Title: Hotel California
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Sam/Dean
Warnings: wincest, general spoilers from season 4 &5.
Summary: Chuck comes bearing warnings and a story from Dean's time in hell.
"Dean, some big stuff is going down… you need to get Sam and leave here."
Chuck rarely ever warned them about anything so when he showed up asking to talk to Dean alone, the brothers knew it was serious. Sam left, saying he'd be back in half an hour, which in Sam time meant 20 minutes. "Woah man, why don't you slow down a little yeah? Start with what this big stuff that's going down is."
"Please Dean, you just gotta go. Take Sam and go, like now." For the first time since Dean had known him, Chuck seemed scared, really honest to god terrified. He was all but on his knees. He had never exactly handled the whole prophet thing well but he was even more panicked and jittery than normal, sweating, shaking, and sitting pretty on a razor sharp edge.
"How about this, why don't you tell me what the hell is going on here so I can keep us safe." Dean started in on the angry tone; the one he knew made Chuck anxious enough to pay attention. Except Chuck wasn't paying attention at all, he just started checking the windows, then his watch, and then the windows again. He was working in a loop, their very own prophetic broken record.
"Just- big stuff Dean, big. Come on, get Sam and go." Dean rubbed his hands over his face and sat down on one of the motel beds, springs squeaking under his weight. This seemed to distract Chuck enough to jolt his hand away from the faded brown curtains, focusing his attention on the eldest Winchester.
"Why the hell did you even tell Sam to go if you just want me to get him and take him away anyways?" Dean wasn't one for well thought out plans but he knew nuts when he was staring at it.
"Sam won't leave if you tell him what's going on. Which you will. Because you think he'll listen to you. Because you're an idiot. Just say Bobby called or something, I don't care." Dean clearly wasn't budging and just offered his 'I'm not going anywhere until you explain' smile, shrugging for emphasis, as if Chuck needed any emphasis. He knew the way this conversation would play out, the things he was about to say and the things Dean was about to say back. He was in no way psyched to play part to what he had seen and yet, as with everything else involving the Winchester boys, it seemed he had no choice. "Lucifer is coming. He knows where you are and he is coming for Sam tomorrow, you still have time to get out."
Dean could have laughed out loud and probably would have if Chuck didn't look so dead serious. "Of course he's coming you moron, he's always coming. I mean hell, he was bound to find us sooner or later but Sam's not gonna say yes and he's not about to damage his wet dream of a meat suit so what's the problem?"
"What's the problem Dean? What isn't the problem? First, just because he won't hurt Sam doesn't mean he won't hurt you." Chuck started counting on his fingers, well aware that Dean would interject and he wouldn't get to two just yet.
"Even if he does, Michael will just shine me right back up, he thinks I'm his very own Barbie Dream Car, remember?"
Dean really was not worried at all. Chuck shouldn't have been mad, after all he knew this was how it was going to happen but the arrogance still pissed him off just a little bit. "Will you just shut up and listen for a minute? You really think Sam will be able to watch Lucifer torture you? Would you if it was the other way around? 'Cause I've seen how you react to people hurting Sam and I've gotta say, I really don't think you would. "
"What the hell do you know about it." It wasn't a question; it was just Dean trying to take control back in the conversation, demanding it to stop.
"Everything Dean. I know about the dreams they gave you in hell, and I know that they followed you out. I know why you finally came off the rack, what made you break. It's not right man." Dean's breathing had picked up to steady pressured breaths out of his nose, palms sweaty and hands shaking.
"You don't know a god damn thing. You need to leave. NOW." Dean stood, trying to intimidate, trying to prove a point. Chuck wasn't having any of it; he knew Dean wouldn't raise a hand to him, didn't have the jewels to hurt an innocent.
"I don't leave yet. Just- sit down… please." Dean took a few more shaky breaths before he did as he was asked, resuming his spot on the end of the bed, hands once again pushing into his eyes. "I wrote it all down. Locked it away. I figured, maybe if no one ever saw it or heard about it, you'd be alright. I never even told the angels." He held up the papers to Dean, hands shaking but determined, grip tight on a story he never wanted to write.
Dean felt the fire when he started reading, he could smell the sulfur, hell burning into his senses all over again.
"You know Dean, while I really, truly am enjoying this game of ours, it has become slightly tiring and I have been made aware of something." Alastair's words rang out the same as they always did and just like he always did back, Dean tried his best to be witty under the circumstances.
"Oh yea? They finally tell you what that weird rash is? One word for the future: protection." He spit out the blood in his mouth but it just kept coming in, and he wondered briefly where it was coming from. Not that it mattered much anyways, just something to keep his mind on.
"Dean Dean Dean. You know you really are my favourite. An eternity is just not enough time to spend with you, especially since thirty years have gone by like a flash, don't you think?" He smiled sickly sweet and ran a finger down Dean's blood soaked cheek. "I took a little trip into your mind and learned some very interesting things. Turns out you're much more damaged than we had anticipated."
"You stay the hell out of my head you ugly, white-eyed fucker." Dean didn't know what it meant, but he knew it couldn't be good. Most of the time they left him in this room, strapped down and waiting to be carved up, unless they were hanging him in the chain maze for a while, but that was like a field trip these days. Damaged came with the territory.
"Oooh language my friend. Besides, too late for that anyways. I took a look around and I have realized that normal old run of the mill torture just won't do with you, you'll never break."
"Haven't I been saying that for thirty years you deaf bastard." Dean yelled in his face, despite the fact that his throat was torn up and gravely from three decades of screaming. It was the only thing they never fixed.
"Come now, I was under the impression that there was at least some mutual respect between us, you must know that I have other things up my sleeve besides blades. No, it's true, you won't break this way. You Winchesters are all the same, real heroes, pathetic martyrs. But I know what will make you break Dean, it's all right there in that pretty little brain of yours." Alastair stood close to where Dean was strung up to the wall, barbed wire, leather and chains biting into his flesh. His breath burned like acid against Dean's face. Before his eyes, Alastair changed, morphed from some old guy who'd had a few too many Big Mac's into the lean, muscular, tanned form of his brother. It wasn't the first time he had done his demon skin morph trick, but it was the first time in thirty torturous years he had seen his Sam's face. When he spoke again, he had Sam's voice and his breath felt cool and soothing against Dean's skin. "Say yes for me Dean. We can be us again, we can be together again. It'll be different this time."
Sam's lips pressed softly into Dean's, searching hesitantly for confirmation. Dean closed his eyes and let himself be momentarily drowned in the feel and smell of Sam. "This isn't real." He didn't want to say it, didn't want it to be taken away all over again but everything in hell came with a price and he figured that kind of bliss would cost big.
Sam pulled back sharply, foreign smile on his face and he looked different, like suddenly he wasn't really Sam anymore. "Of course it's not real silly goose. But you know what is real? I can make him feel things, long, long-distance." He picked up a salt covered knife, already drenched in Dean's blood and dragged it across Sam's beautiful forearm, leaving no cut in its wake.
"Didn't do a thing. Lost your mojo there champ?" It was harder to taunt Alastair when he looked like that; hard to speak when he was looking into Sam's eyes.
"Oh it may not have damaged the goods, but I promise you he can feel it." He waited until it sunk all the way in, saw the realization flood through Dean's face before he spoke again. "Now I am prepared to make you a very generous offer here Dean. You come on down from that rack, I will not touch a hair on Sam's head. I'll stay like this, like him, and I'll let you do things he's never even fathomed. I'll let you touch him; make him touch you back. It'll feel real Dean, and isn't that what you've always wanted? Sam unharmed and at your disposal, no more torture, no more pain just all your wildest fantasies come true. All you have to do is put souls up."
Dean saw the tears cloud and blur his vision before he felt them. He blinked them away, desperate to get another look at Sam. "What if I say no?"
"Well then I will find some very, very creative ways to hurt your precious little Sammy. I'll make him feel depths of pain he has never imagined and it'll never stop. I'll send him dreams of you in hell; he should enjoy those, seeing all the things you went through to bring him back. I'll make you watch him writhe in agony, helpless to save his big brother. I know you Dean and I know for a fact that your Sammy is the only thing that will break you. All I'm asking for is one measly sinner's soul per day, just one. Someone is going to do it anyways, why not you. You do that and I will give you Sam, safe and happy, every day for eternity."
"I- I don't-" Sam moved in close, cutting the thoughts from Dean's brain. His hands stretched out to interlace with where his brother's were chained onto the cold metal of the rack. He pressed his body up against Dean and leaned his mouth to Dean's neck. Tongue soft and electric against the bitter dried blood he found there and the only sound in the world was the strangled moan that escaped Dean's lips.
"Shh, let me take care of you Dean. Just say yes. Please, for me."
It felt like hours, days. It was probably no more than a few minutes. "Yes." His latches broke off, chains dropped to the floor and he collapsed into the strong arms of his brother. The room changed around them, suddenly it was all white and soft and there was a bed that looked like a cloud against the wall. Sam laid him down and covered him, body to body. He began kissing his way across Dean's wounds and they would heal under his touch. Soon enough their clothes were gone, a heap of blood soaked fabric thrown across the room and when he felt strong enough again, Dean leaned up on his elbows to get a better look at Sam. He was on his knees, about to swallow Dean down when he looked up and their eyes met. "I love you Sammy."
He blinked and those eyes were no longer the sparkling pools of mossy brown that made him melt, all Dean saw was a sea of white. "I love you too Dean."
Everything in hell came with a price.
"How do you know this? You weren't supposed to see hell." Dean dropped the paper to the ground unconsciously, hands shaking too hard to hold on any longer.
"I wish to God I didn't know all the things you think about. You remember everything they could do to you and Sam now? What if they decide to show Sam your time in hell until he can't take it anymore? What if they just torture you again and again until you die? You really believe Sam can keep saying no? You need to leave."
"What if he finds out and hates me? I don't know how to do this without him." He barely choked out the words when twenty minutes was up and like clockwork, Sam walked through the door, tensing automatically when he saw the tears in Dean's eyes and the pain etched in his face.
"What the hell is going on? What did you say to him?" Sam was frantic and made his way over to Dean in seconds, hands working over his shoulders, to his face, wiping away tears and running a comforting, strong hand through his golden brown hair. "You okay Dean? It's alright, I'm here." His hand rested on the back of Dean's neck, thumb rubbing back and forth, soothing away whatever offences Chuck may have laid.
"You too Sam?" Chuck seemed almost disappointed and confusion clouded over Sam's features before he continued. "Whatever, I'm getting the hell out of here. You two figure your own shit out, I don't know what happens past him coming either so… good luck, I guess." He left quickly; leaving the brothers to sort through the mess he had brought to them.
Sam knelt on the floor between Dean's legs, holding onto both sides of his face. "What did he say to you?"
"Lucifer knows where we are, he's coming to find us tomorrow." Dean said, clinging to the color in his brother's eyes.
"What, do you think I'm gonna say yes? Is that why you're freaking out? 'Cause I'm not, I swear I won't do it." Sam's fingers pressed hard into his skin, like he was trying to convince Dean with applied pressure.
"Sammy what if he does things, shows you things or hurts me… you really think you'll say no?" Dean rested his forehead against Sam's like he used to when they were growing up and Sam needed reassuring. "What if they show you what hell was like for me?"
"Dean just tell me and I can be ready for whatever they throw at me. If I know what's coming it'll be easier." Sam had been pushing the sharing and caring train since the day Dean busted out but they had never really talked about it. Dean was always scared the torture would damage him and the last ten years would… well, Sam would never recover from knowing that, never forgive him.
"I-" Dean pulled back to look his brother in the eyes again, they had a power over him, the kind only Sam could possess. "Let's just get out of here Sammy. We'll go to Canada for a while. Haven't you always wanted to go up there?"
"Dean-" It wasn't working, Sam was already putting his showdown face on and Dean only had so many cards he could play.
"Please Sam. Please. Just let me get you out of here baby boy, let me take care of you. I'm begging you." He wasn't too worried about the tears, if anything they would help his case.
Unfortunately, it seemed Sam had made up his mind. He brushed the bitter saline lines away with the pads of his fingers, lowering his voice almost to a whisper, like quiet would be the thing to comfort Dean now. "I can't keep running and you're tired too, I know you are." His eyes ran over the sharp lines and beautiful features of Dean's face. The watery fields of green in his eyes, cheekbones covered in freckles that he hated but Sam loved, nose a little off center from one too many breaks, lips full and always soft, no matter what. "If they kill me, they kill me… I won't say yes. I just want it to be over, one way or another. You should go though; if you're here they'll use you. I want you safe." Sam was nodding and getting up on his feet, like his word was final. He started packing up Dean's things and from where he was sitting; he could see Sam's cheeks wet, shoulders shake with his silent heartache.
Dean stood, poised to put an end to this ridiculous tirade of his brothers'. Slowly he moved over to Sam, resting a hand lightly between his shoulder blades. "Stop it baby boy, I'm not gonna go without you." Sam's movement stilled and his shoulder's slumped, he was done pushing. Truth was he needed Dean just as much as Dean needed him. "I'm going for a shower. Call if you need me."
As soon as the door clicked shut Sam walked over to his bed and sat down as ungracefully as humanly possible. He was worn out, needed peace. He looked around the room, canvassing for something, anything that might help when his eyes found papers, discarded in a heap at the foot of Dean's bed. He moved to pick them up and collapsed back down as he began to read. Alastair, hell, this was a transcript of his breaking point.
Dean was standing under the spray, trying to block out the memories of hell that now flooded him. Tried to forget the way Sam tasted, forget the screams of pain, his own screams of pleasure. When Sam burst through the door and threw back the curtain, his mind went blank. All his thoughts were torn away and all that was left was Sam. Dean's eyes flickered to the papers in his hand; he wasn't ready for this yet, needed more time to ease Sam into it. "Sammy, I-"
"Is this true? Don't you dare lie to me 'cause I can see right through it." Dean shut the water off and reached for a towel, pushing past Sam into the room.
"It's complicated." He knew it wasn't great but he was stalling, like he could avoid the question all together.
"Yes or no Dean." Apparently not. Sam was breathing hard, hands trembling slightly, there was no way out of this and maybe it really would end bloody after all.
"Yea. Yes. I'm sorry Sammy. I'm so-"
"Shut up." Sam was shaking his head like he was trying to sort through what was happening. "You did… that… with a demon. Your first time with me was with Alastair."
"Sammy I didn't want the demon, I wanted… wait, what?" Dean couldn't figure out what Sam's mind was doing, he was trying desperately and not doing too well at keeping up.
Their eyes locked and the electric shocks crackled sharp in the air. Neither of them could breathe easy. Sam closed the distance between them, digging his fingers into Dean's hips. "I'm gonna make you forget."
"Wha-" It was all he could get out before Sam's lips came crashing down into his, biting away the words and swallowing down the long overdue moans. Sam's hand worked up to blaze a trail over his abs and up to his chest, the other still firmly holding his hips in place.
Sam's lips broke off and he sunk to his knees on the hardwood floor. He trailed his tongue along Dean's hipbone before biting down, trying frantically to mark his territory. "What else?"
"Hmm?" Dean's thoughts broke momentarily from Sam his Sam, real Sam tonguing his lower abdomen to try and concentrate on the words he was saying.
"Details… about hell, what else." Sam was serious, determined and maybe a little angry but Dean could clearly see the lines of his perfectly proportionate dick through his jeans.
"Um… they- ah" His eyes shot closed when Sam bit down again but somehow remembered there had been a question and continued. "They played Hotel California a lot. Couldn't figure it out at first. It was the song I used to listen to religiously when you went to Stanford. Made me think of you." Sam pulled the towel away from his hips and lowered his lips to the top of Dean's thigh. "Mmm. Made me miss you."
He swore he could feel Sam smiling against his thigh and wondered what that meant just before Sam's tongue swept across the head of his dick and he couldn't wonder about anything anymore. "On a dark desert highway." Lick across the slit, drinking in Dean's precome. "Cool wind in my hair." Kiss down the shaft. "Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air." The raspy sound of Sam's voice vibrated through the air. He sucked Dean deep in his mouth and all Dean could think was I'm getting a blowjob while Sammy sings me my Sammy song.
"Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light. My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim, I had to stop for the night." He sang out softly, hand jerking Dean slowly in rhythm with the beat flowing through his head.
"Sammy." Dean moaned out because it was all too much. He might have said something, tried to stop it all but it may have been their last night and what a way to spend your last night.
"Shh. There she stood in the doorway. I heard the mission bell." He pushed Dean back onto the bed and crawled up his body so that Dean was pressed obscenely tight under Sam who was fully clothed and grinding down mercilessly. "And I was thinking to myself this could be heaven or this could be hell."
He bit down on Dean's earlobe after his whispered words were out. His lips continued their fiery trail down his brother's jaw, resting at the corner to suck the stubble-covered skin there. "Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way."
Dean was getting impatient, pushing his hips up into the hardness behind Sam's denim and Sam rewarded him by licking a straight trail from his collar bone back up to his ear again. "There were voices down the corridor, thought I heard them say…"
Dean actually laughed, honest to goodness laughed out loud when Sam's hand circled his cock again and his volume suddenly shot up, neck arching backwards, singing to the ceiling. "Welcome to the Hotel California. Such a lovely place," He looked down to Dean and flashed an old, intimate smile, the kind he had on reserve for only the sweetest moments, "such a lovely face."
"You done now?" He barely managed his words as Sam's hand twisted, pulling a long growl out of the depths of Dean's throat.
"Not even close." He slid back down, off the bed briefly to shed his layers before covering Dean back up and wrapping a hand around them both to jerk the electric hot skin simultaneously.
"Dean." Sam choked out a moan and came hard with his brother's mouth on his throat, biting in some territorial marks of his own. Three more pumps, covered in Sam's come and Dean followed him off the edge, teeth hard on his lip to keep from screaming.
Dean cleaned them off with Sam's discarded shirt and pulled the covers up to fight the cold air that replaced hot breath. Sam rested his head on Dean's chest, searching for the desperate comfort that always came from his brother's heartbeat, like it was the only sound in the world that meant anything.
Sam didn't make him forget hell but he gave Dean something worth remembering. Dean's eyes drifted shut and his fingers moved in light, random patterns over his brother's neck. Lucifer and Michael kept coming and the world kept ending but Sam was warm and real and here and that was all Dean could bring himself to care about.