Supernatural fic: "Freak" (2/3) (Sam/Dean, R)
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Freak (2/3)
Author: arby_m
Pairing: Sam/Dean slash
Rating: R (angst, cussing, incest)
Spoilers: AU for Skin. Some dialogue referenced from the episode.
Warnings: Wincest, angst.
Length: ~1500 words
Disclaimer: My beloved boys most certainly do not belong to me.
Summary: Dean saw what the shapeshifter did to Sam. It was so much worse even than he had imagined.
Note: Sequel to Darkness, so I recommend you read that one first. Chapter 1 is here.
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Dean awoke in a cold sweat and sat bolt upright in horror. It was so much worse even than he had imagined. He looked over at Sam, who was still sleeping, thank God. He threw on his pants and went outside, to cling to the railing of the porch outside the hotel room as if he were drunk or seasick.
He tried to light a cigarette but somehow he couldn’t get it to work. His breath was hitching despite himself, and he felt like he was going to throw up. He was flooded with so many contradictory emotions - rage at that thing for hurting Sam, aching compassion for Sammy in his agony, overwhelming guilt at thinking those things, feeling those things the shapeshifter used against Sam, and underneath it all some sort of horrible joy at knowing Sam wanted him. What the hell is wrong with me? He’d tried to fight it for so long, the effort was wearing him out. To his utter shame, he found that he was crying. He never cried. It just wasn’t something that was allowed to happen. And of all times, now was just…not appropriate. Sam was the one who had been hurt. God, what that thing did to him…it was unspeakable. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to talk about it. If anyone had the right to cry, it was Sam. Dean had to suck it up. At this, some traitorous part of him said, as usual. This made him cry even harder. Jesus, he had to get it together. What if Sammy heard him, or came outside and saw him like this? Don’t show fear, you have to be strong for him. He could almost hear Dad’s voice saying it. What if he didn't want to be the strong one all the time? Well, that's just too fucking bad. Tell that to the demons, the ghosts that'd sooner kill you than look at you, crybaby. Why don't you go whine to them and see how far you get.
Me and Dad, we’re never going to let you go. There was a horrible, distorted truth to that. It had never occurred to Dean that perhaps it wasn’t fair to Sam, to hang on so tightly, that they might be suffocating him. He was all they had, he and Dad, without Sam their lives were a pathetic exercise in self-isolation. Together they were a family, though a wounded and broken one - alone they were just two weird losers constantly on the run.
But didn’t Sam deserve his own chance, the one that Dean never got? To get away, to live in a world where your loved ones weren’t burned on the ceiling for your sins, and your own brother didn’t crave the touch of your lips on his? Yes, he had to conclude, though it almost killed him to admit it - when you looked at it that way, Sam did deserve to be free. Every fiber of his being ached with denial and the supreme injustice of it. It was too late for Dean, and fighting demons was all he'd ever been good at anyway.
He felt a dull, sinking sensation as the familiar burden of his life settled back down on his shoulders. It had always been there, of course, but for a moment there had been the possibility that things could somehow be different, and now he saw the tiny candle of that hope snuffed out for having the temerity to burn.
It didn’t matter anyway. It made no difference, what he wanted. That had never been part of the equation. Feeling numb, he turned and went back inside the motel room.
Sam was awake. Dean went and sat on his own bed, unable to look directly at his brother, but he could see out of the edge of his vision that Sam had a weird look in his eyes, a bright little spark of what might be hope. It gave Dean an enormous sense of foreboding.
There was silence. Dean could sense Sam staring at him, trying to figure out what to say.
“Look, don’t bother, okay? I figured it out. You don’t have to stay with me and Dad if you don’t want to. Go to school, be a lawyer, have a normal life. We’ll survive without you.”
“Wait, where did that come from?” Sam sounded confused.
“I heard what the shapeshifter said. I...saw the whole thing in a dream. I know I made fun of your dreams before and said they were freaky mojo, but I had one and I think it was true.”
Sam was taken aback by this. “So you know...everything?”
“I guess. Did it say you drove Dad away and killed Jess? Did it say I think I’m a freak and everyone's gonna leave me? ‘Cause let me give you a hint - the first one is a total lie but the second one is kind of true.”
“Dean...I don’t want to leave you. You were never the one I was trying to get away from. It was just Dad. And let’s not get into that whole debate again - we should agree to disagree on the subject of Dad. I’ll just say that he was the reason I couldn’t bear to hunt any more. You were the only thing that kept me there. And you were the one I was sorry to leave.” Sam’s tone was oddly tender.
Hearing this made Dean feel funny. He couldn’t put his finger on this emotion, but it quickly became nervousness. He stole a glance at Sam out of the corner of his eye. Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning forward, watching Dean with an unnerving intensity.
Dean scowled. This was not going the way he had imagined at all.
“Well, it’s a package deal - me and Dad or nothing at all, okay?”
“I guess. If you say so. If we can ever find Dad - if he even wants to be found.” Sam’s voice had moved closer. It sounded like he was sitting on Dean’s bed now. Dean refused to look.
“Dean…that night, after you got me away from the shapeshifter, did something happen? I mean, between you and me? I had a dream, but then there was a part I’m not sure about, I mean if it was a dream or if it was real…”
God, not this. He’d thought he was safe when Sam believed it was all a dream.
“Look, you were upset, okay? You were crying, and I didn’t know what to do. I was comforting you. We just slept, that’s all. Nothing happened.”
Despite himself Dean looked over. Sam’s eyes were wide and positively shining with that frightening glow. He inched a little bit closer.
Dean stared at the floor, ashamed of himself. He wasn’t even sure what he’d done wrong but he knew there was something. It wasn’t right, the fact that he wanted Sam so badly that the act of giving comfort had become all tangled up in his mind with something more carnal. He was the older one, it had always been his job to set the example, to do what was right so he could show Sammy.
Suddenly he felt a warm hand on his arm.
“Dean, look at me.” Sam's voice was quiet but firm.
“I don’t wanna.” He knew he sounded like a child, but couldn’t help it.
“C’mon. It’s okay, really,” Sam was coaxing. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”.
Yeah, right. That was patently untrue. He finally looked straight at Sammy, just to prove him wrong, and Sam shocked him by moving in and kissing him, gentle and sweet with just a suggestion of something more. He reeled back in astonishment, and then Sam kissed him again, with more heat behind it, those soft lips parting and a warm tongue creeping out to taste Dean’s mouth, and despite himself Dean found his own hands drifting up to touch Sammy’s hair, the texture of it achingly familiar. Dean broke the kiss, and looked at Sam for a long moment. He seemed genuinely pleased by this turn of events. Again, far too good to be true.
“You don’t know what you want. I can’t take advantage of you like this! Sooner or later you’ll regret it and I’ll never be able to live with myself.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Hey, I’m not twelve. In fact, I’m over twenty-one, so legally able to decide for myself. I want this. I’ve wanted it for a long time, it just took the shapeshifter to make me realize it.”
Dean saw his opening and seized it. “Ah, see - you’re traumatized! You’ve been through a horrible experience and it’s warped your mind. You’d never want this if you hadn’t been abused by that brotherfucker.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Now you’re just making excuses. Do you want me or don’t you? This is me, throwing myself at your feet.”
“It’s not about what I want. It’s about what’s right. And me, making moves on you? Not right.”
“But you’re not making a move on me.” His voice went lower, became almost sultry. “I’m making a move on you.” And as if to prove it, he leaned over and kissed Dean again, this time leaving absolutely no doubt of his intentions.
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Onward! To Part 3
Title: Freak (2/3)
Author: arby_m
Pairing: Sam/Dean slash
Rating: R (angst, cussing, incest)
Spoilers: AU for Skin. Some dialogue referenced from the episode.
Warnings: Wincest, angst.
Length: ~1500 words
Disclaimer: My beloved boys most certainly do not belong to me.
Summary: Dean saw what the shapeshifter did to Sam. It was so much worse even than he had imagined.
Note: Sequel to Darkness, so I recommend you read that one first. Chapter 1 is here.
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Dean awoke in a cold sweat and sat bolt upright in horror. It was so much worse even than he had imagined. He looked over at Sam, who was still sleeping, thank God. He threw on his pants and went outside, to cling to the railing of the porch outside the hotel room as if he were drunk or seasick.
He tried to light a cigarette but somehow he couldn’t get it to work. His breath was hitching despite himself, and he felt like he was going to throw up. He was flooded with so many contradictory emotions - rage at that thing for hurting Sam, aching compassion for Sammy in his agony, overwhelming guilt at thinking those things, feeling those things the shapeshifter used against Sam, and underneath it all some sort of horrible joy at knowing Sam wanted him. What the hell is wrong with me? He’d tried to fight it for so long, the effort was wearing him out. To his utter shame, he found that he was crying. He never cried. It just wasn’t something that was allowed to happen. And of all times, now was just…not appropriate. Sam was the one who had been hurt. God, what that thing did to him…it was unspeakable. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to talk about it. If anyone had the right to cry, it was Sam. Dean had to suck it up. At this, some traitorous part of him said, as usual. This made him cry even harder. Jesus, he had to get it together. What if Sammy heard him, or came outside and saw him like this? Don’t show fear, you have to be strong for him. He could almost hear Dad’s voice saying it. What if he didn't want to be the strong one all the time? Well, that's just too fucking bad. Tell that to the demons, the ghosts that'd sooner kill you than look at you, crybaby. Why don't you go whine to them and see how far you get.
Me and Dad, we’re never going to let you go. There was a horrible, distorted truth to that. It had never occurred to Dean that perhaps it wasn’t fair to Sam, to hang on so tightly, that they might be suffocating him. He was all they had, he and Dad, without Sam their lives were a pathetic exercise in self-isolation. Together they were a family, though a wounded and broken one - alone they were just two weird losers constantly on the run.
But didn’t Sam deserve his own chance, the one that Dean never got? To get away, to live in a world where your loved ones weren’t burned on the ceiling for your sins, and your own brother didn’t crave the touch of your lips on his? Yes, he had to conclude, though it almost killed him to admit it - when you looked at it that way, Sam did deserve to be free. Every fiber of his being ached with denial and the supreme injustice of it. It was too late for Dean, and fighting demons was all he'd ever been good at anyway.
He felt a dull, sinking sensation as the familiar burden of his life settled back down on his shoulders. It had always been there, of course, but for a moment there had been the possibility that things could somehow be different, and now he saw the tiny candle of that hope snuffed out for having the temerity to burn.
It didn’t matter anyway. It made no difference, what he wanted. That had never been part of the equation. Feeling numb, he turned and went back inside the motel room.
Sam was awake. Dean went and sat on his own bed, unable to look directly at his brother, but he could see out of the edge of his vision that Sam had a weird look in his eyes, a bright little spark of what might be hope. It gave Dean an enormous sense of foreboding.
There was silence. Dean could sense Sam staring at him, trying to figure out what to say.
“Look, don’t bother, okay? I figured it out. You don’t have to stay with me and Dad if you don’t want to. Go to school, be a lawyer, have a normal life. We’ll survive without you.”
“Wait, where did that come from?” Sam sounded confused.
“I heard what the shapeshifter said. I...saw the whole thing in a dream. I know I made fun of your dreams before and said they were freaky mojo, but I had one and I think it was true.”
Sam was taken aback by this. “So you know...everything?”
“I guess. Did it say you drove Dad away and killed Jess? Did it say I think I’m a freak and everyone's gonna leave me? ‘Cause let me give you a hint - the first one is a total lie but the second one is kind of true.”
“Dean...I don’t want to leave you. You were never the one I was trying to get away from. It was just Dad. And let’s not get into that whole debate again - we should agree to disagree on the subject of Dad. I’ll just say that he was the reason I couldn’t bear to hunt any more. You were the only thing that kept me there. And you were the one I was sorry to leave.” Sam’s tone was oddly tender.
Hearing this made Dean feel funny. He couldn’t put his finger on this emotion, but it quickly became nervousness. He stole a glance at Sam out of the corner of his eye. Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning forward, watching Dean with an unnerving intensity.
Dean scowled. This was not going the way he had imagined at all.
“Well, it’s a package deal - me and Dad or nothing at all, okay?”
“I guess. If you say so. If we can ever find Dad - if he even wants to be found.” Sam’s voice had moved closer. It sounded like he was sitting on Dean’s bed now. Dean refused to look.
“Dean…that night, after you got me away from the shapeshifter, did something happen? I mean, between you and me? I had a dream, but then there was a part I’m not sure about, I mean if it was a dream or if it was real…”
God, not this. He’d thought he was safe when Sam believed it was all a dream.
“Look, you were upset, okay? You were crying, and I didn’t know what to do. I was comforting you. We just slept, that’s all. Nothing happened.”
Despite himself Dean looked over. Sam’s eyes were wide and positively shining with that frightening glow. He inched a little bit closer.
Dean stared at the floor, ashamed of himself. He wasn’t even sure what he’d done wrong but he knew there was something. It wasn’t right, the fact that he wanted Sam so badly that the act of giving comfort had become all tangled up in his mind with something more carnal. He was the older one, it had always been his job to set the example, to do what was right so he could show Sammy.
Suddenly he felt a warm hand on his arm.
“Dean, look at me.” Sam's voice was quiet but firm.
“I don’t wanna.” He knew he sounded like a child, but couldn’t help it.
“C’mon. It’s okay, really,” Sam was coaxing. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”.
Yeah, right. That was patently untrue. He finally looked straight at Sammy, just to prove him wrong, and Sam shocked him by moving in and kissing him, gentle and sweet with just a suggestion of something more. He reeled back in astonishment, and then Sam kissed him again, with more heat behind it, those soft lips parting and a warm tongue creeping out to taste Dean’s mouth, and despite himself Dean found his own hands drifting up to touch Sammy’s hair, the texture of it achingly familiar. Dean broke the kiss, and looked at Sam for a long moment. He seemed genuinely pleased by this turn of events. Again, far too good to be true.
“You don’t know what you want. I can’t take advantage of you like this! Sooner or later you’ll regret it and I’ll never be able to live with myself.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Hey, I’m not twelve. In fact, I’m over twenty-one, so legally able to decide for myself. I want this. I’ve wanted it for a long time, it just took the shapeshifter to make me realize it.”
Dean saw his opening and seized it. “Ah, see - you’re traumatized! You’ve been through a horrible experience and it’s warped your mind. You’d never want this if you hadn’t been abused by that brotherfucker.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Now you’re just making excuses. Do you want me or don’t you? This is me, throwing myself at your feet.”
“It’s not about what I want. It’s about what’s right. And me, making moves on you? Not right.”
“But you’re not making a move on me.” His voice went lower, became almost sultry. “I’m making a move on you.” And as if to prove it, he leaned over and kissed Dean again, this time leaving absolutely no doubt of his intentions.
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Onward! To Part 3