Dream Love
(A Supernatural slasfiction)
This story is a missing section from between Supernatural S1 Episode 1 and S1 Episode 2- Sam and Dean have just left their hometown, and are driving towards Colorado. It jumps between both Sam and Dean, so try and keep up.
Warning: this story contains themes of a sexual nature, mainly around incest/ Wincest.
Dean
From the back seat of the car, Sam's sobs still came. It had been a week and Sam still cried in his sleep, the image of his dying girlfriend strapped to the ceiling repeating in his dreams. As Dean leaned over, taking one hand off the wheel to pull the blanket that had fallen off his brother back up, he felt a stab of guilt.
If he hadn't taken Sam away to help look for their dad, Sam wouldn't be in the back seat, crying his eyes out, and Jess would still be alive. Possibly.
"Jess!" Sam cried, suddenly springing up, hitting his head on the car roof.
"You OK little brother?" Dean mocked, hiding all feelings of guilt he had just had.
"Yeah. You know." "Same dream again?" "No" Sam said, staring out of the window blankly. "A different one…"
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Sam
"Well that was useless" I breathed as I leaned on the closed door of my flat, the one thing between my new and old life. Two things I needed to keep apart. But still, it was kind of good to see Dean again. Actually, it was very good to see Dean again. Surprisingly and painfully good… Walking over to my bed, I collapsed, falling into a deep sleep.
This place was weird. But different. It looked like the college bar, but with poles hanging down from the ceiling, and people sat around tables underneath them. As I walked in, I noticed something was… weird. I guessed this was a pole dancing club. But there was no one on the poles. There were only two people in the entire place. Me and someone on the stage. I couldn't yet figure out who it was, but I realised that they were stood stock still, hand holding a cowboys hat on their head, looking at a single chair right in front of them on stage. I walked tentatively forward, starting to look around for stairs. The nearer I got, the more was revealed to me. The person- the man- on stage was fit. Dressed in full cowboy kit, right down to the boots. Chequered shirt, tight jeans, emphasising his legs, and gripping his firm butt. I guess I'm gay in my dreams, and just love the whole cowboy look. Going up a set off short steps to the stage, I suddenly felt weird. I looked down at myself, realising my shirt and jeans had just shrunk, almost becoming a second skin. My already hard cock was almost bursting out of my new jeans, and looking up, I noticed that my shirt had changed to a pale pink one; buttons open to half-way down my chest, the rest of my shirt tightening around my chest, emphasising my stomach.
I started to walk forward, the stage shrinking ever smaller, the rest of the room disappearing, so that it was just me and the cowboy. I closed my eyes, suddenly becoming dizzy, and when I opened them, the stage was a small square, just big enough for the chair, me and the cowboy. Taking a step forward, I was quickly transported to the chair, and flopped back into it, almost like a hand had just pushed me backwards. I fell, and tried to get back up, but the invisible hand still was holding me.
As I struggled, music from… somewhere… started to be piped in, and as the music started, the shadow over the cowboy's face was lifted, the room being flooded with light.
It was Dean. Dean in a cowboy outfit. As the music rose, Dean started to dance. First, slow and slinky, but as the music started, the slow erotic movements became larger, almost in time with my growing bulge. Dean's hands began snaking their way up, seductively over his body, as he fiddled with his shirt buttons, undoing them slowly, shoulders, hips and fingers in time with the music. As his smooth, broad chest was exposed, the bulge in my jeans got bigger, until it was almost unbearable. But I couldn't take my eyes of the hypnotic movements my older brother was making. I knew I should have looked away, but I couldn't. As he removed his shirt, the soft glow from his skin radiating around him, the pain in my groin was forgotten. The soft mound of his nipple, the flatness of his stomach, the tapering down to his hips, the soft, almost downy fluff that was his treasure trail. I had seen Dean shirtless before, but it didn't have this effect on me. And as Dean's hands twisted towards his waist, grasping his belt buckle, the image of Dean grasping my bulge swam into my mind.
The soft pops of his jeans buttons being undone snapped me back from one sexual torment to another. The soft folds of the tight material round his legs were soothing, and as they pooled at his feet, I was left with the hunk of a brother in front of me, with nothing on but his boxers, already straining against his own bulge.
The music lowed, and Dean walked over, hips swaying erotically. The force that was keeping me on the chair had gone, as the force of Dean's gaze pierced into me, as I mentally took of his boxers, wondering what it would look like. But then another force was put on me. Dean had just straddled me, hands softly teasing my cock, pressing his against mine. The back of the chair suddenly disappeared, leaving me leaning backwards, still Dean in almost the same place as he was before. He leaned over me, opening his mouth, lowering himself onto me. His lips met mine, and immediately, my lips parted to accept his tongue.
But, as my eyes opened, the splash of blood trickling onto me, I looked up, and saw Jess looking down at me, a moment before I opened my eyes and saw her there on the ceiling. At that moment, I snapped awake, the pain of a car roof meeting my head, as I screamed her name.
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Dean
As they pulled up to an old, rundown motel, Dean thought about how his life would now be changed. His little brother, who he hadn't talked too for almost three years, was going to be with him, helping him search for their father. And now that the police had found out that he was using fake credit cards, there was no way he could just splash around, spending money everywhere. He'd have to be really careful about where they stayed from now on.
"Hey, you alright back there Sammy?" He tossed; almost mocking the fact that Sam had Just hit his head on the car roof again.
"Yeah. Hey Dean, have you seen my wallet?" Sam said, groggy from just waking up, and hearing everything in surround as he had hit his head.
"Yeah. It fell behind my seat when I...um...when i kinda took some money from it back at the gas station we passed. You were asleep, so i just took it from your pocket. Didn't think you'd realise." Dean said, sheepishly, like he was hiding something.