Summary: Withdrawn after an assault, pediatrician Dean is visited by handsome therapist Sam, a man with two shocking secrets. AU Sam/Dean slash romance. Warning: implied Alastair/Dean noncon
A/N: In case anyone was wondering: No, Fergus isn't a demon in this. There are no demons. It's not that sort of AU.
Conjugal Glue (Part 9: The Old Flame) by frostygossamer
Dean recognised Castiel the moment he stepped into the house. Castiel spotted him across the hall and hurried over, a gentle smile lighting up his face.
"Dean, I am so happy to see you," he said, grabbing Dean's hand in both of his and squeezing it.
Dean smiled, slightly surprised. "Didn't know you were coming, Cas. Sam didn't say."
"My cousin, Anna Seraphos, needed a ride," Castiel explained, glancing over his shoulder at the stunning redhead standing in the doorway.
"Anna," Dean repeated absently. She was a knock-out.
The slim, elegant, auburn-tressed Anna leaned in against Sam and laughed a tinkling laugh at some unheard shared joke. This was Anna, Sam's first love. The way they touched each other, there was evidently still something there between them.
Dean felt a stupid pang of jealousy. There was no reason for it. It wasn't like he and Sam were official or anything.
"Didn't know you were related to Sam's old flame," Dean said.
Castiel smiled. "We are first cousins, Dean. In fact, the Seraphoses and the Singers are all distant cousins. 'Singer' is merely 'Seraphos' Americanized."
"Ah," Dean responded. What were these people? Some kind of Cosa Nostra?
Sam glanced toward Dean and whispered something in Anna's ear. She stalked over and pecked Dean on the cheek.
"And you must be Dr. Winchester," she said, running her beautiful hazel eyes over him appraisingly. "May I call you Dean?"
"Call me anything you want, baby," Dean responded, his old technique kicking in automatically.
Anna gave a feminine giggle. "Sam said you were a charmer, Dean."
~0~
Bobby led them all into his library where they conversed for a while about Anna's work as a divorce lawyer for a big international firm, Dean's work at the hospital and Sam's therapy practice. Fergus hovered in the background, listening but taking no part in the discussion.
Bobby pointed out that it was interesting how very different their professions were and yet how much they had in common, nonetheless. They all wanted to help people. Dean caught Sam and Anna exchanging a few discreet little smiles, which niggled him for some reason.
"I've gotten disheartened with the concept of regular American marriage," Anna declared. "I see all sorts of problems day to day. People get married for all the wrong reasons and they see divorce as an easy solution."
"Divorce is never easy," Dean put in sadly, thinking about Lisa.
"True, it's never as easy as people expect," Anna agreed. "But couples often give up too soon. I see too much of that."
"Young people nowadays don't understand commitment," Karen contributed. "They got no conjugal glue to hold them together."
"Not everyone is as lucky as you guys, Mom," Sam commented. "Sometimes things don't turn out the way they hoped," and he glanced at Dean.
Dean sighed. "Never woulda gotten divorced if Lisa hadn't wanted it. But can't blame her. Wasn't much of a husband."
"Well, no shit, sonny," Bobby chuckled. "Guess sometimes better to just wipe the slate clean and start again, huh?"
"IF I ever decide to marry," Anna said, looking at Sam. "I would want to be sure of commitment up front, the way traditional marriage used to be, nothing less."
Sam nodded. "That's my thinking too," he agreed, glaring pointedly at Fergus.
Dean glanced from Sam to Anna and saw a look pass between them that he just didn't get. It worried him, even annoyed him a little.
~0~
Anna and Castiel were invited to stay for dinner.
Before dinner, Bobby announced that he was going to take Sam up to the local cemetery, to pay his overdue respects to his grandparents, something for the immediate family. Dean was left alone in the house with Anna and Castiel. At least, Castiel was supposed to be around someplace, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Anna decided to plunder Bobby's supply of old malt.
"I know where Bobby keeps his extra-special cache, the stuff you have to know God personally to get hold of," she told Dean.
She squealed in triumph as she pulled the bottle out from a space behind a bookcase, and she poured them both a shot. Relaxing on the sumptuous leather couch, she patted the space beside her.
"Come sit with me, Dean darling," she said, with a sexy smile.
Dean sat down beside her and she scooched a mite closer.
Anna was a very attractive woman. Her long, titian-red tresses, swept into a neat, businesslike French pleat, framed her alabaster skin. Her hazel eyes were deep and lustrous. She drank her liquor and smiled.
"You're a damned attractive guy, Dean Winchester," she whispered.
"Not so skanky yourself," he replied, with a practiced smirk.
She chuckled flirtatiously. Taking the glass from his hand, she placed both glasses on the side table and turned back to stare deep into his eyes.
"You've been through hell, Dean, I know that," she whispered. "I think you've earned a little happiness."
Then she leaned forward and her lips met his. She tasted of expensive lipstick and whiskey. Dean found himself pressing her back against the couch, one hand behind her slim neck, one on her waist. She sighed into the kiss, and he deepened it without thinking.
After several moments they broke apart. Anna laughed prettily and loosened her long, shiny locks, shaking her head. They fell across the back of the couch in copper waves. Dean thought he had probably never seen a more beautiful woman. A strange tingle ran down his spine. He wanted her badly.
"Take me to your room," she breathed.
Dean inhaled uncertainly. "Sam..." But he was angry with Sam, right?
Anna placed a manicured fingertip on his lips and whispered, "Don't think."
She took his hand and led him upstairs to his room. Once Dean was inside she locked the door.
"There," she chuckled. "Now we won't be interrupted."
~0~
When Dean awoke an hour later, he didn't know where he was at first. For a moment he couldn't understand why the presence in bed with him was small and delicate and definitely female.
"Crap," he swore.
He and Anna had fallen asleep in each other's arms after a sexual encounter that had reminded Dean pretty forcefully that he was really into the fair sex.
"Oh hell. It sounds like the family is back already," Anna muttered beside him.
"Crap," Dean repeated, jumping out of bed.
Anna laughed. "It's OK, Dean," she chuckled. "They're not going to throw you out for fraternizing with the other guests, darling."
Dean picked up Anna's dress from the floor and threw it at her.
"Somehow I figure the Singers might reckon this is kinda stretching their hospitality," he pointed out.
They dressed quickly and hurried downstairs to join the others in the parlour. Anna went straight to Sam.
"How were things at the necropolis, Sam darling?" she asked sympathetically.
"Byzantine," he replied, archly. "You two manage to keep yourselves amused?"
Anna twinkled. "Oh, we had fun, Sam," she replied.
"Kinda fast there, girl?" he murmured, in mild reproof.
Sam shook his head then went to talk to Bobby, who had just reappeared with Castiel. Dean hurried over to join the redhead.
"Anna, say you didn't tell him," he pleaded.
Anna smiled. "It's OK, Dean," she assured him. "He knows already."
Dean's eyes widened. "Never took you for a bitch, lady," he snapped.
A faint hint of confusion clouded Anna's delicate features for a second.
"Dean darling, I thought you were up for this. Sam said we should get acquainted... Damn that silly man. Perhaps I WAS a little forward, but it was just a bit of fun."
Dean scowled in consternation. Anna glanced at Sam and caught his eye. Sam stepped back toward her, a sugary smile on his face.
"Sam darling, everything is fine, isn't that right?" she asked. "That was the idea? You asked me here so that Dean and I could get to... know each other?"
Sam nodded. "It's cool, Dean," he assured him softly.
He made to touch Dean's cheek affectionately, but Dean ducked away from his touch. Anna turned back to Dean.
"You see, darling. We're all together now. Aren't we, Sam? It's the Deltaic way, Dean. Even the Syndicate would approve."
Dean grunted in disgust. He glared at Sam, whose stupid, smiling face suddenly looked like it needed a punch so bad that he gave it one.
Sam recoiled, staggering backward a step, his hand going straight to his nose. It was already starting to bleed.
"Dean! Babe?" he gasped in shock.
"Bitch-ass!" Dean retorted.
He strode across the room and grabbed Castiel by the elbow, dragging him into a corner.
"You're driving me back to town. NOW!" he demanded.
Castiel's blue eyes popped in bewilderment. "You want to leave, Dean?" he asked.
"Sure I wanna leave, doofus," Dean snapped. "These people are all nuts. Go get your car. I'll meet you outside in ten."
Castiel hurried away, muttering to himself. Dean ran back upstairs and angrily threw his stuff into his duffel. He was full of hell. What were these guys playing at with their new-agey, flower-power, open-relationship crap? What did they think he was, some kind of plaything for them to pass around? That was all he was to Sam?
He stamped downstairs and straight out the door, where Castiel was waiting in the driver's seat of his little, beat-up automobile. Dean jumped in the passenger seat.
"Drive!" he commanded.
Castiel obediently put his foot down and they sped away. Dean didn't see Sam run out onto the front steps of the mansion, just in time to glimpse the rear of the car disappearing. Nor did he see Anna take his arm and lead him back inside.
~0~
Castiel drove Dean to the nearby town. During the short journey Dean refused to speak or listen. Dean made Castiel stop at the town taxicab company, and sent him back to the Singers without a word. He didn't want to leave Anna stranded without her ride. That would have been cold. He took a cab the rest of the way back to his own grim little apartment and let himself in.
The place was even colder and drearier than it had been when he had seen it last. He locked the door and flopped down on the couch, dejected. If he'd been a woman he would probably have cried. He didn't know whether he was more angry or disappointed. What was it about him that made people want to use him that way? Did he really deserve it? Was that all he was worth? After all, he was only damaged goods.
He had been home less than ten minutes when his cellphone rang. The display said 'Sam'. Dean ignored it and the call went to voicemail, again and again. He switched his cell off, and dropped it on his coffee table. Almost immediately his landline began to ring. He got up and disconnected it from the wall socket, then went and crumpled onto his bed.
TBC
A/N: Poor Dean. What are these people playing at? (Any guesses?) And just when everything seemed so perfect. More tomorrow.