Work Text:
To Myself Be Damned
By: Lexalot
Summary: All I have is all you gave to me.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Even if they were mine, I would still never be allowed to do this to them.
Pairings: John/Dean, Dean/Sam, Sam/Jess
Spoilers: Pilot
Inspiration and Reference: Music - "Eye" by Smashing Pumpkins
Warning: Incest!
***
The lights in the trailer were dark. Figured.
No one was home. As Sam walked up to the rundown mobile home, he could not believe that this was his life. If it hadn't been for the fact that at least he had his father and his brother, he would have hated being alive. No matter how much they both got on his nerves, they made this dreary, bizarre existence tolerable. He had no desire to hunt, no banner to wave on some cold case crusade, and he had nothing in common with them, but they were his family. At least he knew they cared, because if it weren't for that, he would have run off when he was 14. Though staring down the converted hovel that he came home to every day always tempted him to turn around and never come back.
This secluded little base of operations wasn't even a real house, but it acted like one, providing an address to prove residence so Sam could go to school. Dean was lucky, because he had finished school two years ago. Sam, however, still had two more to go. And usually, either Dad or Dean picked him up after class because the school bus didn't come out here. No bus came out here. But usually, Sam had drama club practice after school and someone got him after rehearsal. But, since the play was a couple days away, the director set this day aside to give everyone a break. Sam knew he had told both his dad and big brother that he would be out early, and yet, neither of them had showed. And like a fool, he had waited and waited, faith that one of them would pull up in front of the main stairway...
So here he was, finally. It was a long ass walk from the school to here, and Sam had been cursing them both out under his breath the entire way. Hoping against hope that they both had damn good excuses for why they weren't there to get him. But seeing that the trailer was dark, Sam felt a little better thinking something big must have gone down, so he would have to forgive them, no matter how pissed he was. When he walked around to the door, he saw the truck. Didn't look like anyone was home, but the truck was parked in its usual spot. That was weird. Then again, what wasn't weird when it came to Winchester life in the damned lane?
Sam let himself in with his key. He dumped his bookbag on his bunk, and when he glanced across the narrow space to his brother's bed, he noticed that Dean's backpack was sitting there as if he had stopped in and put it down for a minute. Dean never went anywhere without that bag. Everything he ever needed was inside. Knives, a gun, ammo, matches, hair gel, condoms, and any number of things Sam didn't want to know about. It was practically Dean's survival kit. Alright, now Sam was starting to get worried.
Then, he heard a noise come from the back of the trailer. That was the one private area of the whole place. It was their father's room, and it sounded like someone was in there. Sam reached into Dean's satchel and pulled out the biggest knife he could find, gripping it awkwardly, being totally unprepared to face an intruder. He grit his teeth, swallowed hard, and moved towards the door to their Dad's bedroom, suddenly worried that something may have happened to Dean, or worse that something may have been happening to Dean at that moment in their own home.
Wrapping his hand around the doorknob slowly, Sam pressed himself up against the door as he started to open it, trying to peak inside so he didn't leap before looking. He heard a painful grunt, then a low and guttural moan, and then more of the same. Sam couldn't see anything at first, and he opened the door a hair more than a crack so he could figure out who was making those noises. It sounded like... it almost... it kind of had the mark of Dean's voice. Deep and smooth, just like the cuts Dean always made with his blades.
Sam moved a little, attempting to get a glimpse of anything to let him know who was there and what they were doing. The noises got louder and then stopped, and Sam kept shifting slightly to get a view. Any view. Then, he hit just the right angle and froze. Dean was lying on their Dad's bed. On his back and completely naked. Sam's blood ran cold but his skin got warm. He felt embarrassed and flustered all in one breath. Oh brother, his brother. Probably brought home another candidate for world's most gullible female, because sure Dean's a big-time rock musician, which is why he lives in this Dickensian model for the lap of luxury. Infuriating and typical. His brother forgot him for some girl whose name he wouldn't even remember so he could call it out in whatever act was the main attraction of their date.
Even though Sam knew he should have walked away and closed the door, he didn't. He kept trying to see what was going on. He couldn't look away. He just had to... make sure his brother wasn't in any danger. A brief moment passed and a dark figure rose over Dean, climbing on top of him and settling... between his legs. Sam studied the silhouette carefully, and Sam realized the person in there with Dean was a man. So his loving brother was keeping secrets from him now, huh? Did Dean think he couldn't tell Sam? Well, in all fairness, Sam had no idea how their dad would take knowing that Dean liked fucking guys as much as girls. Still, Sam was glued to that spot, unable or unwilling to do the right thing and leave them to their privacy. Sam was just... curious. And jealous of this stranger... Not to mention thankful that it was too dark inside for them to notice that the door was slightly open and he was standing right there, teenage voyeurism and all. Sam chastised himself as he pressed his face to the sliver, his eye tracing the outline of the two of them as they lie there, talking softly at first. Then...
"Shit! I have to pick Sam up. He'll be getting out of rehearsal soon." Dean was such an idiot. He was a jerk. He was completely irresponsible. He was so busted!
Sam watched the man move to the side to let Dean up. Dean crawled off the bed and pulled on a pair of jeans.
"So when is this play of his?" What the fuck? No. That's not possible... That was NOT their Dad's voice. No way.
"Saturday." Dean replied as he grabbed his shirt from the floor nonchalantly. "Are you gonna be able to make it?"
"I'll try." No. It was just… NOT possible...
Dean smiled, straightening his shirt and buckling his belt. "I've gotta run." His voice filled with tenderness and adoration. "I love you, Dad."
No... Shit. Yes, it was…
Sam backed away from the door, as he heard Dean's footsteps coming towards it. Instinct took over, and Sam bolted. He snatched up his bookbag and rushed out as swiftly and stealthily as possible. Once he was in the clear, he ran and ran and ran, cutting across the woods alone at night until the initial shock wore off and he slowed down. His senses started to come back online and he dug around in his bag for his cell phone to call his brother.
Naturally, Dean was sitting outside the school wondering where the fuck his little brother was. That had to qualify for irony of the century. Sam just explained that he went out with friends from the cast after rehearsal and forgot to call, and he would get a ride home with one of them, so Dean should just not worry about him and go back home. Sam flipped the phone shut and sat down on the edge of the road, clutching his knapsack and praying for a car to pass by, because he was ready to hitchhike his way the hell out of here.
* * *
The car stopped and Sam just sat there. Dean waited, but his little brother didn't budge. Teens filed past the truck in cliques, teachers hurrying them along, herding them inside before the tardy bell could ring. Sam stared out the window at them, asking himself why he couldn't just be anyone else. He didn't even have to be here right now. He could have gotten in any number of cars that went by that road the night before, but he didn't. He loved his father and his brother, and he'd always been so close to Dean. It helped as much as it hurt.
"You got home really late last night." Dean's question was subdued and patient, but Sam's answer didn't come. "You got Dad and I pretty worried."
"Yeah, well, you're not Mom, so don't act like it, okay." That came out way too fast and way too quiet to hide the swamp of emotion Sam was treading.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Of course. Sam made the mistake of mentioning her. He literally hit the mother of all nerves.
"Nothing." Sam felt like one of those model ships people put in glass bottles.
Dean sighed and shook his head to himself, and then Sam felt his big brother's gaze fall on him again. Like a brick wall. "Dad's going to try to make it to your play this weekend."
Sam rolled his eyes at the window, and then turned to look at Dean. "Are you going to be there?"
"Yeah." Dean smirked. "Try and stop me."
Sam's mind went blank for a minute and so did his face. He heard the bell ring, meaning he was officially late, and it snapped him back to the moment. He gathered up his bookbag and opened the passenger door.
Just before he was all the way out of the pick-up, he paused and glanced up at his brother. "I love you, Dean."
Dean's face contorted, baffled and dumbstruck. Sam hardly ever said that to or about anyone, and his big brother had no idea what to make of it.
Before Dean could say anything, Sam closed the door.
* * *
"How come you never talk about your family?"
Sam knew Jess would just keep asking until one day he answered it to her satisfaction. This was the girl he was sure he wanted to marry. She was everything he needed her to be without him having to tell her. She rescued him, but she always wanted to know what she rescued him from and why he needed a savior. She was his angel, and his past was filled with demons, some of them very literal, one in particular very significant. How could he begin? Where? Should he even make an attempt at divulging the sordid details?
She stared up at him, head on his chest, arms wrapped around him tight. She loved Sam too much for him to shut her out so completely. He bargained with himself. Negotiated the truth, slipped her scraps of it. Never the whole truth, and where all else failed, anything but the truth. He hated lying. Or rather, he hated having to lie. Because lying was something he had to do. He didn't want to, he was forced. With so much he couldn't even admit to himself, how the hell could he ever expect to be honest with her?
"There's nothing to tell." And he had to amend that response because it wouldn't hold up to any scrutiny. "Nothing you'd want to hear."
"I want to hear whatever you want to tell me." His silence just seemed to prove her point. She pursed her luscious lips, sat up and stared deep into his eyes. "I worry about you sometimes, Sam."
"Why?" He tried to laugh it off, pretend this was nothing when it was everything. "Jess, my family and I are fine. My father and my brother have each other. They just... don't need me."
Jess shook her head at that dismissal. She didn't believe him. Figured. It was the one thing she should have taken for truth, because Sam certainly believed it to be true. "Sam, you don't call them, you don't see them…" She was genuinely concerned. For his happiness. And it stabbed him in the heart when she only meant to help heal all those wounds she could feel there but could never see. "Don't they miss you?"
Sam fell silent again. Sad yet resolute. "Trust me. My father could care less that I'm gone. He always loved Dean more anyway."
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