Notes: Hello everyone, and welcome to my latest piece of fan fiction! As opposed to what I've done before, this one deals with the more tragic aspects of Wincest - namely the fact that their actual love to each other makes them even more prone to all the dramatic plot twists that regularly get flung their way.
The fic consists of three loosely connected one shots dealing with that topic, more accurately:
Setting/context:
Part 1 - After Season 5 (Dean meeting soulless Sam)
Part 2 - End of Season 6 (Sam regaining his memories from the cage)
Part 3 - Mid to End of Season 8 (Mainly after the first Trial)
Pairing: EstablishedWincest - if you feel like you need a halfway reasonable explanation for them ending up romantically involved, chapters 1-3 of my other fanfic "A Supernatural Infatuation" work well enough :o)
Warnings: Heartache and Dramu. Also, slightly AU - the general plotline stays the same, but for more or less obvious reasons, the brothers' mutual attraction changes some things.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, I'm merely borrowing from it.
So now: enjoy!
Codependent
Part 1: Close enough
Setting: After Season 5
Glancing out of the car, he put the pedal to the metal and left behind what might have become a home.
He had promised it, but...
He couldn't do it.
Ben and Lisa deserved someone who could be there for them. Someone who could build his own life around theirs.
But as he was staring grimly at the road ahead, Dean accepted he would never be that person. He couldn't.
He would never find a place to call home ever again.
Not with Lisa, not with anyone.
Because to him, being home meant having Sam around – nothing more and nothing less.
He had lost his brother too often already, yet this time...it would be final.
Sam was gone.
And so was Dean's home.
So was his hope.
He had spent hours driving when he had still be intending to keep his promise – to settle down to honour his brother's last wish.
He had spent hours driving after he had failed to accomplish even that.
At one point, he had wanted to settle down, to stop hunting, to just live a normal life.
With Sam.
Now, with the Apocalypse finally averted, he no longer had to worry about saving the world. But his plan of giving up the family business had evaporated, too.
It should have been him sacrificing himself to stop the Devil, not Sam.
At the very least, he should have jumped the pit along with him.
But he hadn't.
He had not been able to move a single muscle in that crucial moment.
And he had failed Sam yet again.
Of course, the stupid giant had insisted on it. But what was it worth? They might have saved every other human on Earth – but not each other.
Slamming the door of his motel room shut, Dean leant against the wall and stared numbly at the dark room ahead.
"Sammy," he whispered, "What am I supposed to do now?" He clenched his eyes shut, yet a single tear still managed running down his cheek. "Just what the hell were we thinking?"
Inhaling deeply, he shook his head and forced himself out of the upcoming nervous breakdown. That would not help him. He had to focus, to find a way back on the road.
He had to-
His eyes widened.
He had to stop hallucinating.
"I, for one, have been thinking about you all the time," a painfully familiar voice whispered as a man who looked like Sam but couldn't be him stepped out of the shadows and reached Dean within few long strides, "About getting back to you." Placing his hands on the wall next to either side of Dean's head, he leant forward to whisper in his brother's ear, "About finding you here, waiting for me." Entirely unbidden yet so very welcome, his left hand moved to hold Dean's head possessively just as the right one travelled down his back.
"Sammy?" Dean finally asked, his voice hoarse yet at least present again. He knew he should be on guard. He knew that, whatever thing was about to use his brother's appearance to take advantage of him, there was no chance this really was him. So how come he could not bring himself to push away? To do anything but to lean in to the heat that was being breathed down his neck – to be entranced by something that was so much like his brother he could, if only for a moment, believe it might be him?
"You're careless, Dean," Sam whispered into his ear, but did not bother moving much either. It was only his right hand that kept wandering downwards as he felt up his brother's muscles.
"I might not be if you were real," Dean countered weakly, daring himself to reach out.
To touch Sam that was not Sam but might be if he only believed in it.
He wasn't surprised when his brother felt as real to his touch as he looked. Hell, even the smell was right.
But...
But.
But!
But Sam heaved a sigh and shifted his right hand again, only slightly – to pull a flask of holy water out of his brother's back pocket.
Opening it behind Dean's back, he eventually poured it over them both.
"No demon," he stated as he leant back enough to meet Dean's desperate gaze with his own demanding one. Producing a silver knife from nowhere, he left a shallow cut on each of their cheeks. "No shapeshifter, either," he clarified and leant in to kiss his brother's wound better. Dropping knife and flask at the same time, he freed both hands to hold Dean again – to keep him pressed against the wall as he let his needy kisses wander downwards.
Once again, Dean could not keep himself from leaning in to the touch. To the need. To the thing he wanted to be his brother. And yet...
"You're not Sam, either," he whispered at last.
Inhaling sharply, the Sam that was not Sam stopped sucking on his skin. His head whipped up as he fixed his brother in a heated stare that was almost too intense. "The Sam you knew is gone," he stated bluntly and narrowed his eyes, "I'm the closest thing you will get, Dean."
Something broke within Dean at those words.
How dare he?
How dare that fraudster state a truth he himself refused to believe?
That Sam was lost.
But...how could he be lost if there was a shadow of him standing right in front of Dean?
Reaching out to trace that familiar, beloved jawline, the older hunter momentarily forgot himself. He wanted to believe that, in some twisted way, this was his brother, yet in spite of the tentative smile he would have faced any other time, there was nothing but sheer demand in those eyes.
This was not his Sammy. As far as he could tell, he could be anything. But...he was something close.
Even something close was better than the emptiness Dean had been facing for days.
Regardless of whether he was facing an enemy or not... if he could not find happiness in this lifetime, if he could never find a home again...then altogether, he wouldn't mind dying at the hand of something that was close enough.
As if it could sense his inner turmoil, the thing that should have been Sam frowned in a mixture of dismay and exasperation before warping its painfully handsome features into just the expression Dean had been wanting to see.
Sammy, smiling gently up at him.
Sammy, holding him as if anything that mattered were the two of them.
Sammy, leaning close again as he stressed his words with all the love and affection he had been lacking earlier. "Dean, I'm back for you," he breathed shakily, "I'll always come back for you."
Dean's breath hitched at the sight - at the words - and as he resumed caressing the cheek of what he yearned to be his brother, he did not even mind his hand was trembling.
He did not even mind it was merely a mask the false Sam had slipped on. The act was good enough for Dean to believe it, if only for a moment.
But that was all right.
A moment was all he needed.
Pulling Sam close, he caught his lips in a fierce kiss.
It tasted right, it sounded right, it even felt right – but only for that one short moment.
Far too soon, Dean rediscovered the wrongness of the situation. Far too soon, the Sam that was not Sam took control, sucking all the air out of Dean's lungs while lifting him up against the wall - wanting, needing, demanding.
Panting heavily when his mouth was released at last, Dean felt a tear running down his face just as those familiar yet foreign lips were kissing their way down his neck.
His Sammy would have wanted him just as much, he would have needed him just as much, but as opposed to the creature claiming him, Sammy would have cared.
Whatever had come for him was not his Sam.
But...it might have been him at one point in time.
Daring himself to consider the possibility, Dean leant in to that familiar body and buried his face in those familiar strands of hair.
It was all right. It would be all right.
He could no longer get himself to resist anyway, so what harm could a bit more self-delusion do?
"You got me where you need me," Dean whispered throatily as kept trying to convince himself of the lie, "So tell me what you are. Tell me what you want." Placing a feeble kiss on his alleged brother's hair, he closed his eyes and made himself enjoy the touch, the smell, the closeness – to return fake Sam's need with a desperate passion he had not even known he still held.
"Isn't it obvious?" his false brother murmured against his neck, "I want you, Dean. I want to go on where we left off." He placed yet another kiss on his brother's skin, but Dean stiffened.
"You're not Sam," the older hunter repeated indignantly.
Sighing, fake Sam leant back just enough to look at Dean with his eyebrows furrowed. It was enough of an answer. At least though, as his eyes grew large and pleading, he knew how to play the part. Suddenly, he looked as if he cared, and Dean found himself wanting to believe it all over again. "We can pretend, can't we?" Sam suggested softly, almost affectionately, "It's not as if we can go on without each other anyway."
Dean stayed still for a long time. He hated a cheap copy of his brother, but he hated this almost authentic, believable version even more.
Worst of all, though, he despised the fact false Sam was right.
"You're just as lost without me as I am without you," his brother's doppelganger added softly, and Dean could no longer argue with his reasoning. Finally he reached out for Sam's hair, stroking it feebly as he grew more and more enticed by the view of what could easily be mistaken with his brother.
Again, he managed believing the lie, if only for a moment. But maybe, just maybe, fake Sam could create more moments like that. Dean felt himself craving for that brief feeling of hope, and he finally understood staying with his brother's copy was an agreement he could live with.
For he could not live without it, either.
- Part 1: End -
Notes: Poor Dean, stupid Sam :(
I'll upload the rest as soon as I've read over it again.
