Dad said immediately. "Go back to sleep."
Dean rolled backwards onto his side, looking up at their dad. "S'wrong?"
"Nothing," Dad said, speaking quietly as if he suspected Dean wasn't fully awake. He still had his hand on Dean's head, and Sam thought maybe that contact was why Dean shifted towards him.
"I don't feel good," Dean said, sleepily moving forward. Dad stood up and sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard and gathering Dean into his arms. Sam could see Dean's eyes close again and he looked flushed.
Frowning, Sam moved over to them, reaching out a hand to touch Dean's forehead. He could feel the heat radiating from him before he even touched the skin. "He's burning up."
Dad nodded. "There's Tylenol in my kit," he said, nodding slightly towards the bathroom.
Sam went and got the pills out of Dad's kit and brought it back to the bed along with a glass of water. Dean opened his eyes when Dad nudged him; Dean looked around and saw Sam, and frowned. "Are you OK?" he asked.
Typical Dean. Worrying about Sam when it was him that needed the worrying. Sam smiled reassuringly at him. "I'm fine," he told him, pressing the pills and water on his brother. "And these will make you feel better."
Dean made a noise that was probably meant to be a question. But he reached up for the pills and swallowed them, holding the glass of water in a unsteady hand, but managing to drink half of it before he let his head fall back onto Dad's shoulder. Sam quickly rescued the glass before it could slip out of Dean's lax grip.
Dad put his hand on Dean's head, stroking him again; Dean looked like he was already asleep. Dad looked up at Sam, and smiled. Softly he said, "When Dean was a baby, he hated to fall asleep unless someone was holding him."
"Yeah?" Sam asked, sitting on the foot of the bed. He smiled, privately thinking how true that still was.
Dad grinned as he thought back to good memories. "Once he fell asleep, you could put him down and he'd be all right. But no matter how tired he was, he'd fuss and refuse to go to sleep until someone picked him up." Dad gave a soft laugh. "I'd take him to the garage with me sometimes, and he'd play in the office. We'd set up a playpen there and he'd be happy as anything all by himself. Until he got tired, then he'd start making a fuss and throwing his toys outside the pen. I'd pick him up and take him into the pit -- start showing him what we were working on. Teaching him the trade," Dad said, winking. "He'd fall asleep on my shoulder."
Dad trailed off, no doubt fully aware of Dean, fast asleep on his shoulder once more.
Sam grinned. "He's never really outgrown that making a fuss when he's tired, has he?"
"No, he really hasn't." Dad laughed. "Though you do a good job taking care of him." Dad got that faraway look in his eyes. "When you were about a month old, your Mom was trying to get Dean to take his nap. She was busy with something, I forget what, so she put him in your crib. He went right to sleep, you laid there just...smiling and hanging onto him. Mary started putting him in with you for his naps after that -- she said if she'd known that was all it took, she'd have gotten pregnant years earlier."
Though Sam of course didn't remember any of that, some of his earliest memories were of being curled up with his older brother and feeling like nothing bad could get to him as long as Dean was there.
Dad looked down at Dean and his expression changed. Grief, sharp and deep, of the like Sam had only ever seen before when Dad talked about Mom. Dad pressed a quick kiss to Dean's temple, and whispered, "I'm so sorry."
Sam swallowed hard, feeling that lump of emotion in his throat again. "He's all right," he said softly. "I mean, it hurt him, but... he's all right. And going to be better."
His dad didn't respond right away, just sat there and held onto Dean. When he looked over, he said in a soft but fierce tone, "You take care of him." It was half a question, and half an order.
Sam nodded his head sharply. "Yes sir."
Dad nodded, gave Dean a sort of half-hug. "We should get him back in bed." He gestured at Sam to help him ease Dean back down onto the mattress. As Dad shifted away, though, Dean frowned and rolled towards him, hanging on.
"Guess he's not ready to let go yet," Sam said, smiling faintly.
From the look on Dad's face, Sam thought maybe the feeling was mutual.
end chapter four
Continue to chapter five
Authors: Wolfling (
wolfling) and James (zortified)Sequel: to Heart's Desire VI: Seeing Through Different Eyes
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 41,800 (story total)
Disclaimer: not ours, no profit made
Spoilers: none
Warnings: angst, smut, hugging.
Summary: The Winchesters hunt a ghost, while Dean's ghosts hunt him.
Notes: As always, we'd like to thank
wesleysgirl for the awesome beta job. We'd also like to thank Hansen's, Diet Rite, and Pepsi for their diet sodas that zortified can drink without getting dizzy. Caffeine makes the world go 'round, people!The entire series can be found in Gila's Cave and Wolfling's Den.
Continued from Chapter Three
Chapter Four
When he woke up, the first thing Dean thought was that his mouth tasted like the inside of a trash can. The second thing he thought was that Sammy was hanging onto him and trying to tug at him to get out of the car. He tried opening his eyes and saw the motel, room 11's door right in front of him. He looked up to the second floor: room 21.
Right. Clayton. Poltergeists.
"Dean?" Sam asked, seeing his eyes open. "You back with me?"
"Muh?" Dean lifted his head and remembered why he didn't like sleeping in the front seat of the car. He looked around again, saw a cheap motel with a mostly empty parking lot and a spate of fast food restaurants and bars scattered along both sides of the street. He looked at Sam again.
Sam smiled at him. "You aren't, are you?"
He flipped Sam off, because it seemed like an appropriate response.
Sam laughed. "Come on," he said, tugging on Dean's arm. "Let's get you up to the room."
He let Sam manhandle him, though he was pretty much awake by the time he was standing up. He leaned against his brother, letting Sam hold a bit more of his weight with every step.
Halfway up the stairs, Sam stopped, looked closer at Dean and then pushed him off with a dirty look. "I'm not hauling you around for your amusement," he said, exasperated.
"Geez, first no blowing up gas stations, now this. Don't I get any fun?"
"Didn't we have this conversation already?"
Dean made a face. "Yeah. Don't really wanna have it again." He continued up the steps, wondering if Dad was here or if he'd walked down to the diner. He tried to get himself settled, just in case Dad was waiting for them in the room.
Sam followed him. "I think we might have to because I think you heard something different than I was saying. But that can wait."
Frowning, Dean looked over at him. "What?" He didn't remember hearing anything... well, of course, he told himself. Sam just said Dean had heard something that wasn't what Sam thought he was saying.
A quick glance around as he opened the door to their motel room showed him Dad wasn't there. He relaxed, a little, and stepped inside. Sam dropped the backpack he'd had slung over one shoulder on the bed furthest from the door. Then he turned back to Dean, eyeing him speculatively.
Dean shifted nervously from one foot to the other. "What?" he asked, a bit more seriously.
Sam grinned. "Just trying to figure out how long we're going to have the room to ourselves."
"The second you try anything, I guarantee Dad will walk through that door." Dean gestured at the door, scowling at Sam. Not that he didn't want to make use of the bed, but they'd just figured out how to keep Dad from finding out. He didn't want to make that a moot point by being caught in mid-orgasm.
"Yeah, probably." Sam didn't stop staring at him though.
"Sam," Dean said, warning him. "Stop thinking that, right now. I mean it."
"Thinking what?" Sam asked, still staring. He didn't even try to sound innocent.
"You're thinking about throwing me face-first onto the bed and fucking me until my brain bleeds out of my skull." At least he hoped that was what Sam was thinking.
Sam shook his head. "Not quite, though that sounds pretty good too."
"You were thinking of stripping down and me sucking you off?" He glanced at his watch as if trying to decide if they might have time. They didn't -- there was no way he was having sex with Sam in a room Dad had the key to.
But talking about it was better than thinking about...other stuff.
"Nope, but also another excellent suggestion."
"So tell me, smarty pants, what are you thinking?" He knew he was asking for trouble, since they couldn't follow through.
But he still wanted to hear.
"Oh, I was thinking about stripping you naked, tying you to the bed, then seeing if I could lick every inch of your body without letting you come." Sam kicked off his sneakers and flopped down on the bed, leaning against the headboard. "Then I'd fuck you until your brain bleeds out of your skull."
"We can barricade the door." Dean dropped his hands to his jeans, thinking of all the things in the room they could use for bonds.
Sam shook his head. "No, you're right. It's too dangerous when we don't know when Dad will be back."
"You're evil," Dean told his brother. "I just want you to know. If anyone ever says you're the good brother? They're lying."
"But you love me anyway."
"Right now I want to smack you." Dean glared at him. "Call Dad and tell him the poltergeist went to Seattle. The drive'll give us some time."
"We can do it when we get home," Sam said, eyeing Dean speculatively again. "Mm, yeah, I think I like the idea of you tied to our bed, on our black sheets, totally at my mercy."
Dean held out his wrists.
He was hard enough that even if Dad did walk in the door right that second, Dean wouldn't care. Sam crooked a finger in the universal "come here" gesture.
Dean went.
Sam took one of the leather ties he wore as a bracelet off his wrist and tied it around Dean's. "Best I can do for now," he said as he tied it up, he glanced up at Dean, eyes dark and intense. "But this means you're mine."
Looking down at his wrist, Dean didn't try to stop the huge fucking smile that split his face. God, he was so... well, owned. He knew he should be embarrassed as all hell and he ought to try for something to prove he still had balls.
He gave Sam a kiss, deep as he could.
Sam kissed him back, smiling a little smugly at Dean when they broke off. "I should've done that ages ago."
"You could have," Dean nodded. Then he rubbed his bottom lip. "Ugh. Sorry, shoulda brushed my teeth first." He took a step towards the bathroom to do that, and said, "You wanna call Dad and let him know we're here? See if we need to meet up with him?" He fingered the leather tie around his wrist. Thin, almost like a lace -- nothing like the thick band on his other wrist.
"Yeah, suppose we should," Sam said with a sigh, digging in his bag for his phone.
Dean left him to go brush his teeth -- the water had rinsed most of it out, but his mouth still tasted like vomit. He grabbed his toothbrush and the small travel tube of toothpaste, noting that he was going to have to replace it in a day or two. Dad had some, but there was still the problem of dealing with Dad's lectures about being prepared. There was a K-Mart in town, they'd driven past it once.
The thought of K-Mart made him smile, remembering his and Sam's trip when they'd first moved to Palo Alto.
He brushed his teeth quickly, then rinsed a couple extra times before heading back out. He rubbed at his stomach -- maybe he should grab a 7-Up from the machine to make sure his stomach would stay settled.
Sam was on the phone, speaking to, Dean assumed, their dad. "Yes, sir."
He walked up behind Sam and slipped his hand inside Sam's front jeans pocket.
"No, we haven't eaten." Sam smiled at him and leaned back against him.
Dean mouthed a spot on Sam's neck, making it clear that he had a preferred menu. He wriggled his fingers a little deeper into Sam's pocket, looking for anything fun.
"Whatever you can pick up will be fine," Sam said. He kind of... wriggled a little against Dean's body.
Dean didn't really think he wanted to risk real food -- but neither did he want to have that conversation with Dad about why he didn't want dinner. He slid his fingers all the way into Sam's pocket, and found a promising sort of bump under the fabric. He stroked it, to see if it would respond.
Sam's free hand went to Dean's wrist, one finger tracing the leather that he'd tied there. "Yes sir."
Dean stopped moving his fingers, not sure if Sam's touch was meant as a warning that he'd kill Dean if he kept that up while talking to Dad, or if it was encouragement in the 'I'll stroke you and you stroke me' sense. He rested his chin on Sam's shoulder blade, remembering a time when he could see over the top of his little brother. He gave Sam's shoulder a scowl. Stupid genes.
"We'll be ready," Sam said. "Bye." He clicked the phone off and tossed it on the bed, before turning around to wrap his arms around Dean and kiss him.
"Hey," Dean said, when Sam finally broke the kiss. "Was that Dad?" he asked, with as straight a face as he could manage.
"Yeah," Sam answered. "He's checking out a lead, then is going to pick up some food before coming back. So he's going to be at least an hour." He moved in for another kiss.
"He want us to do anything?"
"You're supposed to bring me up to speed about what you've already found out and he wanted me to look through his notes," Sam said, in between nuzzling Dean's neck.
"We...haven't found the poltergeist yet," Dean said, trying to think -- but not trying too hard. "Don't know if it's one, or three, or kids making trouble," he added as Sam's tongue started pressing against his jugular. "Um. And an hour's plenty of time to tie me up and fuck me."
"No, it's not," Sam countered, breathing the words directly into Dean's ear. "Not for what I have planned. We'll just have to improvise for now."
Frowning, Dean argued, "It's enough time. We don't have to get fancy. Tie me to the bed, fuck me, hose me off. Forty-five minutes." He gave Sam a kiss, because really he was happy to do anything -- except maybe sit and watch Sam read through Dad's notes for an hour.
"The whole point of tying you up is so I can take my time. It'll have to wait."
"I thought the whole point of tying me up was to tie me up," Dean said. He got his fingers underneath Sam's shirt and focused for a moment on the feel of his skin.
Sam chuckled. "You're really getting off on the idea, aren't you?"
He paused, then shrugged. "I've never been tied up before. I kinda think I'd like it." He suspected he was only turned on by the idea of Sam tying him up -- but that was fine, since Sam was the only one who would be getting the chance.
Sam pulled back and looked at him.
Dean had no idea what the expression on his brother's face meant. "What?" he asked, voice dipping a little sharper than maybe he wanted, if he expected to have sex instead of an argument.
"You've never been tied up before," Sam repeated. He smiled. "I'll be your first."
Grinning, Dean rolled his eyes. "I haven't done everything before, you know." Which meant as he tried to think of another example, all he could come up with was, "I've never had sex in a hot air balloon."
Sam laughed. "Do you want to?" he asked, going back to nuzzling Dean's neck.
He had his mouth open to say sure, when he realised they'd be up in the fucking air. "Oh, hell no. Not unless it's deflated and on the ground."
"That's what I thought," Sam said, chuckling again.
"How about if we have sex now, and we can talk about what I haven't done later?"
"Sounds like a plan. We can make a list."
~~~
They ended up not making a list -- Dean got as far as 'blowjob' then there was being naked and trying not to make a mess they couldn't clean up before Dad arrived. They actually had gotten cleaned up and dressed, and Sam was sitting at the table reading over Dad's notes with ten minutes to spare before the hour deadline was up.
"Hi Dad," Sam said, flashing a quick smile when their father came in, bags of fast food in his hand.
"Boys." Their dad gave them each a nod, then handed over one of the bags to Dean, who was already clearing a spot on the other end of the table from where Sam had Dad's notes spread out.
Sam noticed that Dean was being careful not to actually move any of the papers. Well-trained, the both of them, Sam thought with amusement even as he turned back to their father. "Find out anything new?" he asked.
"Just that our possible second haunting isn't a haunting at all, but someone having an affair with her co-worker." Dad handed over a second bag of food to Dean, who took it, then frowned at the table as if trying to figure out where there was room to put it or the food inside, without disturbing the papers.
After a second, Dean pulled one of the chairs out from the table and set the bag down on it.
"That changes the pattern," Sam said, looking over the list of hauntings and what they had in common. He moved the papers closer to him as well, freeing up a little more of the table's surface for the food Dean was getting out.
"One less house to clean out," Dean said, as he began setting everything out, arranging the burgers and fries for each of them using all the free space.
"Might not mean less work, though," Dad said easily. "The people who own that house own the other two. Even if it isn't haunted it might still be related to whatever's happening."
"You think the affair has something to do with it?" Sam asked, looking up at his Dad. "The poltergeist was triggered by infidelity?"
But Dad shook his head as he sat down in the third chair, taking the burger Dean had set closest towards him. "I doubt it. It's only been going on for a year; the poltergeist has been showing activity for five years."
"But it's only in the last couple months it's gotten bad," Dean put in. "Could still be connected. Maybe she got pregnant."
"Or maybe it's not the first affair," Sam counter-suggested, reaching for his fries that Dean had placed within easy reach for him. "The poltergeist hasn't been consistently active; it might be worth it to check and see what was happening with the family when it was."
"Why bother the other two houses, though, if it's the woman's affair?" Dean put in, picking up one of the sodas. "Unless she had affairs with people living there? One of the landlords is jealous?"
"We'll have to check into their backgrounds," Dad said, nodding his agreement that the affair might still be related. "Dean, why don't you and Sam look into her background while I check the first house again see if there's anything else to explain this."
"Yes, sir," Dean said, as he reached across his fries to snag two of Sam's.
Sam automatically reached out and slapped Dean's hand away from his food. "Dude, eat your own."
Dean's hand jerked back reflexively, then his brother scowled at him. "Geez, make a simple mistake...." Though it was perfectly clear by his tone that he hadn't been any sort of mistake.
"Hands off the fries," Sam said succinctly.
Dean flipped him off and started eating his own. There was a brief look of amusement from their dad before he pulled one of the papers closer to him and looked it over. "She never lived in the first house," he said after a moment.
"So we need to see if we can find a connection she does have to it," Sam said, unwrapping his burger.
They continued to talk shop while they ate, Dad and Dean offering observations and facts they'd remembered, rehashing what Sam had read in Dad's notes. At least Dad and Sam were eating; Dean seemed to be picking at his food -- though when he caught Sam looking, he began eating normally.
It made Sam frown, then watch Dean more closely. His brother had seemed to pull himself together when they got to the motel room, but it wouldn't be the first time Dean had put a front on over whatever was bothering him.
Dean kept talking about the case, and he sounded perfectly normal -- as normal as Dean ever got when he talked about whether they'd have to break into a series of private residences and where they could get more gasoline in case they had several bodies to burn. Dad, for his part, didn't seem to notice anything unusual.
They made plans for the next things to check out, and it felt like they were making progress even though they didn't know anything more for sure than they did when they sat down at the table.
"So we can get started tonight," Dad said, picking up the street map of Clayton. The table was almost covered in paperwork again, Dad having finished his dinner and let the notes reclaim his portion of the table. Dean still had some of his left, but he kept scooting it closer towards him as the paperwork encroached on the available table space.
Thinking turnabout was fairplay, Sam leaned over and went to steal some of Dean's leftover fries. Dean didn't stop him, didn't even tease him about it. He was looking at the map as Dad talked about things the three residences had in common; Sam noticed when Dean suddenly went pale.
"Dean?" he asked, letting his worry show in his voice.
Dad stopped talking and looked at Dean. Dean just frowned -- then he was up and running for the bathroom. Sam was on his feet and following him before he'd formed the conscious thought to do so. He heard Dad standing, but his attention was on Dean -- catching up with his brother as Dean landed on his knees in front of the toilet just in time as he vomited. Sam immediately went to his side, rubbing Dean's back in soothing circles as his brother was sick.
He heard Dad walk up behind him, but he didn't say anything as Dean threw up his dinner. Finally Dean leaned back, breathing hard, and Sam could see from how tense he was that he was keeping a very tight control on himself.
Behind him, at the sink, there was the sound of water running. Then Dad was handing over a damp washcloth.
"Thanks," Sam said absently, taking the cloth from their father and running it lightly over Dean's face.
Dean let him for just a moment, then he pulled back and scowled. "I'm all right," he said, voice harsh.
Sam wanted to argue the point because it was blatantly obvious that Dean wasn't all right, but with Dad standing right there, it was difficult to talk as freely as he wanted to.
"Flu or food poisoning?" Dad asked, and his voice was a mix of all-business -- he'd have to know what was wrong so he could change their plans accordingly. But there was a note of concern as well, that Sam thought sounded new.
"I'm fine," Dean said again, obviously forcing himself to sound it. But he was still pale, and his hand was twitching towards Sam's arm.
"No, you're not," Sam said, sliding an arm around Dean under the cover of helping him stand. "Maybe you are coming down with the flu." He didn't think so but it was a good enough explanation to let him bully Dean into taking care of himself.
The glance Dean gave him showed him his brother appreciated the cover story, and he let Sam help him to his feet. As soon as he was standing he tried to pull away, looking past Sam at where their dad was standing, and Sam could literally see him pulling on the mask he recognised as 'the good soldier.'
"I'm all right," he said, looking at their dad.
"No, you're not," Sam repeated, holding onto Dean in spite of his brother's efforts to pull away.
"Sam, I just--" Dean began, glaring at him angrily.
"You're not," Sam said, holding Dean's gaze with his own. He could be just as stubborn as his brother.
They glared at each other for a moment, neither backing down. From behind Sam, Dad said, "If Dean says he's all right to work, that's his decision."
Dean's glare at Sam sharpened, defiantly. Sam could practically hear him say, 'So there.' Sam just raised an eyebrow at Dean, silently letting him know he'd pay for it later if he pushed himself too hard now.
The look he got in return was hard to read. The glare pretty much vanished, and Dean pulled himself away from Sam, dismissing the need for support. Like he was dismissing the fact he'd been sick at all. It might have even been convincing if he weren't for the fact Sam could see the tiny tremors Dean was fighting to stop.
"Dean," Sam breathed softly, not sure if his voice carried any further than Dean's ears. Dean looked at him, eyes widening just enough and he could see what Dean wanted, what he probably needed. But there was no way he was going to break down in front of their dad.
"I'm--" Dean began, and his eyes flickered past Sam again, at their dad, and he went a little paler.
"Dad," Sam said, not looking away from Dean, "can you excuse us for a few minutes?"
"Sam, if Dean says he isn't sick," Dad began, and the tone of reprimand was soft, but there.
But then Dean told him, "It's OK." He looked at Sam, expression pleading for the sort of comfort Sam knew he wouldn't let himself indulge in while they were in front of Dad.
There was silence for a moment, then Dad said, "I'll be outside."
"Thanks," Sam said softly, then waited until the door shut behind Dad as he left the bathroom. Then he was taking the few steps forward needed to wrap his arms around Dean.
He felt Dean lean into him -- almost but not quite collapsing on him, arms coming up around Sam's waist to hold on like his legs weren't quite strong enough. "I hate this," Dean whispered. "Why the fuck--"
"Because you finally feel safe enough to deal with it," Sam answered, taking comfort in that fact. He paused, then added in a teasing tone, "And because you've always had the worst timing."
At that, Dean laughed once. "I have great timing," he countered. "Or are you forgetting all the times I've saved your ass just in the nick of time?"
"I wouldn't protest if sometimes you saved it before the nick of time," Sam said, sliding a hand up into Dean's hair. "But yeah, you're always there when I need you."
Dean chuckled, then rested against Sam, pressing himself close in a brief but tight hug. He felt steadier on his feet when he loosened his hold, but he didn't make any effort to get away. "It's my job," he said lightly.
"That? Makes me very lucky," Sam whispered fiercely.
"The pay sucks, but the benefits...used to suck, too," Dean said, thoughtfully. His voice was still quiet. "But lately they've gotten pretty good."
"That's because I finally figured out that looking after you is my job, too," Sam said, kissing him gently.
"I thought it was the sex."
Sam chuckled. "That's just a fringe benefit."
Dean didn't respond, and Sam heard him sigh. Then Dean started to pull away. "Dad's gonna be shitting nails if we don't stop dicking around in here."
"He can handle it," Sam said, not letting Dean go quite yet.
"Sam--" Dean leaned back, trying to pull away. "We have to get back to the job."
"You're more important than the job."
Dean scowled and stepped backwards out of Sam's hold. "And I didn't come up here to goof off," he said, angrily. "I don't have a choice -- I know you...came up here for other reasons, but I came up here to hunt down this poltergeist."
"You know how I just said how my job is looking after you?" Sam said, his voice getting low and intense as he tried to get through his brother's thick skull that his well-being was more important than any stupid ghost. "That's why I came up here. And that's what I'm trying to do now."
"I'm all right," Dean insisted. "I can handle this."
"Yeah, you can," Sam affirmed. "But you're not handling it alone."
"So what do you want from me?" Dean demanded. "Should I start shrieking like a little kid because I had to have sex?"
"Would it make you feel better?"
"It'd make me feel stupid," his brother snapped. "And it'd make Dad ask me what the hell was wrong with me."
"Forget about Dad for a moment," Sam told him. "I'll handle Dad if he needs to be handled."
"I can't exactly forget about Dad, since he's the one--" Dean stopped and looked away. "Can we please just drop this?"
Sam frowned. "Since he's the one... what?"
"He's the reason I--" Dean stopped, still not looking up at Sam. "Had to," he finally said, quietly but giving a half-shrug as though it didn't mean anything.
"What do you mean?" Sam asked, frown deepening. It couldn't be what it was sounding like. He'd seen Dad's reaction to Dean's hustling and it had been all concern for Dean and had had nothing of guilt about it.
Dean scowled at him. "To save his fucking life," he said shortly. "Or do you think I should have done something else--" Dean jerked himself away from Sam, expression suddenly thunderous and closed off.
Something that had been momentary askew with his reality clicked back into the place. Though Sam wondered how the possibility had even crossed his mind. But he'd worry about that later; right now there were more important things to deal with. He reached for Dean but didn't force it when his brother resisted. "I think that you did what you had to in a horrible situation. I'd never presume to second guess you." Sam sighed. "I only wish I'd been old enough at the time to help."
"You... did, though," Dean said, looking away again, apparently embarrassed. "You were the only normal thing in my life after that."
Sam swallowed hard at that, taken by surprise by the strength of emotion Dean's words invoked. He'd been going through such a bratty stage back then and to think that Dean.... He swallowed again and promised, "I'll always be here."
"Yeah." Dean nodded, slowly. "I think I'm getting that." He moved forward, then, wrapping himself back into Sam's embrace. "Dad really is going to be shitting nails," he said, and he sounded a lot calmer than before.
"Yeah," Sam agreed. He hesitated, considering asking Dean for permission to talk to their dad about this, but finally decided not to. Dean might just say no after all and Sam was of the opinion that Dad really needed to know what was going on. Better to beg forgiveness after the fact.
"We should get going," Dean said quietly. "Before he comes in and kicks our asses."
"Okay," Sam said, knowing that was a distinct possibility. "But the only place you're going is bed."
His brother pulled away and gave him a flat look. "I don't really have the flu, you know."
"You're exhausted though," Sam pointed out. "Don't try and deny it."
"We're not chasing down werewolves," Dean retorted. "We're going to talk to a lady about her sex life. The only way that could be exhausting is if we got a re-enactment."
"I'm not talking about what our plans are, I'm talking about you. Exhausted. You'd be asleep on your feet if you let yourself relax for two seconds."
"So who says I have to relax?"
"Me."
Dean just glared at him.
Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. "Come here," he said, pulling Dean into his arms.
His brother made an inquiring, protesting noise, but he went back into Sam's hold. He settled himself easily into place, like they'd been molded that way. Sam closed his eyes and just relished it for a few seconds before raising a hand and stroking the back of Dean's neck in a way he knew always soothed him. "Relax," he said softly. "I've got you."
Dean made another protesting noise, but this one was slightly...whinier, was the only way Sam could describe it. Sam let himself grin, but only because Dean couldn't see it. He kept up with the rubbing, feeling Dean getting heavier and less tense in his arms. There was a soft moan -- Dean was definitely nearly asleep on his feet.
"Hate you're always right," Dean mumbled, as he turned his head, pressing his face into the crook of Sam's neck like he did when they were lying down.
Turning his head, Sam pressed a kiss to Dean's temple. "Come on," he said, gently steering Dean towards the door. "Let's go find you a bed."
This time Dean barely made a protest, and he shuffled along more or less willingly as Sam maneouvred him out of the bathroom, shifting their positions so it was less of an embrace, then got Dean across the bedroom and into bed and settled. He resisted the urge to kiss him one more time as Dean drifted off, acutely aware of their father behind him.
When he turned around, Dad was watching him closely with an expression Sam recognised -- and not just because that determined expression was one he saw on his brother all the time. Dad's gaze flickered over to Dean, but all he said was, "Are you coming?"
Sam turned to look at his brother for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah."
Dad already had his small bag by the door; he grabbed it on the way out. They weren't expecting to encounter anything dangerous tonight -- just more research, gathering information. But his dad was never unprepared to fight off just about anything they could come across. Sam noticed that the bag he carried was the exact same style as the one Dean carried, too.
Sam followed Dad to his truck, silent as he tried to figure out the best way to say what he needed to. What Dad needed to know about Dean.
As soon as they got in, Dad looked at him. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" His tone was gentle, but the glint in his eyes said he wasn't going anywhere until he got an answer.
"I... you're not going to like it," Sam said, meeting his father's eyes.
His dad turned towards him, obviously settling himself in. He frowned, but said nothing, just waited.
"I think... I'm pretty sure... Dean's having flashbacks. To the first time he..." Yeah, this was as hard to say as he'd thought it was going to be.
"To the first time he what?" Dad asked.
Sam just looked at his father.
His dad looked back, scowling slightly. "To what, Sam?"
"When he... hustled," Sam finally got out.
Dad frowned, clearly confused. "He's having flashbacks?"
"The first time... He told me a little about it," Sam said, licking his lips nervously. "It hadn't exactly been his idea."
His dad's eyes went wide. "What?"
"It was back when he was 14 and you went missing when we were in South Carolina," Sam told him, staring out the windshield. "Dean found a woman -- Dorinda -- who knew where you were, but she'd only tell him if he... y'know. Slept with her."
For a moment his dad just sat there and looked at him. Sam wondered if Dad even got it, from the look of confusion still on his face. Maybe Dean had been right about not wanting Dad to know.
But Sam kept trying to explain it; what else could he do. "It was his first time. He'd never... Hell, maybe that's what the bitch wanted."
Dad narrowed his eyes. "She traded me, for that?"
Sam nodded.
He could see Dad's fists clench. "She forced him to have sex with her, in order to save my life?" He didn't wait for a confirmation; he looked back up at the motel room, no doubt seeing Dean, lying on the bed, asleep. The anger drained out of him in a rush, and when he whispered, "Oh, god," he sounded broken.
"Dean did his best with a horrible situation," Sam said, trying to put the best spin on it, the way he tried to think about it in his own mind. Otherwise it might just make him cry. "He got you back."
"He did," his dad whispered. "They were about to... Dean showed up just in time. Saved my life." He kept staring up at the room, then he looked down and rubbed a hand over his face. In a quiet, wavering tone, he said, "Sam... I'm going to have to go back to Carolina and kill that bitch."
Sam nodded silently, then heard himself ask, "Can I help?"
Dad nodded. "You have a break next month for Thanksgiving," he said.
Sam smiled tightly, though he thought it was probably more a baring of teeth. "Nothing like a little family togetherness."
Dad kept staring at the motel room for another moment, then he looked over at Sam. "Will it be all right if I go back up there?"
"He really does seem to need the sleep," Sam said after a moment's hesitation. "But it would be good if we're there when he wakes up."
He watched as his dad looked at the room for another moment, then, suddenly, his dad got out of the truck. Sam followed silently. As they headed for the stairs, Dad glanced over and gave a sort of half smile. "This job was the only thing I could find on the west coast."
That confession made Sam smile as well. "You know, you don't need an excuse to come visit."
Dad shrugged, dismissively. "I miss hunting with my boys."
"We've missed it too," Sam said, finding with a little surprise it was true for himself as much as for Dean. He'd spent so much time in the last few years just counting the days until he could get out, his new outlook was sometimes still a little disorienting.
The look Dad gave him was surprised. "I didn't think you would."
Sam gave a half smile. "Me neither. But I do."
"Maybe... this summer we can--" Dad stopped himself, but the hopeful look in his eyes didn't quite dim. But they'd reached the motel room and Dad looked at it, hesitating a moment before getting out his key and very quietly opening the door.
They walked in, both of them leaving the lights off. Dean was motionless in the bed, not stirring as they entered the room. Dad walked over to the bed and stood there, looking down at his son. Dean still didn't move, giving lie to his claim that he could have gone out this evening.
Dad crouched by the side of the bed nearest Dean; Dean's face was turned towards him. Carefully, Dad raised his hand and placed it lightly on Dean's head, brushing his hair back. The look on their dad's face said quite clearly how much he was aching.
Sam swallowed hard at the emotion he saw there. He almost wished that Dean was awake to see this proof of how much their dad cared about him.
Almost as if he'd heard Sam's thought, Dean shifted, then Sam heard him mumble, "Dad?"
"Shh, it's all right," Dad said immediately. "Go back to sleep."
Dean rolled backwards onto his side, looking up at their dad. "S'wrong?"
"Nothing," Dad said, speaking quietly as if he suspected Dean wasn't fully awake. He still had his hand on Dean's head, and Sam thought maybe that contact was why Dean shifted towards him.
"I don't feel good," Dean said, sleepily moving forward. Dad stood up and sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard and gathering Dean into his arms. Sam could see Dean's eyes close again and he looked flushed.
Frowning, Sam moved over to them, reaching out a hand to touch Dean's forehead. He could feel the heat radiating from him before he even touched the skin. "He's burning up."
Dad nodded. "There's Tylenol in my kit," he said, nodding slightly towards the bathroom.
Sam went and got the pills out of Dad's kit and brought it back to the bed along with a glass of water. Dean opened his eyes when Dad nudged him; Dean looked around and saw Sam, and frowned. "Are you OK?" he asked.
Typical Dean. Worrying about Sam when it was him that needed the worrying. Sam smiled reassuringly at him. "I'm fine," he told him, pressing the pills and water on his brother. "And these will make you feel better."
Dean made a noise that was probably meant to be a question. But he reached up for the pills and swallowed them, holding the glass of water in a unsteady hand, but managing to drink half of it before he let his head fall back onto Dad's shoulder. Sam quickly rescued the glass before it could slip out of Dean's lax grip.
Dad put his hand on Dean's head, stroking him again; Dean looked like he was already asleep. Dad looked up at Sam, and smiled. Softly he said, "When Dean was a baby, he hated to fall asleep unless someone was holding him."
"Yeah?" Sam asked, sitting on the foot of the bed. He smiled, privately thinking how true that still was.
Dad grinned as he thought back to good memories. "Once he fell asleep, you could put him down and he'd be all right. But no matter how tired he was, he'd fuss and refuse to go to sleep until someone picked him up." Dad gave a soft laugh. "I'd take him to the garage with me sometimes, and he'd play in the office. We'd set up a playpen there and he'd be happy as anything all by himself. Until he got tired, then he'd start making a fuss and throwing his toys outside the pen. I'd pick him up and take him into the pit -- start showing him what we were working on. Teaching him the trade," Dad said, winking. "He'd fall asleep on my shoulder."
Dad trailed off, no doubt fully aware of Dean, fast asleep on his shoulder once more.
Sam grinned. "He's never really outgrown that making a fuss when he's tired, has he?"
"No, he really hasn't." Dad laughed. "Though you do a good job taking care of him." Dad got that faraway look in his eyes. "When you were about a month old, your Mom was trying to get Dean to take his nap. She was busy with something, I forget what, so she put him in your crib. He went right to sleep, you laid there just...smiling and hanging onto him. Mary started putting him in with you for his naps after that -- she said if she'd known that was all it took, she'd have gotten pregnant years earlier."
Though Sam of course didn't remember any of that, some of his earliest memories were of being curled up with his older brother and feeling like nothing bad could get to him as long as Dean was there.
Dad looked down at Dean and his expression changed. Grief, sharp and deep, of the like Sam had only ever seen before when Dad talked about Mom. Dad pressed a quick kiss to Dean's temple, and whispered, "I'm so sorry."
Sam swallowed hard, feeling that lump of emotion in his throat again. "He's all right," he said softly. "I mean, it hurt him, but... he's all right. And going to be better."
His dad didn't respond right away, just sat there and held onto Dean. When he looked over, he said in a soft but fierce tone, "You take care of him." It was half a question, and half an order.
Sam nodded his head sharply. "Yes sir."
Dad nodded, gave Dean a sort of half-hug. "We should get him back in bed." He gestured at Sam to help him ease Dean back down onto the mattress. As Dad shifted away, though, Dean frowned and rolled towards him, hanging on.
"Guess he's not ready to let go yet," Sam said, smiling faintly.
From the look on Dad's face, Sam thought maybe the feeling was mutual.
end chapter four
Continue to chapter five