A/N: Hey everyone
So… This is the third chapter! I hope you're liking it so far. I know you're probably mad at me for not posting them with a time schedule, but my own schedule is so fucked up right now that this is the only way I can post them. Anyways, things are starting to unravel… They still have a lot to go through. I warned you before, this is an extremely bumpy ride for the boys. I hope you're enjoying the plot as much as you're enjoying the porn.
Before I make my usual warnings, I want to thank my co-author, purpleushi. She takes credit for half of this work, and we love writing it together. Thank you baby, so much, for everything.
Like I said, the previous warnings are still valid.
Warnings: Self-harm, underage sex, language, graphic scenes, and incest (Basically everything I enjoy in a fic)
Please review! Reviews are a writer's best friend!
Chapter 3: Fix You
Sam was the first one to wake up. His eyes shot open, afraid that last night was just a dream. It took a moment to realize; but there he was, in Dean's arms, his breath slowly crashing against Dean's chest. He relaxed into Dean's limp embrace and pulled himself closer slowly to bury his face into Dean's smell.
Dean's eyes fluttered open at the movement and he sleepily smiled at Sam before tightening his embrace around him.
"Mornin' Sammy." he said drowsily.
"Mornin' Dean." Sam replied, with the most joyful tone he could imagine. Dean laughed at Sam's ecstatic reply and tilted his head forward for an "I know, I'm happy as hell too." kiss.
They stayed like that for a few minutes. Neither of them wanted to get out of bed. And they were both startled by the phone; they have forgotten that the outside world existed.
Dean reached over Sam to grab the phone, and looked at the screen to see Dad's number. He quickly sat up in bed, and answered the phone, looking at Sam.
"Mornin' Dean. Are you boys doing okay? How's the leg?" John lined up the questions.
"I'm okay sir. My leg is almost healed. We're doing fine…. Dad, are you coming back?" Dean said, seeing Sam flinch at the word "Dad".
"Yes, I'll be there around noon. Maybe a little later. See you boys soon." Then John hung up.
Sam sat up in bed, his face had no trace of the bliss he had this morning. "Is he coming back today?" he asked. He needed more time. He wasn't ready to be hated just yet.
"Yeah. Said he'll be here around noon." Dean replied, trailing a hand down Sam's arm. He wasn't going to let Sam do this again, no matter what Dad said or did.
Dean ran his fingers through Sam's sleep-matted hair.
"Hey. Talk to me," he whispered into Sam's forehead. "Let me help, baby."
Sam shook his head.
Dean twined his fingers into Sam's and squeezed his hand. Sam limply submitted himself to Dean's caresses, but gave nothing of his own. His eyes were glazed over and he was lost in his head. He needed more time with Dean. He needed Dean to convince him that Dad didn't matter, that he couldn't come between them.
"I have to go to the bathroom," Sam said finally, pushing himself away from Dean. Dean's face darkened.
"Sam…" he pleaded, starting to get up.
Sam rolled his eyes. "I don't need a babysitter, Dean. I'm not going to do anything."
Dean watched him go, heart sinking. He couldn't bear seeing what Dad did to Sam. And the man wasn't even home yet.
Sam leaned over the bathroom sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He looked horrible. His eyes were still bloodshot and dried tears tracked down his cheeks. The cuts on his arm were scabbing over, but still an angry red. He stared at them, mesmerized. Only Dean could make it better, and that would be hard once Dad came home.
Sam turned on the shower and stepped inside.
Dean wanted to punch a hole through the wall. He'd never been so useless. He wanted to help Sam understand, comfort him with all he's got, but he didn't know how, and he surely wasn't going to sit there and watch as Sam hacked himself open.
Dean slowly got up, and limped his way to the bathroom door. He stood there in silence for a minute there, his ears searching for a sign of "wrong" but there was nothing. Water was running, and there was the occasional splash that convinced Dean that Sam was under it. He slowly opened the door, and stepped inside the shower with Sam.
Sam tried to protest, but Dean silenced him with a tender kiss. Then he turned around, got the soap and lathered his hands and ran them through Sam's chest. He slowly washed Sam of his tenseness. They were completely silent as Dean took care of Sam. He got some shampoo in his hands, and grabbed handfuls of Sam's hair, wagging them to spread evenly and make bubbles. Sam held onto Dean like a lifeline while he watched Dean's eyes jump from one part of Sam's body to another, as loving as possible. Then he turned Sam around, and lathered his shoulders, moving along his back to Sam's ass. He never tried for a move, Sam needed to be taken care of now, he needed to know that Dean would be there, protecting him, taking care of him, no matter what. Then he placed a kiss behind Sam's neck and hugged him from behind.
"I'm here Sammy, I'll never leave you, I won't let anybody or anything hurt you. I swear. Do you understand?"
Sam nodded, leaning back into Dean. This was good. This here was safe. He placed his hands over Dean's which were wrapped around his middle and held them tight against his skin. He leaned his head back onto Dean's shoulder as Dean sucked gently at his neck and the sensitive area behind his ear.
"Mine," Dean mumbled softly against his skin, and Sam felt butterflies. They stayed like that until the water got cold, and then got out of the shower and toweled each other dry.
Sam glanced at the clock and his stomach dropped. It was already eleven, and Dad could be home any moment. He latched himself onto Dean as the panic rose up in his chest. His stomach flipped and his throat felt too tight.
Dean rubbed slow circles on his back and murmured comforting words in his ear that Sam couldn't even understand, but it didn't matter because Dean's voice was enough to calm him down. When the anxiety subsided a little, Sam took a deep breath. "I'll be fine," he said, more to himself than to Dean. "Whatever happens, I can do this." Then his confidence faltered. "Right?" he asked his brother.
Dean squeezed him impossibly tight. "Yes. Yes of course Sammy. You're strong. And even if it gets hard, you have me. You'll always have me."
Sam nodded. "I know." And hopefully it would be enough, because at that moment he heard the truck engine pull up outside. He snatched one last kiss from Dean and then they pulled apart.
A strong knock shook the door, and Dean leapt forward to open it. With his duffel in his grip, John walked past Dean and threw the duffel on his bed, the one that wasn't even touched since he left.
"Hello boys. Dean, lemme see the leg." John moved right onto the stuff that made Sam flinch. He didn't lose any time making him uncomfortable. Dean smiled warmly at Sam and sat on his own bed, lifting his leg up to rest on the bed with him, and John came closer, and took a look. "Looks okay. You still should wait a while before you hunt again though." Then he glared at Sam, and Sam's walls came tumbling down. He was shaking, crushed under his father's stare. The insecurity came in and filled him up. His eyes started tearing up. "I-I'm sorry, sir. I'll b-be more careful next time." The words came out as cries for help. He looked at Dean hopelessly.
Then John spoke again, and Sam's eyes shot back at him. "I'm gonna take a shower. Then me and Sam will go out and get us some food."
After informing his soldiers about what awaits them, John proceeded to walk in to the bathroom and shut the door behind him. The sound of the lock turning gave Dean the signal to run to Sam.
He didn't say anything, he just wrapped his arms around the shaken figure of his brother. A moment later he whispered "I'm here Sammy, nothing's gonna happen to you, you'll be fine. We're okay. We're gonna be okay." He tilted Sam's head up to face him "Listen to me," he placed a small kiss on Sam's lips "We're okay." and he hugged tighter, but Sam was not responding.
Sam's walls were up again. He let Dean embrace him, but he got no comfort from it. He wanted to, really, but Dad was just behind the door and Sam was overwhelmed by fear and anger and guilt. Dean stroked his hair and rubbed circles into his shoulders, mumbling about how it would be okay. He tried to kiss Sam again, but Sam shook his head.
"Dean, stop," he muttered, pulling away.
Dean froze. His hands dropped to his sides.
Sam winced and looked up at Dean, pleading. "It's just… I know you want to make everything better, but Dad… Dad's not going to change. So I just gotta deal with that, okay?"
"But… Okay, Sammy, but— just, promise me you won't do anything that might hurt you in the long run when you talk to Dad today. Okay? I need you with me. Healthy!" Dean emphasized. He hated his gimp leg, he wanted to be there for Sam today. Dad was surely gonna give a long boring speech about the life they had and the dangers and the responsibilities and stuff, and Sam was not ready to take it yet. It was only going to make him feel more guilty about Dean's injury.
Sam flinched when John came out of the bathroom, dressed and ready to go. He tilted his head towards the door and Sam followed him out, a broken smile on his face as he shut the door, leaving Dean behind. He couldn't even pace around in the room, and Dean felt like a caged animal.
He tried to relax and wait for them watching TV.
Sam followed is father out to the truck, staring determinedly at the ground.
The first thing his father said to him surprised him.
"I'm not mad at you Sam."
Sam looked up, brow furrowed.
"I know that's what you're thinking," his father continued. "I'm not mad. It was your first hunt without me. It's completely understandable that something like this would happen."
And there it was. Sam had known not to get his hopes up. Sure his father wasn't mad, he wasn't even disappointed. Because he'd known that Sam would fuck up. Sam hadn't failed his father's expectations, he'd fucking lived up to them exactly.
He clenched his fists, digging his nails hard enough into his palm to leave a mark. "I'm sorry, Dad," he mumbled, because he had to, "I promise I'll be better next time."
His father stared out at the road, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "I think it will be a while before there is a next time."
Sam was cold inside when they arrived at the convenience store. He excused himself from his father to go to the bathroom. As soon as he locked the door, he sank down to the floor. Dean had said not to let his father get to him, not to hurt himself, but he couldn't help it. Because if he didn't do this, then he would start crying. And fuck if he would let his father see that.
He pulled the knife out of his back pocket and opened up three new cuts in his forearm. Then he straightened his shirt and returned to his father. They bought dinner in silence, Sam studiously avoiding his father's gaze.
He went through the motions on autopilot, not emerging from his stupor until the truck pulled up into the motel parking lot.
Dean shot up in bed when he heard the truck. He stayed on the bed, eyes locked on the door. Then the door opened and John walked in with the food. Sam was behind him, eyes looking down, and he was paler. Dean knew, that moment, that something had happened. He wished that it didn't go that far to make Sam cut again. But he had to wait to find out.
They sat silently at the table, and ate. Sam wasn't looking at Dean. He knew Dean was constantly searching for reactions but he didn't have the strength to give any.
Afterwards, they cleaned the guns, again in silence, and counted ammo. Sam's hands were sloppy, Dean had to catch a few bullets in the air when they rolled off the bed.
It got dark outside, and still there was no talking other than a few one-syllable words and grunts.
Then John got up, and walked towards his jacket. "I'm gonna go have a drink. Dean you coming?" he asked without any real meaning behind it.
"No, Dad, I think I'm gonna stay in." Dean replied.
John nodded once, and left the room without a second word.
They were alone again, and Dean was anxious to find out what happened. He got up and sat beside Sam on his bed, and brushed a hand across his back. "What happened Sammy, tell me." he mumbled. "Did Dad give one of those hour long you're not taking your responsibilities seriously speech?" He was desperate to get one little answer from him, anything… But Sam was quiet. It was like he shut himself down. Dean's hand traveled down Sam's arm, and pulled the sleeve up to check.
Three red marks…. staring at him. His stomach filled with anger and sadness… But the anger won, and he got up and made his way to his own bed, and grabbed his knife. He came back to sit beside Sam then pressed the knife on his own wrist.
Sam suddenly reacted and looked at Dean, eyes flickering between the knife on Dean's perfect skin, and Dean's perfect eyes, now filled with determination.
"Dean wha— stop!" Sam shouted trying to take the knife out of his hands.
Dean slapped his hand away in one move. "Shut up and listen Sammy. This isn't going to work. From now on, every cut you make, is another cut on me. Okay?" He slit one cut on his wrist, and watched it bleed for a second before continuing.
"You can't do this to yourself. You have to realize that there are consequences. You're hurting me. You're… breaking me when you do that to yourself. Before, it was not visible, and easy to overlook." He made another cut on his wrist, right next to the first one. "Not anymore. We're going to get through this together, and I intend to understand what you're going through." He made the last cut and dropped the knife on the floor. "So next time you feel like cutting, you're going to think of me, and you're going to think of how much- how much I love you Sammy."
Dean finished off crashing down on Sam's lips, kissing them deeply, conveying how much Sam means to him. If this was what he had to do to get Sam to quit, then he would cut up a thousand other marks on himself and not let out a single hiss.
Sam felt nauseous. Seeing Dean's blood, knowing he was the reason it was there, he just couldn't handle that. He pulled away from the kiss and yanked Dean's sleeve down over his arm.
"Dean…" he pleaded weakly, "Don't—"
"Don't what, Sam?" Dean sounded frighteningly wounded and helpless.
Sam took a deep breath and then forged on. "I meant what I said before. This is my shit to deal with. I know you want to swoop in and be my knight in shining armor, but Dean, this isn't your fault. And if you ever let you hurt yourself again because of me… dammit Dean that's just not right, okay?"
But he wrapped his arms tightly around Dean to soften the blow of his words.
"No, not okay Sam. You don't have to go through this alone. We're brothers. It's the same fucked up dad we share. I need to be there for you. Please let me be there for you." Dean whispered through Sam's hair still holding him.
"I can't watch you do this." he adds stroking Sam's hair. He needed Sam to open up, he needed Sam to know that he could lean on him whenever he wanted.
He tightened his hold over Sam then released him to look at his face. He placed a chaste kiss on Sam's lips then moved to place dozens of them on Sam's neck nipping and sucking on some. He elicited a low moan from Sam and his hands traveled down to pull Sam's shirt up.
Sam let Dean push him back onto the bed. His breathing sped up as Dean pushed up his shirt, warm hands dancing over his skin. Sam let Dean pull the shirt up over his head and crawl up on top of him.
The same fucked up Dad,Dean had said. It was a strange statement. For one, coming from Dean, that meant a lot. For Dean to admit that their father wasn't perfect... That was almost all Sam needed to get past this.
But the statement also reminded him that they were brothers. It's not like he didn't know that, but hearing it said aloud just before Dean kissed him... Sam tried to push it out of his mind. Of all their fuck ups, this one really didn't seem too bad, right?
Dean's lips were on his chest, kissing their way down his sternum. Dean's hands entwined in his own, raising them up above his head.
"D-dean," he whispered, "Dean do we have time? What if Dad comes home?"
"Mmmh.. I don't know Sammy. Dad can be here any minute. It-it still doesn't mean that we can't dosome of the stuff." Dean smirked, sitting upright between Sam's legs to remove his own shirt.
"Just keep your underwear on and we should be okay. Otherwise.. I don't think I can stop myself." Dean let out a sigh, reveling in the thought of claiming Sam, but getting caught was too much of a risk.
He looked down at Sam lying in front of him, heart still racing, he made a promise that he will make Sam smile again.
"I will figure something out, I promise. I'll arrange something so that we wont be bothered. But now.. this is all we've got." he promised and traced his tongue on Sam's stomach sucking a bruise on his chest. "You're mine." Dean whispered, and laid on top of Sam for another kiss.
I'm yours, Sam thought, but he couldn't say it out loud, not yet. All he could do was submit to Dean's needy caresses. Dean held both of Sam's hands over his head with one of his own and used the other hand to undo Sam's jeans. Sam wiggled his hips out of the pants as Dean kissed him again. Sam was hardening at Dean's touches. He groaned as Dean's mouth made it's way south, but determinedly avoided actually touching Sam's cock.
Dean released Sam's hands to remove his own shirt. Sam flinched when he saw the cuts on Dean's wrist, and reached out for his arm. Sam's own wounds were still dripping thin trails of blood down his pale skin. He held Dean's hand, turning both their arms upward. He stared at the blood for a moment then twisted their hands so that their wrists were pressed together, blood mixing as it trailed from their cuts.
And then Sam broke down, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.
"You p-promise?" he finally asked. Dean frowned, unsure what Sam meant. Sam continued. "You promise you can make this better? If I let you… f-fix me… it will all go away and we'll just be happy?"
"I give you my word, Sammy. I'll make this better. I'll make us better." Dean nodded and kissed Sam's wound. "I have something in mind. But I won't tell ya." Dean smiled.
He held a hand up and cupped Sam's face, then pressed his thumb on Sam's cheek to wipe off the tears. He hated it when Sam cried. It was like the world escaped from below his feet, and he was falling all the way down to hell.
He looked down on Sam's half-hard cock pushing against Sam's boxers and frowned. "I want to do something about it… But we agreed to keep the undies on. Sorry Sammy." He chuckled and continued to kiss a trail up Sam's chest till he reached Sam's face and pressed his forehead against Sam's. "Love you, Sammy."
A moan escaped Sam's lips as Dean's body pressed against his. "Love you, Dean…love you so much," Sam breathed into Dean's kiss. Sam wanted Dean more than anything in the world, needed him. Needed it to be just them, no one else, just him and Dean, safe, for the rest of his life. He clung to his brother as they kissed.
"I promise I won't…" Sam started, then faltered. Dean pulled back slightly, so Sam tried I again. "I promise I'll try not to, okay? I really mean that. I don't want to c-cut. But Dean, you… this isn't the first time I've… you know… so, it's… it's gonna be hard." He chewed his lip, gauging Dean's reaction.
"I know Sammy. I'll do anything… Whatever I can to distract you from the itch." He placed a chaste kiss on Sam's lips, moaning when their cocks brushed up against each other and pushed himself up. He saw the confused look on Sam's face. "But right now, I gotta make a call, and you gotta stay here and not eavesdrop." Dean smirked.
He picked his shirt up off the ground and wore it. Then he found his shoes, and his jacket and left the room leaving a completely confused and lost Sam in the room, and walked for a couple of minutes making sure Sam couldn't hear his conversation.
Then he got his cellphone out, and dialed the number he memorized by heart. When he saw the name attached to the number on the screen, he held it up against his ear waiting for it to be answered.
"Hi Dad." Dean said in a determined voice.