Forever's Not Enough
Disclaimer: See Prologue.
Author's Note: Alright, I admit, I have this tendency to make days appear to be made up of much less then twenty-four hours. I don't actually cut hours off a day, but it sometimes looks like that because they go through them so fast. You may see what I mean in this chapter.
And another chapter title that appears to have no relevence to the chapter at all. Unless I'm just not looking hard enough. Can anyone else see it? The relevence I mean.
Review Answers:
Katrin Van Helsing – Here's what happens next, lol. Yes, indeed, it will come back into it… in this chapter (sort of).
fairyntoad14 – Yay, one of the words I was hoping for. I was worried, I'll admit, but so far all my worries and concerns about this story have proved unfounded (is that the correct term?), so I guess I'm not surprised it was the same. Yes, he has Dean… for now. Wickedness abounds. Yeah, I don't know why I wrote that either.
Annibal – Thanks. Yeah, I did my best, people seem to like them. Here's what happens next.
inu-kaglover45 – Oh, good (says that and pretends to understands). Here's next chapter. No, not end.
empath89 – Yay, good is good, lol. Yeah, I wanted to show a somewhat different side of Sam. Demon, hehe… yes, Dean's mother (Mary, his father's John, as you probably know) was killed when he was six months old. Thus, Dean is the 'chosen one', or whatever they are, for the Winchester family.
FastFuriousChick – Yes, I do, I really do (hehe). You're right, not really. If I did these last three chapters wouldn't be up yet. Moi? Cruel ways? I don't know what you're talking about (walks away pretending to be innocent).
pandora jazz – Thanks. Good, good to know. You'll find out later what Sam was hearing. Suffice it to say, it was definitely Dean, just a different side of Dean. Yes, I had that little piece planned out from the beginning (or as long as I knew Sam would hear voices). Yes, I was very tired, thank you for appreciating that.
jackyll – (Scoffs) End? You must be joking, lol. Is it ever that simple when it comes to Sam and Dean? No, there is definitely more to come. Yes, Sam is where he belongs… for now. Again, I say: Is it ever that simple:P
Wolf-of-Insanity - No, no shapeshifter in that chapter. Yay, cute is good... I think, is cute good? Here's what happens next. Yes, keep writing, less thinking, good plan. I like that plan. Thinking hurts bad, lol. Thanks, this soon enough?
Spuffyshipper - Thanks, soon enough? I so know that feeling. Half the ideas I have never even make it to the page (evidence of that are the ever vanishing ideas on my profile).
Chapter 6: When Push Comes, Push Back Harder
Dean helped Sam to his feet, and the younger man swayed a little unsteadily, before leaning heavily against Dean, who had no problem supporting him. The feel of Sam's body against his, even if it was just for support, made Dean happier then he ever thought he could be. Not ecstatic, dance for joy happy, just happy. Content. Relaxed.
"It wasn't my fault." Sam muttered. His hands were still covering his ears, but the voices, or whatever the young man was hearing, seemed to have died down, because Sam wasn't shouting hysterically anymore. "I didn't do it. I was here, Mr. Grauly can tell you that." Dean looked over at Sam as they reached the impala. "I was arguing with… someone… but you're not listening to me. Why aren't you listening to me? I'm standing right…" He trailed off, suddenly aware once more of where he was, "… in the park?" he shook his head. "Dean…"
"Here, Sammy, I'm right here." Dean said, tightening his hold on Sam to reassure him of his presence. "And I'm not going anywhere." He looked at the impala, and remembered suddenly that it had no fuel. With a sigh, he walked Sam to the one of the back doors, and opened it. "Okay, I'm not going anywhere, right after I get some fuel for the car." He helped Sam get into the car, and the younger man sat down on the back seat, his hands still covering his ears. "Are you going to be alright?" He asked.
Sam nodded slowly. Dean nodded, and was just about to close the door when Sam spoke up, "Dean, I'm cold." Dean stopped, and looked at Sam. No wonder; it wasn't exactly the warmest time of the year, and Sam was wearing the same (thin) long-sleeved white shirt and dark grey trousers he had been wearing earlier that day; he mustn't have been really thinking ahead when he left the house.
With a sigh, Dean stripped off his warm black jacket and draped it over Sam's shoulders (because we all know it wouldn't really fit Sam), leaving Dean wearing only a dark-red shirt and his jeans. He suppressed a shiver as the chill immediately seeped into his bones, but ignored the cold and grinned at Sam.
"Okay, I'll be back soon. Be good, and don't steal the car this time." He said. Sam gave him a small grin. It was forced, but it was there. Smiling back, Dean slowly backed away from the car, turning around only when Sam's attention left him.
-;-
"Jeez, Sam, what do you eat?" Dean asked as he lifted Sam out of the car. Despite being younger, Sam was a great deal larger then Dean, and Dean could only just lift him (he'd was being unreasonable and wouldn't leave the car on his own).
"What I'm fed." Sam said, wrapping his arms around Dean's neck. The voices seemed to have faded a lot, but they'd left Sam shaken, and he was still too drunk to be left on his on. As if to confirm this, he suddenly giggled. "Are you going to feed me?" he asked in a child-like voice.
"No." Dean said simply, coming to his door. "Now, I'm going to put you down so I can open the door, and you can either stand up on your own or I can leave you lying here on the doorstep." Sam pouted, but nonetheless stood on his own two feet as Dean put him down (in other words, dropped him). Although, 'stood' might have been the wrong word for it. Leaned heavily on Dean was a better way of describing it.
"You know… I never meant what I said…" He said, his words slurring slightly as Dean guided him into the room. "I… I said them but… I didn't mean them… because… you're…" He smiled goofily. "You." He finished simply. Then he leaned down and kissed Dean right on the lips. In plain sight. With the door wide open. For all the world to see. He kissed Dean like a child would. A child who wanted Dean. Impossible, but that was how it seemed. Dean fumbled with the door, not wanting his lips to part with Sam's, loving the feel of being kissed by him rather then being the kisser.
Finally, the door closed, and Dean wrapped his arms around the drunken young man, and hoped like hell that this wasn't Sam he was kissing and not the alcohol. It wouldn't be the first time someone had loved him during their drunken one-night stand and hated him the next morning.
Then suddenly Sam pulled back, and Dean thought he'd done something wrong. But Sam was still smiling. "I kissed you." He said. "You kiss nice." He bit his lip, as if trying to make a decision. Then he backed up and sat down on the bed. "Should I undress?" He asked. Dean blinked, taken aback by the question. Most people didn't ask that. Then again, most people didn't have voices only they could hear messing with their head while they were drunk. How much was still drunkenness and how much was something else entirely, Dean didn't know. He only hoped it wore off like being drunk wore off.
He walked over and sat beside Sam. He was going to do something he'd never done before: give his lover a choice. "Do you want to?" He asked. Sam shrugged, apparently wanting to be told whether or not he should. Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?" He asked. Sam grinned.
"Why would I make it easy for you?" He asked. Dean gave him a half smile.
"That's a good question." He said seriously. "Hey, Sam… I, uh, I'm sorry if I forced you into this. I know that you're dating that girl, I just…" He trailed off, shaking his head. He didn't know what he was thinking or feeling right now, only that Sam seemed to be filling both his thoughts and his feelings.
"'Can't force me if it's my choice." Sam said matter-of-factly, putting an arm around Dean's shoulders. He looked over, a small smile playing on his lips. "It is…" He faltered for a second, like he was trying to remember the words, "… my choice." He finished. Then he reached over with his free hand and turned Dean's head around to face him, pressing his lips to Deans in a much-less-clumsy kiss then the previous one. "Hold me, Dean?" He whispered into Dean's lips. Dean smiled, turning his upper body around to face Sam as well, wrapping his arms around him. Sam leaned against him, head resting on his shoulder.
"Shirt." Dean said after a minute, letting go of Sam. Sam looked disappointed, but smiled when he realized what Dean had said.
"I will if you will." He said. Dean grinned, and undid the first couple of buttons of his shirt, removing it and tossing it to the floor. Sam did the same, and then Dean pulled him close again, doing nothing but enjoying the feel of Sam's semi-naked body against his.
"Let me feel you, Sam." He said. He wasn't sure what he meant by that, but the words seemed to just fall from his lips. "All of you." Sam nodded against him, already sliding his trousers down his legs. Dean had only a little more trouble, wearing jeans and a belt.
He pulled the blanket out from under Sam and himself and gently pushed the younger man down into a laying position, his hand on Sam's chest. Sam did as he was guided, sliding his legs around so he was lying flat on the bed. Dean then laid down on top of him and pulled the blanket over the top of them.
Dean spent what seemed like the next few hours just feeling Sam, whatever that meant. Everywhere the younger man's body touched his (and that was just about everywhere), his skin seemed to tingle with excitement. There legs were entangled, and Dean's hands were beneath Sam's back, locking Sam in his embrace as well as limiting his own movement.
He seemed determined to mentally map out every inch of Sam's body, touching, feeling, every part he could with any part of himself that was close enough. And Sam didn't give any sign of objection. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying Dean's body against his as much as Dean did vice-versa.
His hand closed on the back of Dean's neck and he pushed his head down to his neck. Dean obliged, kissing Sam's neck tenderly as Sam arched his back to give Dean full use of his hands again. Dean wrapped one arm all the way around Sam's torso, and cradled Sam's head with the other.
"Dean…"
"Yeah?" Dean voice was muffled against Sam's neck.
"I'm really tired."
Dean glanced over at the clock (with some difficulty; he wondered if Sam had forgotten he was holding Dean's head there), and chuckled.
"It's four thirty." He said. "PM."
"I'm still really tired." Sam said, no anger, just… he sounded really tired as well. And he still sounded a tad drunk. Dean smiled, his hand leaving Sam's head and reaching up to remove his hand from Dean's head. He rolled over onto the bed, sliding his arm under Sam's head. Sam smiled, snuggling up to him.
"Sleep, Sammy." Dean said. "I'll be here." Sam made an incoherent noise of agreement, his eyes already closed and his breathing relaxing. Wow, he really was tired. Dean shimmied further down under the blankets, resting his head against the pillows. It was amazing how having your head bitten off by your enraged lover, running out of fuel, helping said lover through a mental breakdown, and then making with the touchy-feely could drain a guy.
-;-
Dean woke up and for the briefest of moments expected Sam to be gone again. He smiled when he saw the younger man, sleeping peacefully beside him. He stroked Sam's thick brown locks gently, and the younger man's eyes slowly opened.
"You're still here." Dean said, still smiling.
"Apparently so." Sam whispered, he groaned, putting a hand to his head. "What time is it?" He asked. Dean looked over at the clock.
"A little after five a.m." He said. "We slept for over twelve hours."
"I wish it had been twenty." Sam whispered. He opened his eyes a crack, looking up at Dean. "There wouldn't be a knife sticking out of my head, would there?"
"No, no knife." Dean said. Sam nodded.
"Hangover then."
"Yeah, that'd be my guess." Dean agreed. "You want me to run you home?"
"No, no running." Sam said, holding his hands in his head. Dean chuckled, and Sam shook his head. "You meant the car, didn't you?" Sam asked.
"Yeah."
"Okay, I feel stupid."
Dean chuckled at that.
"You're not stupid." He said. Sam smiled.
"No… I'm not." He said. He raised his head, eyes still mostly closed. Dean leaned down, his lips touching Sam's, turning up into a smile as they shared a kiss. Then his smile turned into a mischievous grin and pulled back suddenly, eliciting a displeased noise from Sam. "That's not very nice." He whined.
"Say it." Dean whispered.
"Say what?" Sam asked innocently, leaning up to try and recapture Dean's lips. Dean put two fingers on Sam's chin and pushed him back down.
"You know what." He said. Sam pouted, looking up at Dean, who was still grinning mischievously. "Come on, you know you want to." Sam shook his head, but it was obvious he was trying very hard not to smile. "How about a down payment?"
Sam raised an eyebrow. "We can discuss." He said. Dean brushed his lips teasingly against Sam's. The younger man strained to turn it into a proper kiss, but Dean held him down. "You're being cruel on purpose." Sam accused, still straining against Dean's hold.
"I am, I really am." Dean said with a chuckle, enjoying the tormented look on Sam's face, and the occasional whine of desperation that escaped the younger man. "Come on. You can do this, Sammy, I know you can."
"You're talking to me like I'm a drug addict," Sam said, sagging finally beneath Dean's arm. "Talking to me like I'm a drug addict won't make me talk." Dean chuckled again.
"Maybe not, but I'm not the one who'll lose kissing privileges."
"Privileges?" Sam scoffed, and then groaned, wishing he hadn't spoken so loudly. Keeping his voice down, he continued, "What am I, five?" Dean didn't say anything, just watched him. With a long, dramatic sigh, Sam finally gave in. "Alright, I surrender," he said. Then he grinned. "Thank you… for being there for me last night." He said. "I'm glad I was here, with you. There's no place I would have preferred to be."
"There, was that so hard?" Dean asked. Without waiting for an answer, he gave Sam his reward. A long, warm, comforting kiss that eased the throbbing of Sam's skull somewhat, and reminded him why he hadn't been in any hurry to leave this time. Also, the hangover would have made escape a pretty pointless move, as he'd no doubt be back inside before long.
"Yes, it tore me apart to say it." Sam said sarcastically. Dean frowned, and Sam suddenly regretted the words, seeing Dean's poor attempt at hiding how the comment had hurt him. "I'm sorry, that was a stupid thing to say." He said quickly. He suddenly felt unsure what to do, and an awkward silence fell between the two of them.
"I'm sorry." Dean said suddenly, surprising Sam. He stared at Dean, trying to get an idea of what was going through the older man's head.
"For what?" He asked.
"For coming into your life, out of the blue." Dean said. "For messing it up." Sam frowned, wondering about the freaky coincidence that he'd thought almost those exact words for a few minutes. Then he smiled softly, put a hand behind Dean's head, and kissed him gently on the lips.
"I forgive you." He said. "And thank you." He added. Dean couldn't help but smile at that.
-;-
Several hours later, Sam stood out the front of the Moore home, a rather secluded house on the outskirts of St. Louis, leaning against the seat of his bike as he tried to work up the courage to go up and ring the doorbell. He knew Jess's parents were rarely home during the day, so he would be able to talk to Jess alone. It was actually Dean who convinced him to tell Jess. While he may enjoy leading women on himself (he had mastered it), he'd told Sam that it wasn't something that ever ended well and that if he wanted any chance of salvaging some sort of friendship with Jess, he had to tell her soon.
Sam, if he was honest with himself, wasn't sure he wanted to be 'just friends' with Jess. He stilled loved and cared about her. He just happened to… feel more strongly about Dean. And he wasn't sure if he could be anything less then Jess's boyfriend, even though it was impossible for him to be with them both.
"Okay, Sam, you can do this…" He whispered encouragingly to himself. He shifted on his bike seat. "You can do this. Just… just walk up to the door and… do it." He stood up, and started walking forwards. He'd gone maybe four or five steps before he came to an abrupt halt, spinning around. "I can't do this." He stopped halfway back to the bike when he turned back to the house. "Alright, if they weren't convinced you were crazy when you started talking to yourself, they certainly are now." He muttered.
Staring up at the house, knowing that if he didn't do this now he might never, Sam took a deep breath, and then walked somewhat awkwardly up to the door. If Dean hadn't convinced him to tell Jess, he would've much preferred to stay in the motel room and spend the rest of the day working through what remained of his hangover. Dean, however, had shoved a water bottle in his hand and all-but kicked him out the door.
And speaking of doors, the front one of Jess's home was now right in front of him, taunting him mercilessly. Hesitantly, he reached up and pressed the doorbell, practically sagging with relief when it rang loud and clear.
After about twenty seconds, Sam rang it again, a little more urgently (could a doorbell sound more urgent the second time) this time. When he'd rung it a third time and still no answer came, Sam began to get worried.
"Come on, Jess… I don't know if I can do this a second time." He said. He decided to knock; that might get more attention. "Come on, Jess, please say you're just-" The swung slowly open as Sam began knocking. "-ignoring… me." He finished. Gently, he pushed the door all the way open, worried now for a different reason. Swallowing, he stepped into the house. "Jess!" He called. He was beginning to feel a little panicked. "Jess, are you here?!" His pace quickened as he began glancing into room as he passed them, looking for Jess. He was getting an increasingly bad feeling.
Coming to Jess's bedroom, he found it locked from the inside. "Jess?" He called. A mere second's hesitation as the possibility that he was blowing things completely out of proportion crossed his mind, and then he kicked the door dead-centre, knocking it off its hinges.
The sight that met him made him unsure if he wanted to cry, vomit or just pass out. Jess was tied to a chair, unconscious, blood everywhere, bruised, beaten. Sam could do nothing but stand there and stare at the horror before him for almost a minute. Then common sense broke through horrified shock, and he was suddenly torn between untying her and calling an ambulance; he decided on the ambulance. She was unconscious, and there would be plenty of time to free her while the ambulance was on its way over.
Feeling as though the air he was breathing was caught somewhere between his mouth and his lungs, Sam backed out of the room, sickened and horrified by what he saw but unable to take his eyes of Jess until he'd backed himself into the hallway wall outside. Then he turned and moved down the hall towards the living room where the phone was, his pace quickening as he realized the possibility that Jess could be dying for all her knew.
He dialled in the emergency number and waited for the operator to answer.
"Yeah, I need an ambulance," he said when he was answered, what seemed like a small eternity later. He quickly gave the operator the address. "Please… hurry." He gasped out. He then hit the 'End Call' button and left the living room, phone still in his hand.
He returned to Jess, hands shaking as he began trying to free her from the bonds holding her to the chair. He wasn't sure whether to cry out with relief or just plain cry when he heard her groan as she regained semi-consciousness.
"Shh, shh, Jess, I'm here, it's going to be okay now." He said, hoping he sounded reassuring.
"No…" Jess gasped out, a small sob coming from her. "No more… please… no more."
"Jess, Jess, it's me." Sam said. She stared at him through narrowed her eyes and blood. "It's me, you're safe now." He said. Her eyes closed and her head sagged. Sam stared at her, ropes momentarily forgotten. His breathing quickened, his whole body shook to the point he felt sure he was going to literally fall apart, and all he really wanted to do was curl up in a corner and cry. Add that to the dull throbbing in his head that he'd been trying to ignore for most of the day, and Sam had every right to do what he then did.
He turned, fell to his hands and knees, crawled half a dozen feet and then emptied the contents of his stomach out onto the carpeted floor. Tears came to his eyes, and he let them, and then he vomited again. He kept on vomiting until there was nothing left to vomit. And then he remained where he was for another few minutes while his whole body heaved again and again, trying to bring up anything he had left.
He heard the front door opening. He knew he should be back by her side trying to free her, but he couldn't. Couldn't move, couldn't look. He just… couldn't.
Footsteps entered the room, most going to Jess, but Sam heard someone come his way, felt a hand on his shoulder.
"You okay?" asked a woman's voice. "Son, you okay?" his father never called him son, but a complete stranger did? What did that say? Why was he even thinking about this kind of thing when his girlfriend (ex?) sat tied to a chair soaked in her own blood. And why couldn't he feel anything aside from the throbbing his head?
"I'm…" His voice cracked. "Not." He finished. "I should've… I should've been trying to help her. But the… the blood… and the… the blood… there was so much blood and… she was hurting and…" His whole body shook, and he felt the woman kneel down beside him.
"It's okay. You did the right thing, you called us." She said, her voice as reassuring as her hand on his shoulder. Sam just nodded numbly. He did the right thing? He did the right thing. No he didn't. He'd done the wrong thing. Twice. Except it didn't seem wrong.
"Dean…" He muttered.
"What's that?"
"I… I need to call someone." He said.
-;-
A/N: And there you have it folks. It's finally happened. Does everyone know what's finally happened? If you don't, perhaps you need to re-watch the episode 'Skin'. Hope this chapter wasn't tedious or drawn-out or not-believable or any of those bad things I'm always so concerned about. And if it was, let me know, and I'll see what I can do about preventing it in the future. Until next chapter, Cyas.
