I do not own any Supernatural characters. I bow down to Eric Kripke.
Sam/Dean: Takes place between season 2 and 3 after Sam is resurrected. Contains 'Wincest'.
It was the same as any other night; dark, cold, and unsettling. The tension always settled over the Winchester's shoulders on the car ride back. During the hunt they'd argued, but that was nothing new. Same old routine, same fight, same post-hunt stress that left them throwing angry glances and silent threats at each other until the next morning.
"Spit it out, Sam. I know something's been clawing at the back of that little head of yours." The older Winchester slammed the motel door behind him as he watched his brother wrap his hands across the back of his head and sigh. Sam was hesitant at first, but eventually turned to stare halfheartedly into his older brother's focused eyes.
"Dean, I just-"
"What?" Dean knew what his brother wanted to say, knew exactly how he felt.
"It doesn't feel . . . right." Sam had given Dean his opinion of being brought back from the dead on many occasions before, but he never told him how he physically felt. He felt wronged, unclean, and filled with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach every time he thought of Dean rotting in Hell.
"Well, now you know how I feel." Dean shed his jacket onto the floor. "I've had two people die so I could live. In my opinion, I'm just getting where I'm going. So, I don't wanna hear about it anymore. You're here now and that's all that matters."
Sam crossed his arms in disagreement and shook his head silently as he looked to the ceiling for the words to say, "Yes, I'm here, Dean. But, you won't be."
The nightmares Sam had over the last few days were worse than the ones he had about Jess. He dreamt of his older brother; a tortured, burned, and soulless Dean wasting away in a never ending pit of darkness. Some nights he didn't sleep, he would just sit at the edge of the bed and watch his condemned sibling sleep peacefully in the bed beside his. He would watch his chest rise and fall with every breath he took, and smile to himself when the corner of his mouth would twitch right before he mumbled something in his sleep. It reassured Sam that Dean was still alive and not wasting away while he dreamed of him in his hellish nightmares.
"You've got me for a year, Sammy." Dean's words left his mouth quieter than intended.
"Yeah, well that's not enough." Sam caught Dean's eyes again; curious and searching. "Dean, I can't do this. You should have left me and moved on. I'd rather me be dead than see you go to the pit so I can walk around up here without you."
Dean walked forward, fists and jaw clenched tight, "Why the hell do you think I did it in the first place?" He made the distance between them smaller, "I don't want to-" Dean stopped himself short and gave the floor a quick glance before straightening himself up again. "What was I supposed to do without you, Sammy?"
"Hunt, that's what. You're stronger than me, Dean. If anyone should be here fighting, it's you." The younger Winchester took a step back, his eyes coated in a glaze of guilt. "If I were still dead maybe none of this would have happened."
"Maybe, but that doesn't change the fact that it already happened. Dead or not that gate to Hell would have opened." Dean retaliated trying to shake his brother from his guilt stricken state of mind.
Sam sighed and sat on the edge of his bed staring up at the man before him, "You don't get it."
Dean held his arms out and looked around, "What's there to get?" His anger rose.
"Dean, if I had stayed dead-" Sam's words were stopped short as his brother pulled him up by the collar of his shirt and tossed him to the nearest wall. Sam didn't react he simply let his big brother release his anger; if Sam was to be his punching bag then so be it.
"Sam." Dean's lip trembled as his brother was silent. It cut Dean deep to see Sam so willing to take a beating from him; to take a hit so Dean would feel better. "Sammy." Dean's breath was ragged and harsh as the first few heavy tears fell and soaked his gray shirt. He tried to shake it off by brushing Sam's shirt straight and wiping away the fear that fell down his face. But, for once he couldn't stop, he couldn't breathe. He caught his brother's stare as he remained silent against the wall waiting patiently as Dean spilled.
He surfaced a grin and said, "If you were still dead, Sammy, I'd want to be dead, too."
Sam stood speechless as his brother looked into him. Shame began to fill him as he thought of what he would have done in Dean's situation. He would have done anything to bring him back, anything to hear him talk again, to see his smile. The younger Winchester gave a sigh as he saw how awful Dean actually looked. His eyes were dark and sunken in from exhaustion and he had a slight slump to his form as he turned for the front door.
"Dean." Sam said quietly watching his brother turn; hand still on the doorknob. "I'm sorry."
"Don't you dare tell me you're sorry. I'm just glad that you're here." He paused momentarily before turning the knob. "With me." Dean said in an almost whisper and closed the door behind him. The anxiety that flushed over Sam was almost unbearable as he listened to the rain pelting against the motel window. The look Dean gave him before shutting the door seemed unreal. It was a look, more like a gaze, he had never seen before; filled with longing and a sense of desperation. He tore himself from his clothes and slid beneath the cold musty motel sheets and looked to his pillow for comfort. He took in a lungful of the unexpected scent of his brother. He realized he wasn't in the bed he slept in the night before, he was in Dean's. Sam didn't move, he just squeezed the pillow tighter and shut his eyes pretending to be surrounded by his dying brother's comfort.
3 a.m.
Dean tried his best to turn the rusty doorknob as quietly as possible, but ultimately failed. He walked into the dark motel room and dropped his rain-soaked clothes to the floor and made for his bed. He stopped before pulling the sheets back as he noticed Sam's sleeping form underneath them. On a normal day he'd slap him and pull him off, but this time was different. It wasn't an ordinary day. It was three in the morning and Sam seemed to be sleeping peaceful for once. Lately, Dean woke up four times during the night from Sam's heavy breathing and would wipe the sweat from his brother's face. He'd wait until he was calm again then drift back to sleep. But, it scared him the most when he cried out for him. It was like he was dying.
He sat on the edge of the adjacent bed and watched the light from the window stretch across Sam's bare skin. The tense muscles that ran up his back flexed sending a shiver over Dean as he watched. His younger brother sighed in his sleep and turned onto his back. There was a small lust buried deep beneath Dean's brotherly affection for Sam. He had left the room after they argued to keep his head clear, to keep from doing something that would have ruined everything. The unwelcome heat that rushed through him at the thought of Sam's warm bare flesh illuminated before him, beautiful and smooth, was sickeningly pleasant. It was something Dean had never thought of and he certainly never thought he wanted to think about it. Either way it gave him an uneasy feeling in his gut as he continued to gaze and wonder why something in him liked it.
"Dean?" Sam said almost inaudibly in a drowsy state. He brushed the hair from his face and focused his heavy eyes on his half-naked brother sitting on the other bed. Sam sat up when he didn't respond. "Did something happen?" He asked hesitantly.
Dean ran a hand through his damp hair, "I don't know."
"What do mean you don-"
"I don't know." Dean blurted out and looked up at Sam, which sent him falling into a pit of undeniable want. It clawed so bad at the back of his mind he wanted to cry. Sam noticed his mood change and knelt on the floor in front of him, placing his hand on Dean's shoulder in an attempt to comfort his older brother. Sam felt his heart pick up its pace as Dean placed his hand over his.
"Dean, tell me what happened." Sam said with as much seriousness as he could muster while trying to remain calm and collected. Dean stared past his brother's face into the darkness behind him; the gray light that fell from in between the slightly open curtains rested itself across the older Winchester's blank expression. Sam then flooded with panic for in all the years he'd spent with him, Dean had never looked so lost.
"Hey!" Sam gave him a shake. Dean drug his eyes slowly back to his brother's and they uncontrollably flooded over and spilled.
"Sammy," Dean trembled as he cried, "I'm sorry."
Sam's heart plummeted into a state of aching as he watched his older brother break down in front of him. All his life he looked up to Dean, he wanted to be just like his only brother. He was always strong, charismatic, humorous, and a better hunter. If he ever needed anything, he went to Dean. If he ever had a problem, Dean was there to help him take care of it. If he cried, Dean was there to dry his eyes. To see his brother in a state such as this was something Sam never thought would happen and something he never prepared for.
Sam's hand brushed over Dean's fresh tears and grazed his stubble. The only color he saw was the emerald shine of Dean's eyes as they stared into his. He felt a sudden urge to run a finger over his lips; just for a moment to feel if they were as soft as they always looked. He brushed the thought aside and continued to wipe away Dean's tears as they kept falling.
"Sorry for what?" Sam questioned and Dean stood, distancing himself from his brother.
"I feel so goddamn selfish." Dean sniffed. "I just didn't know what I was going to do by myself." He wiped his face with a nearby shirt. He cursed himself when he looked back at Sam standing patiently beside the bed.
"I don't know what I would do either, Dean."
Dean looked to the window, "Which is why I feel so selfish for bringing you back. I couldn't stand to live without you so I brought you back so you could watch me die and go through life alone instead."
He turned to find Sam standing about a foot from him. He could feel the body heat he emitted and swallowed hard. Sam sighed, "Stop beating yourself up, Dean. You know I would have done it a hundred times over if it were you that died."
"Yeah, but it still hurts me that I'm doing this to you." Dean whispered and walked past Sam to his bed and curled up beneath the cold sheets in an attempt to calm his nerves. "Get some sleep." He said and put his back to his brother. He listened to Sam's feet clicking on the floor until they stopped next to his head.
"That quick, huh?"
Dean rolled to face his brother standing over him, "What?" He tensed slightly as Sam sat on the edge of the bed and released a heavy sigh.
"You drop your tough act for one minute and then hole yourself up again within seconds." Sam glanced back at Dean, whose expression was blank again. They stared at each other in silence for an uncomfortably long time. It was a revealing stare; Dean gave Sam a quick once-over with one swift glance and Sam was still fixed to his brother's lips that sat there waiting. Neither knew what it was about the other that gave them both an unfamiliar wave of heat that flooded their brains with taboo thoughts and questions.
Dean's erotic nights out every other weekend with random women at local bars that ended in filthy motel sheets was satisfying to say the least. But each time Dean lay next to woman after woman he felt more alone than ever. It was emotionless sex that satisfied the hunger, but not the heart.
"There's a reason I keep it up, Sammy. It's kept us alive this long." Dean turned his stare to the ceiling and waited for his brother to come up with a retort. He could feel Sam's eyes burning into the side of his face until he shifted.
"But, it wouldn't hurt to tell me how you feel every now and then, ya know?" Sam said quietly; more to himself than to Dean. But, a little fire lit somewhere inside the older Winchester and he sat up in a new state of mind.
"Get up." Dean said forcefully and glared at the younger of the two until he complied with a sigh of frustration. Sam always gave into his brother's wishes; Dean knew this and took advantage of it while he could or before he talked himself out of what he planned to do. Dean pulled the curtains shut, leaving the room completely black.
"Dean, are sure you're ok?" His tone was bored until he felt fingers run across his face, through his hair, and clutch his head tight. His heartbeat shot through the roof as Dean pulled him in; hesitating when their lips were less than a centimeter from brushing against each other. Dean's scent filled Sam's head with an intoxicating wave of lust. He felt the heat rise through his body and his muscles tense at Dean's touch.
Dean felt Sam flinch and his breath quicken slightly against his mouth that was achingly close to touching the pair in front of him. What would happen if he closed the distance? Hell if he knew; he just wanted to satisfy his curiosity. He just wanted to know what he tasted like. He wanted to know what he felt like. Everything, he wanted to know everything. He was tired of hiding curious glances behind his brother's back, busying himself whenever Sam got dressed, and zoning out in the driver's seat on too long of a drive. No, Sam wouldn't do this. But, then again why wasn't he pulling away, why was he still standing there? Waiting.
In was Sam who closed the infinite distance between his and Dean's uncertain yet anxious lips. Wrong was one thing that never crossed his mind the entire time he searched and explored Dean's open willing mouth. His hands rushed to the back of his brother's neck, pulling him as close as he could without suffocating.
Dean couldn't fully comprehend that it had actually happened and it was still ongoing. It was new and it was good; so damn good. The kiss wasn't rushed, it was calm and tender unlike anything he'd had before. Women preferred to bite for some reason. But this, yes this, made him feel right for once.
They both pulled away looking for air and sighed breathlessly into each other. Hands still around the other's neck, they pressed their foreheads together wondering what just happened and what would happen next. Neither one could see, they could only feel the other man's heat and hear the steady contemplative sighs.
"I don't know why I . . . ." Dean spoke in a half-broken whisper. "I just need you closer, and maybe then I can keep you safe." He struggled to keep himself composed. "Maybe I can make everything ok. Maybe I can st-" Sam's lips crushed down on Dean's, cutting his words short, coating him in a sheet of unexpected but greatly needed comfort.
"Or maybe, Dean, you can shut up for once."
"Is this gonna be awkward in the morning?" Dean asked and felt Sam smile into his neck.
"Only if you want it to be." Sam whispered, gently slipping his teeth across Dean's ear.
Dean bit into his lower lip and sucked in a breath, "I don't."
"Then it won't be."