Sam stepped through the doorway and started when he found himself in a luxuriously appointed bedroom, like you might find in the honeymoon suite of a high-class hotel. The bed linens were simple but expensive, the carpet was so thick Sam was sure he'd slept on thinner mattresses and all the furnishings were classy and well made. He sat down on the bed bouncing up and down to test the springiness of the mattress. Very nice. But what the Hell was he doing here? Clearly, they'd failed to kill the Trickster yet again, but Sam couldn't figure out which TV show he was meant to be trapped in now.
"Let's just call it my own private collection," a voice said. Sam looked up in alarm. The Trickster was lounging against the dresser, his mouth twitching into a smirk. "Hey, Sam." He was dressed differently, in a white button-down shirt open at the throat and and a pair of well-tailored black slacks. His feet were bare. Sam wasn't sure why that seemed to catch his attention.
"Where's Dean?" Sam demanded, standing up indignantly.
"Oh, I thought you might not want him here for this particular show," the Trickster drawled. "Don't worry, he's safe. He won't even notice you're gone." He stalked towards Sam and the hunter drew back in apprehension, stopping only when his calves hit the bed. The demigod raked him up and down with an appreciative look and Sam suddenly had a very bad feeling about where this was going.
"I don't know what you're planning, but I'm not playing along. Not this time. We get the message, OK. Now let us go." Sam told him, cursing internally at the quiver in his voice. The Trickster smiled a slow, wicked smile that gave Sam a curious sensation in his chest.
"Now, Sam. Are you really going to just leave, when I've gone to all this trouble?" he asked, his voice low and sultry. Sam struggled to control his breathing, the Trickster was very close to him now and he could feel the heat radiating off his body. The demigod leaned forward a little and Sam instinctively rocked back, but he was already pressed against the foot of the bed and he fell backwards onto the mattress. The Trickster grinned in triumph and Sam scrambled up the bed, watching warily as the demigod crawled towards him. To his surprise, the Trickster didn't pounce on him, but pulled himself up alongside Sam and propped up his head on one hand.
"What do you want?" Sam asked desperately, afraid he already knew the answer. The Trickster gave him that sultry smile again.
"Oh, I think you know, Sam," he said breathily. He pulled himself closer to Sam so that they were lying on their sides, facing each other. The demigod's face was only inches away and Sam could smell cinnamon and burnt sugar.
"I think you've got the wrong idea about me." Sam told him, perturbed. "I don't go for guys."
"Sure you don't. Except when you do. You do remember your college days before you met Jessica, don't you?" the Trickster laughed. Sam flushed, he hadn't expected the demigod to know about his experimental phase.
"That was then. I was young, trying all kinds of new experiences. It doesn't mean anything."
"Relax, Sam," the Trickster said lazily. "This doesn't mean anything either, not if you don't want it to. Just call it blowing off some steam, that's all. You and your knuckle-headed brother haven't had much of a break recently." He edged forward and Sam swallowed.
"I-, I can't do this. What about Dean?" he stammered. The Trickster's eyebrows rose.
"You wanna invite him to this party?" he asked in mock surprise. "I can't say I'm keen." Sam cursed under his breath.
"I mean, he'll be worried, wondering where I am." Sam said lamely. The demigod sighed.
"Have you forgotten who I am? I told you, Dean won't even notice you're gone. I swear, nobody will ever know about this. Just you and me."
"Yeah? Until you decide to use it against me somehow?" Sam accused. The Trickster snarled and thrust his hand into Sam's hair, jerking him closer.
"I swear. No-one will ever know because of something I did or said. Ever." He tilted his head and his nose brushed Sam's cheek. Sam expected him to make a move, but he just waited there, his breath ghosting across Sam's face. Sam took a moment to really look at the demigod, his golden gaze making him feel tense and shivery. He didn't want to admit to himself how attractive the Trickster was, how even now he was thinking about how his skin would taste and how hot the demigod's mouth would be under his. His breathing stuttered and the Trickster's eyes were riveted on his, the pupils blown wide. Like a dam breaking Sam lunged forward suddenly, crashing their mouths together in a savage dance of lips, teeth and tongue. The demigod groaned under the onslaught and it was the hottest thing Sam had ever heard. He rolled over the Trickster and pressed his long body against the shorter length of the demigod. Sam dragged his mouth away and down the Trickster's neck nipping and licking at the skin in a way that made the demigod writhe and pant. He slid his fingers into the shirt, popping the buttons one by one and spreading it wide then applying himself to each nipple in turn. The Trickster made a gesture and the shirt disappeared. Along with Sam's. He didn't care. The demigod's hands were in his hair and Sam licked a wet trail across his stomach, pausing only to unbutton the Trickster's slacks and tug at them ineffectively. The Trickster pulled at his hair and Sam looked up, shivering at the searing look on his face. Another gesture vanished all their remaining clothing and Sam took a moment to appreciate the view. The Trickster was hard and wanting and Sam's hands flexed as he fought for control. Then the demigod flipped them over and straddled Sam's hips, pinning the hunter's hands above his head. Oh, God. The feeling of their skin pressed together like this was driving him insane. The demigod moved against him and Sam thought he might die from the overwhelming sensations of friction and need. He clamped his hands at the Trickster's hips and growled incoherently at him, he was rewarded with another wicked smile and the Trickster shifted position so that Sam was now poised at his entrance. Sam slammed his hips upwards, and the Trickster's head went back as he gasped at the sudden feeling of Sam inside him. He held there for a moment and then began to move. Sam's eyes rolled back in his head, it was all too much. Too tight, too hot, too sweet and incredible and God damn. Rational thought was impossible, all he could do was feel and be carried along for the ride. He felt the rising tide of need that signalled how close he was and he gasped aloud.
"Oh, God…" he managed and then he was lost, spiralling into a dizzying climax that stole his breath and his mind. The Trickster shuddered and moaned and then he too was tumbling over the edge with him.
Sam wasn't sure how long he lay there, unable to do anything but drift blissfully, the Trickster collapsed across his body and his face nuzzled into Sam's neck. Sam could feel the hot puffs of the demigod's breath against his skin. He felt incredible, warm and lazy and sated. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this good, the last time sex had made him feel this good. He didn't want it to end. The Trickster raised his head, grinning sleepily at him. Sam swallowed, the demigod looked adorable, his face creased from where he'd been lying on Sam's chest. Sam had the sudden feeling that he could be in real trouble here. The Trickster had told him it didn't have to mean anything, just a little stress relief. But lying here in a post-coital haze, Sam found himself wondering if that's all it could be. The demigod's face took on a sorrowful cast.
"I'm sorry, Sam. I really wish it could be otherwise. But this is the only time we can do this." He stroked his fingers across Sam's cheek. "Hard times are ahead. Hard choices too. We all have to do what we have to do." With that, he rolled off Sam and with a click they were both dressed again. The Trickster reached out and touched Sam's cheek again, and then pressed a soft, warm kiss against his lips. Then he was gone, and Sam was alone. He stared at the room for a moment and then headed for the door.
The Impala roared along the badly lit country road, Sam tensed and silent in the passenger seat, Kali angry and twitchy in the back. They'd driven through the night, nobody saying a word. Finally, the first glimmerings of sunrise began to steal across the horizon and Kali leaned forward.
"Stop here." Dean flicked a quick look at her over his shoulder.
"Here? We're in the middle of nowhere."
"I said stop the car," she snarled. Dean sighed and pulled over. She shoved the door open savagely. "Thank you for the...assistance," she bit out. Then she got out of the car and strode away down the road. Dean looked at Sam, who was curled almost into a ball in his seat, staring out of the window.
"Hey, man. You uh, OK?" he asked. Sam didn't reply. Dean left him to it, his brother had a lot on his mind after all.
Sam stared unseeing out of the car window. He didn't even notice when Dean stopped to let Kali out, he realized sometime later she was no longer in the Impala with them. He didn't care. There was an ache in his chest, a terrible hollow feeling like something inside him had died. His mind stuttered on that thought. Gabriel. Gabriel was dead. He knew it. He'd known he was walking to his death, and yet he'd done it to save them. To save you. No. He scrunched his eyes up tightly, trying desperately to remain in control. The tidal wave of grief that had washed over him, as he had viscerally felt Gabriel die had been almost unbearable. He was gone, his beautiful, glorious archangel. Not yours. Not really. Except he was.
Dean eyed his brother nervously. Sam was heartbroken. He could see it. Gabriel's death meant that much to Sam? He didn't even know his brother liked the douchebag. And yet, Dean hadn't seen Sam grieve like this since Jess died. Jess. But he'd been in love with Jess. None of this made any sense.