Title: The Weeping Willow Will Weep No More
Authors: scarlettraven9 and heatherofnight
Dedication: The one, the only, feather_touch
Summary: A hunt involving a magical willow tree reveals to Sam and Dean their true feelings for each other. Set during S1
Warning: Adult content and sexual situations.
Pairing: You guessed it...wincest
A/N: Inside the story
Scarlettraven9's A/N: This was such a fun story to write with Heatherofthenight... I had a blast. It is dedicated to our wonderful friend, Feather_Touch for her birthday! Hope you like it and have a great birthday, you deserve it :0)
Heatherofnight's A/N: It's always a blast to write with Scarlettraven9 and what better occasion than to write for our gal, Feather_Touch…many happy returns to the birthday girl who is one of the most supportive, creative friends a girl could ask for.
The Weeping Willow Will Weep No More
It had been a week with no real leads on The Yellow Eyed Demon or any other hunt for that matter. Sam was frustrated and about to kill Dean. The four walls of the motel room were closing in on them and if he didn't find them a hunt soon, he knew he would kill his brother.
That fact had brought him to buying a copy of The Paranormal Examiner. Sam rarely liked to read the grocery store rag mags but sometimes they did find them a hunt. Many hunts that came from this type of source ended up really being a bored drunk farmer with too much time on their hands but sometimes they hit pay dirt with them.
He had almost given up hope on the magazine yielding a hunt when something caught his eyes tucked in the back of the magazine.
Weeping Willow Attacks Paper Boy!
Sam knew that the willow tree was considered to have magical properties by witches and some cultures. It was important in many religions. Reading the short article on the attacking tree motivated him to disturb Dean who was engrossed in watching reruns of Star Trek.
"Dean, I think I might have us a hunt." Sam moved to Dean's bed with the magazine article in hand. He handed to Dean to read.
Dean just looked annoyed. "Sam, can't this wait? Captain Kirk is about to make it with the green chick."
Sam huffed. "You've been whiny all day that I need to find a hunt and then when I find one Captain Kirk takes precedence over the hunt."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine, Princess Samantha."
Dean snatched the article from him.
"Saaaam, where the heck did you get this?" Dean whined.
Sam had pulled the article out hoping that Dean wouldn't ask where it came from knowing his brother wouldn't be impressed with the source.
Sam looked at his hands and mumbled. "The Paranormal Examiner."
Dean groaned. "Sam, that thing is so full of crap."
"Yeah but sometimes we find stuff there and it was accurate enough that Dad uses it on occasion." Sam knew using Dad was a low blow but if it worked...
"Fine. So what makes you think it's our kind of gig?" Dean clicked the TV off and turned to give Sam his full attention.
"The kid mentions that the tree belongs to a witch. Witches like to use willow trees, they consider them magical." Sam pointed to the part of the article that mentioned the witch.
Dean sighed. "Why does it always have to be witches? I hate witches."
Sam chuckled at Dean's Indiana Jones impression. "Yeah, me too Dean me, too, but hey at least it's better than sitting on our asses doing nothing. I'm so done with our down time."
Dean nodded. "Yeah, the first week was great, scored money and women but yeah this place has lost its glow."
"You've pissed all the woman off and the men know not to play poker or pool with ya." Sam said with a grin.
"Thank you, Captain Obvious. So, let's get this show on the road and head where?" Dean asked as he got off the bed.
"Millsville, Nebraska." Sam answered as he started gathering up his stuff to start packing.
"Sounds like the worst place in the world to go. Figures." Dean mumbled.
"Yeah, a town of about two thousand. Mostly a …."
"Farmers right." Dean finished for him.
"Yep. And the article mentioned that the so called witch was new to town and that the willow tree had attacked other people, but the paper boy was the only one willing to talk about it."
Dean moved to the bathroom to gather his stuff. "Probably the wind blowing the tree into the kid and he was high. And the so-called witch is probably some lonely non-social old maid who doesn't tip or talk to the locals."
Sam paused from packing to reply. "Well you might be right about the tree and the paper boy but it states that the witch is a 22 year old who moved into town less than a year ago when her grandmother died and left her the place."
Dean stopped packing to give Sam a puzzled look. "Huh, so if this is a bust at least the so-called witch might be hot?"
Sam shook his head in mock disgust. "Such the optimist."
"Yeah well, a man has needs Sammy and maybe she'll have a hot friend for you too." Dean replied as he went back to packing.
Sam gave him a small smile. He appreciated that Dean wanted him to move on in the girl department but it was still hard for him to not feel like he was cheating on Jess when he showed interest in another girl.
If he was honest, really he felt better spending time with Dean and concentrating on finding the Yellow Eyed Demon and taking on hunts. As long as he had Dean, he'd be okay.
-0-
Dean blew his non-existent bangs with a gusty sigh in exasperation but his spiky hair was too short to budge. They'd made Millsville in decent time but the drive had been a grind, mainly because Sam wouldn't let them stop other than for lunch.
It wasn't that Dean was oblivious to Sam's plight. Sam's plans for his future had gone up in flames, right along with his girlfriend. But whether intentionally or not Sam managed to cock-block Dean at every opportunity.
Donna of the long, curly hair and huge brown eyes—not to mention other huge things—had made it well known that she'd be available if Dean decided he wanted something other than a cheeseburger and fries for his lunch. Sam had looked at his watch and his lower lip had jutted out so far Dean had thought his brother was in danger of falling on his face under its weight.
Never mind Dean had no business looking at his brother's lips. That disturbing fact more than the potential wrath of Sam had Dean declining the generous Donna's charms. They'd climbed into the Impala and headed straight through Nebraska, row upon row of corn waving to them as they streaked by on the flat road.
The sun was now sinking low in the sky but they'd found their way to Tabitha Moon's house and in an effort to salvage the day, Dean wanted to see if the witch was home.
"Come on, Sammy, we're here. I know it's going to be dark soon but we can at least see if Ms. Moon is home and introduce ourselves. See if she's as hot as her name sounds." Dean looked expectantly at his brother, trying to work the same look Sam was adept at using.
Dean could tell Sam was caving, his teeth worrying his full lower lip. He ignored the twinge telling him he was a sick man for noticing his brother's lips again, concentrating on the possibility that Tabitha would be worth the trip to Nebraska.
Sam crinkled his nose but nodded his assent. "Fine, we are here. We might as well see if she's home. What cover did you work out for us?"
Dean took pride in the array of badges at his disposal and thought he'd outdone himself this time. He'd toyed with the idea of using the IRS badges—the woman had supposedly inherited the farm from her grandmother and probably owed taxes—but most people didn't cotton to the IRS. Hell, some people pulled a gun on them. Instead Dean had decided they would be representatives from the Department of Agriculture, stopping by to lend their expertise.
Climbing out of the car, Dean moved toward the trunk. His hands easily found the badges he was looking for and he slung one at Sam who had followed him. Sam's face cracked into a smile as he saw his badge. Rich Sambora. And Dean was Jon Bongiovi. A little before Tabitha's time so she shouldn't notice but Dean always got a kick out of using band names. It was immature but it pleased him, and Sam, so how bad could it be?
The afternoon had been warm for a late spring day but Dean kept his leather jacket on; his pockets were filled with weapons and it made him look tough and hot. Sam had left his jacket in the car but it didn't have the street cred that Dean's did and Sam's brain—filled with counter spells—was every bit as dangerous as the weapons in Dean's jacket.
They confidently approached the front porch, long legs eating up the stairs. Dean let his finger ride the doorbell next to the bright red door.
Nothing happened.
No footsteps approached the door. No one yelled just a minute.
Nothing.
Dean hit the buzzer again. Maybe it didn't work.
"I don't see a car and the only tracks in the mud are ours. Let's see if we can find this willow tree." Sam stuffed his hands in his back pockets and looked around.
Dean agreed. Although the kid had said the willow tree was in the front yard and there wasn't one. Not even a stump. "I say we take a quick look around. Come on."
They searched the perimeter of the old but well cared for farmhouse but didn't find any trees, just bushes, so they moved toward the other building on the premises, a red barn. The barn door had a huge padlock on it which was like a huge arrow—check here, possible clue.
Sam pulled his lock-pick set out and started fiddling with the padlock. They both heard the vehicle approaching at the same time. Sam quickly re-latched the padlock and Dean pointed to the thicket of trees at the back of the house. It would be easier to come from that direction on the ruse they were looking at the crop then explaining why they were standing in front of the barn which Tabitha obviously didn't want anyone snooping in.
His brother followed his lead and they darted into the tall, shaggy trees. The yellowish-green leaves pelted Dean's face as they plowed forward and Sam, off to his right, kept ducking until he was almost bent in half to avoid the long, flexible branches swaying in front of him.
Maybe these were the willows that had attacked the paper boy. Although they weren't anywhere near the front yard.
Dean reached out and latched on to Sam's arm, his brother already slowing his pace. "You don't think these are the trees, do you?"
Sam crinkled his nose again but agreed, leaning against a particularly large tree. "Maybe the kid is directionally challenged. Although I can't imagine how you could mistake this for the front yard." Sam looked upward, staring at the branches hovering overhead. "These trees sure do look graceful but they're a pain in the ass to run through. It seemed like they were trying to slow us down on purpose."
Trees that looked graceful; sometimes Dean thought he had a little sister instead of a brother. Although trees moving of their own volition was pretty much what the paper boy had said in the article. If only these were in the front yard.
Dean had to admit the concept of trees moving on their own was pretty cool. "You mean like H.R. Pufnstuf?"
Sam muffled his laugh in his sleeve before rolling his eyes. "Sure, just like that. Minus Jack and the magic flute. Wasn't that show supposed to be inspired by acid trips or something?"
Dean smirked back at his brother. Before he could comment on the extracurricular activities of the creators of the live-action life-size puppet show, good old Sid and Marty Kroft, something behind Sam moved. Videotapes of the long ago Saturday morning show had somehow come in to their possession in their teens and they'd laughed their assess off while drinking contraband beer while their dad was away on a hunt. Good times.
Dean squinted his eyes against the gloom the trees created with their long silhouettes, all of his focus to the left of Sam who was still leaning up against the tree trunk. There was a flash of green. Maybe the wind was rustling the leaves. Only there was no wind.
Sam kept talking about the show—Witchiepoo and the dragon and Jack—even though his eyes were locked on to Dean.
There.
Movement again.
Something lashed out, wrapping around Sam's chest. Tight.
Sam gasped, struggling against his bonds.
Bonds. More like the supple branches of the tree were pinning Sam in place.
"Dean," Sam gasped, his face turning pink enough to be seen in the dim light under the trees, "Cut me loose—"
Dean was already pulling his Kershaw Echo hunting knife out of its sheath, his fingers easily wrapping around the ergonomic handle, when Sam's voice was choked off. A thinner branch than the one holding Sam against the tree had wrapped around Sam's face, digging across his mouth.
Worming its way into Sam's mouth.
Something dripped on Dean's face and he ignored it, intent on clearing the obstruction from Sam's pouty lips.
Sam was thrashing against the branches and Dean elected to cut at the one across his brother's face first. Up close Dean could see Sam's pupils were dilated and it looked like Sam was going to pass out any second now.
Dean blinked his eyes.
His vision wavered and he staggered on his feet. He caught his balance on the same tree trunk where Sam heaved against the branches. His knife dangled loosely in his hand as he struggled to hand on to it.
Something nudged him, keeping him upright.
Why was he so dizzy?
-0-
Sam almost couldn't believe the paper boy had been right. The willow tree branches wrapped around his chest and face were a pretty compelling argument though.
He had a question for the paper boy…why hadn't he mentioned the pornographic bent of the trees? Right now one of the branches was dipping under his waistband, searching out the cotton material of his boxer briefs.
He had another question…why wasn't Dean cutting him loose?
Sam's thoughts turned sluggish and he quit struggling to get away. It felt good to just stand still for a moment.
Especially while the delicate leaves on the pliable branch stroked against the cotton material cupping his cock.
Dean was right in front of him, practically leaning against him, but Sam couldn't say anything or reach out and grab him.
He was a little too busy with the appendages stroking both his mouth and his cock.
This was wrong. As wrong as throwing up roadblocks whenever Dean wanted a roll in the hay with some bimbo. It shouldn't matter to Sam who his brother fucked. But it did.
Fucked.
As in fucking.
As in what it felt like was being done to him…by a tree.
-0-
Dean was held loosely in the confines of the branches. His vision was still goofy. It had to be because it looked like the tree was having its way with Sam. Sam's breathing was labored but it didn't seem to be because his chest was constricted; more like he was excited.
Sam's hips surged against the willow tree's branches that were busy fondling him. The branch that had formerly been stretched across Sam's generous mouth was now sliding in and out of the wet orifice and a look of contentment had replaced the one of panic from a moment before.
Dean's own cock pushed at the front of his jeans. Arousal began to overtake the lethargy coursing through his body.
His mind began to clear a little and he shook it for good measure. Something was wrong.
Willow trees were not supposed to fondle Sam. That was a job better left for—
The hand holding the knife twitched and reminded Dean he had a way to defend Sam. Bracing himself he slashed at the branch manipulating Sam's jeans, careful not to come too close to the body writhing in its grip.
The branch evaded Dean's knife-stroke, instead whipping back and then slamming into Dean's forehead.
A supernova glimmered at the edge of Dean's vision and he went down on one knee.
The tree capitalized on the opportunity, more branches slithers down, encompassing Sam's body. His brother was jerked into the air, flexile limbs winding around slack arms and legs.
Winding around Sam's crotch.
There was no way Dean could reach Sam's body, suspended well above his head. He thought about stabbing the tree trunk but he was afraid major damage would be done to Sam due to the way the branches were wrapped around his body.
Dean scrambled to his feet. The little witch-bitch had better be home; she needed to undo this little spell and now.
The wooziness faded as Dean fled on foot, stumbling as his feet tangled in something on the ground. Through strength of will he managed to keep his balance and sprinted for the house.
Bursting out of the tree stand he found a petite woman, ruler straight black hair down her back, speaking animatedly with a taller man with mussed brown hair and beard. The woman gasped, breaking off is mid sentence, when she saw Dean. "Goodness, gracious, are you okay?"
"No, lady, I'm not okay. My partner and I were attacked by a tree and it's still got him." Dean had almost said brother instead of partner but at the last moment he remembered their cover. He blamed his slow thinking response time on the big boner he was sporting; the blood from his brain had probably drained to his dick and it had left him muddled.
The bearded man broke into a smile and Dean wanted to deck him. In fact his feet started moving him closer as the man said, "Really? That's awesome. Come on, Tabby."
The woman, Tabitha Moon, had the good sense to look scared. She threw her arm out across the man as if that would keep him safe. "This isn't rad, Moondoggie. It's time that willow was stopped before someone gets hurt."
Moondoggie frowned, looking abashed. "But, the sex—"
"Not now," Tabitha hissed at her friend. She turned big, anxious brown eyes on Dean. "Can you take us to your partner?"
Dean was already turning his back on the couple, breaking into a jog. He thought it was weird that he had to show the witch where the tree was; how many horny trees attacking people did she keep on her property?
Skidding to a stop in front of where he'd left Sam, Dean looked around. The willow was gone and in its place the ground was broken and uneven. It looked like the tree had been uprooted.
A light touch on his shoulder jerked Dean out of his reverie. He knew better than to let his guard down around the witch but at the moment he was freaking out. Where was Sam?
"I think I know where they are. Follow me." Tabitha's voice was low but she definitely sounded scared.
She should be. If something had happened to Sam, Dean would make sure she paid.
Dean followed the straight back, hair swishing and shimmering over her tight ass. His cock throbbed violently. He had more self control than this, especially with Sam's life on the line. Adjusting his package, he breathed a sigh of relief as his cock quieted to a dull throb. He needed his wits about him.
"Oh, my."
Tabitha stopped in her tracks, Dean piling into her back. The man, Moondoggie, smacked into Dean's back.
The tree had moved into the open and Sam was still held high above the ground in its grip. His jeans were undone and pushed down to the middle of his thighs. The branches seemed to approve of his state of undress as they teased his cock, now straining for freedom. A ginormous cotton clad cock that could be seen from this distance.
Dean had an inkling Sam was well endowed—just look at the size of the kid's hands and feet—but this was unbelievable. And the way he strained and thrust while restrained by the tree limbs made Dean's hips jerk in response.
"That's," gulp, "the most erotic thing I've ever seen, babe," Moondoggie whispered with reverence. Apparently Dean wasn't the only one affected by the vision before them.
Dean's warm palm cupped his own cock and out of the corner of his eye he saw Moondoggie move behind Tabitha's back, his dick slowly humping her ass.
A moan from the tree top broke Dean's mental torpor. "Saaam!"
His voice was a little more raw and filled with need than he'd wanted to expose to these strangers but it did the trick; the couple jumped apart, sheepish eyes turned on Dean.
Tabitha spit into her hands and rubbed them together then shouted, "Tribuo liberatio!"
Dean recognized the words as Latin but something was wrong. Sam was better at Latin but that didn't mean Dean was a slouch in the department. He was pretty certain the witch had just commanded the tree to give Sam release.
His interpretation seemed to be spot on as the tree redoubled its efforts in getting Sam off. There were so many leafs fluttering over Sam's body, so many pliant branches tugging and pulling at tender flesh, that Dean could barely make out his brother's face.
The tree suddenly dropped Sam down closer to their level and Dean could easily read the agitation in Sam's face—the wrinkled brow of concentration, white teeth digging into that luscious pink lower lip, head jerking from side to side.
Sam was going to come any moment now.
A groan leaked from Sam's lips and spurred Dean to action. He grabbed at the nearest branch and tugged with all of his strength while shouting over his shoulder, "It's not tribuo liberatio, it's liberaro!"
Dean was too busy trying to free Sam to see Tabitha's face but he could hear her muttering about flunking her stupid Latin class. The tree was frisking with Dean again, pawing at his arms and legs. A branch latched on to his cuff and he was stripped out of his jacket during the struggle.
"Liberaro!"
Sam suddenly pitched out of the branches and into Dean's arms, the two men tumbling hard to the ground.
Finally, Sam was free from the molesting tree.
-0-
Sam couldn't believe the sensations rocking his body. He felt weightless. As light as air. And he'd never been so turned on in his whole life. Not even when Cindy Kramer gave him his first blow job when he was fifteen. His skin prickled with excitement. His shaft was filled to bursting.
He heard Dean call his name from a distance and his hips thrust forward without his knowledge, the sound of his brother's low, throaty voice going straight to his cock.
Something wrapped hard around his balls, separating them from his body, winding tightly at the base of his penis. The orgasm threatening to sweep through his body paused and the feeling was delicious. One more stroke—just one more touch to his over sensitized body—and he was going to explode despite the tight grip staving off his orgasm.
Sam tensed in anticipation and instead of release, he found himself tumbling through the air. His body met resistance and the air left his lungs in a great whoosh.
"Sam," someone patted his cheek with more force than seemed necessary, "come on, open your eyes."
Dean was freaking out and Sam wanted nothing more than to reach down and finish what his body was begging for but he couldn't ignore the worry in the voice speaking insistently in his ear.
Blinking against the brightness, Sam watched as Dean's face blocked the sky from his view. His brother's face was so close; Sam could count the freckles on his face. "One, two…"
Cradling the back of Sam's neck, Dean worked his arm under Sam's back, tugging him upright. Things spun around for a while and when they stopped, Sam was leaning against Dean's broad chest.
It was like coming home.
Sam let himself melt into Dean's strength while three distinct voices spoke around him.
"We never meant for it to go this far."
"Whoa…that was intense."
"You with me yet? Sam?"
TBC
A/N: I know this is an odd spot to stop but the next part picks up with Dean's POV. I should have more up in a day or so. Thanks for reading!