Warning: This contains possible rape, Wincest (MxM, slash, guy on guy), violence and torture.
Diclaimer : Supernatural is owned by CW
Summary: Sam & Dean have survived their fathers death as well as the last battle with the yellowed eyed demon. Through the journey they had found love amongst themselves. With the demon dead, Dean believes they are relieved of the burden. Perhaps, that is their downfall...
Chapter One:
Tormented Dreams
Sunlight announced the early morning, flecks of dust dancing within the rays. The finger-like glow crept up Sam's exposed back, hovering briefly before coating closed lids of the other Winchester.
Grumbling, Dean nudged his nose further in the crook of Sam's neck, inhaling deeply. When the sun did not move, but continued to tease the twenty-seven year old, Dean finally cracked an eye open. The ferocity of the light caused him to scrunch his face, half his brain still held within the land of dreams. Hearing soft snoring beside him, Dean smiled, placing a delicate kiss on Sam's cheek. The young sibling's head turned towards the affection. "Always sleep'en late Sammy!" When you're not having nightmares or visions that is. Dean added silently, easing himself from the bed so he sat upright upon its edge. Dressed in only a pair of boxer shorts, the Winchester's muscles rippled in plain view as he twisted his back, a sigh emitting along with a pop. "I need coffee…" Dean mumbled, his hands running through his blonde, spiked mane. Blinking a few times, he slowly came to his senses. With a glance over his shoulder, Dean's lips quirked at the image of his lover's peaceful slumber.
Since the yellow-eyed-demon had been shot-by Dean's hand of course-Sam had been sleeping more, his mind no longer plagued by death. His body needed it, having been deprived of such regeneration for over twenty years.
The smell of sweat brought Dean from his revelations, nose sniffing the air. Feeling a tinge bit unclean, the Winchester tip-toed into the bathroom, closing the door slowly before letting out a loud breath. As he turned, his reflection greeted him, smiling along with him. "Well hello handsome." Winking, Dean chuckled as he turned on the shower, waiting until it reached a reasonable temperature before hopping in. The water felt good against his skin, pounding out the residue of the night and pumping energy back into his body. By the time the shower had gone cold, Dean felt refreshed, humming to himself as he dried most of himself off before tying the towel around his waist. Exiting the bathroom, Dean's face brightened at the sight of Sam, his eyes half lidded and chest exposed to the older Winchester. "Morning sleepy-head." Dean acknowledged loudly, making his presence known.
Bobbing his head, Sam cleared his throat of gunk. "'orning. What time is it?" He asked, yawning.
Dean glanced at the busted-up alarm clock on the nightstand beside the bed, already used to Sam's laziness. "Almost noon. I thought I would have to pour a bucket of water over ya or something." Turning his back to Sam, Dean busied himself with getting dressed, deciding to disregard his lover's glare.
"You wouldn't dare…" Sam challenged, sitting up. Itching his shoulder, he huffed, eyes eventually landing on the open door to the still steaming bathroom. "You leave any hot water?" He asked sarcastically.
Dean cocked his head, looking over at Sam. "Now, why would I steal all the hot water and force you to take a cold one?" the Winchester answered in mock concern. His façade broke as his face was split with a grin. When Sam just stared at him blankly, Dean rolled his eyes, expression dimming. "I didn't, alright? Jeesh! Don't get your panties in a twist Sammy, it's only a shower." Shaking his head, the twenty-seven year old tugged a shirt over his head.
Raising a brow, Sam stood, walking over to Dean. "Excuse me, panties? I don't wear panties Dean. You should know, having yanked my boxers off last night faster than Speedy Gonzales…" His voice dropped a notch.
Licking his lips, Dean spun, eyes going up and down Sam's form. Grasping his chin, Dean took a step closer, body barely touching the other Winchester. "You liked it though…your groans were so loud they probably woke the neighbors in the next room." He cooed, guiding Sam's lips onto his. Dean smirked as he felt Sam shiver from his touch. The Winchester had purposely left out the fact that he was beginning to become sexual stirred from the mentioning of their event last night. Pulling back, he pressed his thumb gently over the bottom rim of Sam's mouth. "See, don't tell me you didn't like that." Easing back, his hand dropped to his side reluctantly.
Sam blushed, down casting his eyes. After a couple of seconds he caved. "Okay, maybe I liked it, but you obviously did too." Lifting his gaze, Sam motioned to Dean's pitched tent between his legs, laughing quietly to himself as he dashed to the bathroom for his shower.
Nice job! A voice scolded in Dean's head, his lids closing in embarrassment. Coughing, he looked down, finding that he was indeed excited. The Winchester suddenly simpered, nodding his head with a prideful look on his features. "Got me good Sam, but I won't be the one left standing next time…just watch." Making a sound with his tongue as he ran it over his teeth, Dean straightened. "For I invented Winchester trickery."
Southern Rock played from the jute box within the small but adequately sized bar, a couple of tables full of customers that only added to the noise with their chatter. Objects both old and new covered the wooden panels along the walls, a rifle mounted in plain sight. It warned trouble makers that their kind wasn't tolerated. Above the gun was the head of a buffalo, his eyes unblinking and nose still.
Eyeing it, one female cackled, plump dark crimson painted lips bending upwards. Cigarette smoke streamed steadily from the flaming bud perched against her mouth, fire coming alive for moments as Enya inhaled. Her blackened lashes flickered closed as she enjoyed the feeling. Long finger-nailed tips bumped the white wrap over the ash tray, the hand coming to rest upon the counter. Hearing a whistle, Enya whipped her brown curls over her shoulder, giving her a clear view. A small smile grew as she winked at the grubby middle aged man behind. As Enya looked away, a disgust mask fell over the cheerful expression. "Please." She hissed, leaning back. The loose black cloth covering her nicely filled chest tightened, exposing more of her cleavage and a flat stomach. Muscle rounded out her shoulders and gave her body a nice curved shape. No man cared enough to notice though, their gaze on the woman's form fitting hip-huggers and bottom package. Sliding off the stool, Enya waltzed over to the jute box, placing in two quarters before changing the song presently playing to 'The Devil Went Down to Georgia' by Charlie Daniels. Thumping her heeled foot to the beat, she patiently waited for a gentleman to come and ask for a dance. It didn't take long, her partner a tall rugged blonde. Smiling flirtatiously, Enya allowed herself to be lead away.
The smell of chicken hit Dean like a wall as well as air-conditioned cooled air. His eyes went to the number of cooks flipping pans containing food. "You know, this 'vegetarian' thing-well quiet frankly-it's just unmanly." Dean spoke up as Sam and he placed their order for their Chinese meal. Sam acted as if he didn't hear, finishing speaking with the cashier. When the man turned his back to the two, Sam countered, having not wanted to act rude.
"Oh yes, because only manly men eat fatty, greased up chicken with discolored rice."
Dean dipped his head, receiving a sigh from Sam.
"Maybe I don't want to fill my arteries and die early." Sam informed, as he leaned upon the counter for support and crossed the lower part of his legs. His left hand was stuffed into his pocket.
Frowning, Dean shrugged. "I don't have anything to lose now." Once the words left his mouth, Dean froze. Those were the worst choice of words, already seeing the hurt spilling into Sam's eyes and his body stiffening in defiance. Glancing at the workers slaving over the ovens, Dean leaned forward and placed his hand over Sam's. The surrounding sounds dimmed as time seemed to slow, the change in the youth's body and mind evident. "Sam-" Dean started to say before the cashier reappeared.
"Your food is ready. Nine ninety-five."
Cursing the man silently, Dean risked taking his eyes off his lover and paying for the meal. That was his mistake, for Sam took the chance and left the building.
Sam's heart beat painfully in his chest, hitting his rib cage with every thump. How could Dean say that to him? Did that mean he has given up? Sam refused to think or even believe that Dean will die before he hits thirty because of him. No, Dean's life was going to be saved by Sam, the Winchester would see to it. Still, it hurt to think that Dean did not trust him enough to save him.
A car horn awoke the twenty-six year old out of his reflection, causing him to jump out of the path of a Mustang. Shaking his head a bit, Sam pushed forward, his hands stuffing themselves in his pockets. He couldn't stand seeing Dean at that exact moment, finding himself numb. Tears tried to come forth, but were held back by sheer determination on the Winchester's behalf. The Chinese restaurant had been suffocating, the comfort of the impala calling to him.
Spotting the car, Sam checked his surroundings quickly before ducking inside the passenger seat. The squeak of leather made his tense muscles relax a bit, a breath leaving him. Staring up at the clouds through the windshield, Sam did not even notice Dean approach five minutes later, his brows furrowed in concern and grief as the older sibling pulled open the door and sat behind the wheel.
Silence stretched, the keys left in the ignition. Dean's gaze flickered from the trees in front of him to Sam hesitantly. The youth seemed to be ignoring him, his face ripped of emotion and eyes focused on anything but Dean's face. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean what I said back there." Dean finally spoke, voice cracking. Clearing his throat, the older sibling turned his body, hand going on the wheel while the other elbow rested upon the seat's top. Sam did not move, causing Dean to become flustered. He said he was sorry, and he really hadn't meant to hurt his little brother. "Sam, would you look at me-I'm trying to apologize."
Knowing his brother was close to pleading, which was something Sam could not take no matter how hurt he may be, the Winchester obeyed, craning his head to the left.
"I'm truly sorry-"
Sam dipped his head, a forced smile capturing his lips. "It's alright. Let's just go back to the hotel. We have to look for a case anyway. I'm kinda getting sick of this town."
Dean frowned, brows hitching briefly. "We've only been here for two and a half days. I thought you would like to stay someplace for a change. Plus, this town an't all bad." The humorous tone of his speech had returned, but in the back of his mind, Dean's worry over his lover had not wavered. Seeing that Sam didn't want to talk, the Winchester halted his prodding, turning the key and backing out of the lot. His eyes every once in a while darted to Sam, keeping a constant read on him.
The boys had hit the hay early that night, their conversations full of things unsaid and hidden meanings. In the darkness of the dingy hotel room, Sam fought the dreams that held his body in a noose, muscles twitching beneath Dean's arm. His face pressed itself into the pillows, sweat beginning to stream from his hairline. Breathing increased as the dream grew in intensity, awaking Dean almost instantly.
"Sammy?" The Winchester called into the stuffy air. His arm tightened, pushing Sam harder against his chest. He could feel the young man struggling against something, his spine bending forward. Eyes widening as incoherent mumble reached his ears, Dean propped himself up on a bent elbow, hand moving to Sam's shoulder and shaking it gently at first. When Sam continued to fidget and moan, Dean growled, forcing the youth on his back. His eyes ran over his brother quickly, knowing he would find no injury that was the cause of Sam's pain. "Sammy?! Sammy wake up!" Dean just about yelled, cupping his lover's cheek and slapping the flesh lightly. "Samm-"
The Winchester was cut off as Sam's body arched, eyes popping open and a loud gasp breaking through the chanting. Limbs tensed as if they were electrocuted, his spine arched before Sam fell lifelessly back onto the mattress.
Placing a hand on Sam's chest, Dean watched him carefully, waiting for his lover to return to reality. The greenish blue orbs darted about, unsure of where they were. Recognition came back slowly, the sight of Dean hovering over him calming Sam.
"There we go, easy baby." Dean soothed, hand sliding from the center of his chest to cup Sam's chin. Stroking his cheek, he noticed the sticky layer of perspiration that had been brought on by the dream coat his thumb.
Sam closed his eyes, his breathing become regular as he forced himself to relax under Dean's caress. Licking his lips, the youth tried to ignore how his boxers stuck to him like a second skin.
"A nightmare?" Dean asked in a quiet voice, brows furrowed in concern.
Images assaulted Sam, his body turning towards the other hunter and face pressing into the sheets. Dean's hand did not stop its movement.
Once full of life, Dean's body lay boneless upon the pavement. His mouth was closed, eyes staring forever at the passing clouds above.
"Sammy?" Dean repeated, noticing how his lover tensed, muscles vibrating.
"God it seemed so real…" Sam murmured to himself, eyes still squeezed shut as he tried to keep the tears at bay. He thought he had really lost Dean, and that he was the only one left of his family. After his dad had died, Dean had been the one constant that didn't fade.
"What did you dream Sam?" The older Winchester demanded, lying down so he was eyelevel with Sam. His heart was beating rapidly, mind trying to puzzle the answer. Inching closer, Dean kissed his lover on the forehead, hearing Sam's breath hitch.
"I thought-I thought you were dead." He choked, causing Dean's hand to still.
"You dreamed I died?" Dean questioned in a calm tone, though in reality, he found his thoughts swirling too fast in his head.
Sam nodded slowly, breathing through his nose as a drop streamed from his eye.
"Was it a vision or a nightmare?" The Winchester continued to interrogate his lover, needing to know if he should be looking around every corner for a person waiting to put a bullet in his head or continue his life normally. When he saw the tear, it suddenly clicked.
Frowning, Dean shrugged. "I don't have anything to lose now." Once the words left his mouth, Dean froze.
That's what had caused the nightmare. Guilt grew within Dean's gut, making his stomach twist into knots. He had done this to his Sammy. Shit-you're so fucken stupid Dean! He cursed silently, closing his eyes briefly before wrapping his arms around his lover and hugging him to his chest. Sam broke, needing to feel Dean around him more than anything at that moment. "I'm so sorry baby." The older sibling whispered hoarsely, stroking the mop of brown locks. The trembling of Sam's frame spoke of emotional pain, the gasps of breath shaking him further. "I'm right here." His breath was hot against his lover's ear.
Dean did not move until he felt Sam pull from his grasps, the youth hurriedly whipping his cheeks and the evidence of the crime Dean had committed.
"Sorry."
Running a hand down his face, Dean shook his head, rubbing Sam's exposed forearm. "No, it's alright."
Sam closed his eyes, pressing the sheet tighter around his torso as he sunk into the pillow. A headache had chosen to reside in between his eyebrows, pounding in a constant rhythm. Pain was always tiring, as well as emotional break downs. The nightmare had taken its toll, but his lids did not stay closed long for Dean's haunted, empty orbs awaited him, mocking the youth. Dean seemed to notice, his free hand grasping Sam's in a reassuring jester before being tucked against his chest.
"I'm not leaving, I promise. Sleep Sam," The older Winchester stated in a tone that was soft but left no room for argument. His eyes watched Sam, making sure his directions were followed.
Of course, Sam knew that it wasn't that easy. Part of him still couldn't believe that Dean was right beside him while the other knew that voice and knew that the dream was nothing but that; a figment of his imagination. Reaching out, Sam touched Dean's cheek, sniffling.
"I'm-not-going-anywhere." Dean promised, moving closer to Sam and allowing the youth to bury against him as if he was a stuffed animal. Laying his chin upon Sam's head, Dean closed his eyes. "I love you Sammy."
Before either knew it, they were sound asleep, the moon cloaking them within her own embrace.
Should I continue? Reviews always welcome!