A/N: So I know I'm supposed to be working on my other supernatural fic, but honestly when I saw 10.1 this just had to happen. Its Cas-centric companion piece should be up pretty soon, so get ready for some feels. Apologies in advance, I cried too. Anyway, I don't own, blah blah.
Warnings: This is dark, rated M for mild sexual content and themes, language, and possible triggers.
Missing From Me
Sam woke abruptly, stubbled face buried deep in what used to be Dean's pillow, before he had snatched it away from the vacant space, breathing in the fading scent for the first time in this waking hour. Sam bit at his bottom lip, almost enjoying the real pain to remind him that he was still alive and to fight against tears threatening to fall once again into the already stained cotton-poly mass beneath him. It had been three weeks since Dean had gone, Sam drinking heavily when early efforts at finding his brother had failed miserably. He sighed, an almost tangible thing weighted heavy with unsung prayers and unconfessed heartache. His eyes were disgustingly swollen and red from days of mourning the loss of Dean from himself, a too large piece stolen away in the night. Sam scoffed at the thought. Mourning. It was as though the dark, secret part of his mind was taking hold once again, pressing the fact that this time his brother really was gone, spirited away in his final attempt to save humanity. To save Sam. And this time it was a permanency the younger man wasn't sure he could live with for much longer. He clenched his fists once more, shortened nails digging into the pillow's fibrous flesh as the sobbing tremors began once again.
Sam grimaced when the usual pain settled into his consciousness, undisturbed by the small puffs of hot air penetrating the muslin pillowcase currently harboring the sticky wet mess of his face. It was a few minutes before he even considered movement, finally gathering enough energy to pull himself from his rather comfortable nest, crusty as it had become. He stowed the stained wad on the floor, aiding its journey with a bit of trajectory force in favor of the more solid ground of his headboard. Sam pushed away the few hairs that dare make their way into his line of sight, wincing as years of callouses formed from grave digging and monster killing threatened to split the tender skin under his dark brow. Time seemed to mean nothing these days, and he could only guess that it was another hour before he swung powerful legs to meet the cool wood of the floor's unforgiving surface, rising rather steadily considering his circumstance. Sam walked slowly, methodically, dragging his heels down the equally cool and naked hallway towards the main room. He didn't particularly feel like eating today either, but his body had been telling him otherwise since day before yesterday and Sam finally decided to quiet his stomach so he could focus. Focus, Sam told himself, on finding Dean. Holding Dean close again and never letting him go. Sam cringed as he passed Dean's closed door, silently wishing that just once that these walls could speak, tell him again in his brother's voice how Dean had loved him. Held him. Possessed him.
Sam stilled in front of the door, silent wishes becoming something akin to prayer as he placed a large hand over the bronze handle, imagining that this were indeed a portal into the past. Back to a time where Dean had him pressed against it, writhing and panting. Whispering disgustingly perverse things into Sam's neck as he rode him hard. Screaming as Dean engulfed him, all a tangle of strong limbs and sharp teeth. Sam cherished every second of their brutal love, the only kind he was sure they were capable of sharing. They never spoke of it, this ignored passion sparking between them for years until one night in the midst of a usual argument Sam and Dean Winchester crossed the line from brothers to lovers in a fit of pain and heat and love that had seemed unattainable before Dean was on him, both too close and too far away.
Dean was angry again, a perpetual emotion for the green eyed hunter. They stood in Dean's own room, hurling angry words at one another in this latest installment of which Sam couldn't remember the start of. Dean was facing the door, one hand wrapped around the smooth, almost golden surface of its handle, lips pulled up into a half snarl. He could feel Sam's gaze smoldering into his back. Dean relinquished his hold on the knob, turning to face his brother who was now much closer than he would have liked. Sam was fuming, fingers tangled in Dean's collar as he shoved the smaller man against the door, earning a quiet groan in response.
"Dean." Sam's eyes swirled with mixed emotion as they met with a set of green iris quickly overtaken by pupil as their lips smashed together and bodies tangled, hands holding too tightly onto the other, each sure to wake with bruising as they crashed into every shelf and case in the room, battling for dominance over the other. There were no other words spoken between the brothers, Dean shoving into him and Sam relishing the burning pain of Dean's cock within him, the pair rutting against one another for what seemed like hours until the inevitable collapse. They lay on Dean's beloved memory foam mattress, side by side, barely touching save for Sam's hand intertwined awkwardly with Dean's.
Sam's heart beat heavy with the memory of the first time he had lain with his brother, hope and desire melding into one as he pushed the door open for the first time in weeks. He was met with the smell of gun cleaner, sex and a scent that was purely Dean, a musk holding traces of lavender and sandalwood from the various soaps Sam had brought back from their travels. He always did have a thing for scented items… Sam opened his eyes after the first breath in his brother's room, not remembering having closed them. He stilld, instinctively reaching for the pistol he knew was safely tucked away on his bedside table, containing a single bullet. He felt the fragile wings of hope fluttering painfully against the walls of his chest he watched the room's other occupant. The figure sat quietly on Dean's bed, his brother's favorite leather jacket, once their father's, draped loosely across his shoulders. Sam hadn't seen that garment in years, signs of wear showing obviously around the shoulders and cuffs.
"You need not be afraid, Sam. It is only me." Sam would recognize the deep gravel of Castiel's monotone anywhere, shoulders relaxing slightly at the sight of his friend. "I apologize for the disturbance, I just…"
"It's fine, Cas. I understand." Sam's voice was weak, cracking with the last word as he crossed the room in a few quick strides to stand beside the angel. Castiel gave a small smile when he looked up at the taller man, pulling the sides of Sam's jacket so that the other would have to bend to meet him, placing a chaste kiss on Sam's own dry lips.
Castiel looked away, ashamed at the action. "Sam, I-" He was cut off as Sam sat beside him, a large hand placed over his leather covered shoulder, desperate lips pressed against his own. He met the hunter's eyes, pain and arousal swirling in Sam's gaze as they parted. They fell into one another with a fluttering of soft moans and shed clothing, Castiel looping his pale arms around Sam's neck as they joined, sharing their grief. The smaller man pressed his forehead into the tanned shoulder above him, Sam giving small grunts as he pressed slowly into the pliant flesh beneath him, movements becoming rapid as Castiel's body tightened around him. Their movements were somewhat disjointed, Sam stroking his partner into completion before emptying himself into Castiel's tight heat.
They lay together quietly, breathing slow and measured. Sam traced random patterns over the milky expanse that made up his partner's back, Castiel humming softly against his chest. Several heartbeats passed before Sam shifted, pulling the smaller man closer to him under a blanket. An unspoken promise hung in the air between the two as they drifted off into a peaceful slumber, each enjoying the radiating heat offered by the other. They would bring him home.