When Dean Winchester Breaks
Angsty oneshot where Dean is struggling to deal with his time in hell. Sam lets him down, causing everything to go so wrong, then so right...
Enjoy and rate please! Constuctive criticism very welcome :D
"Where the fuck are you Sammy?" Dean grumbled under his breath, drumming his fingers on the already half empty tequila bottle he held in one hand, "and where's the Impala..." he added sulkily.
Sam had been gone for more than a couple of hours and he wasn't answering his phone. Waking up around midnight, neither Sam nor the Impala was anywhere to be found. Even at past two in the morning there was still no sign of him and Dean was exhausted. If only sleep was a salvation; instead Dean was plagued with images of hell that were so close they seemed to flicker behind his eyelids every time he blinked. He gulped another few mouthfuls of Tequila down before falling back onto his bed, staring at another peeling motel ceiling. Tiredly, Dean's eyelids slipped closed and suddenly the dark, foul pit of hell flashed through his mind with screams of souls being torn apart echoing and augmenting in his head. Eyes snapping open, Dean bolted upwards and ran his hands through his hair before sighing and heading to the bathroom.
Cold icy water ran from the tap and into his hands; splashing his face he looked up into the mirror, a dark, bruise-eyed Dean starring back wearily. With another sigh, he looked back down and turned the tap off, wiping his face with his flannel shirt. He sat back down on his bed and Dean finished the last of the Tequila before pulling another cheap liquor out from under the mattress. He'd begun hiding his drink from Sam since he'd remarked on his mounting dependence on alcohol. In truth, Dean was hiding it from himself also, the shame of being unable to cope with his already bottomless guilt bearing down on him with an agonizing weight.
After swallowing several large swigs, Dean settled on the end of the bed and, with his head in his hands, began running over the places Sam could be again, at a bar, getting some food, on a drive... with Ruby, Dean paused angrily, if there was one thing he didn't need right now it was Ruby convincing Sam to start all that again.
From the dull quiet of the motel room, Dean heard the distant and familiar hum of the Impala driving on the narrow side road leading to the shabby motel. Nearer the building, the engine dropped and the car purred gently up to the spot outside the room. The engine cut completely and there was silence again. Dean screwed the cap back on the liquor bottle and slid it back under the mattress as keys jingled in the door. He said nothing while Sam cautiously stepped his 6"4 frame into the room, unaware that Dean was awake.
"Sammy, where've you been?" Dean asked as Sam's head peered from behind the door.
"Dean, Dude!" he said, startled, "I thought you were asleep." He closed the door behind him and walked over to the other bed, standing opposite Dean and chucking the keys down onto the fresh sheets.
"I could say the same for you Sammy," Dean replied rubbing his heavy head. "Well I couldn't sleep. What were you doing? You didn't answer my calls."
Sam yawned and took off his dark leather jacket, chucking it onto the bed also. "Look, don't get mad," he began, stretching his arms out above his head, "but I was with Ruby okay? I couldn't sleep either," he glanced apprehensively at Dean, noticing how exhausted and rundown he looked. "My cell was dead too," Sam said pulling the phone out of his trouser pocket and showing him before chucking it down on top of the jacket.
Dean groaned, scrunching his eyes up in frustration. "Fuck's sake; she's a demon Sammy! I don't care if she saved your life you can't fuck around with a demon! Girls," he stated with a look of exasperation on his face, "now they're bitches when they want to be, but Ruby? She isn't a girl Sam. If something goes wrong between you or the demons or whatever, she's going to go more than totally ape-shit on you dude, she'll go-"
"Alright!" Sam cut him off wiping a hand roughly across his face in annoyance, "Dean, I know, it's just-"
"Wait," Dean ordered coolly.
Sam froze anxiously, "what Dean? What is it?" His eyes darting around anxiously.
"Sammy, you're bleeding, your hand... Son of a bitch! Sam, you were out with Ruby, practising your psychic exorcising shit, weren't you?" Dean jumped up angrily staring disgustedly at the blood dripping from Sam's nose. He'd felt betrayal before but it felt like nothing compared to how he felt at that very moment; it was like something had curled up and died inside him, he felt sick to his stomach.
"Dean, dude, I'm sorry," Sam said uneasily, wiping his bloody nose on the hem of his shirt, backing up a little. "I just didn't-"
"Didn't what Sammy?" Dean asked sourly, his term of affection completely devoid of the usual fondness, sending chills up Sam's spine. Dean approached Sam slowly, his body stiffening in badly controlled rage. "I thought we'd settled this," he paused, disbelievingly, "It was practically my dying wish you son of a bitch," he retorted with such vehemence through his clenched teeth.
"You're not dead though Dean, things have changed. It works," Sam said reluctantly, sniffing blood onto his shirt sleeve again. He was almost up against the wall, his stance tense and rigid, "I save so many more lives, and they don't have to die-"
"It's the principal, Sam," Dean snapped, close enough now to Sam for him to see the pain and fury in his eyes.
Sam sighed resignedly, "Principals aren't going to win a war, Dean."
Dean's fist connected with his nose, a bitter crunch resounding as a flow of fresh blood spurted from both nostrils. Two more fierce punches smashed into Sam's dejected face; he could clearly see Dean was drunk and exhausted, but shame stopped him from blocking any of the blows.
One more brutal hit collided with Sam's jaw before Dean stopped, staring incredulously at the grief in his bruised and bleeding brother's eyes. Dean's insides ached even more, "why the fuck aren't you fighting back?" he spat, their foreheads almost touching, "stop feeling sorry for yourself; fight back you son of a-"
Another fist flew but this time Sam caught both of Dean's arms, gripping until he gave into his weariness, his limbs dropping loosely at his side. Seeing only anguish left in Dean's eyes, Sam swallowed hard in regret; he'd never seen Dean so vulnerable in his life.
Sighing despondently, he rested his forehead carefully on Dean's and closed his eyes; their noses almost touching and his hands still holding Dean's arms loosely.
Silent and calm for a moment; Dean watched the blood trickling down his little brother's face, remorse engulfing him as it flowed over his lips and dripped off his chin, bruises blooming across his cheek bones and jaw. Lifting a hand and touching his brother's face gently, Dean began wiping the blood away using the cuff of his shirt, his fingers tracing Sam's bruises so delicately it was just the ghost of a touch.
Sam opened his eyes; he realised what Dean was doing but then saw his tears, like his sorrow had over flown and was now streaming down his cheeks, "I'm so, I'm sorry Sam. I'm a terrible brother," he whispered, self loathing twisting his features.
"You're not Dean, you're just exhausted, stop blaming yourself," Sam ordered, catching Dean's gaze and meeting his just an inch away from each other.
"I can't," he whispered, another tear rolling down his cheek. He pointed a blood stained finger to his temple, "it's them. They won't stop screaming." He sobbed once, unable to stifle his cries.
Sam raised a large thumb and wiped away a teardrop caught halfway down his brother's cheek. "Sammy," Dean smiled weakly, another tear trickling into his open mouth.
Sam hesitated, here he was, saving his brother again, like he always did, but never like this. He watched the teardrop moisten his older brother's lips; the lips he knew so well but never got to touch. "You're the best brother I could ever ask for, why don't you see it Dean? I wouldn't have it any other way; I love you as you are..."
With his hand still gently holding Dean's cheek, Sam's mouth moved tentatively forward to Dean's, tilting his face slowly. Both watched uncertainly, eyes darting about each other's face, Dean too emotionally weak to stop him. Their lips touched softly, neither man reacting or ready to take the lead, before pulling away; the taste of salt on Sam's lips.
For a second neither brother said anything, only their eyes moved, their dilated pupils asking a hundred questions at once, more scared and turned on than ever.
A deep desire suddenly rose up inside Dean like a hunger only Sam could satiate. The loneliness of being a hunter, like how normal relationships could never hold up with all the lies and constant travelling along with the bond he shared with his brother suddenly overwhelmed him and he was leaning in, kissing the blood stained lips of his Sam, his saviour Sam, tasting the metallic tang of blood and then suddenly a new, delicious flavour that tasted like... well, Sammy.
Their kisses became suddenly more urgent; Sam's free hand slipping round Dean's waist while Dean's unbuttoned his younger brother's already half open shirt, Sam's smoothly muscled chest peeping through.
Whilst Dean fumbled with the buttons, Sam guided them slowly towards Dean's bed, sighing internally as his older brother's cool fingers ghosted across his bare skin. At the edge of the mattress he pushed his brother down to sitting before removing Dean's shirt, adrenalin pumping as he lifted his tight, black t-shirt over his head and discarded both items of clothing onto the floor, leaving both men bare from the waist up and two tightly packed bulges in both their pants.
"Sam," Dean faltered, frozen in his brother's arms, "what are we doing?" He asked looking troubled. Sam chuckled, leaning his head against his brother's. "Stop thinking and relax, Dean," he slid his hands up Dean's well-defined torso, nudging Dean back and laying him back against the bed. "Look who's talking," Dean smiled teasingly through his drying tears. Sam straddled him, leaning in for a kiss that Dean met. Their mutual feelings of guilt and insatiable horniness spurred both brothers on as Sam's kisses left Dean's lips and instead glided across his unshaven jaw, along the nape of his neck, continuing down his chest and over his abs; Sam licking the soft line of hair that started from Dean's belly button and disappeared into his boxers.
Sam unbuckled his brother's jeans and unzipped them with his teeth, lingering as the zip brushed over the fullest part of his engorged cock, making Dean moan with pleasure.
Smiling dazedly, he slid one hand into Sam's hair and ran his fingers through it, "I really don't want to know how you know what you're doing, but Sammy," he said, cupping his younger brother's face with such immeasurable gratitude whilst he slid his jeans down past his knees and off his legs completely, "I really am sorry," he said trailing his fingers along the bruises across his little brother's cheek bone.
Sam clambered up to Dean's side, "I honestly don't care, just forget it," he replied simply, holding Dean close and kissing him deeper and more fervently than before, exploring the enthralling new taste and texture of his brother. Reaching a hand across his body, Sam's hand tentatively slipped into Dean's ragged boxer shorts, his older brother shivering with anticipation and slight apprehension as Sam's fingers took hold of his hardened cock and began stroking up and down gently, then faster and harder; Dean's kisses slowing as he groaned into Sam's mouth.
Rubbing the thick shaft again and again, Dean shuddered in satisfaction, bucking his hips and kissing his brother more desperately, lips slipping over Sam's. He drew away and nestled his head into the crook of Sam's neck, kissing and licking the soft skin between the bones of his shoulder.
"I fucking love you Sammy," Dean mumbled into his torso, his eyes closed in ecstasy. Sam looked down; he sure had one pretty-boy of a brother, Dean's full lips brushing his collar bone as he repeatedly mouthed the one word, "Sammy."
Sam continued stroking and pulling Dean's cock, slipping his other hand into his shorts and squeezing his older brother's balls, teasing his fingers around the thick base. Dean reached up and kissed Sam longer and deeper than he had before, lasting minutes without breath, only stopping to cry out once as he climaxed and released in his brother's hand. He rolled onto his back panting, his eyes closed in contentment and drowsiness, for once his internal yells of delight drowning out the screams of mutilated souls.
Slowly sliding his warm, aching hands out of his brother's boxers, Sam sighed, satisfied at seeing his brother happy and resting peacefully for once. It didn't even seem to bother him much that he was still burning with desire; instead he popped one cum coated finger in his mouth and tasted the salty tang of his brother, sucking off and swallowing Dean's unique flavour.
After what felt like just seconds of tranquillity and relaxation, Dean reluctantly opened one eye to peak at his brother who was resting up on one elbow and watching him, Sam's dark eyes grazing along his body appreciatively. Dean yawned hugely and shoved his brother flat against the mattress playfully, languidly unzipping his brother's jeans and sliding his hand inside Sam's boxers.
"Dean," Sam grinned, "you're practically half asleep, come on, I don't mind," he added as Dean lay back down next to him and rested his head on his chest. Dean ignored him and began stroking his hard on, replying sarcastically, "you're dick says otherwise, little bro, and anyway, fair's fair," he murmured, his eyes already drooping.
"Yeah well, you won't be able to keep up. There are other nights Dean, don't forget that," He could almost hear him smiling, his voice vibrating through his body.
"Really Sam? Won't this all be gone in the morning, just a mistake..." he slurred sleepily into Sam's muscled side, his grasp completely lax and still. Sam half-heartedly reached down and pulled his brother's hand out of his shorts, lacing their hands together and placing them on his stomach, "It will be exactly the same Dean, I can't just stop being in love with you can I? Nothing will change don't worry," he said, absentmindedly stroking Dean's short brown hair.
But Sam knew that it wasn't all true; in the morning their responsibilities would be back again, their duties and fears; Dean's pain and guilt; the impossible job they had ahead and the struggle that was essential to succeed...
"Love you Sammy," Dean muttered, nestling closer to Sam's body protectively.
It could all wait until the morning then, Sam decided, Dean's slow, rhythmic breathing sending him calmly to sleep better than any lullaby ever would.