On and On

Chapter 1: The Long Con

It was...difficult, being back...being human. Though he wasn't, not really, humans had souls, humans had feelings. All he could do was pretend. Hell, he wasn't even very good at that. Dean had seen right through it in what, a week? Two? It was almost sad how well his brother knew him. Like how he had told him he didn't sleep, now Dean made sure to sleep in his customary position, face down with his hand slid around the hilt of his knife, just waiting for one wrong move. Only it wasn't the same, because Dean never slept, not really. He was always in that twilight sleep, the one where you were too afraid to really close your eyes. Hell might swallow you up after all. That, or he supposed in this case Dean's hell on earth was him. He knew that he never slept of course, because nighttime got boring. As a matter of fact nighttime got excruciating. There were only so many informercials on fancy blenders and extreme hip hop abs that you can watch before you want to blow your brains out. So he did more constructive things, like watching Dean.

Dean doing the most basic things could grow to be fascinating. It was almost like watching a dog chase rabbits while they dreamed. He had got a puppy once, not the golden retriever in Flagstaff, but a small cocker spaniel. It had been in some small Podunk town in Maine, he had followed a group of kids to a trash yard, watching them crowd around an old refrigerator and laugh. He waited, watching them leave one by one and then making his way over. He opened it then, and the smell was...unimaginable. They had to have been doing this for months now, the sticky waxy smell of shit and decay filled his lungs, making him gag, and in the middle of it all was the puppy. The poor thing had to have been in there for days, shivering, malnourished, terrified, and close to death. He couldn't just leave it. It reminded him of himself.

He lifted the puppy into his arms, cradling it against himself as it scratched and bit at him. Sam didn't blame it. He could understand the feeling. After so many hunts when he had been thrown up against walls, or stabbed, he could never really feel safe again either. He kept that puppy in his bag for days, fed it scraps he managed to get out of the diner, and it was always quiet. Even in the car it never made a whimper, never made a sound. It knew he had rescued it, and it wouldn't turn on him again. You can't buy that kind of loyalty.

Sam made it almost two weeks before their father found out. They had stopped for gas somewhere outside Arkansas, and he was hiding behind the station, letting the pup pee and giving it water. His father had seen and blew a gasket, saying how it could have harmed his precious Impala, and how could Sam be so reckless? Dean had just smiled at him and asked him his name. ...Needless to say that hadn't gone well. Their father had turned on him next, asking if he knew, asking if he had encouraged this recklessness. Dean had said yes, and their father had yelled some more, buying a six pack from the station and drinking it while he made Dean drive them to their next hunt. The puppy...the one who had trusted Sam unconditionally, was left there...abandoned...probably dead within the next week, and it had been yet another reason Sam had begun to utterly hate his father. ...He never took in a stray again.

Dean didn't count. Sam kept him around, yes, but he could feed himself, watch his own back...do all the things Sam had no business doing. But watching was different. Like he said, Sam loved to watch. Dean was so peaceful in sleep, he would dream sometimes, and Sam would wonder if it was about him...the other him. Sometimes he didn't have to wonder, because his face would screw up in that absolute orgasmic way and he would know. Dean was remembering. Sam remembered too. It was with those memories that he was able to fake it, not as well as either he or his brother would like, but he was still able to try.

He was watching him now. His mouth was open in a pant, slightly snoring from the cold he was getting over, cheeks tinted red. Sam found him beautiful. Can soulless monsters find things beautiful? He thought so. Or maybe this was more remembering. Sam had always thought that Dean was the most beautiful thing in existence. He was the very air he breathed, his only reason for living, his obsession. Things hadn't changed much. He was still the only thing he thought of, only now Dean didn't relent. He wouldn't touch him, hell he would barely look at him. Dean thought he was a monster, and yet he couldn't tell him to leave, because it was still Sammy. No matter how big of a lie that actually was.

"Sam...cut it out man...it's creepy." Were the rough sleep filled words uttered from the bed as Dean rolled onto his back, rubbing his palm over his face as he slowly opened his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Nearly 5:00 am." He replied back, eyes not leaving Dean's. They roamed over him, examining every inch of him and stopping at where his black t-shirt hiked up slightly, revealing a smooth spans of skin and a dark line of hair heading into his boxers. "I'm bored." He could practically feel Dean rolling his eyes.

"Well yeah dude, freaks that never sleep tend to get bored. When you start talking to a guy named Tyler let me know, that's when we really need to start worrying." Sam's mouth twitched, feeling what should have been fond amusement coursing through his veins, but was instead just a spark of memory that tickled at the deep hole inside himself.

Sam ran a hand through his hair, watching Dean shift awkwardly, and then finally sit up. "You can't keep doing this Sam." He said through a sigh. "Some of us are human. Some of us need actual sleep." He rose an eyebrow. "You remember what that is right Sam? Sleep. Something normal people do?" He rolled his eyes. "Dude be freak show, don't be freak show...but if you keep messing with me like this I'm going to crash on one of our hunts."

"I didn't wake you up." Sam tried, not feeling at all guilty as Dean practically huffed in indignation.

"Yeah, but I could feel your creepy staring from like a mile away! As far as I know you don't sparkle when you walk in the sun dude, so stop with the rapey sleep staring shit. Because I can assure you, it ain't sexy." He huffed, rubbing his thighs as he pushed himself up and grabbed the whisky bottle. Honestly, nowadays he hadn't seen Dean go a few hours without it. That must have been fun for Lisa. Hell, he had had to deal with Dean's alcoholic tendencies since he was 16 and his brother had given him a blowjob in the Impala, but Lisa...not her. This had to all be new for her. Watching him binge from 10 am to midnight, getting used to that sweet sour smell of his breath, or how you just had to look the other way when he insisted on driving. That part never mattered to him, he trusted Dean driving more drunk than most people sober, but he wondered if he had cut back for her? He wondered if he had tried to hide it, gotten the shakes. Why is it he was so apt to change for her, when he had never given a shit for him? Double standards, they'll get you every time.

"Starting a bit early, dontcha think?" He asked, watching Dean take one more gulp before spinning on him to glare.

"It ain't early Sam! Hell it's still friggin night, so no, I don't think I'm starting that early." He rubbed his face, his scruff grating against his ring. "You know maybe we shouldn't do this anymore." His voice was tired, worn, pained. If Sam could feel empathy, which he really was working on, than he would almost feel bad. As it was, he only felt pissed. Or he supposed what he remembered anger feeling like...not to mention rejection.

Sighing, he swung his legs to the side of the bed, placing his hands on his knees as he stared up at his brother. "Can't do this anymore? Can't do what? Me?" He laughed ironically. "Because I think we've already established..."

"I'm not talking about that!" Dean snapped back with, now turning to him. "I can't sleep with you anymore." At the amused look Sam gave him, he clarified. "In the same room. I'm not getting any sleep, and it's...it's weird. I hate thinking you're just here every night, staring...waiting for me like some god damn robot!"

He rolled his eyes, "Dean we don't have money for two hotel rooms every night, be reasonable."

"I've been very reasonable Sam." He bit out. "I'm letting a soulless freak ride around in the car with me and pretend to be my brother, I'm trusting him with a gun to watch my back, I'm accepting the food he hands me without automatically assuming it's poisoned." He motioned towards Sam, swinging his arm. "So Sam, I assure you, I'm trying."

Yes, Dean was always trying. That was the problem. He tried to take care of his little brother. Tried everything to keep him safe, and yet it never worked. He tried all the time when they were younger. First to keep Sam from finding out about hunting, then to teach him how to, and then finally to stop the obsession in its tracks. It hadn't worked then. Sam had weaseled his way into his brother's bed. It hadn't worked after Stanford either, not with Sam grieving and needing his brother to take care of him. But Dean has been denying him. He has been denying him practically since Ruby, only a few slip ups every now and then, and now...now he was an ice princess. He understood once he had found out he was soulless, but before that even, when he had found out he was out of the cage he was hesitant to even touch him. Maybe he sensed something even then. Sam's face darkened as he let his hair fall in front of his eyes. Or maybe, he really loved that bitch of a slut like he said.

"Well I'm trying to dude." He looked up, eyes cold as he met his eyes. "You have no idea how much I'm trying." What he wanted to do to him. The things he could imagine in his head. Yes, he was trying. He was faking it for Dean, even if his brother thought he sucked at it. He was being the best damn actor he could be.

"Yeah Sam, we're both trying...ain't that the story of our lives?" He rubbed his face, taking another pull of whiskey. "It shouldn't be this hard! You're my brother man, but you make my skin crawl." It looked like it was paining Dean to say this, and Sam had to admit, the rejection bothered him.

"Gee I'm sorry I repulse you so much." He said, knowing it was something the old Sam would say. He remembered, he remembered the feeling of never being good enough for Dean, not as slutty as his women, not as good of hunter as Dad. But he had never stopped trying, and every time Dean pushed him away, it grated at another piece of him. Maybe his soul was getting sliced down one piece at a time.

"God Sam that's not what I meant!" Dean was pacing by this time, gulping down the whiskey like it was water. "I miss my Sam." He said finally, walking over to tip Sam's face up to look at him. "My Sammy." He lashed out then, grabbing Dean's wrist as he stood up, towering over his brother as he loomed over him.

"I am your Sammy." His voice was low, dangerous. "If I were missing a kidney, would you still be so frigid...God baby it's like I killed a kid in front of you and then pissed in your cereal."

"Don't." Dean tried to rip his hand back, but Sam kept a tight grip. "Don't you dare call me that."

"I love you baby."

"Cum for me baby."

"It's not about you...I have to get away from this... baby please don't be mad."

He supposed he knew why Dean was upset. He had come to whisper the word as a term of utmost endearment, the pet name now whispered off his lips must be akin to blasphemy for his brother. "Dean..." He practically cued.

"Stop." Sam tried to drag him closer.

"Hey it's okay...Dean." He said more softly, as if talking to a horse about to buck. Dean's eyes were wild as he pulled him in, wrapping around his shoulders and holding him. "Shhh Dean...it's okay...just let me." He wrapped his arms around his brother, inhaling the smokey spice scent that was Dean. He was thrashing slightly against him, but not enough resistance to actually pull away. "I just want to hold you." A lie. He wanted to do something way more productive than that, but if this was the lie that got him to open up to him, then he would play on it, and he wouldn't get caught in it this time.

"You don't want to do shit..." Dean replied back, face buried in his shoulder, but he hadn't pulled away. "You're not feeling any of this. You don't care about me." Sam squeezed tighter, kissing Dean on the top of his head.

"Of course I care." Another lie. "I may not be able to feel Dean, but of course I care. I have my memories after all." He began rubbing soothing circles on his brother's back, slowly walking them towards the bed. "I may not get it Dean, but I know how you're feeling...and I want to make it better for you."

Dean was pressed against him, but he could practically feel him rolling his eyes. "Your seduction tactics suck. I'm not sleeping with you."

"Well look at you, jumping to conclusions. Who said I wanted to screw your old ass?" He teased, still backing them towards the bed. "I was thinking though." He said, sighing in relief when Dean allowed him to kiss his head. "That we could spend the day in bed..." When his brother stiffened he clarified. "Not that you perv. We could watch movies, order pizza, drink beer. Just hang. It feels like we haven't done it in ages."

Dean was quiet for awhile, just letting his head rest against Sam's shoulder before he swallowed, rolling it up and backing out of his brother's arms. "Yeah, not since you went to hell."

"Well, if you want to get technical...not since you went to hell. You weren't exactly ever in the hanging out mood." The drinking had been ever worse then, and every time he touched him it was like Dean's eyes went far away...back to Alistair's rack.

"If you're blaming me for that in that twisted brain of yours, think again. That bitch had you so wrapped around her finger with her pretty words and her pretty tits, that there wasn't exactly room for me." He sank down onto Sam's bed, sighing as he leaned back on the sheets. "So..." He struggled with his words, glancing to the side as he took another pull. "What do you want to watch?"

"Sam I swear to all things holy that if you don't shut your pie hole and stop quoting this movie I'm gonna kick yer tan white ass!" Dean said, turning over and smacking Sam playfully on the shoulder. Sam forced a smile, bumping elbows with him as he took another bite of pizza.

"Well than you shouldn't have brought up Fight Club earlier dude, you know it's my favorite." He liked this. Just sitting here with Dean like this. It was almost...relaxing. If he were what he used to be, he would almost say he was happy. But then he couldn't feel, and he never would be happy again.

"Yeah you and all the crazy schizos of the world rejoice." Dean took a swig of beer, grabbing onto Sam's wrist as he jacked a bite of his pizza.

"Hey!" He said, whining in the way he remembered his old safe whined in his memories. "Get your own dude! There's like half a box!" He turned, poking Dean in the side and rolling towards them. "You are such a pig!"

"And you are a pushy soulless dork who is wayyy too close to me right now." Dean replied, face smiling. "Personal bubble Sammy." He stopped there, eyes knitting together, obviously deep in thought, and when a frown creased his forehead Sam knew he had gone too far. "Dude back up." He said, no longer playing as he pushed on his brother's chest.

Sam did, sighing as he scooted to his side of the bed, running a hand through his hair. "I wasn't trying to..." He huffed. "You don't have to be like this all the time, treating me like I'm a different person. You don't like me calling you baby, well I love you calling me Sammy."

Dean turned towards him, eyes hateful. "You don't love anything." Sam opened his mouth to respond, but Dean cut him off. "No, you don't! You don't think I see what this is? You don't think I know that you're just acting here? You don't think I know what this is about!?"

"And what is this about?" Sam asked wearily, letting his head bang against the headboard.

"Getting in my pants! Because in that fucked up brain of yours you still know that sex feels good!" Sam rose an eyebrow, letting his head flop to the side. "You don't think I've noticed your hints at it? I'm not a moron Sam!"

"I never said you were." He tried, but Dean had already jumped out of the bed, pacing around the room. "Dean you're tense...you're a fucking nervous wreck and I just thought..."

"That your cock could make me all better!? Well I got news for you, no soul wonder, but the only thing your cock is going to do is make me puke up my pizza." That same rejection itched at his skin, and he narrowed his eyes, shifting on the bed.

"Do me a favor sweetheart." He said, the endearment cutting like ice. He had always used it when he was angry at Dean, throwing the nickname his brother gave all his whores back in his face. "The next time you try to lie to yourself, do a better job at it." Dean had paced close to him so he reached out, grabbing his brother's hip and dragging him close. "Me touching you would never make you sick...as a matter fact," Sam said, dragging him closer and rubbing soft circles on Dean's hip, letting his thumb hitch up his shirt to touch flesh.

"Stop it." Dean said in his commanding tone that reminded him so much of their Dad. He said it, and yet he didn't push him away, as a matter of fact, he took one step closer.

"I don't think you want me to. I think that you want me to pick you up, slam you against that wall, and fuck your brains out." Dean's breath hitched at that, pupils dilating til his eyes were almost black, and Sam didn't hesitate anymore.

He stood up, and in one fail swoop wrapped his hands around Dean's ass, hoisting as he had his brother wrap his legs around his waist, holding him up as he looked in his eyes. "I want you to kiss me." He said slowly, breath puffing out on Dean's face as he held him with no trouble at all, reaching out to cup his cheek. "Now."

When Dean leaned in and brushed his lips against his, there were no sparks, no fireworks, nothing but lips on lips that probably could do with some more chapstick. But the way Dean was grinding on him as he mashed their lips, well that felt good. He kissed his brother more deeply, easily parting his lips as he practically fucked his tongue inside. He moaned into that mouth, turning them around and slamming Dean up against the door. He still had hold of him with his thighs, and he pushed Dean's arms above him, allowing for full exploration of his body as Dean moaned and bucked against him like a bitch in heat.

Dean was reaching for his zipper, desperately trying to pop the button when Sam pulled away, smiling that fake condescending smile at him. "Wait." His forehead creased as he rested it against Dean, making his voice sound almost pained. "Wait...we can't do this." He let his brother down from the wall, not moving away from him as he continued to stroke up and down his body.

"We can't do this? Dean asked, eyebrow arching as he looked up at his brother. "Sam you have been hinting at this for months now, and you don't want to do this?" He shoved at Sam's chest, but he didn't budge.

Sam grabbed Dean's hips, holding him steady against the wall. "That's my point Dean. I don't want you to do this because you think you have to, or because you think you can fuck the soul back into me. I want you to do this because you want to, because I love you." He squeezed Dean's hips, knowing he was about to interject. "I don't feel it right now, but I remember it. I remember exactly how I feel about you, which is the best thing I can offer you right now."

"Sam my tongue was just halfway down your throat, I'm pretty sure I want this." Dean growled, pushing harder at Sam's chest as the younger allowed him to shove him away. "You don't get to do this."

"Dean, I'm not doing anything. I just want to take it slow because..." He reached out, rubbing his fingers through Dean's spikes. "Because I know you Dean, and I know that you'll be into it all hot and heavy, but tomorrow morning you're going to freak out and then it's just going to push us back to where we were...further even." He leaned in, kissing his brother's cheek. "So as much as I want to spend the entire night in bed with you, I'm going to sustain, because you don't trust me...and I need you to."

"You're unbelievable!" Dean growled, slapping his hand away. "So fucking selfish. I'm sick of the mind games. You don't always get to do this Sam!" He threw up his arms, stalking across the room to grab his coat. "Well fuck you Sam and your good intentions, because I know you ain't got none!"

He walked back towards the door, eyes hard and glassy, and looked like he wanted nothing more than to slug him in the face. "I'm just trying to make this transition as easy as I can."

"Transition?" Dean asked, tilting his head. "What transition, Sam?" He was bristling like a cat, finger itching for his gun, and Sam knew he had to talk fast.

"We had sex after Ruby, after the apocalypse, but it wasn't the same." Dean's eyes were still narrowed and cold, but his finger relaxed on the trigger. "You didn't like being in my bed...you just...you weren't there Dean. So I want you to be there this time. I want to have what we used to."

"That's over Sam." He said, voice low and corse.

"It doesn't have to be. I don't fully understand what's going on with me now Dean, but it doesn't have to be." He reached out to touch him again, and Dean flinched away as if burned, backing up at of reach.

"Get out of the way." Sam complied, backing up from the door, and Dean was gone in less than 30 seconds. He shut his eyes as he heard the familiar purr of the impala as it sped out of the parking lot. Dean was probably headed to a bar, drinking out the many questions that were no doubt buzzing in his mind. His brother was like that. So crass and outspoken about superficial matters, but anything of importance he tended to think about for days. The matter just worrying in his mind until it drove him insane, and then he would hunt something and it would make him feel better. Sam didn't mind this time, he wanted him to think. He wanted him to roll around what happened here tonight over and over in his head. He would think about how Sam had pulled away, how Sam had said I love you, how Sam wanted him...and then he would slowly come around.

He wanted to be inside his brother, more than he ever thought possible, but he couldn't get Dean by force. So he would play this charade, and he would dote, and he would lie...because this is what would get him his brother. It was called a long con, you get a person to do what you want them to with them thinking it was there idea all along, and Sam had become very good at conning. He would have Dean, and not just his body...though he desired it. He would have everything...soul included, because maybe that would make up for him not having one of his own. ...And if not, well he supposed using a bit of force wasn't out of the question. He smirked to himself, sinking back on the bed as he waited for Dean to come back to him...and rest assured, he always did.

A.N- Another fic I've had on the back burners. Obviously takes place during season 6 and I'm a sucker for soulless Sam. Up to 4 chapters so far, please review!