Forever's Not Enough

Disclaimer: See Prologue.

Author's Note: (Eyes the chapter title incredulously) All I can say is "Huh?"

Review Answers:

Lady Padalecki – Yay, that's good. Your answer's in this chapter. Thanks for reviewing.

darkangel36 – That's a good question… Yes, Sammy got out. And yes, Daddy Dearest's got to ruin the moment. Exciting? Yay. This chapter may be slightly… less; it's sort of a transition between plots, I suppose, and they're never as exciting as plot chapters.

Chapter 10: When All is Said and Done, Eat Pizza

"You're home early."

Dean vaguely heard what Sam said, but most of his focus was on Sam's father, who seemed caught somewhere between stunned confusion and boiling rage. Dean personally hoped he'd fall back into confusion.

"Get… away… from my son." He growled. Okay, so no confusion. Dean felt compelled to obey, mostly due to the fact that the guy looked ready to tear him limb-from-limb. Sam blinked, looking from his father to Dean, and then back at his father.

"What-? No, Dad-"

"You keep quiet," Mr. Adams cut across him, and Sam's mouth snapped shut before he could stop himself. "We'll talk about this later." The look on Sam's face told Dean the younger man doubted there'd be much talking involved. The next thing he knew, Mr. Adams hand was around his arm like a vice-grip and he was being hauled from the room.

"Hey, easy on the jacket!" He said, not really bothered by the fact the guy pulling him looked ready to commit murder.

Luckily for Dean, he settled for almost-literally throwing him out onto the front steps. Dean landed in a heap, glaring up at the older man.

"I thought lawyers were supposed to use there mouths to inflict harm." He whined.

"Stay away from my son." Mr. Adams growled. It wasn't in the protective, fatherly way that Dean would hear, on very rare occasions, from his own father. It was more like Dean telling his father to stay away on the even rarer occasions when John Winchester got sick (Dean was a bit of a germophobe).

"You know, that's funny," he said, getting to his feet, giving an exaggerated laugh. "'Your son'." He shook his head, his face totally serious and a little pitying now. "Jeez, you really don't know what's going on right under your nose, do you?"

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" Mr. Adams demanded. Dean opened his mouth, and then closed it.

"No, you know what, never mind," he said. He was about halfway back to the impala when he stopped, a thought occurring to him. Biting his lip, he turned back around to Sam's father.

"Mr. Adams, were you and your wife arguing last night?" he asked. Sam's father blinked, surprised by the bizarre question. He recovered quickly, the angry look returning.

"I don't see how that's any of your business," he snapped, taking a few menacing steps toward Dean, who merely nodded, not at all perturbed by the threatening look in the man's eyes.

"I thought so," he said. "It was about Sam, wasn't it? About that break-in at his girlfriend's?" Mr. Adams looked dumbstruck now. Dean gave a mirthless laugh, shaking his head and then looking up at the older man. Well, he might as well go all the way in now. "Your son thinks you hate him. Did you know that?" He asked. The stunned, sucker-punched look on Mr Adams's face was just the effect Dean had been hoping for.

"How dare you?" He growled, stunned disbelief turning to anger. "How dare you come into my house, abuse my son and-"

"Whoa, hang on, there was no abusing going on!" Dean shouted, taking offence to the accusation. "He was hurting and I comforted him. Maybe if you got off your high horse once in a while and actually spent some time with your son, you'd notice that he's been unravelling at the seams for days. He's falling apart from the inside out and he thinks his own father doesn't give a damn. I just happened to be the one he fell back on."

"And so you took advantage of him while he was hurting." Mr. Adams snarled. "Whether it was consensual or not, you took advantage of my son-"

"Oh, for crying out loud." Dean interrupted for a second time. "I didn't do anything to him. If anything, he was doing it to me."

Dean took the stunned silence that followed as a step forward. "You know, my Dad took my childhood from; beat every last tiny part of me out that was anything but a man, and he was still a better father then you." He fixed the older man with a cold, hard stare. "If you're not careful, you're going to turn around one day and realize that you don't have a son anymore."

Dean figured he was getting through to the guy, judging by the barely contained rage evident in his eyes. Then the older man gave an aggravated growl and turned back to the house.

"I don't have to listen to this." He said, already walking away.

But Dean wasn't quite finished. "If he doesn't drink himself to death, he'll have fallen so far that by the time you actually take the time to notice, you won't recognize him anymore." He shouted after him. Whether Mr. Adams heard him or not, he didn't know. But he was pretty sure he'd hit home with what he'd said. Now all he could do was hope the guy didn't take his anger out on Sam.

Maybe he should have stayed behind, defended Sam. Maybe, in another life, he would have. But Dean had been raised believing that he looked out for himself and no one else. And, as much as he hated himself for it, that was what he still believed. So he left Sam to the mercy of his father, returning to the impala and getting in.

-;-

Sam looked up as his father knocked on the wall outside his room. With a sigh, he swung his legs off the bed, sitting up.

"So, do you want to interrogate me first or shall we skip that and get straight to the lecturing on how wrong what I did was?" He asked.

"Sam-" His father began.

"Or, do you want to skip both and get straight to the punishment?" he continued as if his father hadn't spoken. He shook his head. "God, he's right. I need to grow up." He muttered, realizing just what he was saying. He was talking like he was still a teenager, like his father still had any real control over him.

"Sam."

He looked over at his father, waiting for the harsh words that would inevitably lead to shouting and yelling and door-slamming.

They never came.

"Your mother-"

"Stepmother." Sam muttered.

"- and I are going out." This time it was his father's time to act like he hadn't said anything.

"Oh, big surprise." Sam said, swinging back around and lying down on his bed. He should've been happy that his father was leaving, that he was escaping an argument. But he wasn't.

His father sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know why I even bother." He muttered.

Sam was known for saying stupid things when he should've kept his mouth shut. This was one of those times. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because you're my father?" he snapped. "Maybe because that's what fathers are supposed to do. They're meant to try. But you know what? Not once in my life have you ever tried! You never tried to introduce me to Jodie. You just went and married her. You never tried to get off work early to come see a… school play, or a football game. You just came home late and told me there were more important things in life."

He should have stopped, he knew that. But he couldn't. He'd been stopping for twenty-two years, and had all built up to the volcanic eruption that was now threatening to explode inside of him. "You never tried to be a part of me life, and you never, ever tried to be my Dad."

The two men stood there, facing each other, Sam breathing heavily as he recovered from the outburst, his father looking like Sam had just physically attacked him.

Swallowing, Sam found there was more still he needed to say. "I never asked for much." He bit out. "Just for some acknowledgement. For you to look at me with something other then disappointment in your eyes." His voice cracked, and he took a deep breath. "Mum died, and as far as you were concerned, I might as well have died in that fire with her. Do you have any idea how that feels?"

His father stared at him, and Sam really thought he'd gotten through to him. He thought he even saw the beginnings of tears in his eyes. But if he did, it was covered up quickly.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Sam." He said finally, and Sam's heart sank so low he was sure it had fallen out of his body. That was his lawyer voice. The voice that Sam heard every time his father spoke to him. "Now, if you're finished, Jodie and I have a dinner to attend." And with that, he turned and exited the room, leaving Sam rooted to the spot.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there. He heard the front door open and close, and then his father's car driving away, and still he didn't move. He was trying to piece together what was just happening. Two things stood out above all else:

First, his father had not yelled back, had not told him to grow up or stop behaving like a spoilt child like he did every time Sam let some of his anger loose. And second, he'd said 'Jodie' not 'Your mother' when he'd left. That was the first time for as long as Sam could remember (which was back when he was five or six) that his father had referred to her as anything but Sam's mother, at least in Sam's presence.

With a sigh, he finally decided it was time to move. Without really meaning to, he found himself walking out into the hall, to the phone. Shaking slightly, he lifted the phone off the receiver and put it to his ear, dialling in Dean's cell phone number.

It rang a couple of times before Dean answered. "Dean's Winchester's cell phone." He said cheerfully.

"Dean, hi… uh… I need you to come back here." Sam said, his voice unsteady.

"Daddy Dearest and the Evil Stepmother gone?" Dean asked, and Sam couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the nicknames he had so often used previous to meeting Dean.

"Yeah, yeah, they're… gone." He said. "And… I need you." He added. There was silence for a long minute, and Sam thought maybe Dean had dropped the phone. Then he heard his reassuring voice on the other end of the line.

"I'll be right over." Dean said, and then cut the connection.

Sam sighed with relief, leaning back against the wall, and then sliding down it when he decided he was too worn out to stand. The phone fell to the floor, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Tears still stung his eyes, but he refused to let anymore loose. He'd cried enough already. That was what he'd decided anyway. He wanted Dean to see a happier, less needy Sam when he arrived.

Wiping his eyes, he got back to his feet, heading in the direction of the kitchen; knowing his father and his dinners, they'd be gone all night. And he wanted tonight to be special for him and Dean. As much as his… encounter… with Jess had hurt both Jess and himself, he felt something akin to relief now that it was all out in the open. This being the first night he and Dean could officially have together, he wanted to do something.

Upon entering the kitchen and searching the fridge and cupboards, he decided that something would have to be take-out food and staying up late watching DVD's (he felt like he was back in high school). There was not a thing available to him that didn't require a professional chef to cook. And his father, having not expected anything special to come of the night, had given most of the help the night off.

So, he ordered three different pizza's over the phone (he hoped Dean liked at least one of them; Sam could eat the other two if he had to), and then went to the living room, opening one of the cupboards and gazing at the many dozens of DVDs filling the shelves. He'd actually wondered on occasion what they were all doing there; the only person to ever take them out, so far as he knew, was himself.

He was just wondering what movies Dean might be interested in when the doorbell sounded. He took a couple of seconds to curse himself for not changing his clothes (he was still wearing the white shirt and grey trousers he'd been wearing the day before when Dean had showed up), and then dashed to the front door. Opening it, he saw Dean standing out on the front steps.

"You called?" He asked. Sam put his hands on Dean's shoulders and kissed him gently on the lips. It lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough to put a spark of surprise in Dean's eyes. "Wow, we should get caught by your father more often." He said, grinning mischievously.

Sam grinned as well, then took a fistful of Dean's shirt and pulled him into the house, closing the door behind them and pushing Dean up against the wall opposite the door, catching his lips in a far more heated kiss this time, working his tongue between Dean's lips and beginning an exploration of his mouth.

Dean returned the favour by sliding his hand beneath Sam's shirt, caressing his back and side with the same heat that was in their kiss, yet at the same with a gentleness Sam hadn't expected from Dean.

They finally pulled back when the doorbell rang. Dean shot Sam a questioning look, and Sam smiled sheepishly.

"I ordered pizza." He said. Dean raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Sam paid the delivery guy, took the pizza's, and then led Dean into the living room where he opened the pizza boxes, laying out their dinner for Dean, who (thankfully) seemed pleased with all three choices. After a brief debate on what to watch, Sam stuck Monty Python's 'Life of Brian' into the DVD player, and settled down on the couch with Dean and the pizza.

That occupied them for about an hour and a half. Well, no, to be truthful, it occupied them for about an hour and then Dean's hand found it's way up Sam's shirt and the movie was more or less forgotten as things heated up once more on the couch.

Now Sam was lying on the couch, shirt and singlet removed, with Dean lying on top of him, also shirtless as he made a slow but steady trail of kisses, starting at Sam's bellybutton and working his way up from there.

He also had one of his hands down Sam's trousers and was currently stroking his erected organ as though it were fragile and easily broken. Sam shivered slightly as Dean finally reached the base of his neck, planting a gentle kiss on his Adam's apple and then moving up to his lips, continuing to gently stroke him in his pants.

"Sam…" Dean whispered into Sam's mouth.

"Mmm?"

"Do you trust me?"

Sam opened his eyes, staring up into Dean's deep, lust-filled green ones. His lips tilting up in a small smile against Dean's he nodded slightly. Dean smiled as well, pulling back.

"I'm glad," he said. Then he grinned mischievously. "You know, your bed looked mighty comfy this afternoon." Sam raised an eyebrow, and gave Dean a grin of his own.

"You really think so?" He asked, the unspoken question hopefully obvious enough. Sam wasn't sure why he couldn't just come out and say it; they'd done it twice already, though neither was under particularly pleasant circumstances (the first being in the heat of the moment, ending with him sneaking away early the next morning; the second being in a filthy alley, where he practically forced himself onto Dean).

Grinning a little more suggestively now, Dean leaned down and whispered in Sam's ears. "I think you know the answer to that by now." And with those words, he was suddenly gone from Sam's chest, on his feet and backing up towards the door, that suggestive grin still on his lips. Sam sat up, watching Dean slip out of the room. After a moment, he got to his feet, following the older man from the room, feeling a little nervous. He put it down to this being a conscious decision he was making; this wasn't in the heat of the moment, and there was no alcohol involved.

Taking a deep breath, he followed Dean down the hall toward his room.

-;-

A/N: Two things I realize. One, that this seems to be yet another abrupt ending. And two, I know this chapter is shorter then normal. The reason for that being that this is the second chapter in less then twenty-four hours, and also I've got more planned that has to be separate from this chapter (for some reason I suddenly feel a sense of foreboding as well; I hope I've made the right decision, cutting this chapter off here).

I'm hoping the wait for the next chapter won't be too long. I'm not promising anything (because if I do I probably won't be bale to keep it), but I'm going to do my best to make sure you won't be waiting a week for the next chapter. BTW, does anyone notice something in this chapter that could point out a certain plot twist? I started it in the previous chapter. Well, I'll leave you guys to ponder that. Until next time, cyas.