Leaning against the doorway, Dean watched Sam as he concentrated on his homework, something that would come to an end soon. Sammy was due to graduate from High School and Dean wondered how that had come around so fast. The boy he had found under that streetlamp had taken to the 'scholarly life' quickly and easily and he marvelled yet again at just what the former whore had made of himself in such a short time. At the young man he had become.
He was not the only one. He thought back fondly to a few months ago and the time they had spent at Bobby Singer's place while they attended Sammy's friend, Billy's wedding. That had actually been enjoyable. A simple affair with not just himself looking and feeling uncomfortable in a suit.
But to see the lad, hell, Billy was about the same age as himself, so nervously stand, waiting for his soon to be bride. The look of pure happiness on Sammy's face at his friend's good fortune and happiness. It had all felt so good, so 'right' and he had managed to pretend that he and Sam were okay, that they were happy together and would remain so.
He shifted were he stood slightly, not wanting Sam to realise he was watching him. What was to happen now? Would Sam become a full time hunter with them? Would they suddenly find themselves all living on the road again once Sam has finished with school? He was kind of looking forwards to it. The thought of Sam in those motels rooms with him, always so much more 'alive' after a hunt. They both were.
Maybe he could persuade his father to buy another vehicle and leave the Impala to him and Sam. The man was always complaining about the cramped conditions in the car, what with three grown men and all Sam's books.
He tilted his head, considering the way that the two most, the only two, important people in his life had somehow managed to settle into a, if not comfortable relationship, at least they did not riel each other up all the time. John no longer treated Sam as a piece of worthless shit and Sam seemed to actually be able to finally relax around the man.
He was glad. It had been hard at first, his father abusing his lover, his lover seemingly terrified of his father. It had mainly been in words but he was not as naive as either seemed to think. He had not been blind to the way Sam had flinched every time his father had gone near the boy in the months after they had first set up house here.
But now it was as if there was something different between them. Ever since John had discovered Sam's family, he had treated him differently. Just him calling him, 'Son' made Dean's brow furrow. It was almost as if, since he had discovered that Sammy, or rather Daniel, had also been born in Lawrence, his father had kind of 'adopted' him.
He shook his head, dismissing the thoughts and focused back on the quiet, studious figure. The latest bruise on his face was finally fading. He hated it that, whenever Sam joined them on a hunt, it always managed to leave a mark on him. He tried to keep him away from the actual 'fight' by having him concentrate on the research angle. The youth appeared to enjoy it, but inevitably he sometimes got hurt.
Sam had gotten much better over the last couple of years. He could be counted on not to shoot either Dean or his Dad now, and was beginning to truly hold his own. But although he never complained, never bitched about it, Dean knew that this life was not for Sam.
The boy was smart, really smart in the book sense and not just street smart. He was still on that of maths club team and he always had a book open near him, whether it be an American classic or an old Latin text. Dean was glad that he had found his place but it worried him too. Sam was certainly intelligent enough to go to college and if he did, instead of turning into a hunter, would he still find a place for Dean in his new life?
Looking at him now, he was no longer the young boy that he had picked up off the strip. Still young to him but he was growing. He was inches taller than him now and filling out into his height. He should have been on the football team but he had taken up soccer of all things. That was for little kids and girls, as he taunted him about it mercilessly.
He knew he had a smile on his face as he looked at the still figure. He watched, rocking forwards on his feet slightly as those long fingers of Sam's smoothed the hair behind an ear. That had always managed to arouse him. But Sam was oblivious, intent on his study, and he thought best to leave him to it.
Again Sam tucked the errant hair behind his ear, letting his fingers slowly trail down his neck. He could hardly breath. He knew Dean liked it when he did that simple gesture. He was watching from the corner of his eye, wanting Dean to come to him, to come and take him. It seemed an eternity since that had happened.
He remembered when all he had to do was tuck his hair and Dean's hands would be on him. Now, they had sex, never mind made love, less and less these last months. Sam had done all he could think of to be appealing. He often walked around with little or nothing on. He would bend and flex, trying to catch Dean's eye. Often he was sure he was causing an effect but as Dean moved, appearing flushed, he would awkwardly walk away or just turn his back on him.
Sam knew what it was. It was time. Time had caused the damage. Not in so much that they had become too used to each other, but something else. He had heard somewhere that, if you put a penny in a jar every time you made love in the first year of a relationship and took one out in the second and subsequent years, you would never empty the jar.
But here it was not familiarity that had slowed their sex life down, he knew it to be a different problem. The problem was that time had worked its inevitable magic on him. Sam had grown up.
When Dean had first found him on that street corner, he had been just a boy. He had been attracted to the young kid he had been. And it was just the same old, tired story. Dean had a type and he did not want him now that he was no longer that young, slim boy.
He did not think that Dean had truly realised this himself, still carrying on as of nothing had changed, nothing was wrong. Until Sam had decided he was old enough not to need permission to go to a party. That damn fucking party over five months ago. That had been the undoing, as it had opened Dean's eyes.
Standing here, Dean wanted nothing more than to go up behind the beautiful young man and place a kiss to the nape of his neck, exposed as Sam had his head tilted forwards over the book. But Dean had come to realise something. Sam had never, not even once, instigated sex between them. He had never said no or turned him away but he had never 'come' to him either.
He could not remember when he had first noticed it, being infatuated, no, being totally consumed by his passion for his lover, but it had slowly become apparent. Sam would smile at him and would always give himself willingly to Dean's touch and demands but they were just that, Dean's demands.
So he had left him alone, mainly to see if he was correct, and he was. Sam had never wanted him like he had wanted Sam. He had only 'let' Dean fuck him. He still found it hard to stomach. He had been convinced. The way Sam had melted under his touch, the way he had 'swooned' under his kisses. But it was all false. He had just let him have his body and told him what he wanted to hear.
His Dad had been right all along. The kid had just been using him, playing him. And now, Sam had everything he wanted. He had a roof over his head. Someone to keep him, to feed, clothe and support him. But still, no matter what Sam was here for, he would never regret taking him from that corner.
And then there had been Scott. Someone Sam had actually wanted.
How could he have done that? But then he knew, it had made him realise the truth. Sam did not feel the same way he did. And how had he himself reacted? He had punched him. Not asked him why or begged him never to do it again. Not asked him what he could do to make Sam happier. No. He had hit him then ran off into any woman's bed who would have him.
Dean felt that sadness creeping up his spine and wondered why he did this to himself, why he continued to live in this house, in this home as if Sam loved him too.
Sam sat back in his chair, throwing his pen down in frustration. He looked up at the now empty doorway where his brother had been. The last time they had had sex, in fact the only times they had sex now, was after a hunt. Dean would take him with a passion, but afterwards he would go quiet, would not kiss or even hold him, just turning his back and lying stiffly in the bed. It was as if he was ashamed. He would become absent, distant and it broke Sam's heart.
He wondered sometimes if Dean knew.
Maybe it would be best if he did go to college. He wanted to, but had thought he would miss Dean too much. That Dean would miss him. But that was before that night.
The night of that damn party. It had all gone wrong on the night of that stupid math club party. That had been the start of the end. He had lied to make Dean angry and jealous and to hurt him back a little. It had worked, all too well.
Dean had fled, leaving him sat on the ground and not come back for near four days. He had never asked him where he had been, nor had his brother volunteered the information. But Sam could guess. His brother had returned to the house and moved swiftly to, and locked himself in the bathroom for what felt like hours but not before both he and John could smell the alcohol, sex and perfume on him.
John had said nothing but slowly moved to place a hand on Sam's shoulder, squeezing gently. Sam had accepted the gesture then walked out to the back yard where he had hidden behind the old shed, knowing he could not be seen from the house, and wept.
Yet the man still treated him like they were a couple, still laughed, joked and stole food from his plate. But he did not touch him. Sam had thought to go up to him and demand an explanation, ask why he did not want him any more but of course he could not. It had all been ruined by that stupid lie.
Maybe he should do something now, make a move. Go find him and push his hand onto his prick or something, just to let him know he was still here, still available? But that one time that he had become the aggressor, after that first terrifying encounter with the 'unnatural', he had regretted it.
Dean had not touched him for days after that. He obviously had not liked that either, Sam taking control from him. It was something that Sam had never understood, how Dean constantly needed to be in control in the bedroom and in a different way on a hunt or in general life, always looking out for him, never giving him enough room to get hurt or into trouble, yet would instantly step back or down from one word or look from his father.
Sighing, he dropped his head to the table, his hands coming up to cover it. He had to face it, one thing he did understand clearly. The man his brother was now did not find him attractive anymore. Something he had feared from the moment he had agreed to leave with him. But he knew Dean well enough to know that he would not throw Sam out onto the street. He would just wait for him to leave and Sam thought that he must.
John had already helped him by getting broachers for various universities and then filling in all the forms for a free ride, a hard times scholarship for the place he had nominally chosen. He had promised to help in any way that he could. Sam did not want to leave Dean but he would have to make his mind up soon if he was to get in his acceptance on time.
If he did go, he would still love Dean, he would always love him. Sam would be eternally thankful to him for giving him a new life and a happy one at that, but it was just so heartbreaking that he did not desire, did not want him anymore.
And he also knew, that once he left, he would lose Dean completely. But then again, he already had.
==000==
TBC...