Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or the characters thereof.
One Shot, a lot of angst and a healthy dose of love to balance it out.
Warning: Wincest! Sam/Dean. Some language, graphic imagery. Sexual Content. If you don't like Wincest, don't read! I get graphic with most of my Wincest and I don't want to offend you. Angst and schmoop alert!
Plot:
Sam is done, and he is tired of being pulled where life wants him to go, he wants to do the pulling now and this time he wants to pull Dean with him, to give them both better lives. Will Dean go along with it? Or is Sam never going to have his 'normal' ever again…even if this time it revolves around Dean…
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Sam sat sharpening his knife, thinking about Dean.
About all they'd been through.
Of all that had pulled them apart,
And all that had pulled them back together.
Most of which involved Bobby.
And more Bobby.
Sam smiled.
Bobby had been a meddling old man…and they had loved him.
But now it was just them…
And with Dick gone, and Cas getting Dean back…
Sam was done.
No more shit to do.
Dean was asleep on the bed, covered in a sheet, his body glistening with sweat.
Having your way with your brother all night did that to a man…
But Sam was up and moving,
And Dean had done all the work…topping always tired the guy out.
Sam thought this with a smile.
He'd known this since they were 15, and had never forgotten it.
Love was never that forgettable.
And still he thought back…
To all the things they had left behind.
He had left behind.
That Dean had pulled him away from.
And he'd lost forever.
His Mom, Dad had told Dean to run, and he had, taking and pulling Sam away from his last view of his mother.
The girl next door, when he was twelve. Dean had tugged him away to get in the car when he'd tried to kiss her goodbye. He'd thought he loved her then. It had felt that way at the time.
The boy in Boise, a kiss away from knowing if the guy liked him back. Fourteen and untouched, Sam had been tempted by the cute blond…until Dean had pulled him away when his lips nearly kissed the boy's lips, saying Dad had called and he had to leave school…again. A strange expression on Dean's face, in his eyes that Sam hadn't understood and it had made him feel funny inside to see. Green eyes so hard on the boy's face…on his lips Sam was about to kiss, on his body and hands that had just touched him.
Sam hadn't understood.
He'd punched him. And Dean hadn't said a word, just kept pulling him away.
From Jess, when he'd come to get him to help find Dad. Which they hadn't been able to until later, when it was too late and too painful to stay with him, and too much shit began to take him away from them…again.
Not until it was well onto its way to too late to make any difference in how their family had splintered away from each other.
How their love had broken apart. A secret love they had both kept well hidden until he'd left for college.
Dean saying it was over if he left for school,
And Sam had kept a hold of his duffel and kept right on walking. Heart breaking with every step. He wasn't leaving Dean. He was leaving Dad, and hunting, and revenge, and demons, and every damn thing else but Dean!
But Dean hadn't seen it that way.
Dean hadn't needed normal but he'd needed Sam.
Sam had needed normal and needed Dean, but couldn't have both…
So he'd left. Kept walking, too.
All the way to Stanford.
Where he'd been happy until…
Dean had pulled him away… again.
Then, after they'd hunted again, a waitress had hit on Dean.
They'd made love the night before for the first time since…well, since Jess died and Dad had begun playing hide and go seek with them…
He'd looked interested in the blonde hussy.
Sam had looked pissed.
A dip of Dean's head. "Just the check please." Sam had answered for him, while Dean's head ducked down more, guilt and light in his eyes that never left Sam's. A shake of Dean's sexy head, "You know, Sam, we are allowed to have fun." Eyes on the girl. "And that is fun!"
Sam had bit his tongue. He knew Dean was testing their new relationship, waiting for Sam to break it again…Sam wasn't going to give him the opportunity to run from him, nor give him a reason to. Dean wanted to run away from their relationship, he'd have to do it and know he had done it because he wanted to.
Which he didn't. And Sam knew that, too.
So he'd said nothing and let Dean's insecurity go…he'd be sure of his love for him eventually.
Sure of Sam's promise to not leave him again…like Dad had. Sam would not do that to him again.
Dad had left for no reason, to chase the fucking demon didn't count as a reason in Sam's book, that was what their Dad had always done. He had needed better reasons. Sam had thought bitterly.
Then Sam had left to go to college.
They both had left Dean, left him alone.
"Sammy…" Dean muttered in his sleep now…Sam looked to see if he was waking up.
Sammy…Dean's name for him. The name of a chubby twelve year old.
But then Dean had never seen him as a chubby twelve year old. Not really.
Sam hadn't seen him that way either.
Dad hadn't had to know that, so they'd never told him.
It was their secret.
Time passed now, minutes ticked away to mark his busy thoughts. And for each second they stayed here, supposedly looking for hunts, Sam got further away from normal, away from ever escaping Hunting and maybe pulling Dean away with him this time. Without sacrificing his love for him in the process. Dean always pulled at him, usually pulling him away from something…Sam wanted to pull him away this time.
Even when Dean was gone…
Whether it was after a fight with him, to get some space or breathing room, or dead; that had happened a couple times, too; to each of them.
He hated it when Dean was gone.
But then again…Dean had still pulled at him, even then.
Was that what this was? Relief that Dean wasn't gone, this warm feeling of finality in his chest?
A completion of something inside him, that Dean had made happen as they came together last night?
Both their promises of forever and never leaving each other again?
He was used to them breaking those.
They left each other, and each time…
It hurt them more.
Then Bobby….gone then back as a ghost.
And then…they had to let him go again.
A fire in front of them, a pyre of sorts.
Bobby burning up in front of them…again.
Then Dick.
He'd put them through Hell.
Took Bobby from them.
Took Home from them. A burnt wreck left in his wake.
Left in place of the only Home Sam had ever known.
Mom gone. Home gone. Dad gone. Dean gone. Love gone.
Then…Dean was there and not gone.
Pulling Sam away…again.
And back to him.
Where Sam really wanted to be anyway.
Ellen gone, Pamela gone, Jo…Ash…all just gone…Hell took them away. Took him away.
Dean there again. Hell gone inside him and breaking him. Dean taking his hand.
Pulling him back.
Filling him up with his love, getting his soul back.
A soul that had always belonged to Dean anyway.
A heart that was always his, too.
Dean, buried deep inside him, inside his heart and soul.
Always bringing him back.
Pulling him back. Dean. Always Dean. Always pulling. Dean always finding him and pulling at him!
Sam had let him that time, too.
Like he always would.
Then Dick had come along.
Then…it all was gone.
Sam left alone and broken hearted.
In a room of broken glass and bent metal…
Of white linoleum and cold steel.
And everything he had left and ever loved…just gone…again.
And again.
Staring around him and so lost.
Hunting was harder then; without him. Without his pull.
Without the pulling telling him where to go.
Just telling him that he had to find Dean.
Because Dean was pulling on him again.
Wherever he was.
Then last night Sam had been laying on the bed, praying to sleep…or to find Dean…then Cas appeared.
Knocking on another door.
Sam opening it…again.
Then…
There Dean was again.
Pulling Sam to him and Sam let him.
Always Dean pulling, Sam coming to him. Following him where he led him.
Dean pulling him where he wanted him to go.
Usually to be with him, wherever that was.
But, last night, that had been at the door of his motel room.
And Dean had pulled him away, away from the bone numbing loss he'd been feeling for weeks.
Away from the uncertainty and doubt he had felt eating him alive for months now. Loneliness that wriggled its way deeper into his heart and bones…feeling so alone.
And now, as he sharpened his knife, Sam felt the truth.
He was done.
He wouldn't do no more.
Hunting had a hidden clause.
Sure, you got cool cars, cool tools, and to see the country.
Freedom. Nothing to tie you down.
Like…Love…and a real Home…a loving Family or a man to hold you at night, despite you being a monster inside. Accepting you because, deep down, he was just as much a monster as you were, and you loved that about each other. Things like just walking down the street without something eventually finding you, and trying to kill you…or forcing or needing you to kill it…again. Loved ones to hug and spend time with. Sam didn't get those things, and he ached to have them…knowing there was no place left to call Home nor any loved ones to spend time with. No loving Family to call his own, and no man to hold him…none that were the one he needed and did love. That man wasn't here anymore…
That man had been locked in Purgatory, and Sam had been informed by several angels and psychics that he wasn't coming back…something that was also eating him alive.
But you also got hurt, cut, maimed, tore apart inside and out, and left for dead inside long before hunting managed to leave you for dead for real. If you were lucky, it was with the monster dead and you with it. Sometimes the monster lived and got to kill you first. Hunting wasn't picky, as long it killed you in the end; it was a happy murderer.
Because hunting wasn't something you left.
She left you.
Usually dead.
Like Bobby.
And everyone else he'd ever loved.
A tear slid down his cheek now. More gathered in his eyes, blinding him momentarily.
He ran a finger over the knife.
Bobby's knife.
The only piece of him left.
After they had burnt the last piece of him.
And he'd burnt up in front of them twice.
Sam's heart broke again.
He was done.
No more.
"Sam, what's wrong?" Dean said coming up behind him, body glistening in the sun coming from between the partially closed curtains, dust motes dancing in its light, swaying softly along his tawny skin.
Sam barely spared him a glance, loosely holding the knife.
Dean eased it from his hand, easing it from his reach.
"Sam, baby, what's wrong?" Dean asked concerned.
Seeing Sam's tears.
"I'm done." Sam said quietly. "No more." He shook his head vehemently now until Dean held it still to make him look at him, making him unclench his eyes and look at him to show them so full of pain and loss.
"Done with what?" Dean asked and then held him as he cried his pain out.
"Everything but us." Sam said in a hoarse voice. "Done."
"Okay." Dean said then smiled lovingly, pulling Sam's tearstained face to his. "We're done." Dean said and it sounded like a promise.
It sounded like the final crescendo of a long and discordant life. Of a painful and fucked up life they knew would have killed them someday if they hadn't ended it.
Done.
Such a great word. Sam thought as Dean pulled him back to bed, pulling his towel off as he went, kissing him passionately to take his pain away.
Pulling Sam on top of him and pulling him down to thrust into Dean until he moaned.
Done.
Yes, Sam thought happily now.
It was done.
And this time it wouldn't be Dean pulling him away from anything.
He'd be the one pulling Dean away this time.
Pulling Dean to him.
And away with him.
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