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Language:
English
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Sinful Desire
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Published:
2007-01-09
Completed:
2007-04-21
Words:
9,013
Chapters:
4/4
Kudos:
3
Hits:
96

take me back

Summary:

Sam's back from Stanford and it's about time the boys tied up a few loose ends...

Notes:

Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at Sinful-Desire.org. To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on Sinful Desire collection profile.

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Chapter Text


Author's notes: I own nothing...which is a total given. But I just like to torture myself with the reminder of what is not mine...


So take me back, back to better days

Cause this time between is wasting me away

So take me back, when we were not afraid

Cause this time between is wasting me away

 

Wasting me away, Waste away

So now we're running, we're running blind into the light

And we fall behind

We're running and wasting away with time

 

-Story Of The Year: "Take Me Back"

 

 

 

He should have known this was coming really. How long did he actually think that he would be able to avoid this conversation with his brother? They’d been on the road together for months and things had been tense.

 

Always tense.

 

It was inevitable. As much as Dean hated emotions, hated having them, hated talking about them, it would always be there between them. And that meant having a conversation neither one of them really wanted to have.

 

This conversation.

 

About why he left.

 

“Dean,” he sighed. “Don’t do this.”

 

“Do what Sam? Ask you about your apple pie life?”

 

“You’re not asking about my life, you’re putting it down.”

 

Dean shrugged. “Isn’t that what you’ve always done to mine?”

 

He winced at his brother’s comeback. That wasn’t fair. Dean’s life had been Sam’s and he had hated it, hated watching his brother sacrifice, hated taking from his brother, hated pushing him into things he couldn’t want.

 

Like being with him.

 

His brother talked about it like Sam had spent his life putting Dean down. As if he really looked down on his older brother for dropping out of high school and avoiding college all together in order to follow after their father. When that couldn’t be more untrue.

 

He worshipped his brother, always had. And school, grades, whatever else, wasn’t going to change that. Could never change that. But Dean never saw that, all he saw was his younger brother moving on.

 

Without him.

 

Like going to Stanford could change the things between him or the way that Sam saw him. It was insane, so lacking in confidence he couldn’t believe Dean would even think of it. But he had. For all his cocky remarks and his in your face attitude, he lacked more confidence then Sam had ever seen in someone.

 

“We shared that life,” Sam reminded him. “It was as much mine as yours.”

 

Dean snorted, this time obvious in his attack. “It was never yours, Sam. You were always meant for something better. Something normal.” He spit out the last word as if it left a terrible aftertaste in his mouth.

 

That hurt more than anything Dean had ever said to him, including the harsh words they’d had when he left. It hurt worse because he was making it seem as if Sam really had never loved Dean. Like they were different in a way they shouldn’t be. But Dean had been this way his whole life.

 

He’d always put Sam up on a pedestal, kept this distance between them. It was no use telling Dean otherwise because he didn’t listen. He only argued with Sam or brushed it off, joked about it. It wasn’t funny to Sam though. He wasn’t any better than his brother, no matter what Dean believed.

 

“It was as much mine as you let it be, Dean. You were the one that pushed me away from this, from you, from everything.”

 

“I didn’t make you leave Sam; you did that all on your own.”

 

Sam bit down hard on his lip, fighting the words he knew would only hurt his brother more, back. And that wasn’t what this was about. What any of this was about. This was about the two of them, about Dean’s need to keep Sam close and so far away at the same time. And Sam’s inability to just let things drop sometimes.

 

Like now.

 

Each had returned to their old ways; one pushing and one pulling. Each wanting the same thing and going about it in their own screwed up way. The wrong ways. One hurt the other deliberately; the other tried desperately to push things without breaking.

 

Neither seemed to be able to fix things.

 

“I didn’t want to leave Dean. It wasn’t personal.” Not in the way you think anyway, he adds silently.

 

Dean snorts. “How could it not be personal? You left. It doesn’t get more personal than that.”

 

“I didn’t do it to hurt you.”

 

“No you just wanted something better.”

 

Sam stared down at his shoes, biting hard enough on his lip to make it bleed. Something better than Dean? He’d yet to find any such thing. And if his older brother could point him in that direction he’d gladly follow, because it was Dean.

 

Because he was sick of being in love with an older brother that hated him, that would never allow the things that had happened between them then, happen now. Because he was sick of imaging and remembering the things he’d done with him, how his body looked and felt and tasted.

 

He was sick of watching his brother through half mast eyes as he came out of the bathroom, towel hanging loosely from his hips. He was sick of watching him get dressed, the ripple of muscles as he threw his clothes on indifferent to anything and everything around him but the hunt.

 

And more than anything he was sick of the empty bed every night, while Dean slept in the next bed over, separated only by a cheap nightstand.

 

“We were never enough for you, were we Sammy?”

 

Dean’s voice was so broken, more than he’d ever heard. More than Dean had ever allowed him hear. And it was more than he could take.

 

“You want to know why I fucking left?” Sam spat, whirling around to face his equally tormented brother.

 

His face was flushed with anger and pain, misery, confusion and a thousand other things Sam couldn’t place. That Dean couldn’t place even as he realized his brother’s face mirrored his own.

 

They stood facing one another, faces mirrors, hands curled into fists as they panted and glared.

 

Waiting.

 

Waiting for Sam’s words to crush and destroy what little was left between them.

 

To destroy instead of mend. And to fully break what was left of Dean’s control.

 

But he just couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t take the pain in his older brother’s voice, the accusing tone. To be constantly reminded of how little Dean thought of himself, how worthless he seemed to feel without Sam or dad’s validation. He just wanted Dean back in his life, wanted to be happy with him again. Like nothing had ever happened.

 

“I left because he fucking told me to! I left because if I didn’t you were going to pay for it. I left to fucking protect you so stop with the guilt trips! I didn’t want to leave; I never fucking wanted to leave!”

 

Dean’s face went blank to match his mind. He blinked slowly and stared at Sam in wait. His words made no sense. Dad would never send Sam away, had never wanted Sam anywhere but with them. He was their family, his youngest son. Why would he send him away? And what the hell did all that have to do with Dean?

 

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked calmly.

 

“I’m talking about how dad told me to get the hell out. I’m talking about the day he sent you into town and everything got fucked up! I didn’t want to leave, why is that so hard for you to believe?”

 

“Dad wouldn’t do that.”

 

“Oh and I would just walk away from you for the hell of it. Because I wanted to see you hurt, right? After everything you’ve given me, you think I could just walk away from you, feeling the way I feel for you?” Sam made a sound of disgust.

 

“Dad wouldn’t do that,” Dean repeated.

 

That’s right; forget that Sam loved him, that Sam craved him. Forget that he was the one that wanted a real relationship with Dean. Forget that and everything else between them, because dad could never push Sam away, right? Dad could never do anything wrong. Like Sam, until he’d left.

 

If he wanted to get through to him he was going to have to change tactics, because reasoning, explaining, and fighting weren’t working.

 

“Why would I want to leave you, Dean?” Sam pleaded, his fingers curling into his brother’s shirt. “Why would I do that?”

 

“That’s you Sam, I can’t answer that.”

 

“He knew something wasn’t right between us. The way I depended on you and you gave in.” Sam shook his head. His father had had a point and a good reason to be suspicious but that didn’t excuse what he’d done to them. How he’d torn them apart.

 

“We could have talked it out, figured something out. You didn’t have to leave,” Dean insisted, staring back at Sam unfeelingly.

 

Sam loosened his grip on Dean’s shirt and found himself standing a little further back. How could that not change something in Dean? He knew his brother would never forgive him and couldn’t blame him for that. He’d hurt them both deeply. But dad had known something wasn’t right and that had to count for something.

 

“I didn’t have a choice.”

 

He winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He always had a choice. He could have been honest with his brother in the first place and they could have talked it out. Or he could have at least been up front with him about why he was leaving so soon and without him. Hell,

that he was leaving at all.

 

And Dean called him on it.

 

“You should have told me. Said something other than goodbye.”

 

Fuck. It just wasn’t that easy.

 

“He didn’t give me a choice Dean.”

 

“Sam, what the hell are you talking about?”

 

“Dad. He didn’t give me a choice. If I stayed things were going to change and if I couldn’t deal with that then I needed to leave. And if I left, there was no coming back. I did what I had to.”

 

“No, you did what you wanted to,” Dean argued.

 

“Like hell!” Sam cried. “You think I wanted to leave you? To mess up what we had? You can keep telling yourself that all you want, but it’s a lie. I did this for you!”

 

Dean snorted. “Whatever man.”

 

Dean turned on his heel, the conversation over as far as he was concerned. They weren’t going to agree on this and it didn’t matter. Things were over between them and what mattered was finding dad and the demon that had killed their mother and Sam’s Jess.

 

Jealousy flared in him and he quickly pushed it aside, replacing it with guilt. If Sam didn’t want him it wasn’t Jess’s fault. He’d found her after he left. There was no reason for her to die.

 

Sam grabbed hold of Dean’s wrist. This conversation was far from over. How were they going to work together if Dean hated him? He had asked Sam’s help in finding dad, nothing more. But Sam wanted more, needed more.

 

He couldn’t leave things this way between them. He’d known this day would come and he would have to face the fact that his brother hated him. Knowing it and seeing it, hearing it, feeling it from Dean was something completely different. It hurt a hundred times more.

 

“You don’t understand,” he pleaded. “Just listen.”

 

“There’s nothing to understand Sam. You left. End of story.”

 

“No, not end of story! I didn’t want to leave, I didn’t have a choice!”

 

“You keep saying that, Sam. But you left. What else matters?”

 

“I came back.”

 

“To help find dad after I forced you into it, after the demon killed your girlfriend. Because let’s face it. If it hadn’t there’s no way you’d be here now. Fuck dad and me, right Sammy? All that matters is your apple pie life.”

 

Dean bit down hard on his tongue, punishing himself for the harsh and undeserving words he’d thrust on Sam. That wasn’t fair and he knew it. But it hurt that his brother hadn’t called or written, hadn’t answered any of his calls and when he asked for his help, for dad’s sake and not his own his baby brother had been able to fight him on it.

 

To agree only to help for a weekend, his apple pie life waiting at home in the form of a beautiful girl and an interview to determine the rest of his life. The life he wanted. The life he’d chosen over his family. Over the brother he swore up and down to love. He didn’t know how else to deal with it then to lash out at him.

 

“It figures you’d think that. It was always easier to believe the worst about me than dad, huh Dean? Being dad’s good little soldier.”

 

“That’s shit man. I never believed anything bad about you.”

 

“You think I walked out on you. That’s not bad?”

 

“You did, Sam. You walked out. You got on that bus and you left. No letters, no phone calls, nothing. If your precious girlfriend hadn’t died you wouldn’t be here, if you didn’t feel guilty, you’d be there with her right now instead of talking to me.

 

“And you know what, maybe that’d be better. So why don’t you go back to Stanford and find yourself a new girlfriend. Leave me to find dad. Like you said, I don’t need the help, right?”

 

His words were sharp and biting, uncalled for like most of what he’d said today to his brother. But he wanted to finish things between them. Wanted to push Sam away before he could get any ideas about them or erase any wonder he had left. Sam may be able to walk away from what they’d had but Dean couldn’t and he wouldn’t be left alone again.