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He had no idea of where he was. It was dark, he could tell that even with his eyes closed. The air was humid and cold, and an earthly smell filled his nostrils with each inhale he took; dirt, stale water, rotting plants.
Was he underground?
He tried to focus, tried to force his confused mind to work, but there was nothing but darkness, inside and outside. And a question:
How did I get here?
And then another: Where is here?
His feet were bare, socks and shoes removed. His jacket was gone; so were his shirt and even his belt. A small, bitter smile crept on his lips. If he really wanted to kill himself, he could hang himself with his jeans. It wouldn’t be the most glorious death, but then again, he wasn’t going to die.
Third question; just who had brought him here? Someone had. He could not have ended here by himself, wherever ‘here’ was.
Kidnapped. Locked down underground. Somehow he just knew that he was behind locks. Why else would he be here? Laying on his stomach, partly on his flank, half naked, here.
Then, through the blackness of his rebelling mind a memory reached the surface. It filled him with warm joy, and then with cold terror.
His brother.
If he was here, where was his brother?
Sam opened his eyes.
*
“Stop, Dean. You’re gonna wear a hole on the floor. Sit down.”
Dean stopped for a second, gave Bobby a glare and continued pacing around the room in circle.
“Dean.”
“No.” Dean stopped again for a moment. “I’m not gonna stop until…” He sighed and rubbed his eyes with his palms. “I want him back.”
And the restless pacing continued.
“It’s only been two days now.”
“I know!” Dean’s eyes were furious. Worried. Desperate as was his voice. Then, with a softer tone: “I know… It’s just…” He looked at Bobby. “I’m not handling this very well.”
Bobby looked back at him and something in his chest ached as he answered: “I don’t think anyone would expect you to, in a situation like… this.”
*
“Hello?”
Christ, was that his voice? Sam swallowed. His throat was dry and felt a bit sore, like after sleeping for too long breathing through your mouth.
“Anybody there?”
His voice was rough, small and squeaky. If he had heard it somewhere else, he wouldn’t have realized it was his own.
He opened his mouth again, but a violent burst of coughing made him curl into himself. His ribs hurt. Hell, his whole body hurt.
What had happened?
Where was Dean?
Dean…
Sam sat up as the coughs subsided. He reached around, felt the walls and finally found a small switch. The room lit up, and even when it was just one lonely light bulb, Sam groaned and covered his eyes. He sat there, eyes closed, a hand over them until the lightning inside his skull eased a little. Then he looked around.
It was a cellar. Except that there was a toilet seat. The room was maybe twenty feet times twenty; it had concrete walls and a dirt floor. Shelves covered one wall, and there was canned food and bottled water.
In conclusion: whoever had dragged him here didn’t want him to die on thirst or starve to death. So why was he here? It didn’t look like he was in some nest of some supernatural freak. This was clearly human made.
Ransom? Who on earth would kidnap him for ransom? Dean was his only living relative, and he had no money. So maybe it was something else Dean had. Amulets? Spells? The Colt? Maybe Ruby’s knife? If that were the case, then at least Dean would be safe. He wouldn’t be in some underground chamber. He wouldn’t be a prisoner. God, let it be so…
But if this wasn’t about ransom, then what was it about? Why would a human, or a bunch of humans kidnap someone and keep him alive in some cellar underground?
All the answers Sam’s mind provided made him feel really uneasy. He remembered the Bender family; waking up in a cage with absolutely no clue of what had happened until the horrifying truth was revealed.
Dean had saved him, just like he would save him this time. Sam had to believe in it. If he started to think about how his brother could be in the next room, wondering about these same things…
It would drive him insane.
His whole body ached, and now that there was light he took a look at himself, saw dark bruises mottling his flank and stomach, and by the feel of it there were also bruises on his back. And his shoulder hurt where it met his neck, stung, like there was a wound but he couldn’t be sure because there were no mirrors in the small room.
Imprisoned. Helpless.
Why was this happening?
*
“Eat.”
“No.” Dean’s voice was stubborn. Sometimes Bobby wondered where that stubbornness came from. Was it from the kid’s mother or his father? They had both been strong-minded persons.
“You have to eat.”
“Not hungry”, was Dean’s blunt answer.
Bobby sighed. “You’re not helping Sam like this.”
The angry look was the only answer he got. And Bobby knew it would be futile to try and make Dean change his mind. Bobby knew Dean so well. The kid wouldn’t do anything he didn’t want to, no matter how much he was pushed, and Bobby also knew that pushing would only make Dean more stubborn and make him close into himself.
The only person that got through to Dean in situations like this was his brother. But Sam was gone, and Bobby understood Dean’s desperation, his pain. He understood, because he felt despair and pain too. So he let Dean be.
*
Was it a day? Or night? If only there was a window, even a tiniest one… Something to show him the passing of time…
There was air though. Sam could hear the AC purring quietly and a small clicking sound when it turned on and off.
Food, water and air. A perfect prison with the basic needs of a human body fulfilled. The toilet was a luxury, the only one he had.
*
“Sleep, Dean.”
Dean’s face didn’t show any signs of any feelings, but his eyes were dark and exhausted.
“I can’t, Bobby. You know I can’t.” Dean was lying on the couch, eyes staring up to the ceiling, face expressionless. Bobby knew that Dean was trying to block everything out: his thoughts, emotions, fear.
“I can’t sleep before I get Sammy back.”
Yeah. Bobby knew.
*
Sam drank some water. It tasted fresh, so whoever was supplying this prison had filled the shelves quite recently. He really didn’t know whether to be grateful or worried.
Possibly both.
*
“I have to help Sam.”
“Do you even have a clue of where to start?” Bobby asked. “’Cause I don’t.”
“I have to do something!”
“Sam’s a fighter. He’s gonna be fine.”
Bobby honestly didn’t know if he was lying or not, but seeing the look on Dean’s face, the one that prayed for reassurance, kept him from saying his suspicions out loud. The kid needed hope, and right now that was the only thing Bobby could give him. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t real, or if they both knew deep down inside that no amount of promises could make things right.
But Bobby just couldn’t say it. He didn’t even want to think about it.
That maybe this time Sam wouldn’t make it out alive.
*
Sam had never realized how the lack of light and a complete unawareness of time could affect a person. He didn’t want a window anymore; all he wanted was a clock on the wall or a watch on his wrist, something to show him the passing of hours. He counted seconds, then minutes, realized he couldn’t do that for long and gave up.
He got hungry; he ate. The cans were the kind that had a metal loop on top of them and they opened when the loop was pulled. So no can opener.
He got thirsty; he drank. All the bottles were plastic. Sam could only shake his head. This really was a suicide-proof cell.
Then he got tired and lay down on the uncomfortable bunk again. There was a thin pillow and an old wool blanket, impossible to tear to shreds with bare hands. Maybe that was another attempt to keep him from hanging himself.
Sam slept, and his dreams were restless.
*
“Time to wake up.”
“Dean opened his eyes. “Sammy?”
Bobby shook his head and Dean closed his eyes, resigned. It hurt, to see that flicker of hope in Dean’s eyes and how fast it died before Dean closed the world out again.
“I’m sorry, Dean. I really am.”
The saddest thing was that saying he was sorry didn’t fix anything, in this situation it didn’t even mean anything. Bobby could see that nothing would matter to Dean before he got Sam back.
It was too hard to think about the fact that it might never happen. They both knew it, but neither of them said anything about it. As long as they didn’t say it out loud, there was hope. Admitting it would be like giving up, and that was something neither of them wanted to do.
Sam had to be okay. They would get him back.
Maybe it was just wishful thinking, denying how bad the situation was, but it was their only comfort, and Bobby knew that Dean needed that comfort, now more than ever.
*
Sam counted the steps from other side of the room to another. Then he sighed and counted again.
How much time had passed? Was Dean looking for him? Was anyone? And why weren’t those people who had taken him here showing any sign of themselves? They had to want something, right? If nothing else then at least to see how helpless he was. They had to have some reason for this, most likely a bizarre and twisted one, but a reason still, so where the hell were they?
The shout was filled with anger and frustration as Sam slammed his fist against the concrete wall. The shout was replaced with a sob as he knelt down and leaned against the wall, fingers caressing the bleeding knuckles of his other hand.
*
“Sam!!” Dean woke up to his own scream, squeezed his eyes shut and tried to banish the dream from his mind. The dream where Sam was hurt and alone, and there was nothing Dean could do to help him.
“Shh, it’s okay.” Bobby’s voice was calming. “It was just a nightmare.”
Dean took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “I want him back.” His eyes were shaded and moist. “I want him back, Bobby.”
Bobby nodded; ‘I know’.
“I want my brother back…” Dean sobbed, and Bobby’s throat felt tight when he asked the next question: “He’s not just your brother, is he?”
Dean was silent for a long time before answering, pure and simple; “No.”
*
Sam remembered his first time with Dean like it had happened yesterday. Dean was nineteen, all pale golden skin and long, lean muscles, and Sam was crazy about him.
Dean moved like a cat; gracefully, looking like a hunter he was, not like a prey, and yet Dean had no idea that his little brother had set his eyes on him and was now hunting him.
It was one night when Dad was away; chasing a rawhead somewhere down in New Mexico, and Sam lay awake, waiting for his brother to return from where ever he was.
Dean was drunk and smelled like cigarette smoke and cheap perfume.
“Sam, wha—“ was the only thing Dean got out of his mouth before Sam was all over him, pushing him down to the bed and kissing him with all the awkwardness and enthusiasm only a teenager was capable of.
“Shut up.” Sam growled and kissed him again.
*
“How long?” Bobby asked and Dean didn’t need to ask him what he meant, instead he wished that the ground would open and swallow him. It was a simple question, but the answer filled Dean with heartache and guilt, pain and self-loathing.
“Sam was fifteen.” Dean finally answered and then looked like he was in pain. “Christ, he was only fifteen years old…”
Dean buried his face in his hands and Bobby looked down, closed his eyes and tried to handle this new information. To be honest, he wasn’t ready for it, so he forced the confession out of his mind.
He’d think of it later.
*
Sam remembered. He was maybe only fifteen years old, but he knew very well what he wanted.
“Stop it, Sam!” Dean spat out and tried to push Sam away, but Sam could feel how half-hearted that push really was. And maybe, if it hadn’t been so dark or if Dean hadn’t been that drunk he would have realized that though Sam was all tall and skinny and looked like a kid for Christ’s sake, there was nothing kid-like in his eyes, and there sure was nothing innocent in the way Sam shed his pajamas and climbed on Dean’s lap.
“Sam.” Dean’s voice was a warning. “Enough.”
Sam smiled and wrapped his thighs around Dean’s waist. “Not nearly enough.”
“Sam…”
*
Bobby closed his eyes and sighed. “So you, and Sam… Since you were that young?” The thought was more than a little disturbing. It would take some time to process this.
Dean couldn’t look Bobby in the eyes. But then again, he had nothing left to lose, so maybe he could just as well be honest. And he had already confessed his darkest secret, so no; he really didn’t have anything to lose.
“Yes.” He said quietly, still not meeting Bobby’s eyes.
*
“Listen.” A fifteen-year-old Sam said with a stern voice and forced Dean to look at him. “Do you want my first time to be with you, or with some cheap girl from the street?”
“Some cheap girl from the street, no contest.” Dean retorted. Sam didn’t give up.
“How ‘bout some guy from the street?”
He knew he had won the battle when Dean tensed, just about stopped breathing, and for a moment there was only thick darkness and tight tension filling the room.
Then: “Fuck you Sam.”
Sam smiled wickedly. “Don’t mind if you do.”
“No.” Dean growled and dug his fingers in the tender flesh of Sam’s hips, making him yelp. “No, Sam.”
“I want to…” Sam whimpered, pressed his body against Dean’s, grinding his hips against the rough denim of his brother’s jeans. “Please…”
“You have no idea, no fucking idea at all what you’re getting yourself into.” Dean’s voice was heated, but there was something underneath that tone that made warmth pool into Sam’s belly and lower, or maybe it was simply Dean’s voice.
“Please, Dean…” Sam was young and horny and he had watched his brother for so long, wanted him for so long that these days even looking at Dean made him so hard he had to find some private corner and jack off.
“Sam…” Dean said with a low voice. “If we do this… It’s not gonna be like you think. It’s not gonna be flowers and butterflies. It’ll be rough, and I’ll hurt you.” Then, after a small pause: “The first time always hurts, Sammy.”
And there it came, that nickname. Sammy. Sam smiled.
Dean had lost the fight.
*
“How do you feel about it?”
Dean was losing his temper. “What are you now, a goddamn shrink?? How do you think I feel?” Then he calmed down a bit. “Guilty. I took something from Sam and I can never give it back. He was just a kid… A kid, Bobby, and I’m…” Dean lowered his head for a moment before looking up again, this time straight into Bobby’s eyes. “I’m still not sorry. I love him, Bobby. And that’s why I need to get him back.”
Dean was quiet for a long time.
“That’s why I need to get him back. ‘Cause I never told him. I never told him I love him.”
*
Sam lay in his uncomfortable bunk. At least the memories helped a bit, provided a momentary oblivion from the situation he was in. So he closed his eyes and let the memories take over him again.
Dean was frustrated; Sam could see that as he straddled his brother’s hips, still wearing that same smile on his face.
“Yeah…” Dean sneered. “Smile now because you won’t be smiling for much longer. I’ll hurt you, Sammy.”
But Sam didn’t care. Dean’s fingers dug even deeper into Sam’s hips, and then his thighs. Sam whimpered, but there was no way he would back off now.
“I warned you.” Dean said with a voice that Sam didn’t quite recognize. “I will hurt you, I promise.”
But Sam was too far-gone: “So do it. Hurt me. I don’t care.”
It happened so fast. Suddenly Sam was on his stomach, face against a pillow. He heard Dean stripping off his clothes, and then the hot skin of his brother’s covered his, hands searching and mapping every inch of Sam’s body.
Sam flinched a little when Dean sat on his thighs, spread his ass cheeks apart and spat on his hole. And then Dean pushed a finger inside of Sam, and Sam yelped.
“Want me to stop?” Dean asked.
“Hell no…” Sam choked out, and suddenly there were two spit-slick fingers pushing inside of him. It burned, hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable. After all this was what Sam had wanted for so long.
“Okay then.” Dean said and pushed in a third finger.
*
Bobby saw the expression on Dean’s face and knew that even if he asked, the boy wouldn’t speak anymore. So he let him be, went to the kitchen and started preparing things for dinner.
Sam had been gone for a week now, and Bobby knew that neither he nor Dean had any appetite, but they still needed to eat, to sleep, and to go on. Lying down and giving up wouldn’t do any good, not for them, not for Sam.
He didn’t really know what to think of this new revelation. The boys had always been close, closer than Bobby had ever seen any brothers being, but still… lovers? Sure it was a shock, and just as sure it was wrong in so many levels that Bobby didn’t want to think about it, but there was one thing he believed.
Dean really loved Sam. More than just as a brother. Maybe even more than as a lover…
And that only made the situation so much worse.
*
“Had enough, Sammy?” Dean whispered, fingers deep inside of Sam. Sam was trembling, his brother’s fingers probing him in a way he had never experienced before. It was hard to breath, he felt wide open and vulnerable, and still somehow so protected. No matter how harsh Dean’s tone was, Sam knew that his brother would stop if he just asked him to.
“More”, Sam choked out and the fingers inside him stilled.
“Sammy…”
“Just do it!”
Dean’s fingers stayed still for a moment longer until he suddenly spread them, stretching Sam even wider. Sam gasped and a small whimper escaped his mouth.
“Gotta make sure you’re ready…” Dean muttered, kept scissoring his fingers a little longer and then pulled them out, leaving Sam feel somehow empty. “Okay, Sam…” Dean’s weight left his thighs and Sam heard him fumbling in the dark, heard a cap of something opening and then Dean was back on top of him, and Sam breathed out hard when he felt Dean’s cock, slicked with some kind of lubricant, pressing against his ass. Dean grabbed Sam’s hair, forced him to turn his head a little, bit his earlobe and then whispered: “Bite the pillow ‘cause this is gonna hurt.”
Dean’s hand spread his thighs and Sam’s heart hammered in his chest, arousal mixing with fear. He’d had fantasies of this, but this was real, and it was happening now.
“Sammy…” Dean whispered and Sam felt the huge, blunt head of Dean’s cock pressing against his hole, the pressure building until the head thrust in and Sam lost his breath. He lay still like he was paralyzed, muscles trembling, body rigid.
“Relax, Sam. It’ll only hurt more if you don’t relax.”
“I can’t…” Sam whimpered. Dean was right; it did hurt. It hurt so bad Sam wasn’t sure he could take it.
“Told you I‘d hurt you”, Dean said quietly, keeping himself still as just the head of his cock remained inside Sam. “Keep still, I’m pulling out now.”
“No.” Sam grunted, reached behind him and forced Dean to stay where he was. He reached his other hand behind too and pressed his hands against Dean’s ass, pressing down with all the force he could manage from that position as his ass lift up to meet Dean’s hips. Dean slid in all the way and Sam cried out and his scream mixed with Dean’s surprised and shocked grunt: “Sam!”
Sam couldn’t speak. His body was shaking under Dean’s, and he felt so full, so incredibly full. Filled by Dean. The thought filled him with sense of victory; finally. A tear fell down his eye and soaked into the pillow, a small sob escaping his throat.
“Oh my God…” Dean whispered and froze completely. “God, Sam, please don’t cry, please, Sammy, baby, I’m gonna stop this now, I don’t want to hurt you—“
“Please…” Sam whispered with shaking voice, “Please don’t stop. Need you, want you…”
“God, Sammy…” Dean’s lips brushed his ear, hot breath ghosting over his skin. “What am I gonna do with you?”
A small laugh forced its way out of Sam’s chest. “I think you’re already doing it.”
“Smartass”, Dean murmured and shifted a little, moved them both so that Sam lay on his flank and Dean was spooning him from behind still buried deep inside of him. “You know how fucking twisted this is?”
“Don’t care”, Sam whined, “I don’t fucking care.”
“It’s not nice to swear, Sammy”, Dean said quietly and Sam was about to give him a snarky answer when Dean moved and Sam gasped.
“It’s okay…” Dean mumbled and rolled his hips, just a little. “You’re okay…” He wrapped his arm around Sam’s torso while the other hand moved down on Sam’s belly and lower, and Sam closed his eyes and bit his lower lip –please, yes, touch me there, pleasepleaseplease- finding soft curls of pubic hair and Sam’s half hard dick. Sam gasped and threw his head against Dean’s shoulder.
“Like that?” Dean asked softly, pumping Sam’s dick slowly, matching the movements of his hand with the movements of his hips, pulling out just half an inch before gently pushing back in, writhing against Sam instead of just letting go and fucking into him, and God knew he wanted to.
“Mmh…” Sam whimpered and then moaned as Dean tugged his dick a little harder, pulling out a little more before sliding back inside, and it still felt like someone was stuffing a damn Eiffel tower up his ass but Dean’s hand was down there and it was tugging and pulling and—“Fuck…”
“All the time, Sammy, all the time.”
“Harder.”
“Greedy.”
“Fuck you.”
*
The moon was full and the night calm. Dean sat on Bobby’s porch, staring to the dark and trying not to feel so guilty: guilty for tainting Sam, guilty for not protecting him hard enough, guilty for failing in everything. Breaking his promises to Mom, to Dad, to Sam.
They were all gone now.
Dean was alone.
God he wanted Sam back…
“Want one?” Bobby’s voice asked and Dean slowly turned his head, seeing Bobby holding a pack of cigarettes.
“I didn’t know you smoke.”
Bobby shrugged. “I don’t, not anymore. But I keep a pack around, just so I know that I have it if I want one. Keeps the temptation away.”
“Would definitely not work for me…” Dean muttered, took a cigarette and lit it with his lighter, the one he kept for himself and hadn’t thrown into some grave because some idiotic thought had made him think of it as his ‘lucky lighter’.
And there was also that other reason… he had got it from Sam.
“I didn’t know you smoke”, Bobby shot back when dean exhaled a cloud of white smoke out of his lungs.
“Yeah”, Dean shrugged. “Me neither.”
*
Sam was sure he was going insane. After reliving his first night with Dean in his mind –Dean had made him come first before coming himself- he had relived every possible place, time and situation where they had ended up naked together between the sheets- or on the ground or on the backseat of the Impala …and once against an abandoned truck at Bobby’s backyard when Bobby was away getting some supplies- and all he wanted was to make a new memory because it meant that he would see Dean again. But as the time passed, Sam’s flicker of hope slowly started to die.
It had been days, over a week at least, and he had seen no one, heard nothing but his own voice as he yelled someone to come and show his or her face or let him out.
There was still food and water, the toilet was working and though the air was chilly it wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t the physical needs that would kill him. It was the silence, the unawareness, the absolute lack of knowledge of what had happened to him, or worse, what had happened to Dean.
He had a feeling that something was horribly, horribly wrong.
That feeling got even stronger as Sam started remembering, just brief flashes at first. They had been hunting. It had been a dark, cold night, clouds covering the moon and the stars, silent. He had followed Dean, a flashlight in his other hand, gun in the other. There had been an impact, a hard push from behind. Dean’s terrified face as he had turned around. Pain. Then—
Nothing.
That was insane. They had been hunting a ghost. Ghosts didn’t kidnap people! And even if they did, they wouldn’t leave food and water and just leave. Would they? Sam rubbed his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble that also reminded him that he had been here for a long time.
Here, here, here…
Where the fuck was HERE?! What the fuck was he doing in here?? Where was Dean, God, where was he!? Sam jumped up from the mattress he had been sitting on and screamed, yelled as loud as he could, smashed his fists against the wall and shouted and screamed every single curse word that existed and even a few that didn’t.
Something was so terribly wrong.
He didn’t notice it at first. Then he started feeling a little lightheaded, slightly nauseous. He shivered as chills crept up his spine. The air felt too thin is his lungs. He couldn’t breath. Maybe he was having a panic attack.
Then he smelled it.
The smell was so subtle he hadn’t noticed it at first, but now he recognized it. He wasn’t having a panic attack, he realized. A bitter smile crept on his lips as he looked at the AC, purring so softly and blowing more air-eating gas into the room. He was going to die here, in this godforsaken cellar, never even knowing who had brought him here or why.
It was bittersweet.
Sam sat down, leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He memorized the first time he and Dean had made love. Before that it had been fucking, always hard and rough, in the dark, from behind, always in small self-denial. But then one morning, after Dean had fucked his lights out the night before, Sam woke up and Dean was looking into his eyes, just watching him like he was some kind of wonder.
And then Dean bent down and kissed him.
It was their first kiss, the first real kiss. Before that it had been biting, licking and tongue fucking, but this was different. Smooth, slow and deep. It set a different kind of need boiling in Sam’s blood and made him weak. When Dean pulled away and Sam opened his eyes again, Dean’s skin looked like gold in the soft morning light, his eyes like deep dwells, and Sam realized how beautiful his brother was and his heart ached.
Dean didn’t say anything, just kept looking into Sam’s eyes, shifted on top of him and kissed him again. Sam was whimpering and writhing under him, hands searching for more and more of skin, mouth opening wider to welcome Dean in. Dean pushed his leg between Sam’s thighs to spread them and Sam lost his breath as Dean settled between them and gently pushed his cock inside him. Sam was still slick and loose from the night before, and Dean slid in all the way, easily like they were designed for this, and Sam cried his need into Dean’s mouth. When the kiss ended, Dean kept watching him the whole time they moved together, deep and slow, in and out and back inside again. Sam’s hips bucked, seeking for more force and friction, but Dean kept him still, tamed him like he was a wild and skittish animal, and Sam gave in and fell apart.
His eyes were wide and glassy as he looked back into his brother’s eyes. His body was weak and willing, to move and bend in every way Dean wanted him, and when Dean grabbed Sam’s thigh and pushed it up at the same time as his cock pushed impossibly deep inside of Sam, Sam’s back arched like a bow and he screamed. Dean bent down to swallow Sam’s cries into his mouth and slowly rocked them both over the edge.
Sam had cried out his brother’s name when he came. Now he whispered it quietly, again and again, like tasting and testing and memorizing it before the room got dim, Sam’s eyelashes fluttered close and his world drowned into darkness.
*
Movement.
Voices. Far, far away…
Calling his name.
Dean…
Sam opened his eyes and knew he was dead, because there was Dean, sitting beside his bed that wasn’t the old mattress he had almost got used to, but instead soft and warm. Gone was the harsh wool blanket, replaced with supple cotton, and there were puffy pillows under his head. Dean’s eyes widened as he realized Sam was awake and he was bending over Sam in an instant, staring in his eyes.
“God, Sammy, thank God you’re okay”, Dean whispered, voice choked and barely audible, tears crowding in his eyes, “I thought I lost you, I really did. Christ, Sammy, I was so scared…”
“What…” Sam had to clear his throat that felt sore and rough. “What happened?”
Dean smiled a little through his tears, wiped his hands across Sam’s cheek and forehead, and the touch was so real that Sam couldn’t help but wonder if dreams were always this real. Everything was blurry and unclear; he was still feeling lightheaded and weak.
“What happened?” He asked again. Dean shook his head.
“Don’t think about it now. You need to rest. I’ll tell you everything after you’ve rested, okay buddy?”
“Mmh…” Sam mumbled trying to keep his eyes open but his lids felt heavy as lead and the world was getting dark again.
“Don’t leave me…” Sam whispered trying to focus his gaze on his brother but his vision was swimming in and out. “I need you…”
“Never gonna leave you again.” Dean’s voice was gentle and full of emotion. “Never again, Sammy.”
*
When Sam woke up the next time, it was dark outside but a lamp on the bedside table spread a soft orange glow in the room, and Dean was still beside him.
“I thought I was dead.” Sam rubbed his eyes. Everything felt more realistic now, and he realized he recognized the room. “We’re at Bobby’s house?”
“Yeah.” Dean smiled. “And we’re staying here until we’re sure you’re okay.” Then, after a small pause: “I missed you so bad.”
“How long was I gone?”
Dean sighed. “Thirteen days.”
“Felt longer than that.” Sam frowned. “What happened? How did I… How did you find me?”
“What do you remember?”
Sam stared at the ceiling, thinking. “The hunt. Then something hit me from behind. Pain. That’s about it. The next thing I remember was waking up in a cellar.” He looked at Dean. “How did I end up there? And why?”
Dean looked away for a moment before looking back at Sam. “I don’t know, Sam. I only had time to see you getting attacked by something before I got knocked unconscious myself. Sloppy, I know, and I’m sorry I failed to protect you.” Dean looked down. “I’ll never forgive myself that.”
“Dean…” Sam reached his hand out and twined his fingers with Dean’s, making Dean look at him again. “It’s not your fault. Remember Benders? That wasn’t your fault either. And you saved me then and you saved me now.” Then he got puzzled. “How did you find me?”
“With luck, I guess.”
“There was gas… I was sure I was gonna die.”
“I got you in time. Don’t think about it now.”
“But why?” Sam couldn’t get those questions out of his head. Something didn’t match. “If we both got attacked, then why me? Why did they take me and left you there?”
Dean sighed. “I don’t know, Sam. Please, just let it go for now. I want you to get better and for that you need to rest.”
“I wanna make a new memory.”
Dean looked stunned. “What?”
Sam grinned. “When I had nothing else to do I went through in my head all the times we… you know. And I was thinking that if I ever get out of there alive, I wanna make a new memory.”
Dean laughed a little. “We’ll have plenty of time to make as many memories as you want. But for now I want you to rest. Are you in pain? Need anything?”
Sam looked Dean in the eyes and his gaze was filled with open honesty. “I need you.”
Dean bent down and kissed Sam gently. “You got me.”
“Then come here. I miss sleeping with you beside me.”
“Sure thing.” Dean smiled and lay down next to Sam, wrapping his arms around his little brother and holding him close. Sam felt instantly calmer.
“Sam?”
“Mm-hmm?”
“I love you.”
Sam looked a little surprised, confused even. Though he knew deep down inside how Dean felt, his brother had never said those words out loud. He was stunned, just for a moment. Then he kissed Dean, feeling more grateful than ever of being alive. “I love you too. I think I always have.”
“Sleep now.”
Sam nuzzled Dean’s neck and closed his eyes.
*
“Good to see you up and running, kiddo.” Bobby said as Sam came out to the kitchen next morning. “Were worried sick about you…”
Sam felt so much better after taking a shower, shaving and brushing his teeth. “Yeah. I was a little worried of myself too. But I was even more worried about Dean.” Then Sam smiled. “He’s fine, I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” Sam’s smile died. “And after I get back in shape I’m gonna find those bastards who took me and I’ll make them pay.”
“Maybe you should just let it go, Sam.” Bobby said quietly.
Sam laughed bitterly. “Why? Do you have any idea what I had to go through? How freaking scared I was? I had absolutely no clue of where I was or where Dean was and the fear was driving me insane. I’d say I deserve a payback.”
Bobby turned around with a steaming mug of coffee and gave it to Sam who took it gratefully, closed his eyes and inhaled the steam. God, he hadn’t even smelled coffee for two weeks. The first sip was like heaven.
“Look, Sam.” Bobby said quietly. “It was a close call. You almost died. Your brother was a mess while you were gone. So don’t go and try to get yourself killed just as he got you back.”
Sam frowned. This wasn’t Bobby’s usual talk.
“I know ‘bout the two of you.” Bobby finally said, not looking at Sam. “Dean told me. After I asked him. I guess… I guess I knew even before he admitted it.”
Sam’s eyes widened. He had absolutely no idea of what to say. Bobby knew? Jesus.
“Don’t worry, kiddo.” Bobby said easily. “I don’t think I’m fit to judge anyone. And you two are still like family to me so stop looking like a deer caught in the headlights.”
Sam still didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded and left the kitchen, still holding the coffee mug in his hands.
“Sam.”
Sam turned around.
“When we talked…” Bobby started. “There was something your brother wanted to say to you. Something he’d never said before.” A pause. “So, did he?”
Sam smiled a little, remembering Dean’s words. ‘I love you.’
“Yeah. He told me.”
“Good.”
*
Dean was still sleeping when Sam went back in to the room they shared. It was the same room where they had slept when they had been kids and Dad had left them at Bobby’s care when he was hunting something so dangerous he felt it was too big of a risk to bring the boys with him.
Dean looked peaceful in the soft morning light, the sheet covering him from the waist down but his upper body was bare and glowing like gold in the light that filtered through the curtains. Sam finished his coffee, set the empty mug down to the table and shed his t-shirt and sweats before climbing back to bed with his brother.
“Sammy…” Dean murmured sleepily and Sam kissed him. Dean smiled. “You taste like coffee… Brought any for me?”
“Nope.” Sam said and straddled Dean’s hips. “Brought you something better.”
Dean grinned. “And what would that be?”
Sam smiled and removed the sheet that separated them, grabbed Dean’s cock that was hard, thanks to morning wood, and simply guided it inside of him. Dean gasped and his eyes flew open. “Fuck, Sam!”
“Yeah, Dean. That’s the idea.”
He had prepared himself in the shower, which had made his coffee run a bit awkward but now as Dean was inside him it had so been worth it.
“Christ Sam, Bobby’s home!” Dean hissed and Sam shrugged, smiling teasingly.
“I guess we just have to be real quiet then.”
“You are so evil…” Dean muttered but his hands settled on Sam’s hips and proceeded to lift his little brother up, just a bit before letting him slide back down. Dean groaned and threw his head back. “Fuck you feel good…”
“Mmmhh…” was all that Sam got out of his mouth as he lifted himself up further and grinded down again, all the way so that he could feel Dean’s pubic hair against his ass.
“Come here.” Dean panted. “If were gonna be quiet I’ll have to swallow your moans.”
“Nngh…” was Sam’s response. Dean grabbed his neck and forced him down, bringing their lips together and sealing them. And it really was a good idea, since now that Dean planted his feet against the mattress for more leverage and started sliding in and out of Sam with more force and speed, if their mouths weren’t joined so tightly, Sam would have screamed when Dean hit his prostate and grinded against it, pressing Sam’s ass down with his hands and driving Sam insane.
The slow morning fuck turned into mayhem of desperate hips, grabby hands, clawing and sweating and swearing into each other’s mouths as they mated like animals, wild and rough and free. Dean flipped them around and grabbed Sam’s ass, fucked into him with such force that the bed was creaking, and Sam started trembling uncontrollably under him before Dean felt his little brother’s teeth sinking into his shoulder as Sam came so hard his back arched and he almost made them fall out of bed.
“I love you”, Dean panted, pounding into Sam like in peril, “Fuck I love you…” And then Dean went still, body going rigid before his hips spasmed once, twice, and then he was pouring inside of Sam, long, hot and wet. Sam’s mouth swallowed his cries until he collapsed on top of his baby brother and just lay there, panting, forehead against Sam’s shoulder.
“I love you too.” Sam whispered after a long time.
Dean smiled and placed a tender kiss against Sam’s neck.
*
Sam recovered quickly, physically at least. He didn’t want to talk about his two weeks spent underground and Dean didn’t push him. In a way Dean was relieved because talking about it would remind him that it had really happened, but at the same time he knew that his little brother had to talk about it eventually. Sam was the kind of person who would turn into a time bomb that would explode without a decent warning if he kept things bottled up inside. They would talk, eventually. But not today.
Sam was quiet. He ate, slept and sought physical comfort from Dean, which was awesome because it meant hot and sweaty sex whenever Bobby was out of hearing range, but to be honest Dean was a little worried about Sam. The not talking part was nothing new, Sam had his silent periods once in a while, but there was something… different. Like sex. Sam had always been greedy little bastard when it came to sex with Dean, but now he devoured physical contact like his life depended on it. Dean couldn’t really explain it, but it was like Sam’s priorities had changed rapidly. No matter how greedy for satisfying his physical needs, Sam had always satisfied his emotional needs first. Now he filled his craving for sex but didn’t even want to analyze it after. Either Sam’s testosterone levels were suddenly normal or something was really wrong.
When not all over his brother, Sam spent a lot of time just walking around the house, pacing restlessly in a way that reminded Dean of a caged leopard he had seen in a zoo that one rare time Dad had decided to take them there. There was also something restless in Sam’s eyes, and sometimes when Sam was deep inside his thoughts and Dean pulled him out of them, he swore he saw fear in Sam’s eyes. Fear and frustration and something else he couldn’t put his finger on.
Even now Sam looked like a skittish animal, and Dean had no idea of what to do. He swallowed thickly, looked at his little brother who was staring out of the window like freedom was right there but just out of reach, and his heart ached. Sam reminded him of the leopard. He wondered if the big cat had ever again had a chance to run free, or if it had died in captivity. Deep down he knew the answer but didn’t want to think about it.
*
The house was too small. It was suffocating him, so Sam went out to the porch, closed his eyes and inhaled deep. The fresh air filled his lungs and it was suddenly easier to breathe. He had feared this moment; leaving the safety of Bobby’s house, but now, outside, he felt better. A gust of wind smelled crispy and carried a promise of the winter to come. No earthly smell of stale water and rotting plants, just fresh air, freedom.
His bruises had healed, and even when his bones jutted out a little sharper than before, he knew he was physically okay. He also knew that his captivity could have been so much worse, and sometimes the possibilities of what could have happened to him down in that basement made him sick. Still the questions remained. Who had taken him? To where, and why? Dean still didn’t have any clear answers, not that Sam asked often, but when he did, it was almost like Dean was circling the subject and changed it the first chance he got.
Sam sighed deep and took the first step down the stairs that led from the porch to the yard. The sky above his head looked huge and blue, and Sam’s heart hammered in his chest, like he was suddenly suffering of some kind of reversed claustrophobia. Some little voice in his head told him to turn around, get back inside the house and stay there because it was safe, and Sam almost obeyed it until he realized it was crazy and forced himself to take another step, and then another.
His legs carried him to some far corner of Bobby’s yard. He thought he recognized the place, but he was still sure he hadn’t been there for a long time.
And suddenly the feeling that something was terribly wrong returned.
He remembered. He remembered playing with Dean here when they had been just kids. The place had changed, decayed. The grass that had once been green was now sickly yellow and dying. Rotting. There were puddles of old rainwater on the ground, nothing but mud anymore really.
An earthly smell; rotting plants, stale water…
And Sam remembered when they had played hide and seek with Dean, years and years ago, and how Dean had found a perfect place to hide. So perfect that Sam hadn’t found him and had finally given up.
And then he remembered something else, something much more recent.
“I can explain, Sam.” Came a voice behind him, and Sam couldn’t turn and face his brother, not now. Not now when he knew.
It didn’t mean he would ever understand.
*
“Sam…” Dean brushed his suddenly sweaty palms to his jeans and tried to get rid of the suffocating feeling in his throat. He had seen Sam walking to this direction, and he had rushed after him, but he knew it was already too late.
“Why?” Sam’s voice didn’t hold any emotions. It was cold, like strangers.
“You got attacked.” Dean said quietly. “We were hunting that ghost, and I… I had no idea, no one had… until I saw you getting attacked…”
“By a ghost?”
“By a werewolf.” Dean swallowed. “You got attacked by a werewolf. I had no idea it was there, but it was, and it bit you. It bit you Sammy.” Even after almost three weeks and now knowing that Sam was okay, the memories were still fresh and raw. The absolute helplessness as he had watched the thing take a bite of his brother before Dean had shot it and rushed to Sam who was unconscious, laying on the ground, looking like he was dead.
“I was so scared.” Dean continued, voice thick and pained. “I thought I’d lost you. But you were alive. And then… God. It wasn’t full moon, the thing hadn’t turned, but it bit you, Sam. It’s like a virus. I didn’t know if you were infected. I didn’t know anything. I carried you back to the car and drove here. Bobby had heard some old wives tale, about monkshood, a plant, and how it purifies the blood. We made a solution and gave you a shot. But we still couldn’t be sure, I couldn’t be sure, and I had to be, I needed to be sure.”
“You could have told me.” Still no feelings.
“Would you have listened?” Dean asked, laughing bitterly. “You would’ve just told me to shoot you. I would have refused, and you would’ve done it yourself.”
“You locked me in the basement.”
“Yeah, I did.” Dean felt broken, his heart was shattering in two. “I had no choice. I had no time to think of anything else! And I had to do something! I had to be sure! God, Sammy, if you would’ve turned…”
“And the gas?”
Dean hung his head. “Had to get you unconscious. You were never supposed to find out. About any of this.”
There was a long silence that felt so uncomfortable Dean had to shift his weight from one leg to another. Finally Sam spoke.
“All the time… The whole time I was down there, you knew exactly where I was.” A joyless laugh, but at least it suggested some kind of emotion, even if it was bitterness. “I was worried sick about you, and you… God, Dean.” Sam shook his head and Dean wanted to see his face, but at the same time he was so damn scared of the moment Sam would look at him because he didn’t know what he would see in those eyes.
“I had to, Sam.” Dean said quietly. “I did it because I love you.”
“I know.” Sam’s voice was suddenly softer and it almost made Dean flinch. “I guess I would’ve done the same.”
“What?” Dean was stunned. Sam was not mad?
“Well, I guess love can make you do crazy things. Things you didn’t think you could do. Maybe even change a person.”
Dean frowned. What was Sam talking about? “Look, Sam. I’m sorry, I really am, for what you had to go through down there. But I’m not sorry for fighting for you, for keeping you alive, maybe against your will if you knew the truth, but Sam… Sammy…” Dean smiled a little. “Full moon was five days ago. You’re still you. You didn’t turn.”
Sam chuckled in a way that made something uncomfortable coil in Dean’s belly. And then his little brother turned around, faced him.
Looked at him with his golden eyes.
Eyes of a wolf.
“Not all the way.” Sam whispered, a wicked smile on his lips and shrugged. “Anyway.”
-Fin-