Forever's Not Enough
Disclaimer: See Prologue.
Author's Note: This title… I don't even know where it came from! For that matter, I just realized I don't know where the story title came from.
Review Answers: Did I mention how grateful I am to you all? Just thought I'd let you know in case you've all forgotten.
fairyntoad14 – Correct answer. Here's your prize. No, there. No, dammit, I've lost it again. Sorry, not prize. To make up for that, here's the newest chapter. Yes, Dean's the only chance Sam has of staying out of jail (fiendish grin). Guess he's doomed, hehe.
Winchesters-Shadow – Yes, they are. Thanks. And yes, the shapeshifter did come back; he's actually got a rather large part in the story, but I won't give anything away.
pandora jazz – Yay, good, this is good news I think. Yeah, I figured, I might give Dean a bit of an honest side, or maybe he just doesn't want Sam to be ruined like he thinks he is. Yes, it wanted to be Sam. I was considering just having Sam's clothes stolen like it normally does, but I got worried that would lead to a sub-plot of Sam thinking Dean had done it (because that was back before he admitted he liked Dean), and it all just got too complicated, so I settled for it coming to 'borrow' some of his clothes.
jackyll – No, it's not. Yay for the cheering. Yaha, there's actually more to what Dean said then meets the eye, but that will be explained later on. Yes, lots of trouble for Sammy. Hehe, it's so much fun.
empath89 – Yes, the drama's a put those boys through. The drama's they go through on a daily basis. It just makes up who they are. Poor boys. Oh, don't worry. This won't ruin things for them.
Thanks for mentioning that, I appreciate it. But I read the rules/guidelines as thoroughly as I could and couldn't find any actual mention of reviews. If you've seen it and I haven't, I'd appreciate it if you could show me, but until then I'll keep answering on the chapters (it's not like I'm using an entire chapter for an author's note after all). Another downside would be that I wouldn't be able to answer my anonymous reviewers. Thanks anyway though, as I said, I appreciate it.
Spuffyshipper – Thanks, hope this is soon enough. No, no breaking up necessary. Poor Sammy indeed.
FastFuriousChick – I do know it. Which is why it no longer bothers me, hehe. Great, good to know, and yes, I was unsure at first whether I should do it, but then I took a leaf out Dean's book and just said 'Screw it' and thus, Jess became the shapeshifter's next victim.
Yes, that was a great line, wasn't it? Hehe, glad you liked it.
inu-kaglover45 – No apologies needed, the review itself is enough. Just the fact that you've reviewed before is enough. But I'm glad you took the time to review again. Here's the next chapter.
darkangel36 – Yes, much sleep for me. Just not in the same night. Yes, Sam's really hurting. Some explanations to what's driving him crazy will hopefully be in the next chapter (but no promises). Sweet is good.
NaturallySupernatural – Thanks. Here's more, I've kept on (and will keep on for years to come… just not on this story because it can't last forever).
Wolf-of-Insanity – Yes, Sammy's always fun when he's drunk, though for some reason the hangovers never seem to last long when I'm writing them… Hmmm… Yes, lots of trouble, plans for the truth coming out, poor Jess and Sam and Dean. Here's the next update, I hope I wasn't too long.
Chapter 7: Reality is So Unreal
Sam sat in the waiting room of the hospital, his head in his hands. He'd come there in the ambulance, and then they'd told him to wait while the doctors took care of Jess. That had been only fifteen minutes ago, and Sam already felt like he was falling apart. Various scenarios of 'could have's' and 'what if's' flashing through his mind.
"Sam?" he looked up as Dean walked into the waiting room. Without even thinking, Sam practically leapt from the chair and threw himself into Dean's arms. Dean held him as he rested his head on his shoulder, crying softly into his jacket.
"She was there… she was there, in that room, and some… someone did… all that stuff… to her… she was hurt so much and I… I just froze up and…" He trailed off, just breathing in Dean's presence, taking comfort in it.
Dean, who was not used to such public displays of emotion, nonetheless immediately fell into the role of comforting friend or whatever it was he was doing for Sam. Like everything else to do with Sam, it seemed to come naturally as soon as they were together, in each other's arms.
"She would've died, Dean." Sam whispered. "She would've died because I was too much a coward to face her." Dean suddenly pulled back, gripping Sam's arms almost painfully as he stared at him.
"No." He said simply. "No, you are not going to torture yourself like that, you hear me? It doesn't matter what could've happened. What matters is this: You were there. You did save her." He stared Sam directly in the eyes, daring him to disagree. "You understand?" he asked. Sam nodded stiffly, and Dean gave a nod of his own, before pulling Sam back into a comforting embrace, which Sam sank into thankfully.
"I called you." Sam breathed. "I needed help… and you were the one I called." He seemed surprised. "Does this mean…? Are we…? Am I…?"
"Making no sense whatsoever? Absolutely." Dean said. Sam chuckled.
"Mr. Adams?" they pulled apart and Sam looked over, seeing a man in his mid-to-late forties. Slowly, Sam nodded. "I'm Inspector Thomas. I'm afraid you're going to have to answer some questions." Sam blinked.
"What?" Dean demanded. "He didn't do anything, he was…" He glanced at Sam. "He didn't do anything."
"And I'm sure that's true," Thomas said. "The questions are more to eliminate him as a suspect then anything else."
After a few seconds of hesitation, Sam agreed to answer some questions. He went and sat down with the inspector, leaving Dean on his own for the moment. "Okay, Sam, let's start with where you were last night, between nine p.m. and two-thirty a.m." Thomas said.
"He had her that long?" Sam asked before he could stop himself.
"We don't know the exact amount of time, and won't until she's recovered enough to answer questions herself," Thomas responded. "Until then: Where were you last night between nine p.m. and two-thirty a.m.?"
Sam shifted uncomfortably; he was a little unsure of how much he should say. He glanced over at Dean, who shrugged, not the least bit helpful. Turning back to the inspector, he bit his lip, thinking hard. Then he sighed. "I was with Dean." He said. Thomas looked over at the young man leaning nonchalantly against the wall, glancing around the room like he was expecting something to leap out of the walls and begin attacking people at random. He turned back to Sam.
"And what were you doing with… Dean?" he asked, and Sam could see that he'd already decided what they'd been doing.
"We were…" Sam couldn't believe what he was about to say. "He was teaching me how to dance." He said. First thing that came to mind; he wasn't used to lying to the cops, as they rarely caught him. He could see that the inspector didn't believe him, so he pressed on. "I can't dance, and Jess… well, we're doing something this weekend… and I… I wanted to do something special…" He made himself look as embarrassed as possible, and shy as well. "Do you want details on what I was planning on doing with her?" he asked. The inspector was eyeing him closely, searching for hints of a lie. Luckily, Sam was a reasonably good actor.
"No, that won't be necessary." Thomas said. "Would you care to explain the… embrace?"
"He's a friend of the family." Sam said. "I feel like I've known him forever; he's like my brother." He narrowed his eyes at the inspector. "What, you think I'd go out and pay someone to teach me to dance?" Sam's motto; when in doubt, fall back into spoiled-rich-kid persona.
"Apparently not." Thomas said, and Sam wasn't sure if he meant he didn't think that or Sam wouldn't do that. Either way, he continued. "Okay, what is your relationship with Miss Moore?" he asked. Sam hoped he didn't visibly cringe; he had hoped to avoid this sort of question, since he himself wasn't exactly sure right at this moment. He settled for the dishonest truth he had gone with so far.
"She's my girlfriend. What, the romantic weekend plan didn't give it away?" he asked in a voice part-way between mocking and bored. "Anything else?"
Inspector Thomas shook his head. "No, I think I've got all I needed for now." He got to his feet. "But I'd watch my step if I were you. I have little tolerance for… people like you." And with that said he walked away.
There were dozens of ways Sam was sure he could interpret the inspector's departing words. He decided that the inspector had little tolerance for guys who cheated on their girlfriends with other guys. If Sam hadn't been a suspect before, his ridiculous attempt at an alibi definitely made him one now.
Dean sat down beside him a few seconds later, a can of soda in each hand. He handed one over to Sam and kept the other for himself. "So, what did you tell him?" he asked.
"That you were a friend of the family who was teaching me to dance for the romantic weekend I had planned for Jess." Sam said.
"And are you paying me well?" Dean asked, taking a sip from his can.
"No, I'm not paying you at all."
"In that case, I quit."
"You do realize I made that up, don't you?"
"I know that." Dean said. He flashed a grin at Sam. "But still, if I'm teaching you to dance…"
"Just drop it." Sam said, a little more snappish then he had intended. Dean frowned, leaning back in his chair. Sam looked over and gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, I just… I can't believe someone could do something like that, I mean…" He sighed, leaning back against the chair. "I shouldn't be dumping all my problems on you." He said after a minute.
"Hey," Dean said, and Sam looked over at him. "Why else would I have come?" he asked. Sam couldn't help but smile, and Dean took his hand, giving it a squeeze. "I'm here for you, Sammy."
"Sam." Sam corrected.
"Sammy." Dean persisted. Sam grinned, turning away from Dean to try and hide it. Dean shifted uncomfortably for a minute; what was it about this kid that made him feel like an awkward teenager?
Hesitantly, he reached over and put a hand on Sam's shoulder. A second later, one of Sam's overly-large hands covered his own. Strangely, the feel of Sam's hand on his relieved him of some of the awkwardness. He squeezed Sam's shoulder reassuringly, and felt some of the tension beneath his hand ease up a little. "You know, Sam, if you want to get out of here, I mean… you looked pretty freaked out when I first got here. I'm sure Jess would understand if you needed some air." Sam looked at Dean, and then looked in the direction Jess had been taken on a stretcher. For a long minute, he seemed hesitant. Then a small, sad smile crept onto his lips.
"How is it you always seem to know exactly what I need?" he asked, turning back to Dean. Dean flashed him a cocky grin, some of the old Dean flaring up, the one who had almost broken Sam's jaw kissing him on their first meeting.
"I know everything, kiddo, it's a fact of life." He said. Sam rolled his eyes.
"Okay, never call me that again." He said.
"Well, then, I guess I'll stick with Sammy." Dean said with a chuckle. "Seriously, though," the look in his eyes was definitely serious enough. "You look like hell, Sammy. I really think you need to take a break."
Sam stared at him for a long minute, and then he leaned back against the back of the chair, giving Dean was small smile. "Okay, on two conditions." He said.
"I'm listening."
"One: No alcohol. I don't want another experience like yesterday for a couple of days at least." Dean nodded in agreement. "Two: Somewhere where…" He bit his lip, looking around suddenly. Then he grinned, thinking of a better choice of words. "Somewhere where you don't have to pretend to be my dance teacher." He said.
"Ex-dance teacher." Dean corrected. "So, non-alcoholic, guy-on-guy friendly." He nodded. "I'm sure we can find something; just remember you're the local. I'm from out of town." That said, Dean got to his feet, holding out a hand for Sam.
Sam couldn't quite believe what he was about to do. If there had been any lingering doubt as to whom he loved, and who he was in love with, the decision he was about to make would erase that doubt. He just had to make the choice: Dean, or Jess.
A corner of his lips turning up into a half-smile, Sam took Dean's hand. Dean pulled gently and Sam came to his feet; choice made.
"Let's go." Sam said.
-;-
Fifteen minutes later, Sam had expected to be somewhere… else. He hadn't expected to still be in the car while Dean drove around searching for somewhere for them to relax. And he was getting… restless, to say the least. Overwhelmed by desire to say the most.
"Dean." He finally said, thankfully in a reasonably private back road with very few houses, even fewer with actual inhabitants. "Stop the car." He had been trying to sound commanding, but it came out more as a strained moan. Dean looked over at him with a look halfway between confusion and surprise on his face. Then he saw the look on Sam's face, and with a sigh, pulled over onto the side of the road, bringing the car to a stop.
"What is it?" he asked. Sam sat for a couple of seconds, trying to keep himself under control.
Screw that, he thought a few seconds later. In one rather clumsy motion, his seatbelt was undone, and he was turning in his seat, leaning over and draping his arms around Dean's shoulders, one hand resting on the back of Dean's neck, and bringing their lips together.
Dean smiled hungrily into Sam's lips, putting his own hand on the back of Sam's head, his other hand falling to Sam's side, sliding up underneath his jacket and shirt, snaking around to his back and sending a tingling feeling up his spine.
Sam pulled back, surprised when he saw the burning desire he felt reflected in Dean's eyes. Surprised and pleased.
He stripped off his jacket, first one arm, wrapping it around Dean to pull him into another kiss, then the other arm, using to toss his jacket in some random direction. Luckily, that turned out to be the direction of the back seat, and not the open window.
He wrapped his second arm around Dean, his lips moving down to the older man's neck.
"No…" Sam vaguely recognized Dean's voice through the heated kissing. "No, wait." Dean pushed him back. "We can't do this." He said. A look of confusion, shock and hurt came to Sam's face, but Dean didn't seem to notice. He just sat there, taking deep breaths for a couple of seconds. "Not here." He finally said. He wiped his lips, and reached behind him, opening the door. "Get out of the car, there's an alley not far back." Sam stared at him, though he didn't seem to understand why Sam was staring at him.
"What?" Dean asked. Sam punched him. Lightly, and rather clumsily because there wasn't much room, but he still punched him. "What the- Why'd you do that?" He demanded.
"You… are a jerk." Sam said, taking long, deep breaths. "You… you… and I… because of the…?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down, Sam, I hear finishing sentences is in this year." Dean said. Sam nodded, still taking deep breaths. "Now, what's got your boxers in a twist?"
Sam considered mentioning he wasn't wearing boxers, but decided that was irrelevant at this point. "The car." He said. "You broke off one of greatest moments of my life… to haul me into some filthy alley… because you don't want to do the dirty in your car?" He stared at Dean like he was mad.
Dean returned the exact same look. "Well, yeah." He said, like that was explanation enough. Sam stared at him, trying to decide whether or not he wanted to punch him again.
He decided against it. "Get out." He ordered. Without waiting for Dean's answer, he got out of the car and walked around to the other side. As Dean climbed out, he grabbed Dean by the collar of his leather jacket and began walking, not giving Dean a chance to start moving.
They reached the alley, and Sam pulled Dean into it. As soon as they were out of sight of the street, Sam turned around, took hold of the front of Dean's jacket and shoved him up against the wall.
Dean stared at him, waiting for something to happen. He tried moving, but Sam just tightened his hold on his jacket, staring into his eyes.
And then he kissed him, pushing his body right up against Dean's, not giving the older man an inch to move. Dean had no choice but to kiss him back. Okay, he had a bit of a choice, but he didn't really need it. He wrapped his arms tight around Sam, pulling him even closer and deepening the kiss.
Sam felt shivers run up his spine as Dean's hand slipped beneath his shirt again, caressing the soft skin on his back and waist.
"Dean…" Sam gasped out. Dean nodded, or tried to nod without breaking the heated kiss. Not much luck, but Sam got the gist. He let go of Dean's jacket and moved his hands down to the fly of Dean's jeans, sliding the zipper down and undoing the button. An impatient moan escaped Dean; Sam was taking his time on purpose, the slimy little…
That line of thought was cut off abruptly as Sam's hands slipped into Dean's boxers, and then all Dean could really think was 'How the hell did he know to do that?', except not in actual words.
"Turn around." Sam ordered, his words almost lost between the sounds coming from the kiss and the moans of pleasure coming from Dean.
"What… are you… talking about?" Dean asked.
"Turn. Around. Now." Sam said slowly, the tone of his voice leaving no room for argument. It took him a few seconds, because he wasn't in that much of a hurry to break the kiss. But then Sam's hand tightened ever so slightly around his erected organ and he decided it was time to move, his lips leaving Sam's as he turned around. Sam's lips, however, did not leave Dean, trailing along his cheek and down onto his neck as Dean turned.
And then Sam seemed to lose interest in the lower part of Dean's body altogether. Oh yes, he seemed pleased that he now had Dean pressed flat against the wall with his pants down, his own erection driving into Dean's back as his lips and tongue now played with Dean's earlobe.
"Sam…" Dean whispered, not bothering to keep the urgency and impatience out of his voice. He was sure he felt Sam smile against his neck.
"Patience… is a virtue… Dean." He whispered huskily.
"Patience is an overrated excuse virgins use to put off the inevitable" Dean muttered, not really making sense even to himself. Sam smiled again, and Dean shivered as Sam's hands moved to slide his jacket down off his shoulders. "What the- Sam, in case you've forgotten, this is still a mildly-public place…"
"You chose… the venue…" Sam muttered, the jacket hitting the concrete at Sam's feet.
"I wasn't expecting us to… take so long."
"Mm-hmm."
"Sam? Sam, you're doing this on purpose."
"So what if I am?" Sam whispered in his ear. "You've had plenty of fun with me… now it's my turn to play." And with that, he lowered Dean's boxers down, and all Dean could really do was hope no one drove by any time soon.
He hadn't even heard Sam drop his own pants, but all of a sudden the younger man was inside of him, a little clumsily like everything else he did with Dean, but he succeeded nonetheless.
"You weren't this… eager last night," Dean moaned.
"Last night I was drunk and inexperienced." Sam whispered.
"You think one night gives you experience?"
"You think it doesn't?"
Dean fell silent after that, content to just bathe in Sam's touch, taking in everything about him through the connection they had established momentarily through their bodies. He couldn't explain it, but every time he was near Sam, every time he felt him pressed against his body, he felt as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders; he didn't have a care in the world, there was just the moment he was in and nothing else.
It was an unfamiliar feeling; growing up, he'd always had to carefully plan things out with his father before a hunt. Sure, most of it went to hell as soon as the hunt started, but it was always good to have a plan. He'd never been able to just stop and enjoy the moment before. Not for a long time, anyway.
All possibility of coherent thought was momentarily lost as Sam's hands tightened on his shoulders. He had maybe a second's forewarning before the younger man came inside of him.
Dean moaned with pleasure as he leaned back against Sam, resting his head against his shoulder. And then he came as well. Against the wall.
"Sammy…"
"Yeah…?"
"You're…"
He breathed out, unable to find the words. Unreal topped the list, but that didn't seem right somehow. Because he was right there, inside of him still, more real then anything in Dean's life had ever been.
"I'm what?" Sam asked.
"You're here." Was all Dean could say.
-;-
A/N: I had a lot more planned for this chapter, but I got to where it is now and I thought 'I have to end it here' and so I did.
I finally thought up an excuse for the multiple make out/love sessions that have been happening. Sam's got something new. When a human being gets something new and exciting/interesting, said human's first instinct is to use it repeatedly, right? I think that's right. It could be wrong. But that's my excuse. Sam's just enjoying Dean while he's still new.
Things will cool off… no, wrong choice of words… things will go from boil to simmer after a while. Okay, so maybe I needn't have gone into so much detail, since there were details in only the previous chapter, but… what can I say? It's fun. Consider this stocking up, because the next few chapters will be… lacking Sam and Dean closeness, shall we say? Well, the next chapter will have a little, but not much, and then… then things start to develop into an actual story with less sex.
