It took a while to think up, but here is the sequel to 'Don't fight me'
I really like how this turned out. Please R&R ^^ I want to know your thoughts on it.
Pairings; WINCEST! No like? DON'T READ!
Disclaimer; I do not own Supernatural… Or their characters.
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For Sam, the never ending the speeches from the demons that kidnapped him were even more boring the longer he heard them. Constantly stating how their "king" would be so proud of them, having captured a Winchester. Few threw around the idea of killing Sam, and taking his soul to Hell. The other few suggested roughing Sam up a bit to make sure he wasn't strong enough to escape. Sam hadn't really fought against his captors in the first place, so there was really no reason to worry about it at all.
The leader of this demon gang had possessed a biker. Tall, 6'2", shorter than Sam. He had black hair, and scruff on his face that seemed to go along with the borrowed light brown eyes. His leather jacket had patches here and there, some from other states and such. His worn jeans, probably from years of use and being on the road, the boots... Sam was sure that the man inside hadn't seen this coming. Hadn't thought that one day he would be possessed by a demon, kidnapping people, or doing whatever it was that demons did while possessing innocent people.
The leader sauntered over to the hunter, pulling his chin up to meet the light brown eyes. "Where's that brother of yours? Last I had heard, the king had sent you to collect him after he fell off the radar and didn't listen." Sam kept his mouth shut, just staring at the demon. For a long time Sam's hazel eyes just watched the leaders. Like he was sending a silent plea for the demon to let him go, like there was something worse out there than the situation he was in.
Scoffing he released Sam's chin and stalked back across the motel room. The other demons were just sitting around, messing with things here and there. None of them slept or anything like that, just sat there twiddling around books or knives. When the door flew in, many of the demons shot straight up. They hadn't expected any hunter to come after the Winchester.
From outside stepped in a very pissed looking Dean, with demon eyes to match the look of outrage on his face. Sam watched Dean a moment, then looked away. One of the demons watched the younger and saw the small brim of tears come over his eyes before the demon felt a knife become embedded in his chest and he convulsed to the ground dead.
Out from their shock the demons launched at the new arrival, only to be struck down, one after the other until only the leader remained. He stood, stock still until Dean started the slow walk towards him. every couple of steps he would go back, until his back hit the wall and he could do nothing as Dean stepped over a dead body to stare straight into the demons cold, hard eyes. "You don't touch, what's mine."
The leader gasped when a regular knife hit his skin, coated in demon blood and salt. It burned and before he knew it, holy water was shoved down his throat causing blood to pool up from his throat and choke him. Dean wasn't satisfied, but he killed the leader anyway after about 10 minutes of his groveling in a pool of spit and blood.
Sam watched Dean, picking up knives and random things here and there from the room until finally he crossed the floor and stood before him. The younger of the two glanced up, arms wrapped around his knees tightly, and his expression remained blank. Dean, though having been pissed earlier, smiled at his brother and picked him up. Cradling him in his arms, even though it was awkward for the taller man. "My little Sammy~ Sammy, Sammy, Sammy~" He cooed more and more as they left the room. Dean had arrived in the Impala. Not much of shock, Dean wasn't one to really enjoy the way some demons just randomly popped up places.
Crawling inside, Dean managed to keep Sam in his lap as he started the engine. Sam hadn't dared moved, waiting for something to be said between them as Dean backed up and started for the highway once again. Once in a while Dean's hand would leave the wheel and play with a strand of Sam's hair, only to return to its previous position and the other hand caressing Sam's leg and side.
If he weren't so worried Sam might have fallen asleep, but the tension he felt in the air and sting that came from his mark made him one edge. Too tense to sleep. "Sammy." Dean finally stated, his hand resting on Sam's thigh as he pulled into a back alley on a highway and parked in a clearing of trees. The low sun casted the trees shadows into the car, hitting right across Dean's face, making Sam even more nervous than before. "Why would you go and let yourself get kidnapped like that? I told you to stay at the motel while I handle some private business at the bar."
Sam was sure that the business that Dean had been doing was very "private", but he hadn't questioned the elder when he left. He had only seen it as an opportunity to get away from his brother and find Cas. Somehow find the angel and get him to help with the binding spell that he was under.
The first week he'd had the binding, Dean had placed him fully under his control, making it impossible for him to speak unless spoken too, to move unless ordered, and to think was painful because the mark was driving away anything that could lead to rebellion. What was worse was the physical torture that Dean put him through that first week, touching Sam in ways that he hadn't liked. If he'd been able to Sam would have screamed at Dean to stop, to kill him, to stop it all and just let him be. It was during those moments that Sam could respond, however, be it a cry of pleasure or pain. Sometimes it would be to force Sam to say things like, "Love you so much, Dean." or "Don't stop." another favorite of Dean's had been, "I need your blood." It hurt the worst of all, saying things like that.
Now that Dean thought he could trust Sam, he'd loosened some of his bindings, allowing him to move about a room on his own, allow him his own thoughts once again. He wasn't allowed to speak still, another reason as to why the demons weren't as forewarned as Sam would have liked. "I'm sorry, Dean. I just wanted to get some fresh air." It was a lie, but he couldn't tell Dean that.
Dean's other hand was curling some of the strands of hair at the bottom, twirl, release, twirl, release. It was a pattern that he repeated several times until he suddenly stopped. Sam thought maybe he would readjust them, perhaps move them into a more comfortable position, but the hand had only gone further into his hair and yanked. The youngest cried out in pain, scrunching his eyes and flinching his arms into movement. His burning mark kept him from grabbing Dean's arm, however. "The truth, Sam." He hissed, his mouth at Sam's ear and he could feel the threatening steel blade in his siblings hand. It pressed against his denim and he felt some of it slip up under his shirt to press against his abdomen.
He tried his best to calm down, to cool off the sweat forming on his forehead, to keep his raging heartbeat down. It was difficult, but effective enough to keep from answering. Dean seemed patient with him today, like he could do this all night if he needed to. The more Sam tried to calm down, the more Dean seemed to relax as well. When Sam opened his mouth to speak again, Dean seemed distracted by his lips, as if the moment he spoke he would know if it were a truth or a lie. "It's true, Dean. I swear it." He panted, closing his eyes, not being able to stand looking at the face that looked like his older brother, but wasn't at the same time.
It was nearly a lifetime, or so it seemed, when Sam felt something touch his lips. When his eyes opened he saw Dean's face, on top of his own. Shock poured through him, and he went rigid. His mark burned and the silent command that poured through was, Kiss me, Sam. It wasn't right, it was hardly right at all. Dean was his BROTHER! They couldn't do this. They shouldn't. But nonetheless Sam started to kiss back, allowing Dean entrance to his mouth when his tongue licked against his lips.
Sam wanted to cry so bad, to yell and scream. Dean didn't seem to know, because he pressed harder, to create the kiss to be something with passion. He couldn't force himself to reply back with passion, it wasn't what he wanted at all.
It was a good two minutes into the kiss that Sam realized just what Dean had done after he'd refused to incorporate more into the kiss. Dean's lip was cut, bleeding softly into his mouth to where now, more than likely, both their lips were stained red. Those instincts kicked in about a moments notice, and Sam was lapping at Dean's lips. The indulgence of the blood was too much, and Sam didn't know until Dean pulled away that eight minutes had gone by and his breath was ragged, his teeth and lips were stained red, and he was laying back on the bench seat in the Impala with Dean straddling his hips.
Dean, above him, smiled at Sam. "I believe you." He told his younger brother, and for a second Sam thought he was actually looking at his brother, his HUMAN brother. The black wasn't in his eyes, his mark was covered by the flannel shirt, and most important of all, the pendant that Sam had gotten Dean at christmas, all those years ago that he thought the elder had thrown away, was dangling around his neck. Sam grabbed for it, twirling it around in his hand. It felt familiar, it felt right then. That pendant belonged to Dean, and Dean didn't look good without it. "I love you, Sammy."
And for once, without hesitation, Sam replied, "I love you too." The mark didn't burn, and Sam was at ease.
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