Dark and Light
Summary: An alternate way the reunion at the bar could have turned out.
Warnings:
Tags/Spoilers: Episode 10.2
Disclaimer:
Author Note:
~SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN~
"I wondered how long it would be before you tracked me back here."
Sam Winchester stared around the empty room before settling his gaze on the man by the bar. "Yeah, well I had to save my own ass this time." He kept his distance as if gauging the situation. "I heard you beat the crap outta some guy in a bar but yet let him live. What was the point of that, Dean?" he asked, still confused about his brother's motives.
"I kill when I want. I didn't happen to want to kill that asshole right then." Dean Winchester tossed back a shot of whiskey before turning slowly to look his younger brother up and down like a cat appraising his next meal. "Lookin' good, Sam…despite letting that guy get the drop on you like that. I thought I taught you better than that, little brother."
"No, my brother taught me better. You, whatever the hell you are right now, didn't teach me anything except to not turn my back on you," Sam shot back. "I don't think you kill when you want to. I think you kill when that damn thing on your arm demands blood. It's like some old time god demanding sacrifices and you feeding it makes it stronger! You don't have to. We can find a way to fix this!"
"And right now it's taking everything I have not to come over there and rip your throat out…with my teeth," Dean returned, pouring another drink. "What if I don't want to be fixed, Sam? What if I like who I am now?"
"You're becoming the very thing we were taught to hunt!" Sam's heart hurt so bad as he said those words, memories of other times coming back to him, of his darkest times when Dean had said similar things to him.
It must've been something on Sam's bruised face that told Dean what was going on in his brother's head because one corner of his mouth quirked up in a slow cold smile. "Say it," he invited. "C'mon, you've been waiting six years to toss that back in my face, so now that you have your shot…say it."
"No, because I will fix this." Sam needed to believe he could do that, so he refused to utter the words Dean had said to him the night he learned of Sam using the powers the demon blood had given him.
"What will it take to make you get it through that goddamn hard head that there's nothing wrong with me that needs to be fixed?" Dean demanded, snapping the shot glass back onto the bar. "This is me! This is what everything has made me! This is what following Dad made me! This is what hell made me! This is what Purgatory made me! This is what…"
"I made you," Sam finished and felt like he'd just been punched in the gut. "You always had to watch over me. You gave up your dreams and maybe a different life because of me. You went to Hell because of me. You even went to Purgatory because of me. So basically this is because of me…no, no not this time. I'm not taking the blame for this because you made the choices that brought us both to this point."
Dean lifted his eyebrows as Sam finally stepped toward him. "Is that so?" He cocked his head with challenge. "Tell me."
"You made the choice for me, tricked me into that deal with Gadreel. You made the choice not to tell me and eventually that choice got Kevin killed. Then you made the choice to go off on your own on some vendetta where Crowley suckered you into taking the mark to kill Abbadon. Then you chose to keep using it. You chose to keep shutting me out. You chose every step of the way this time and all I could do was struggle to pick up the pieces as things fell apart." Sam wasn't sure where this was coming from and knew the very dangerous line he was walking right then.
"I shut you out because weren't you the one who said you wouldn't have made the same damn choice if it was my life on the line?" Dean shot back, stepping away from the bar to stalk toward his brother, not missing the way Sam went rigid.
"I meant I wouldn't have taken a choice away from you if you'd made it! I didn't mean I wouldn't have fought like hell to save your life!" Sam yelled back and briefly wondered how the hell they'd gotten back to this topic. "I would've and still will do anything it takes to save you! Be it from Hell, Heaven, or your own goddamn self!"
"I don't want you to save me! I like who I am!" Dean got into Sam's face, eyes flashing black. "This is who and what I am now! Accept it and move the fuck on!"
"Fuck you! This is not who you are! This is not what you are! And I won't accept it and move on!" Sam's good hand shoved against hard muscles, pushing Dean back three steps because neither man was actually expecting his response. "You sure are hell didn't accept it when I was soulless and didn't want my soul put back in! You didn't move on when I said to leave me the hell alone! You found a way to put it back inside me even with the risk of what it could do to me! Why was that fine and me wanting to fix this isn't?"
"Because protecting you is what I do!" Dean snapped back, arm searing as his temper spiked. "Crap like that is what I do! You're my job! Fixing me is not yours!"
Sam opened his mouth to retort that was so stupid, but then shut it as he replayed the words. "Do you realize you're still using the present tense?" he asked hesitantly, hoping it wasn't just a slip up.
"Do you realize how goddamn easy it would be for me to snap your neck or shove this blade in your chest for pushing me too far?" Dean countered tightly, refusing to acknowledge that he had heard his own words and wondering why they'd come out in the present tense like that. "Maybe I didn't kill that asshole and maybe I didn't do what Crowley expected me to that other jackass's wife, but that does not make me a good guy, Sam! I am not a good guy!"
"You never were really," Sam shrugged, realizing what he'd said a moment after those hot eyes shot to his and he saw the muscle in Dean's jaw twitch. "You're gonna kill me, Dean. I accept it because I'm not backing off. I will either find a way to fix this, fix you, or you'll kill me. If that's gonna happen then it might as well happen here and now cause I'm tired of being tired.
"I'm tired of not sleeping because I see Metatron stabbing you. I'm tired of hating myself for all the crap that got between us when we used to be so damn close. I'm tired of not knowing who the hell is going to come after me next: hunter, angel, or demon either for your mistakes or mine. I'm tired of missing you so much it's like someone ripped the patch off my heart that I thought had healed when I got you back from Hell and Purgatory. So if you're going to kill me then I'll be honest with you one last time." The hunter drew in a shaky breath while being really shocked that he was being given this chance.
"Talk," Dean's voice was low, his fingers twitching, aching to pull the blade, but he held still, staying right in Sam's face with less than an inch of space separating them. "I never was a good guy?"
Sam winced at how that sounded. "I didn't mean it like that," he sighed and knew that was how they'd gotten to this point, too many misunderstandings or mistaken comments. "I mean, you've always been cocky and arrogant. You've always had one goal and it usually didn't matter who or what got in the way; you were going to complete the goal. There were plenty of times I thought you were the biggest asshole on the planet."
"Huh," Dean grunted, tongue running along his teeth while trying to keep his gaze on Sam's face and not the long line of his neck where he noticed deep bruises showing. "You're doing a real bang-up job of talking your way out of me killing you, little brother."
"Let me finish…there were way more times when I'd look at you and be so damn proud that you were my big brother. It didn't matter to me that you might be an asshole when we hunted or when we went to bars or stuff cause I knew that was your way of closing off and not showing any real emotions." Sam's heart was now in his throat. He'd slowly come to understand what he'd been saying and also how very easy it would be for Dean to carry out those threats before he could even blink.
"I know you don't see yourself like I do, like I still do. I know maybe when we crossed that last line finally after so many damn years of avoiding it, each other, that maybe it changed us too much but…I'm not only fighting to save you because you're my big brother, the man I grew up wanting to be just like, the man I always wanted to make proud of me…but also because…" Sam took a slow deep breath, considering his next words, but he suddenly decided to just go for it. "…I love you. I love you as the brother who taught me everything I know including how not to give up and also as…" He trailed off, nerves suddenly making his throat tight, or it could've been the flash of black on green eyes that upped his fear of what might be about to happen.
"As what?" Dean asked, closing that inch that kept them apart as if testing Sam's resolve. "You still look at me like that, Sammy?" he asked in a low voice, lips close enough to Sam's ear that the younger man felt hot breath on his skin. "Of course I wouldn't be the first demon you've fucked."
This time it was Sam's face that twitched but not for the more obvious reminder of his past with Ruby. "You're not a demon like Ruby was. You're not a demon like Crowley is," he said through gritted teeth, forcing himself to meet those damn black eyes head on. "I don't know exactly what you are. I don't think you even know for sure what you are, but I know I will find a way to fix it because until you stick that blade in my heart, you will be mine…even if you might not want me anymore."
The last part was added on a soft whisper, hazel eyes starting to lower until a rough palm caught his jaw to keep his head tilted up. He tried to prepare himself for more pain as strong fingers found the bruises from his encounter with Cole.
Dean's gaze was mostly emotionless as he stared into Sam's face. He took in the flashes of pain, both emotional and physical, as well as the fear that he knew Sam was trying to bury.
Running his fingers over the deep bruises on his brother's throat, neck, and jaw, Dean briefly regretted not finding and hurting the other guy. "How bad?" he asked out of the blue, tightening his grip as Sam shifted, warning the younger man to stay still.
"What?" Sam was lost at the question. He hated his body's sudden reaction to the touch because it was so damn instinctive for him to respond to the simplest of touch from Dean even when he knew he shouldn't.
"How bad are you hurt? Or better yet tell me if that bastard did more than use you for a punching bag?" Dean could tell that Sam wasn't seriously hurt; he'd looked for that the second Sam had stepped into the bar. Now he just wanted confirmation from his brother. "Tell me what he did, Sam."
It took another second for Sam's brain to catch up; it was hearing a certain more familiar tone that had him understanding what Dean was asking. "No…he didn't do anything…like that…just waved his knife around and punched me a few times." He winced as strong fingers turned his head to get a better look and his hurt shoulder jarred. "Besides, would it even matter to you?"
Dean wondered about that. He'd been telling himself for weeks that it didn't. He'd fucked enough waitresses and the like that he thought he could safely say that it didn't matter to him what Sam did or who he did it with. He wasn't sure what it was about the bruises on his brother's throat that made him suddenly decide that it did make a difference to him. It also made a spark of something flare to hear Sam say a few of the things he had.
"Yeah, actually it would," he responded and then he suddenly had a handful of hair, jerking Sam's head back and hearing a sharp cry of pain from the unexpected move. "Let's see how much or how much you might still mean given that I really could hurt you right now."
Sam had tensed but kept still when he felt the first touch of a blade against his throat; he was relieved when he recognized the touch of metal rather than bone and knew it was a regular blade. "Dean…" He moved his good hand up on instinct to grab for the wrist holding the blade but made no move to fight back; he knew the risk he was in and also how useless fighting would be right now.
"You said a few interesting things, Sammy." Dean's eyes were back to green but still hard as they watched Sam, taking in the way his face paled as his shoulder jarred. "The big one is how you still see me. Is that because I drilled the whole loyalty crap into your head too much or is it the sex you miss since, let's face it, these past few months especially we haven't been getting along. Hell, the sex was mainly just for sex's sake right?"
There was a brief look of hurt on Sam's face that had nothing to do with the pain he was in from wounds or aches of the body. "I…I guess," he muttered softly, trying hard to not let this side of his brother see how much those words had cut because despite it all, Sam had still thought the few times they'd made love had meant something more to Dean.
"You believe otherwise," Dean had caught the look, had recognized the hurt, and realized he could still read his little brother just like he'd been able to all of Sam's life. "Do you believe if I fuck you now, if I lay you out over that pool table, that it'll mean something more to me or to you?" he demanded, twisting his hand in long soft hair to keep control of his brother when Sam's jaw clenched. "Remember who has the knife to your throat, little brother."
"Kind of hard to forget that," Sam returned tightly, biting his lip to keep the pain in as he hit the side of the pool table with his legs; he had to let go of Dean's wrist to try to keep his balance. "I…I guess it won't mean the same as it might've to me if you hadn't just basically admitted the last few times between us has just been sex…which you always swore it never would be from the first night we made love."
Sam honestly wasn't sure what he'd expected or why this hurt as much as it did, but he also knew he'd walked himself into this situation, so unless he wanted to risk losing his chance to maybe get Dean back to the bunker, to try to figure out how to help him, then he knew he couldn't fight this. He had to let Dean do whatever he decided to do, even if it meant letting his brother hurt him.
Dean let the blade move from Sam's throat, sliding it down his chest, cutting the shirt as he went. He left the sling in place while nudging Sam back until he was sitting on the edge of the pool table. "I guess now would be the time to tell you that I probably just said all that emo-crap to get you to let me cross that line?" he deadpanned and watched something he couldn't quite identify cross Sam's bruised face for a second before all emotion fled. It was like a painful switch was thrown and Sam closed off suddenly.
In his mind Sam knew it was the Mark of Cain making Dean say what he was, but a piece of him, a very small piece, couldn't help but wonder if maybe this was the truth. He closed his eyes as all of this old teenage insecurities flooded back.
He felt nauseous and cold, and he just suddenly didn't care what happened between them now. He'd give Dean a warm body to play with; he'd then figure out a way to get the man back to the bunker one way or another. He wouldn't let out all the pain until he was safely alone.
It took Dean off guard when Sam pushed back so he was lying on the green felt covered table, fingers struggling to unbuckle the straps on the sling that kept his arm immobile. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked, tapping the blade on the wooden edge while watching with apparent disinterest as Sam struggled to free his injured arm from the sling and then worked on the sliced-up shirts.
"You want sex? Fine, I'll give you sex…and then you come back to the bunker with me." Sam hoped he sounded calm and that his fingers weren't shaking while he tried to get his shirts off; he struggled to keep his breath even and to ignore the pain in his shoulder as well as his heart.
"You're bargaining with me using sex?" Dean frowned slightly. "You? Mr. Sex Is Supposed To Mean Something?"
"Bargain, barter…buy, call it whatever the hell you want. It's pretty damn clear that I don't mean anything to you. That the fucking sex between us never has." Sam bit back the bitterness he felt, forcing his eyes to look up at the ceiling rather than at Dean as he fought the sudden burning in them. "Just consider me one of the cheap whores you've been…"
The knife suddenly embedding itself into the pool table right by his ear cut the bitter words off and Sam's gaze shot up to see a muscle twitch in Dean's jaw. It was a familiar sight that meant his brother was getting pissed off; this signaled a dangerous side of Dean under normal circumstances, but it was extra dangerous now.
"Is that what you think of yourself now?" Dean's voice was a low growl, leaning over Sam to grab his face, holding it still while locking eyes. "Is that what you think this is?"
"You do!" Sam snapped back, jerking his face out of the tight grip. "You just said it's all I ever was so what the hell's the difference if I think of myself as a…mmhmm!?"
Hot lips caught Sam's in a hard kiss that both shocked and silenced him while strong fingers slid back to grip his hair to maintain some control despite his attempts to knock the hand away.
Sam knew that Dean's kiss would be harsh, hard, cruel and possibly painful. He was expecting that. He was waiting for the pain of harsh lips and teeth the second Dean's lips closed over his but none of that happened.
The kiss was hard. It wasn't slow, soft or gentle but it also wasn't painful or cruel like he'd been expecting either and that totally threw the hunter.
By the time Sam got his brain to work past his confusion, he could feel Dean's tongue playing over his lips as if coaxing rather than forcing entry and despite being angry and hurt, Sam slowly let his lips part slowly to see what would happen.
"I never called you a whore," Dean murmured against Sam's lips as he let his tongue slip past them to explore slowly rather than plunge in to claim like he'd originally planned to prove how different he was. "I also never really said I thought what we did was just sex, Sam."
"Yeah, you did," Sam didn't want to respond to the kiss, but he could feel himself giving in and kissing back. He also felt his jeans getting tighter in response to the chest that pressed down over him as Dean nudged his legs apart to stand between them. "You…you said you might've just said all that emo-crap to get…"
Dean closed his eyes, feeling the mark on his arm burning with the need for violence or more action but found that he was able to hold back instincts that he hadn't cared to hold back for weeks. "I've said a lotta crap tonight and that's what you chose to listen to?" He felt the kiss returned hesitantly but it was the shaky touch of fingers on his chest that caught his attention. "I was trying to make a point that right now I'm not the man I was, that I'm a cold, callous bastard…that I can hurt you."
A single fingertip tipped Sam's chin back as Dean's lips smoothed over skin rough with bruises and slight scruff, moving down over the worst of the finger shaped marks on Sam's throat before he spoke again. "I'm actually trying not to hurt you, baby boy."
It was that name that made Sam go totally still, trying to see his brother's eyes to see if he was mocking or serious because that nickname was the one name that only Dean used and only when they were intimate. He hadn't heard it in a while, and hearing it now made something in his chest tighten slightly.
"Either way I'll be hurt, Dean," he replied, unaware of when his body relaxed slightly, accepting the almost too familiar touches after being without them for so long. "It hurts to know that what I thought we had between us has never been anything more than…"
"How concussed are you that you aren't picking up what I'm trying to say here?" Dean asked with a muttered curse, fingers moving over Sam's chest and stomach to immediately catch a change that he immediately knew the old him would be pouncing on. "When I said that crap about before, that I just said all that emo-crap to make you happy and stuff? It was said to hurt you, to maybe get you to back off, to turn around and leave before I lost the control I had.
"What I said to you the night I said the hell with it and gave into the urges I'd been fighting since you were 16? The stuff I've said since about what we had going deeper than sex? I meant those things." He was quick to catch Sam's jaw so their eyes would meet. "I won't say they don't mean anything to me now, that you don't mean anything because even like this, I can honestly tell you that you mean more to me than any of those waitresses I've been with."
Sam looked to be considering that, not sure why the words did make him feel slightly better, at least about that. He still had his doubts but found that he was losing the thought to stop what might be happening now.
"You still want to do this?" he asked, reaching out with his right hand without thinking until he felt the pain and grimaced, left hand going to grab for his shoulder when Dean's hand moved over the injury.
"What? Fuck you on this pool table? Then maybe the bar?" Dean's eyes slid over Sam's chest, lips curving in a slow sinful smile as he kept one hand over Sam's injured shoulder while using his other to flip the fly open on his brother's jeans. "Planned on it…unless you're backing out of your offer."
At first Sam frowned until the tone and the way his brother's eyes held his as fingers moved over his shoulder made him rethink the wording. "You'd…you'll come back to the bunker with me?"
"Seems only fair since you made such a sweet deal," Dean shrugged, pulling the zipper down slowly but making no other move. "Choose now, Sam."
Choose? Sam knew there was no choice for him. Hell, there'd been no choice in this matter since he'd been 17 and gave himself to his brother the first time. He did know what Dean was saying, what he meant by giving him the option of choosing to leave and forfeit any shot at fixing Dean or staying, letting what happened happen and going from there.
"Fuck me," Sam finally replied, going to reach for his jeans only to feel them, his boxer briefs and boots be pulled off swiftly with a low growl of want that should've scared him but didn't.
"No safe words, no timeouts, little brother," Dean growled, eyes going to a deeper green as he stepped back to take a good long look at the lean body in front of him; an annoying voice piped up, telling him to remember to ask Sam just what in the hell he'd let happen since his brother looked far too skinny for his liking.
The muscles that Sam had put on years ago looked weaker. Sam looked weaker than he had in years and that made Dean wonder just what had been happening, but he pushed those questions to the side to focus on this moment and quickly shed his own clothes.
"This won't be slow or gentle, baby boy." Dean pulled out a small bottle from the back pocket of his jeans before dropping them to the floor next to his flannel and black t-shit. "I want you and I won't be nice about it."
"Did I say I wanted slow or gentle?" Sam challenged, nerves fading away as he studied Dean's lean muscles; he briefly wondered with a sharp flare of jealously how many others had seen or touched them over the past few weeks, but then he blinked at the feel of calloused fingers stroking his chest. "Just…never mind." He cut that thought off because he knew better than to say anything that would give his brother ideas, especially now.
"No, but you still have that habit of letting what you think reflect on your face," Dean chuckled lowly, letting his teeth tease along Sam's jaw. "Jealous much, Sammy?" He'd also seen the other flicker and knew what Sam had been about to say but stopped himself.
Growing up together, knowing each other's secrets, fears, and desires gave Dean a good idea of not only Sam's liked but also his dislikes. A piece of him considered using some of his little brother's fears to emphasize just how different he was now. He knew one thing in particular that would drive that point home; he stepped closer to pull Sam to him, long legs dangling off the table. "Open up."
Sam blinked at the fingers that touched his lips but was quick enough to follow instruction, taking the fingers into his mouth to suck, having done this a few times when they'd played a little darker than normal. Doing it now told Sam he'd be sore the following day, but it also reminded him of how hot it could be. The low sound he heard from above him said that Dean felt the same way.
"Shit," Dean breathed, cock reacting to the sight and feel of Sam sucking on his fingers. He hadn't started with one but had gone with three since he didn't plan for this to take long, but watching his fingers be sucked into his little brother's mouth had him reconsidering the speed that this encounter might take. "Damn, I forgot how hot you can be like this, Sammy. Look so good spread out like this sucking my fingers before I stick them up your ass."
Dean had always been a master at filthy talk and while that hadn't changed, it had gotten a little cruder, and Sam mentally tried to remind himself that one day he'd get the brother back he knew.
Years of watching Dean, of being with him, of crossing a few too many lines told Sam what his brother liked so he knew the best way to turn Dean on just by something as simple as this. He used his tongue to lick the fingers that moved in his mouth as well as between them until feeling the fingers on his chest rake down the center and he nearly arched up in sudden need.
"Like that, baby boy?" Dean teased in a voice that was pure sex, pulling his fingers out and noticing just how glassy Sam's eyes had become. "Let's see how much you like this then," he growled, grabbing a handful of hair to jerk Sam's head back while kissing him hard.
The kiss was meant to tease, test and distract his brother as Dean moved his hand down to slip between Sam's legs, and back to find the tight hole he was searching for. Dean had every intention for using all three fingers at once even knowing that would hurt Sam like hell but the second he touched the tight puckered rim his plans changed with inward curse.
Sam knew the pain was coming. He knew there'd be no slow prep, just a fast use of fingers to make it easier for Dean's cock to slide in, but it was still hard not to tense at the mental images. He used the kiss as a distraction, giving into it and the way Dean's tongue worked past his lips again to steel himself for what was to come.
"Relax," a low voice whispered into the kiss a second before two things happened that shocked Sam so much that his body was limp enough to accept the sudden entrance of a single wet finger.
The sudden change in the kiss took Sam totally by surprise. He wasn't expecting Dean to change it. He'd adjusted to the hard, rough style but when Dean suddenly slowed it down, deepened it as well as softened it Sam wasn't sure what to think or do. But it was when those lips slipped up to hover close to his ear and whispered something that Sam's eyes popped open after they'd closed in expectation of pain.
"Huh?" He figured his mouth had opened along with his eyes in surprise and saw the smirk on his brother's lips a second before Sam's brain began to melt at the feel of a skilled finger that knew how to move inside his ass to stretch him and also get a response. "Fuck!" he groaned, head hitting the table and trying to remember to keep his right arm still.
"So damn tight, little brother." Dean's voice went deeper, huskier like it always did when lust and desire was running deep, but this time he could feel the mark on his arm burning for more. It wanted violence. It wanted hard and fast like it almost always was these days, and Dean wanted that too, but there was something in the way Sam felt under him as he added a second finger that kept him from letting go and giving in to those feelings.
A move and a gasp told Dean that Sam wasn't going to be able to keep his injured arm still, so with a swift thought, he let out a small amount of his new power to pin it across his brother's chest while meshing his fingers with Sam's left hand, pressing it against the felt.
"Stay still," he growled lowly against soft lips, forgetting all his initial plans to hurt and shame as something just clicked inside the former hunter, something that being here like this with Sam seemed to bring out in him that no one else in the recent weeks had. "Look at me!"
The sudden snap in the hard voice reminded Sam that this still wasn't Dean, at least not the Dean he longed to have back, but as he opened eyes that didn't want to stay open, he was surprised again to see lust and desire rather than mocking or cruelty staring back at him.
"Keep those eyes on me, Sammy." Dean wanted to watch his brother as he pulled his fingers out to swiftly replace them with his fully engorged, red, weeping cock that felt as ready to explode as Dean himself did. "This'll hurt."
The warning wasn't needed, but a piece of Sam thought he understood that it came from a side of his brother that maybe wasn't as lost as Dean liked to think, so he nodded, fingers flexing against the ones stilling holding his and feeling them squeeze back.
The long, thick cock stretched his ass with a burn that was more pain than anything else, but Sam bit his lip to keep from making any sound. He also managed not to close his eyes, keeping them locked on Dean's to see that at no time did the deep green flash to black like the younger Winchester had feared they might.
Just as the burning pain of having that cock thrust forward in deep solid rolls instead of slow and gradual thrusts reached the point where Sam was certain he couldn't take anymore, something clicked inside him and a surge of pleasure swamped him. "Oh!" he gasped, hips suddenly arching up without thinking.
"There's my boy," Dean smirked at the move. He'd been watching Sam's face and had seen the pain he'd buried with each thrust, but while Dean's control was tight, he couldn't fight the need to claim this time. He didn't honestly want to cause his brother pain or to hurt him, but he couldn't help his body's reaction to the tight heat that closed around him the moment he thrust forward the first time, feeling long legs wrapping around his waist to bring him in tighter.
Years with Sam told Dean how close he was to being inside fully, so he gave one final hard roll of his hips and felt them meet, saw his brother's face change as he moved on instinct. He was smirking at the knowledge that he could still read Sam when suddenly a rush of red haze hit him and Dean felt the nearly uncontrollable need to reach for the blade that was still embedded in the pool table and cut Sam.
In all the time that he'd slept around since becoming like this, Dean couldn't recall ever feeling the damn need for blood and violence as strongly as he felt right then. He also knew on some basic instinct that it also wasn't just the mark causing it.
Closing his eyes tightly to keep the flash to black from showing, from reminding Sam too much of how different this was, Dean focused his thoughts outward. 'Back the goddamn hell off, stay out of my head, and if you ever, and I mean ever, try to fuckin' control me again I will cut you to pieces very slowly and make sure Hell knows who did it!' he snarled silently. 'You can try to play with me when I'm with anyone else but if you ever think of trying that crap when I'm with him it'll be the last move you make!'
"D…Dean?" Sam's body was on fire now that the burn had been replaced with a pleasure he didn't think he'd feel this time, but he suddenly knew something was wrong, especially when he caught the tension radiating off his brother. "Dean?"
"I'm good, Sam," Dean's opened to show green, leaning forward to claim Sam's lips in a deep kiss that was met fully and with a need that almost matched his. "It's all gonna be good."
Whether it was the words or the unspoken tone that Sam heard, it helped to make his already on edge body go over fully at the first feel of fingers touching his cock to stroke it in a firm, long stroke that soon had him fully hard with precome dripping steadily over his stomach; he could feel Dean's cock hitting his prostate with nearly every thrust now.
Sam also knew by the harder thrusts, the clenched jaw and tight way his brother was still gripping his hand that Dean was close to orgasm. He also seemed to be fighting an inner battle for control, a control that Sam wasn't sure he'd win until their eyes locked again and he saw the corner of Dean's mouth curve up in a slow grin as he nodded in a way that only Sam would understand.
"Come for me, Sam," Dean told him, feeling his balls tightening up at the same time as he felt Sam's inner muscles tightening around his cock.
Sam's body didn't need to be told twice. The mere permission and he felt the orgasm hit him hard. He felt himself come hard and fast with a shout of Dean's name and felt hot come hit his stomach at the same time as he felt Dean tense, shudder and then groaned at the feel of his brother's come filling him.
Neither Winchester was aware of much after that. The sounds of groans of want, of passion as well as flesh meeting flesh was heard until finally Dean felt the shudder under him, saw a flash of white and watched as Sam's eyes rolled back in his head, the younger man going limp from the force of the climax that had just worked through him.
"Sam," he murmured, hips still moving as he worked through his own release while his hand continued to stroke Sam's cock for a second or two more until he heard a small whine that told him the touch was more pain than pleasure now.
The dark side in him still wanted more, it wanted to bruise, to hurt this young man but something else, something that Dean hadn't really been paying much attention to these past months pushed back against that urge.
Dean supported himself over Sam on his one arm while carefully easing his fingers away from Sam's, swallowing an awkward lump when his brother's hand reached for him on some basic instinct of needing that connection after…
"Sonuvabitch," he muttered, closing his eyes as he was hit with emotions he thought were long since gone when another feeling came over him and Dean's hand shot out with a burst of power to take both black suited demons across the bar. "Get. Out."
"Well, interrupting something are we, Squirrel?"
The accent normally rubbed Dean the wrong way. It had since the first time he'd ever heard it. Lately he'd been willing to ignore the need to stab its owner through his throat with the First Blade…until that moment.
The blade made of bone went from under his jacket to Dean's hand even as he was pulling out of Sam with more care than he should've had; a snap of his fingers made a table cloth appear to cover his brother who would, hopefully, sleep through this visit.
"Again? Put some damn pants on before you scar my delicate sensibilities," Crowley sighed but blew out a disgusted breath when one of his enforcers was killed for just looking too intently at the unconscious hunter on the table. "Don't kill my men, Dean."
"Don't bring them close to me then," Dean shot back, easily pulling his jeans on while still keeping his darkening gaze on the demons and pinning the King of Hell with a hard look. "And never bring them near me if Sam's close to me because I will kill them."
"D'oh! All this training! All the backwater booze joints, cheap tarts and beating up bouncers so you'd lose any trace of whatever humanity might have been left in you and one goddamn bloody tryst with Moose brings you right back to the edge of…" Crowley's voice rose in his disgusted outrage but as he took a step he found himself on the floor after green eyes went black.
Dean's head cocked to the side, lips curving into a dangerous smile. "So that's what you think you were doing?" He felt his temper sparking more. "Training me? Training me to be what, Crowley?" he asked slowly.
"What you're supposed to be, the master's servant. His pet, Winchester," a female demon responded only to gasp as the blade suddenly was shoved through her chest.
"Oh really?" Dean gazed at the other enforcer as if daring him to move before sliding his gaze down to Crowley. "Is that seriously how you thought this would play out for you? That I'd become what? Your Knight? Your royal servant? How the hell stupid are you to think that the blade and the mark that have changed me would actually ever make me obedient to anyone like you?"
Crowley had climbed to his feet, shoving off the helpful hands of his remaining agent to see how bad this was turning for him. On the one hand he realized that confronting Dean right this moment had not been a wise choice, but he also knew if he didn't make some attempt that he could be considered lacking.
"I am your King!" he roared with a good amount of proper pride and bluster that normally sent his underlings scurrying for cover, but the moment Dean smiled the demon knew he was screwed.
"Yeah, try that line on me again and you might be seeing another regime change because I bet if it got out in Hell that Dean Winchester was making a coup on your prissy ass, those who favored Alastair would stand behind me." Dean took a step forward to glare down, dropping his voice to a low growl. "Understand this. You're taking the jackass with you and walking outta here because I have other things to do and other places to be…and if you ever try to control me in any goddamn way or if you send a single demon after my brother, I will end you," he promised, confident he'd made his point when he was suddenly alone in the bar. He heard a soft sound that made him turn with a heavy sigh.
Sam felt stiff and sore. His head was aching, his shoulder was hurting, and his stomach was reminding him that he hadn't eaten in a while.
He went to push himself up only to recall taking his sling off before he and Dean…Dean. "Oh, crap," Sam's eyes felt heavy with sleep but they pried themselves open to blink warily as he took in his room at the bunker. "How the hell…"
"Since when did you start talking to yourself?"
The voice made Sam's eyes shoot to the open door and he felt his chest tighten and his stomach knot. "Dean."
"Okay, let's not make a big deal outta this," Dean stepped into the room to still see too many shadows in Sam's eyes. "We made a deal. You kept up your end…quite nicely too by the way, so I kept mine." He saw the slight frown and blew out a breath. "Sam…I know what you want to do. I don't know if you can or if I want you to but…I'm here. We'll see what happens."
"Thanks, Dean." Sam wanted to say more; he wanted to reach out and touch but figured he'd pushed his luck too far, so he'd take things slowly. "What about…Crowley?" He hated that demon, especially after some of what he'd said on the phone the other day. "Won't he get pissed off if you…hang out here?"
No mention of hunting, of anything between them. Sam figured this was going slow. He also figured this was going to drive him nuts.
"Yeah, probably, but I think I got the point across to him." Dean watched Sam closely to see various emotions cross his tired, haggard face. "How long since you've slept a full night, Sammy?" he asked suddenly, coming closer to the bed to notice something on the nightstand that made his throat tighten. "Or ate something that didn't come out a box that you could dump milk on or heat up?"
"I can't sleep too well and cooking isn't easy with one hand." Sam shrugged, wincing but frowning as he realized his shoulder wasn't hurting nearly as badly as it had been. "If I get too hungry, I go into town and grab something at the bar or…am I fevered?" he asked with a blink when a hand landed on his forehead.
"When my salad, green food loving brother decides to willingly go eat dive food, I'm feeling for a fever." Dean had been shocked at how much weight Sam had lost when he'd dressed his brother and went to try to get him into the Impala for the ride back to the bunker.
His concerned had actually grown when he'd gotten Sam home and saw the state of the place as well as both of their rooms. He realized that Sam had been putting himself through hell while he'd been out partying. "Who knows what happened to me?" he asked curiously, needing to know how much his reappearance might endanger his brother.
"Castiel…and Jody." Sam heard the low groan. "She called when I was deep in both denial and my third bottle of Jack Daniels before I decided to hunt Crowley to the ends of the earth and ripe his lungs out. She might slap you since I don't think I called to tell her that you might not be dead."
"Thanks Sam," Dean figured he'd handle that matter at a much later date. There were other things to worry about first even if he was battling himself in many ways. "Go back to sleep. We'll see what you can eat once you wake up and then you can play mad scientist on me if you want."
Sam doubted if it would be that simple and he hated to sleep now, so he went to sit up only to be pushed back with a single finger to the center of his chest. "Dean, I'm…"
"Where'd all the muscle go that you had even before you got sick from the trials?" Dean countered, knowing the answer even as his brother's eyes dropped. "You got hurt. You're this close to crashing from not eating right. I will not have full control all the time, Sammy. I need to know that you can take care of yourself against me if you have to…and right now? Dude, Mrs. Tran could whip your butt with one hand. Yeah, that is how weak you are."
A small bitch face was thrown, but Sam slumped back to the feel of fingers running through his hair. "Be here?" He was half asleep already and nearly missed Dean's reply as he drifted back off.
Dean sat where he was until he was certain Sam would sleep and then he stepped into the hall to feel his arm shake. He pulled the blade to stare at it, fighting the inner urge for blood by giving the damn thing what it wanted only with a twist.
He ran the blade of bone over his own palm, knowing it would sate it and calm the blood lust for a time while he tried to decide just which side of him would win out in this battle of wills: the dark or the light.
The End