Forever's Not Enough

Thanks to FastFuriousChick for beta-ing this chapter and telling me what did and didn't make sense.

Disclaimer: See Prologue.

Author's Note: Oxygen and how much of it a human needs to remain conscious is new territory for me (like just about everything else), so I'm sorry if there are yet more inaccuracies in this story.

Review Answers:

Wolf-of-Insanity - Yes, more chapters. Yes, I thought it was finally time she learned the truth. Well, no, actually, I'd planned it since I decided the shapeshifter would attack her. Yes, he is, and yes, John is a far better father (which gives you an idea of just bad this guy as at being Sam's father). Yay, good to know. Of course Dean had to stand up for Sammy, it's what Dean does.

Insomniac-Angel - What makes you say that? Hehe. That's perfectly fine. Thank you, I'm glad you think it's so good. Have you been in suspense long enough? Well, considering it's been... oh, a little less then twenty-four hours, I think you've waited long enough. Thanks for reviewing. Here it is.

Miss Meehan - Ah, thank you, yes, cliffhangers are good, so long as they don't last forever. And yes, I did my very best; that's exactly how I was trying to portray her; yes, she was angry, and yes, maybe a little unreasonable (though I find that possibility doubtful), but I think she had every right to be. Which is why I wrote it that way. And I'm glad you agree. Well, yes, I think he still does love her... he just happens to be in love with Dean, and that happens to out-weigh his feelings for Jess (poor girl). By all means, go ahead. I'm actually not sure if anyone besides he, Jess, Jess's mother and now Sam know that he is in anyway related to Jess (considering her last name's Moore and his is Thomas). Perhaps we'll never find out. Paranoia can be a good thing (and not trusting me is a very wise decision). But hey, I'm crazy, so my opinions don't weigh much in this here 'civilisation'.
Yes, Daddy Adams. Wow, I've done even better then I thought if you think I'm capable of all that, lol (feels honoured and proud). Sam's clothes? Lol, dunno, not sure. There might have been something there when I wrote it, but it's probably ended up as just a coincidence, lol. Dean's voice, yes, finally, someone brings that up again. It is explained in this chapter. If you pay attention, that is. Thank you, hope you can say something along those lines for this chapter once you're done.

Spuffyshipper - Thank you, this soon enough? I hope so, it's not even a complete day after the last one. Yeah, he is. Yes, she did. And yes, I did (on Friday, don't ask, hehe). Yeah, I thought I was really getting a handle on how these new episodes were affecting me; and then they showed the 'Soon' segment and I was once again on the edge of my seat begging for more.

Quino27 - Your penname is familiar, but I can't place it. Oh, yay, interesting plot, that's good. Thank you, I do my best with them. You don't? Not many people seem to, which is a relief; my biggest problem with writing relationships is that I'm always worried I rush them. Actually, it interesting you should mention that. I do intend to explore the fact that both Sam and Dean lost their mother's in a fire. Already have, actually, hehe. Hmmm... shapeshifter escapes custody... an interesting possibility. And Jessica's dad, yeah, I'm not sure what I'll do with him now... chances are he's got at least one more appearance to make (probably at the worst possible time). Hey, if you do it when you like something, then do it all you want. Thanks for reviewing.

inu-kaglover45 - Yes, I know it was, hehe. And yes, lucky for you, I did post the next chapter not long after. No problem. Hehe, good, I'm glad someone mentioned that. No, she hasn't been in it yet (I've got plans to bring her into it in the sequel; here's a hint, she'll be someone lots of people will recognize from the show).
Yes, I figured it would be. Yes, the couch, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Here's the next chapter, soon enough?

Jack - Wow, thanks. It's one thing when people compliment my work, and something else entirel ywhen they compliment me. Big thank you. Here's the update, hope you enjoy it.

FastFuriousChick - Yes, someone mentions Sammy's race car bed! That was to give the impression that Sam is yet to actually grow up. Yes, I am, I really really am. Yes, Dean has a certain way with cops. Good, he wasn't created to be liked. Quite the opposite actually. Hehe, yes, Daddy Adams does seem to have some lousy timing.
Yes, it was supposed to be sad, I'm glad you think so. Right, you were right, rest of that review makes little-to-no sense to me.

astalder27 - Yay, always good. I think I have to agree with you; it's obvious there's something more then brotherly love. Maybe it isn't actual relationship material, but there's definitely something there that not even Jess could add up to for Sam. Glad you think so. Cute? Interesting word choice, though again, I agree, they are cute. Thanks for reviewing. This soon enough?

puplover77 - Yay, thanks. Yaha, he was. He'd never dream of doing it to his own dad, but everyone else's is fair game. Yes they are... well, it depends on what point of veiw you're looking at it from... Oh no! I've swallowed Obi-Wan. Oh, yay, that's good (not the Obi-Wan thing). Will do, this soon enough?

pandora jazz - Your answer's in this chapter. No problem, here's another one.

Supernatural GilmoreGirls - Yay. Here's the update.

Chapter 11: Always Confusing the Thoughts in My Head

Sam laid back against his pillow, breathing heavily as he stared up at Dean. The older man was straddling his hips, smiling lustfully down at him, staring like a predator stares at its prey. It was a little disconcerting, but Sam did his best to ignore the feeling; he wasn't about to ruin the moment by being paranoid.

"You liked that," Dean whispered, a statement more then a question. Sam gave a mute nod nonetheless; unable to quite form words to describe how much he liked what he had just experienced. "Good." Dean said, and leaned down, kissing Sam delicately on the lips. Sam returned the kiss whole-heartedly, reaching up and wrapping his arms around Dean's neck and torso. "I'm gonna take you so high you'll never want to come down." The older man whispered huskily into Sam's mouth.

Sam's eyebrows rose at the comment, but since his mind and mouth were both otherwise occupied, he could neither think of a response, nor voice one. So instead, he tightened his hold around Dean, putting a hand on the back of his head and deepening the kiss.

Dean's hand came up and gently caressed the side of Sam's neck, and he nipped playfully at Sam's lower lip with his teeth, eliciting a surprised noise from the young man. His free hand slid down and began to stroke Sam's thigh, not as gently as he was his neck. There was more heat to it, like he was trying to leave a mark (and Sam thought he might just if he kept it up).

"Dean…" Sam gasped. Dean didn't say anything, or even acknowledge that he had heard Sam. His lips moved, his tongue making a slow trail along Sam's jaw line, eventually coming to his earlobe. Sam shook slightly beneath Dean, who gave no sign that he felt it, or that he noticed the anticipation he was building up inside of Sam.

"Hey Sam," Dean whispered, tickling Sam's earlobe with the tip of his tongue.

"Mmm?" Sam managed, not quite able to form a coherent sentence.

"Didn't your father ever teach you not to trust strangers?" Dean hissed in his ear. Sam's eyes widened as his airway was abruptly cut off, Dean's gentle caress turning into a stranglehold around his throat, his free hand holding one of Sam's wrists down against the bed.

When he tried to pull Dean's hand from his throat with his other hand, the older man pinned it down with his elbow, thus more or less immobilizing his upper body (Dean was now lying flat against him).

"Dean-" He tried.

"Shhh." Dean whispered, pressing his lips down on Sam's, pushing his head down against the mattress. "Don't make this harder that it already is, Sammy."

Sam whimpered, or something close to it. What was he supposed to do? Lay there and let Dean strangle him? Well, considering the room seemed to be getting darker, his struggles were getting more sluggish, and he was beginning to feel kind of tired… maybe that was all he could do.

"That's it…" Dean's voice sounded further away then it should've been. He tried to look over, tried to see if Dean had moved away from him.

"Dean…" He tried one last time to push the older man off of him. He failed miserably, and seconds later the world went dark and he gave in to the blanket of unconsciousness that had been trying to smother him these past couple of minutes.

-;-

A strangled gasp escaped Sam as he regained consciousness. His vision swam as he opened his eyes, his head was spinning, and the first thing that came to his mind through the foggy confusion was 'I hope someone got the numbers of that truck', before he remembered it wasn't a truck that had made him feel so bad.

He tried to reach up to see if it had been a dream; if it hadn't, he had no doubt Dean's hands would've left bruises on his neck. Such an action turned out unnecessary (not to mention impossible) as the fact that his hands were pulled behind the back of the chair he was sitting in and lashed together by a piece of thick, coarse rope was proof enough that he hadn't been dreaming.

Further attempts at movement brought him to the conclusion that there were also ropes binding his ankles, calves, waist, torso, arms and neck, each tied to hold him to a specific part of the chair.

"Dean?" He gasped out hoarsely. His throat felt raw… but then, that probably happened when someone strangled you, he reasoned. He tried to look around, but any movement of his neck caused the rope to tighten rather painfully until his head was facing directly forwards again.

Swallowing, he tried to look around with just his eyes. That didn't turn much up, except he now knew that, at some point while he was unconscious, he'd been moved from his father's house. The room he was being held in was unfamiliar, and it smelt like something had died some time ago.

"Dean?" He said again, this time more clearly and less hoarse.

Behind him, he heard a door open, and it took all his willpower not to try and turn to see who it was. He just sat there, trembling slightly in his bonds as he waited to see who it was that was holding him here, even though he was pretty sure he already knew who it was.

"So, sleeping beauty finally awakens…" Dean said, stepping into Sam's line of view. Something about his smile scared Sam the anything else he'd seen or experienced so far. "Took you long enough, having a nice dream were we?" he asked.

Sam looked away, just as far as the rope around his neck would allow. The next second, moving faster then Sam was sure should've been possible, Dean was in front of him, seizing hold of his chin and forcing Sam to look him in the eyes.

"I asked you a question, Sammy." He said. "Is it that hard to answer a simple question?" Sam glared at him, trying to get his head out of Dean's grip. "Okay then." Dean said, letting go. A second later, the back of his fist connected with Sam's jaw.

Sam groaned, clenching his teeth to keep from voicing anything more then that. He stared up at Dean, momentary stubbornness replaced by fear. And just the tiniest hint of confusion. It seemed almost impossible that this was the same man he'd spent the last couple of days with. Unfortunately, Sam couldn't see any other possibility.

"Where… are we?" he asked hesitantly after a minute. Dean's smile turned into a grin.

"Oh, not far from home." He said, dragging a chair over and placing it sothe back faced Sam. He then sat down resting his arms lightly on the top of the chair.He continued to grin. "Can you imagine how dear old Dad'll feel when he finds out you were just a couple of houses down from his own?"

Sam swallowed, not liking the way that sounded. Eyebrows raised, Dean got back to his feet.

"I certainly can, and let me tell you; it isn't pretty." He said, walking around behind Sam again.

The immobilized young man strained to look over his shoulder to see what Dean was doing behind him, but stopped with a wince when the ropes around his neck tightened almost suffocatingly and painfully around the bruises left by Dean's hand earlier. With a sigh of resignation, he turned his head back around.

"What are you gonna do to me?" He asked in a weak voice. A small chuckle came from behind him, a hint of amusement in it.

"Trust me, you don't want to know," Dean said. "Suffice it to say; when they find your body, it'll take more then your next of kin to ID it." A brief bout of panic threatened to overtake Sam at those words, but he fought it, pushing it to the back of his mind as best he could.

"He tasted you…" Dean whispered in Sam's ear suddenly, sending shivers down the younger man's spine. Moving around and kneeling down in front of him, Dean looked him right up into the eyes, and Sam swallowed, trying hard to hide the fact that he was wet-his-pants-scared (though, thankfully, his pants were still dry). Judging by the sadistic smile Dean wore, he wasn't having much luck. "I tasted you." His smile changed into a frown. "I think I want more." He leaned in even closer, so much so that his lips brushed Sam's.

His gaze flicked up, those deep green eyes catching hold of Sam's hazel ones. Swallowing again, Sam closed his eyes, felt Dean's lips brush his again. Without being able to see anything, Sam could almost convince himself that he wasn't tied to a chair. That this was the Dean he'd betrayed Jess to be with. That the man whose tender lips were now pressed lightly against his was the same man whose shoulder he'd cried on just hours earlier.

He returned the kiss, felt one of Dean's strong hands on the back of his head, the other gripping his shoulder almost painfully. The kiss got fiercer, more demanding, and Sam gave as much as he could. Maybe all he could. Dean's hold on the back of his head tightened, his fingers tangling in Sam's unruly hair.

And then it was over. Sam opened his eyes as Dean's lips suddenly weren't there anymore, though his hand continued it's tight, painful hold on Sam's hair.

"That was good." He said, staring into Sam's eyes with such intensity Sam wanted to look away. Finally, Dean released him, standing up and taking a step back from Sam, smiling in that cocky way Dean did when he'd done something he probably shouldn't have but didn't care. "Almost good enough to…" He trailed off, looking away. Then the smile returned and he looked down at Sam. Looked down at him like a predator looked down at its prey. "Never mind." He said, and with a mirthless chuckle, he walked passed Sam, who had learned his lesson by now and just sat still and waited for whatever was to come.

Sam exhaled sharply and swiftly when he felt cold steel touch against the back of his neck mere seconds later. It moved slowly, circling around until the sharp edge of the large kitchen knife was resting just beneath Sam's chin, putting on just enough pressure to cause discomfort.

"You know… I actually cared for you…" Dean said. "Of all the people I could have fallen for, it had to be you, didn't it?" Sam winced as he pressed the knife just a little harder. "And you threw it back in my face." Sam felt the older man's presence right beside his head. "That really hurt my feelings, you know."

"No, I… I came back." Sam gasped out, something about Dean's words seeming awfully familiar to him. "I a-apologized and you-"

"You think a few words can take back what you did to me?" Dean snapped, the knife lifting from Sam's throat as Dean walked around so that they could face each other, glaring daggers at Sam.

Then he seemed to calm down, and that freakin' smile was back. "Yeah, that's right… words never really meant anything to me." He knelt down, raised the knife and touching the point to the side of Sam's face, mere millimetres from the corner of his left eye. "Actions- I find- leave a much more… desirable… impression." Sam cried out as the knife pressed down, and Dean cut a thin line from where the knife had been, right down to beneath his earlobe.

Dean's hand clamped over his mouth, and Sam's cry was muffled but didn't stop for quite a few seconds, eventually turning into s somewhat strangled sob. He may have experienced a lot of things, but physical pain like someone cutting his face with a knife was not one of them.

Dean was smiling- no, he was chuckling- as he removed his hand. Sam stared at him, a small trail of blood trickling down from the cut.

"There, ya see." He said. "I could have told you how much you hurt me until I turned blue in the face, and it never would have sunk in. But this…" He touched the cut, and Sam winced. "… It made you understand, didn't it?" Sam nodded quickly, not trusting himself not to cry out again if he opened his mouth. Dean nodded, as if accepting this. He got his feet and walked behind Sam again.

A couple of seconds later, he was right behind Sam. "Open your mouth."

"What?" Sam asked.

"Well, I can't have the neighbours hearing you scream, now, can I?" Dean asked. Sam's mouth snapped shut immediately. "Open." Dean growled in his ear. Sam shook his head stubbornly. Not the smartest thing to do, but then again, Sam wasn't known for doing the smartest thing. His situation was proof of that.

With a sigh, Dean walked around, a seemingly-genuine look of pity on his face. "I was hoping we could do this like civilized adults, but it looks like I was wrong," he said. In one hand, he had the knife, Sam's blood still dripping from the point. In the other he held a length of dark cloth. "Now, you can be a good boy and do as you're told, and you can die a painful death." He leaned in menacingly, lips turned up in a dark smile. "Or, you can continue to be a stubborn ass, and you can die in agony. Your choice."

Sam stared at him for a long minute, trying to find some hint he was lying. He gave an involuntary shiver when he saw nothing but the cold, cruel truth in Dean's eyes. Reluctantly, he opened his mouth. Smiling triumphantly, Dean walked back around behind him, and a couple seconds later Dean brought the piece of cloth around and into Sam's mouth, pulling it so damn tight it cut into the corners of his lips as it was tied off behind his head.

"There, ya see, I knew you could be a good boy." Dean said, ruffling Sam's already-untidy hair. "Now…" He came back around with a short, blunter-looking knife this time. "Let's have some fun."

-;-

"I don't like this," Dean muttered, glancing around at the four other men and the single woman. "I don't like this one bit." Taking a sip of beer from his glass, he lowered his cards, turning to the first guy. "But I'm going to raise you…" he eyed the chips in front of him. "Twenty more, just for the hell of it." He dropped the chips into the middle of the table.

"Mmm…" The guy next to him nodded slowly. "Yeah, well, I'll…" He looked down at his own measly pile of chips. "Fold." He finished, dropping his cards on the table.

"Chicken." The woman sitting next to him muttered. "I'll up it another thirty." She said, dropping her own chips into the centre of the table. Four pairs of eyes then turned to the man sitting next to her. Looking at the two other people still in the game (Dean and the woman), he flipped the fifth and final card off the top of the deck.

Dean kept his face neutral, but inside he was glaring sourly at the Jack of Clubs. The straight-flush ruining little bastard.

"Well Winchester?" the Dealer asked. Dean glanced down at the five cards on the table, and the two he had in his hand. "You folding?" he seemed almost hopeful.

"Hell no." Dean said. "Fifty." He said, sliding the chips into the centre of the table. "Maggie?" He asked, turning to the petit woman.

"Sixty." She said with a smug smile, pushing her own chips out.

"Call." The Dealer said, matching the bet. The two of them turned to Dean, who was once again looking from his cards to the ones on the table.

"Call." He finally said, also matching the bet.

"Okay, boys, ready to lose all your money?" Maggie asked. She showed them her two cards… a pair of Jacks. Add that to the two already on the table…

"Damn." Dean said, tossing his Queen and Ten down.

"Just beat me." The Dealer groaned, also tossing his cards down.

"One lousy Nine," Dean stated. "You couldn't have given that to me?" he asked.

"Pay up, boys," Maggie said. "I've got an Anniversary in the morning and I need to go out and buy my dear hubby a gift before all the stores shut."

Grumbling about Jacks and lousy dealers, Dean took out his wallet and handed over the cash.

"Two hours of pool hustling down the drain," he muttered.

"Yeah, poker'll do that." Maggie said as she took money from the Dealer as well. "Well, it's been nice doing business with you guys. Same time next week?" she asked, looking at the five men sitting around the table.

"No way," one of them said. "If I lose anymore money to you my mother'll kill me." He stated, and he sounded serious.

"I may not be in town next week," Dean said. "But if I am, sure, I'll come back here and lose more money to you." He said sarcastically.

"Now, guys; no one likes a sore loser." Maggie said. "Ciao." And with that, she walked away.

With a sigh, Dean lowered his head, massaging his temples. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Dunno," said the guy to Dean's left. "I lost my watch to that British guy over by the pool table at about my third drink."

"How long ago was your third drink?" Dean asked, raising his head and looking over at the guy.

"Uh…" He thought for minute. "Hang on… I know this…" Scratching his head, he looked around for some hint to the answer. "About four drinks ago, I think," he finally said.

"Right, and each drink lasts you about an hour, give or take… I'd estimate it's a little after three in the morning." Said the guy to Dean's right. Dean nodded.

"Right then," he said, getting to his feet. "I'll be seeing you later then, guys." He announced, a little unsteadily.

"Oh, where you gotta be?" Asked the former Dealer.

"In my bed, asleep…" Dean said. "I gotta get up in the morning." He thought about how he just said 'get up' and not 'get up early' for a few seconds, and then shrugged. "I'm expecting a call from someone and I want to be well rested." He'd also forgotten, for the moment, that he didn't know where his cell phone was.

"Oh, then by all means, get gone, you crazy guy." Said the guy who had had the most to drink. He'd obviously interpreted what Dean said as having something to do with a member of the opposite sex.

Nodding at his drinking buddies in turn, Dean slowly backed away from the table. When he almost hit one of the girls serving drinks, he decided it was smarter to walk forward, and turned around so he was facing the door as he walked towards it.

Through some miracle, Dean managed to drive the Impala back to the motel without causing any permanent damage to anyone or –thing he cross paths with on the way. Sure, there was that phone booth he might have scratched (it had it coming), and that guy he nearly hit when the lights turned red (who jogs this late at night, anyway?), but aside from that, nothing serious.

He stumbled into his room without turning on the lights, kicked his boots off (literally, he heard them colliding with the wall), and then collapsed onto the bed.

His incoherent thoughts were immediately drawn to the body he was sure should be lying on the bed with him. The whole thing seemed to reek of Sam. In fact, he could've sworn he could feel Sam lying beneath him, his long arms wrapping gently around Dean's neck and torso as there lips touched.

His eyes snapped open abruptly, and he sat bolt upright, pulling the knife from beneath his pillow and striking out as fast and ferociously as he could.

The knife passed through empty air, and Dean looked around, seeing… nothing. His room was devoid of human life, himself excepted. But he had been sure…

He suddenly became aware that there was sunlight pouring through the gaps between curtains. Blinking, surprised he'd slept all night (or what had been left of the night) without even realizing it, Dean lowered the knife, sliding it back under his pillow.

Sliding his legs off the bed, he got to his feet and realized suddenly that he was still wearing the same clothes he had been in the day before. This made him even more surprised he'd managed such a good night's sleep; he doubted a pair of jeans and a leather jacket were very comfortable to sleep in (having been incoherent and unconscious for most of his time in bed, he couldn't really remember).

Deciding he wanted to be at least a little presentable when he went to check on Sam, he glanced around the room in search of the duffle bag that contained his clothes. He was surprised to see it lying open near the far wall, with some of his clothes spilled out onto the floor. That was not how he'd left it.

Frowning, confused, Dean walked around the bed to the bag, kneeling down and doing a quick inventory. Sure enough, he was missing a shirt and a jacket. Sitting back, he began to wonder… it couldn't be a coincidence some of his clothes go missing the exact same day (well, he guessed it had happened yesterday) as his cell phone, also the day the shapeshifter had been brought to this motel room and thus gained knowledge of where he was currently staying.

"Shit!" He muttered, getting to his feet. If the shapeshifter had stolen his clothes and cell phone, that meant it had probably changed into him. And only one person, so far as he knew, had called his cell phone in the past twenty-four hours.

-;-

A/N: Ha! How many of you saw that coming? At the beginning, between Sam and 'Dean', not the end with Dean's duffle bag. Probably most of you, hehe. It was one of only two options (it was either Dean or it wasn't). Well, not where I originally intended to end this chapter, but I finally got the shapeshifter into a more… intimate (evil chuckle) role. Hope the chapter turned out okay, I think I might have been half asleep for most of it. Well, that's three chapters in about forty-eight hours. I hope you have enjoyed the spree, until next time, Cyas.