Fic: Only Dreams (Sam/Dean NC-17) Part 1
Title: Only Dreams
Author:
aynslee
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 14,000
Spoilers: References to Season 3.
Summary: First-time Wincest. Sam and Dean struggle to cope with the end of the world.
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, and no profit is being made.
Beta:
annkiri
Notes: Written for
spn_apocasmut. Thanks
tvm, for hosting! Posted in 2 parts.
Link to my prompt: the sky is boiling
Only Dreams
When Sam summons the crossroads demon in January, she shows up wearing Jo’s body.
He’s surprised, but he can’t let himself dwell on that. “I’ve got an offer for you,” Sam says to her, and he steels himself, has to keep talking even though he fucking hates what he’s about to do. And fuck, when Dean finds out, he’s going to be…pissed isn’t even the word for it. But that’s okay, because his brother will be alive. “Give Dean’s soul back and I’ll open the gate again-“
“Oh Sammy,” she says. “Didn’t you get the memo?” She traces her fingertip down his jaw, runs it across his bottom lip. “We don’t want your big brother’s puny little soul. Not now.”
Sam’s not going to get sidetracked, not going to fall for her bullshit. “What do you mean?” he asks, jerking his head away from her hand.
She giggles, a high lilting twitter, a sound that Jo never made. “Oh, just that we’re finally ahead.”
Sam fights the urge to shake her. “But the gate is closed-"
“We don’t need the gate anymore.” She laughs again, haughty now. “So go on back to whatever shit-hole you’re staying in, and tell Dean that he’s off the hook. Lucifer’s got bigger fish to fry.”
Sam steps backward, away from her, mouth open. He wants to keep asking questions, force her to tell him more, tell him how, but he can’t rely on her answers, so he reaches for the holy water in his pocket, figures he knows the exorcism well enough to get the thing out of Jo’s body, but she laughs, even haughtier than before.
“I’m telling you the truth, Winchester. You can’t stop us.”
Then she disappears.
He’s left standing alone, in the middle of the gravel road, stunned, until Dean’s voice explodes behind him. “Goddammit, Sam, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
***
“What else did she say?” Dean’s voice is tight as he shoves Sam into the car. Unfortunately the reassurance that his soul is free and that Sam didn’t even have to bargain to get it back isn’t enough to calm him.
“She might have mentioned-” Sam tries to think of a good way to say it, decides there isn’t one. “She mentioned Lucifer. He found a way out.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Sam!” Dean’s not just yelling now, he’s screaming. “Lucifer? Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, you’re telling me the fucking devil is breaking out of hell?”
“But Dean, the deal-“
“I don’t want to hear about the goddamn deal right now! I can’t believe you, Sam. What the hell were you thinking? No, wait, I don’t want to know.”
Sam’s grateful that Dean hasn’t asked what he was willing to trade. “Look, I know you’re mad, but-"
“Mad doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
“I know you’re pissed, whatever, but this is not a cause and effect event here. Lucifer is not free because I summoned a crossroads demon, so you can quit freaking out. They’re not even very powerful,” Sam mutters, crossing his arms and leaning back into the seat.
“Fuck. Just tell me again, what did she say about the devil?”
“Just that they didn’t need the gate as a portal anymore. They’ve moved beyond that.” Sam frowns. “And she disappeared. Just vanished.”
“Oh my god,” Dean says. He rubs his hand over his forehead and his eyes. He glances over at Sam. “We gotta tell Ellen about Jo too.”
Sam blows out a puff of air and rocks forward in his seat, turning sideways to look at Dean. “I feel horrible about Jo-I’ve been through that, I tried to save her and I didn’t, and I know things have gone to shit, but please, just give me one minute, just one little minute to think about the fact that you aren’t going to die and burn in hell. I think that deserves at least a minute, maybe two.”
“Sam, in case you haven’t noticed? I may not be going to hell in a hand basket right now, but the rest of the world probably is.”
“Fine.” Sam lets it go, knows how his brother is-it’ll all catch up to Dean, and he’ll have his own version of a freak-out later on, once they’ve dealt with this immediate crisis. Sam figures he should probably be more worried about what the demon said, and any other time he’d be fretting, but right now all he can think about is that his brother’s going to live. It might be wrong, but not much else seems to matter to Sam at that moment.
***
It starts in the morning, before they even get to their next hunt, while they’re passing through a small town right outside Chicago. They see cars stopped along the road, one after the other. But there’s no crash or twisted metal, just people lined up down the shoulder of the road.
After the first half-mile, they pull over. Dean taps on the window of a blue Honda Civic, and the girl inside smiles up at him placidly as she rolls the window down.
“Do you need some help?” he asks her.
She doesn’t answer, still smiling up at him, eyes vacant.
Sam feels himself grimace before he even gets to the next car. A family in a white Trailblazer all turn their heads to gaze at him, and he’s met with five identical blank stares. He notices that the radio’s on, and at first he thinks it’s NPR.
But it’s not. It’s a droning voice, speaking what sounds like Latin, but the volume’s low enough that Sam can’t hear the words.
He checks one more car, and by then he’s pretty sure-the demon wasn’t lying.
They leave the people where they are-there’s no way they can herd hundreds of cars off the side of the road, and they ride in silence until they find a motel. Once they’re inside, Dean flips on the television set, but every channel is the same: black and white static. He hits the mute button and throws the remote across the room, where it lands with a clatter against a rickety chair. “Goddammit to hell, what the fuck is going on?”
***
The end of the world is nothing like Sam thought it would be. There are not riots, no cracked roads and no rotting bodies. Locusts don’t swarm, and rivers don’t boil, and the four horsemen are nowhere to be found.
All that happens is that the television comes back on by itself, the fuzzy static replaced by a man with a tailored black suit and a starched white shirt.
His eyes are red.
“That must be him,” Sam says. “Lucifer.” Sam isn’t superstitious, at least not in the way that others are, but he shudders as he says the name.
Dean stands up, gets closer to the screen. “Not very subtle.”
Sam stares. The man isn’t speaking yet; he’s just sitting there, smiling serenely, red eyes blazing. “I feel like we’re in a really bad B-movie.”
“Fucking thing needs to go,” Dean says. “I don’t want to see his face.” But every time he clicks the television off, it comes right back on. “Okaaay,” Dean says drawing the word out. “We need to get out of here anyway. See what the hell we can do about this.”
***
They drive back into town, watching for anything that might give them a clue as to what’s happening. They go slowly down a quaint older road, one that’s actually named Main Street, watching closely as they pass a parakeet shop and a dress boutique.
“Look at the cars,” Sam says, pointing at a minivan. “They’re all sitting inside, not driving. Just like on the freeway.”
“Yeah, and what are they doing?” Dean asks, nodding toward a cluster of people gathered in front a rent-to-own store.
They park and get out, inching closer to the small crowd. Both of them pull their guns, but it’s not necessary. No one turns toward them; they all continue to peer at the window with glazed over eyes.
“It’s like the whole town had a lobotomy,” Dean says, putting his hand on the shoulder of a middle-aged man, moving him aside. The man doesn’t resist.
Sam stands on his tiptoes and looks into the store window. They’re all staring through the window at a fifty-two inch high-resolution television. On the screen is the same image from their motel-the sophisticated looking man with blood-red eyes.
***
Once they’re back in the car, Sam’s flustered. “He-Lucifer-is doing something to them, through the TV, through the radios.” He’s seen some pretty disturbing things, but this is... It’s worse somehow, the way the people look happy to be watching the devil, like it’s all they’ve ever wanted. He turns to face Dean. “So why aren’t we zombies yet?”
Dean shrugs and makes a face to match it, curving his lips down. “Radio’s out in the Impala, and we didn’t hear anything while we had the TV on in the motel. Or maybe it’s like the Force.” Dean waves his hand in front of Sam’s face. “You know, it only works on the weak-minded,” Dean says, not quite laughing when Sam just stares at him.
***
Bobby’s tone is grave when Sam calls him. “It’s not just happening there. It’s everywhere. I’ve called a friend in St. Louis and one in Baton Rouge. Same thing.”
“So what do we do? What are you doing?”
Bobby snorts. “You boys get the hell outta there. You two don’t even think about taking something like this on, not yet, and not alone.” Bobby sighs. “I’m headed to St. Louis, I’ll meet you there tomorrow.”
After he hangs up, they call every person in their list of contacts, and only two people answer-Ellen, who’s already on her way to meet Bobby, and Lisa, Dean’s old flame who had the run-in with the changelings. Sam does his best not to despair, but if only two people out of a few hundred are still functional, then what hope do they have? He presses his fingers against his jaw, tries to rub some of the tension away while Dean talks to Lisa.
“Listen, we’re coming over there, me and Sam. Yeah,” Dean says, nodding his head as he talks. “Just stay put. You got food? Okay. Don’t let anyone in, and stay away from all the TVs and radios. We’ll be there tonight.”
It’s after ten p.m. when they arrive, and Lisa’s ready. She’s waiting for them, two small bags packed, coats lying on top, and Ben asleep on the couch, fully dressed. Once they’re on the road, Lisa sits in the backseat, shoulders rigid. She ignores their attempts at conversation, and sits perfectly still, staring out the car window, her hand on Ben’s shoulder while he dozes. When she finally speaks, her voice is softer than usual. “Everything looks the same.”
Sam turns in his seat and tries to look encouraging. He’s about to say something cheesy about how they hope that’s a good sign, and maybe they’ll be able to fix this, when she puts her other hand on Dean’s shoulder.
“He’s yours,” she says quietly, and Sam can tell that it doesn’t register at first.
Then Dean stops humming under his breath and jerks his head to the side. “What?”
“Ben. He’s yours.”
Dean doesn’t take his hands off the wheel, but he’s glaring into the rear-view mirror. “What the fuck Lisa?”
“I just feel like now that we’re all going to die that you should know,” Lisa says, moving her hand to rub over the top of Ben’s head. “So he can have a dad, even if it’s not for very long.”
“We are not going to die,” Dean says through gritted teeth, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly that his fingers are white.
“You don’t know that,” she says, and her voice is stronger now, more confident.
“Yes, I do. And did you ever consider maybe telling me the goddamn truth? He’s my kid, and you kept us apart.”
“Really, Dean.” Lisa stays calm, keeps her cool even though Sam can see that she’s shaking. “Would I have been able to find you if I’d tried? And I didn’t know a thing about you. There’s no way in hell I was going to hand over my baby if you showed up for a random visit. No fucking way.”
Dean finally gives up on driving, pulls over, and gets out of the car. By the time Sam’s made it to the other side, Dean’s pacing, twisting his ring around on his finger, and Sam follows him, gets right up close. “Hey man, it’s okay. At least she told you the truth now.”
“It’s just, I asked her.” Dean rubs his hand over his eyes, pressing on his eyelids before he looks up at Sam. “And she said no. I knew he was mine, I could feel it.”
Sam nods. He remembers Dean after that hunt, but they don’t have time for his brother to brood over this. Not now, maybe not ever again. “You’ve got to get past that. We have to concentrate on surviving, not blaming Lisa for whatever choices she made.”
Dean’s anger fades quickly at the reminder of their situation, and he sags against the car, the tight line of his shoulders going limp. “Jesus, Sam, how are we going to protect them? We don’t even know what’s happening.”
“I don’t know,” Sam says in his most forceful voice, hoping it’ll be enough of a kick in the ass for his brother. “But we’re going to. That’s my nephew in there too, and we’re going to get through this.”
Sam’s surprised at how protective he feels toward Ben. He barely knows him, but he’s Dean’s son, and that matters to Sam. Despite what he said to Dean, he’s more than a little angry that Lisa chose to lie about who Ben’s father is. He can partially understand her reasoning, but he isn’t thrilled with the fact that his brother will be beating himself up for all the missed years, the missed opportunities. He’s got to try and put that aside, which shouldn’t be too hard since their situation is pretty dire, and both Lisa and Ben need them to survive.
Dean gives him a nod, quick and tight, and Sam knows they’re done talking, but when Sam turns to walk back to his door, Dean gives his shoulder a squeeze that says, thanks.
When they get back in the car, Lisa’s staring out the window again, running her hands through Ben’s hair while he sleeps. Dean fidgets and coughs and fiddles with the rearview mirror before he gets the words out. “We have some stuff to discuss, but me and Sam are going to watch out for you and Ben.”
“Thank you both,” she says, looking over at Sam. “I appreciate it.”
Sam leans his head against the window. He’s exhausted already, and they’ve barely started. He’s pretty impressed that Dean’s freak-out was so minimal, because in the last twenty-four hours, Dean’s been released from his sentence to hell, found out Lucifer was on a campaign to take over the world, and discovered he has a son. Anyone else would be curled up in a ball, but Sam shouldn’t be surprised-his brother’s always been able to accept and move forward with a grace that Sam admires.
But the whole thing is a lot to digest. Dean has a son. Sam has a nephew. He can see Dean sneaking quick glances at Ben in the rearview mirror and Sam finds himself thumbing through John’s journal, to the faded photo of their family. He rubs his finger over the bottom of the photo, wishing the moon was brighter so he could see better. Hey mom and dad, you have a grandson, he says to himself, and he wonders if Dean should be the one doing this, telling them they’re grandparents. Maybe they already know, Sam thinks. The thought makes him smile.
***
The first night, they only get one motel room. He knows Dean’s not going to leave Lisa and Ben alone, and when Sam offers to sleep in another room, Dean nearly growls. “I don’t fucking think so, Sam. We are not splitting up.”
After they’ve poured the salt lines and gotten Ben settled into bed, Dean follows Lisa into the bathroom while she’s washing her face. Sam turns away and watches Ben sleep, trying not to eavesdrop, not wanting to hear their accusations. He still hears some muted sounds, but instead of the argument he was expecting, there’s a muffled laugh and then whispering, and not longer after, the unmistakable sound of kissing combined with low murmurs.
Sam’s face turns red, but he’s not sure why. His brother’s never been discreet, hell, when they were younger he even had girls in the bed right next to Sam, but this is different somehow, it’s closer, more intimate. Sam wants to be mad, but it makes sense for Dean to want Lisa. She’s pretty and smart and she’s the mother of Dean’s child-they have a connection now, one they didn’t have before. But fuck it, the last thing any of them need is Dean getting sidetracked.
Sam pretends to be reading when Lisa finally comes out of the bathroom and slips carefully into the bed with Ben, but once he hears Dean brushing his teeth, he walks into the bathroom and grabs his brother by the elbow. “What are you thinking? You’re going to end up with another kid if you don’t watch it.”
Dean actually blushes. “Sam. It was just a kiss.”
“Famous last words,” Sam says, and he’s surprised at how bitter he sounds.
Dean actually gives him a withering look. “I went in there to tell her that I’m glad she told me, and we got carried away. It’s not going to happen again.”
“Just be careful.” Sam drops his brother’s arm and backs away. “We have other things to worry about now.”
“You think I don’t know that.” Dean sticks his toothbrush back in his mouth, grumbling around it. “Jesus.”
***
Sam thought maybe it would be awkward when Ben woke up, but he should have known better-kids always like Dean, and this one’s got the added benefit of being just like him. So Sam’s not really shocked when Ben sits straight up in bed, hair sticking up all over, and starts talking. “Hey Dean! Mom said you were my dad. She said you’d been traveling all over killing evil stuff. That is awesome.”
Sam looks over to the bed where Ben’s sitting, Lisa still asleep beside him. He watches Dean, who’s lying facedown on the bed while Ben’s talking, and then Sam grins when, finally, Dean manages to turn his head and mumble, “Hey kiddo.”
***
They meet Ellen and Bobby in the parking lot at eight a.m. Ellen smiles warmly at Ben when they’re introduced, but after she shakes Lisa’s hand she’s all business again. “Sorry boys, and you too Lisa, but no more cell phones. We just got word from a hunter in Colorado that the cell phone lines and satellites have been compromised.”
“Man, that sucks,” Dean groans, but he takes the hammer that Bobby’s holding and smashes the phone on the asphalt. “Sorry Ben, but I need your iPod too. We can’t take any chances.”
“But I just got it for Christmas.” Ben clutches it, holding it behind his back. “No way am I giving it up!”
“Did Santa bring it?” Sam asks.
Ben scoffs. “Santa? Are you kidding? Mom bought it at the Apple store in Indianapolis. Have you been? It’s sweet.”
Sam laughs at the look on his nephew’s face. He should have realized that Ben would already be way past the Santa stage.
“Sorry buddy,” Dean says, holding his hand out. “But we don’t have any choice.”
Ben scowls a little but hands over the iPod. He pulls it back from Dean’s hand though. “Let me do it.”
Dean nods, and hands over the hammer.
While the rest of them crowd around Ben, Sam follows Ellen to Bobby’s truck, touching her on the arm. He opens his mouth to explain where he saw Jo, but she looks at him evenly, her mouth in a straight line. “If you’re gonna tell me about my daughter, I already know.”
“I wanted to get it out of her. But I wasn’t fast enough.”
“I appreciate that, Sam. I know you did what you could.”
Sam nods, but he doesn’t feel any better, and Ellen gives him a wry half-smile before slamming the truck door.
***
They drive the whole day, following along behind Bobby. Ben chatters most of the way, doing impressions of his least favorite teachers, describing the one who unfolds paperclips as she talks and picks her nose with them.
“I guess she isn’t my teacher anymore,” he says, and when he asks Lisa if he’ll see any of his friends again, she shakes her head sadly and says, “Probably not, baby.” Ben doesn’t respond, but he looks worried for the first time since all of this started.
***
They end up somewhere between Arkansas and Texas, next to an abandoned deer camp that belongs one of Bobby’s friends. The deer camp building is pretty primitive; it looks more like a shed with a flat tin roof, but there’s no electricity, no way for Lucifer to get to them, so it’s pretty damned perfect to Sam.
At first, it’s just the six of them, huddled together in the flimsy shack trying to keep warm in the thirty-five degree weather, and they’re managing just fine. Until Ruby shows up, beating on the front window until it nearly breaks.
Sam considers not letting her in, but he figures she’ll find a way inside anyway, so he grudgingly opens the door. He turns around to motion to Ellen and Bobby, but it’s needless because they’re already moving toward Ben and Lisa, blocking them from Ruby’s view.
She ignores them, eyes sweeping around the tiny room with distaste before she plops down in one of the tattered recliners. “Aw boys, I thought you’d be happy to see me,” she says to Sam, smacking on a piece of fruity gum that he can smell from several feet away.
Sam crosses him arms. The help she’d promised with Dean’s deal never came, and he’s not interested in her games now that his brother’s free. “You were wrong.”
“I’m not going anywhere, so you two can just untwist your panties.” She spits her gum out into her hand and sticks it under the chair. “Got any food?”
Dean glowers at her. “What makes you think we’d share with you?”
“Information,” she says, and gives them her most saccharine smile.
Dean grudgingly hands over a packet of dried bananas, and a box of trail mix that Lisa had packed.
She holds the bag up by the edge, wrinkling her nose. “I’m supposed to eat this?”
“What were you expecting, shrimp cocktail?” Dean makes a grab for it, but Sam stops him, pulling him away from her.
“Take it or leave it,” Sam says, “And tell us now, Ruby. Or there won’t be any more food, rabbit or otherwise.”
“Fine.” She spits a raisin at Dean’s head, laughing when he catches it. “Lucifer is running the show now. And he’s using the radio, TV, loudspeakers, that sort of thing to cast a spell.”
“I think we already figured that out. Tell us something we don’t know.”
“I’m getting there. I just don’t want to leave anything out. He plans to have everyone in the world brainwashed in a few months, human time.”
Sam stands over her, trying not to lose his patience and make her even more prickly. “Why is he doing this?”
“I don’t know. World domination?” She bites into a dried banana, crunching loudly. “Why does the devil do anything?”
“Why not just set the earth on fire? Make the seas boil? Send out a plague of locusts? Why this?” Dean asks.
“Believe it or not, this is more effective. All of humanity will be mindless robots-makes them easier to do your bidding. Lucifer likes the earth. He likes the Four Seasons Hotel, he likes the Taj Mahal and the Tower of London. He wants to preserve it for himself, wants drones who’ll keep the world running.”
“Well fuck,” Dean says, sinking down into the ratty recliner opposite Ruby’s.
***
The next day is unseasonably warm, nearly sixty degrees by noon. Sam and Dean drive with the windows down, for the entire forty-mile trip to get supplies. On the way, Sam catches Dean watching him out of the corner of his eye. The visit from Ruby put his brother on edge, and he figures he knows what Dean is thinking-that Sam’s got a connection to Ruby, a bond, some sort of reason that she gravitates toward him.
But if there’s a reason for Ruby’s persistence, Sam doesn’t have a clue what it is. Everyone seems to think that Sam might have some latent powers lying around inside his head, just waiting to come out. In some ways it makes sense, but if it’s true, Sam has no idea what they are, or what could bring them out. He still has some weird hunches and gut-feelings, but for the most part they’re no more sensitive than any other seasoned hunter’s practiced guesses and attention to detail.
He’ll never admit it out loud-he has a hard time even admitting it to himself-but over the last year he wished for, prayed, to have some of the powers that the other psychics had. As the days of Dean’s last year flew by, Sam would have given anything to be able to develop any type of power, to read minds, to control demons.
He wanted to summon that sneaky bitch and kill her with his bare hands, to rip the black cloud right out of her body, but no matter how hard he tried, or how much he studied, nothing happened. When he had needed it most, that drop of demon blood hadn’t done him a damned bit of good.
He’d spent countless hours with an old ritual book, pages crackling and frail, and tried to pull his powers out. He sat up night after night, following the steps methodically, but in the end, all he was left with was a cough from the burning herbs.
But his brother doesn’t know any of that, and he never will.
“What? Why are you staring at me?” Sam doesn’t mean to snap, but he can hear the slight biting tone to his voice.
“I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were.”
“I was not.”
“Look, I know what you’re thinking. That the dreams are going to come back now that the devil’s taken over. But I haven’t had a dream, not even a normal one, in weeks.” Sam sucks in a breath, lets his voice get louder. “I know Casey, or whatever her name was, told you I was supposed to rally the demons and lead them, and they’ve called me Boy-King and all that, but you know what? I think they’re full of shit. Maybe with Azazel around, yeah, but I don’t think anyone else cares about me now, I have no idea why Ruby won’t leave me the hell alone, and I’m definitely not on Lucifer’s radar.”
Dean raises one eyebrow and does his best to look amused. “You feel better now after your little rant?”
Dean may be smirking at him, but Sam can tell he’s relieved. “Yeah I do. Do you?”
“I already felt fine.”
Sam throws his head back against the car seat. “Oh my god, you are the worst liar.”
***
They don’t even have to break into the sporting goods store or the grocery store next door-the front doors are both unlocked. They creep in, holding guns and holy water, even though they’re not sure what will work against this new breed of person. Dean gathers supplies while Sam watches his back; Dean picks out tents and sleeping bags for when the weather’s warmer, canteens and blankets, even some pots and pans made for cooking over a fire, and they load as many boxes of supplies into Bobby’s truck as they can.
As Dean’s throwing the last box of canned beans into the bed of the truck, a young woman ambles toward them, stopping where the sidewalk meets the pavement. She’s around twenty, with a vacant smile, and her brown eyes are dull and flat. Sam’s staring at her sadly, thinking about what a waste all of this is, until her eyes flash black.
Then she’s lunging toward them, going for the back of Dean’s neck. Dean twists and shoves her off, grabbing for his gun while she jumps forward again.
She’s fast, but Sam’s faster and he surges forward, drawing his knife with his right hand. He slits her throat in one fluid motion, quick and sure, no hesitation. He stands back with Dean, watching the black coil rise from her mouth, the blood spurt from her neck. It runs down her body, soaking her lime green sweatshirt, and Sam shivers even though it’s not cold.
Dean turns away from the body of the girl, opening the truck door. “We need to get back,” he says, rubbing the spot where she’d grabbed him. “We’ll bury her at the deer camp.”
Sam just nods, still holding the knife that’s dripping with blood and stands there while Dean grabs an old tarp and wraps the body up.
***
They’ve only been back from the store a few minutes when Ruby comes flying down the gravel road, skidding to a stop in a cherry red convertible. “What’s up, boys?” she asks, smoothing out the stray pieces of hair that have escaped from her ponytail.
“One of those damn things tried to kill us.” Dean glares at Ruby as he hands a roll of sleeping bags to Lisa. “That’s what’s up.”
“It was a demon, pretending to be one of them,” Sam explains as Ellen and Bobby look over at them.
“Well, sure,” Ruby drawls out. “It’ll be much easier to possess these freaks. Do you know how much work it is to possess a normal person?” She glances at Sam with a smirk and he feels his jaw tighten in response. “Oh, sorry,” she says. “Didn’t mean to strike a nerve.”
Sam doesn’t look at Ellen, doesn’t need to see the look of pain on her face. He knows what Jo’s probably going through, what she’ll have to deal with when she gets that fucking thing out of her-if she ever does.
He grabs Ruby by the elbow and pushes her inside the shack, backing her up against the wall. “I’m getting sick of your bullshit. How do I know you’re not working with them?”
“You don’t.” She doesn’t try to yank her arm away, but lifts her chin. “You’ll just have to trust me.”
“Not likely.” Sam sneers, lets her arm go, shoves her farther back into the wall. “You never made good on your promises to save Dean.”
“I never got the chance, dumbass,” she says, making a show of rubbing her elbow, even though Sam doubts she even feels any pain.
“You should leave,” he says, turning away. He’s afraid he’s going to start choking her pretty soon, not that it will do much good.
“No.” Her voice is quieter than usual, less defiant. “Look. They hate me. I left them, and if I…” Her voice gets louder again, petulant. “Never mind.”
Sam sighs as she stomps past him. “Just bring us more information, and we’ll let you stay.” Sam doesn’t trust Ruby, but he figures they might still be able to use her, although he’s not sure he’ll ever convince the others of that.
When he moves to go back outside, Dean’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed, blocking her. “If you really want to help, go find us some water,” he says. “Water. Not poison.”
***
That afternoon while they’re still taking stock of the food and supplies, the sky goes dark, then lightens. They all duck inside and wait while rain pelts the roof, the tin creaking under the heavy drops. It’s deafening, but Sam doesn’t think it’s particularly dangerous until the sky changes color again. Dean joins him at the window and they watch the yellow-green stretch across the horizon.
Ben comes up between them, pressing his face up against the glass. “Whoa. The sky’s the color of puke.”
Sam squints out the dingy window as the yellow-green morphs into a deep blackish-gray. “Isn’t it early in the year for a tornado?”
“Earlier than usual,” Bobby says, “but-“ but Sam never hears the rest of what Bobby says because a loud whirring drowns him out-it sounds like a small plane is about to land right on top of them.
Dean turns his head up and Sam sees him frown, and then Dean’s moving, grabbing Ben with one arm and Sam with the other, yanking them outside. He drags them toward the ditch that parallels the gravel drive and shoves them both facedown into the mud. Sam and Dean both cover Ben, and Sam feels Lisa fall down next to him. He hopes Ellen and Bobby are okay, but Ben comes first.
The roar increases, washing over them, and Sam sinks his fingers down into the mud, grabbing onto patches of dead grass. He can tell from the way Dean’s shifting that he’s doing the same thing with his right hand, keeping his left arm wrapped around Ben. Sam can feel Ben breathing underneath him, and watches Ben imitate the two of them, sinking his fingers into the wet ground.
The tornado doesn’t last long, maybe only a minute, but once it’s over they lie there for a few minutes until Sam feels Dean rolling away. Sam gets to his knees and Dean offers him a hand up-Ben’s already standing, eyes going wide at what used to be the deer camp. The roof is gone, and most of the walls are a tangled mess of splintered wood and sopping wet insulation. But Ben’s fine, and Sam and Dean are still standing, so it counts as a good day for them.
Lisa’s holding it together pretty well too, for someone who’s just been displaced from home and then made it through a tornado-she’s smiling up at Ben in relief, still sitting in the middle of the ditch.
Sam goes to look for Ellen and Bobby while Dean helps Lisa up. They aren’t far, just a few yards away and Sam feels as relieved as Lisa looked when he sees them trudging out of the ditch. He’s not sure he could handle losing either one of them, especially right now.
“I’m getting too old for this,” Ellen grumbles, looking down at her ripped jeans.
Bobby takes his hat off and examines it. “Don’t think we had much choice on that one.”
“No, but we better start busting our asses, or we’ll all freeze to death tonight.” She nods at Sam and heads back to the destroyed camp.
***
“Nice,” Dean says. “Our shelter’s gone.”
Sam picks up a shredded piece of tin that was once the roof and flings it into the pile of debris. “At least most of our food is fine.” Sam peeks into the rubber tubs and coolers they’d used to store the food, grateful that the cans and boxes are still relatively unharmed. “And once we dry out the tents and sleeping bags, they’ll be okay.”
The cars are mostly intact, just a few dents and scrapes from flying tree branches, and Sam can tell that Dean’s trying not to obsess over the long thin scratches covering the Impala’s hood, but he sees his brother sneaking glances when no one else is looking.
There’s no way they can salvage the deer camp so they get busy, Ben and Lisa laying out the tarps while Sam and Dean pitch three large tents. “Sorry Lisa," Dean says, "but you and Ben are in with me and Sam until we have a little more protection set up.” She doesn’t argue, and Ben just grins while he helps Sam fit the aluminum poles together.
Near dusk, Ruby comes out of the woods holding a bucket. “I found water,” she says. Her fancy jeans are caked with dirt, and her designer jacket is nearly in shreds, but she doesn’t mention the storm. “There’s a creek not far from here.”
Dean doesn’t thank her, but tosses her a tent pack. “You can have this,” he says, muttering something under his breath that Sam can’t hear.
***
The next morning is a bright and sunny forty-six degrees, a sharp contrast to the day before. They take turns washing with a bucket of water from the creek, warmed over an open fire. It’s not a real bath, just a way to keep from getting rancid by using a little soap and a cloth while they’re mostly still dressed, but it seems to cheer everyone up, especially Ben who seems to think this is a grand adventure.
By the time Sam’s done scrubbing himself, Ellen and Lisa have most of the building debris piled into one central spot. Ruby’s actually helping Bobby gather wood for fires, and Dean and Ben are digging through the rubber tubs, searching for pop tarts.
“Want one?” Dean asks, holding up a box of the frosted strawberry pastries.
“Sure,” Sam says, ripping open the foil and biting in. “And I think we need to try and get some horses today. Bobby knows of a stable not far from here.”
“Horses?” Dean asks, incredulous at the suggestion. “You’re kidding me.”
“We’re running short on gas. And we don’t need to risk going into town to grab some, not very often.”
Ben stuffs a huge piece of his pop tart into his mouth. “I went horseback riding at camp last summer.”
“Good.” Sam says. “Then you can help us out. We need the find a stable, soon. Before they’re all out of food.”
Ben looks at them both with pleading eyes. “I want to come.”
“Sorry kiddo,” Dean says. “But I need you to stay here and watch out for your mom, and talk to Bobby and Ellen about a place for the horses to live.”
Ben’s disappointed and pouts for a minute, but then he nods. “Can I drive your car while you’re gone?”
“I don’t think so,” Dean says, grabbing Ben and tickling him. “But I’ll let you drive it with me sometime, how’s that?”
***
“We’re not taking the Impala,” Dean says, after Sam insists that it would be faster if they drove to the stable. “I’m not taking the chance that she’ll run out of gas. I’m not leaving her on the side of the road.”
“Dean, I know how much that car means to you, but-"
“No. You got something wrong with your legs? We can walk. Besides, that’s the only way we can get the horses back easily.”
“It’s at least five miles away!”
“Pussy.”
“Fine,” Sam huffs. But he still thinks it’s a bad idea.
They roll up blankets and Dean even finds a few of the self-warming heaters he got from the sporting goods store. They walk in silence for a while before his brother starts talking. “I wanted to see I Am Legend,” Dean says.
Sam has no clue what movies were popular recently. His last few months were consumed by trying to find a way to save Dean, and there was no room in his mind for anything else. “What’s that about?”
“Will Smith. Infection, end of the world. I’ll never get to see it now.” He laughs, but it’s hollow. “Might’ve given us some tips.”
“What was the infection?” Sam asks, humoring Dean. Even when the situation’s not dire, he rarely has any idea about the movies Dean watches.
“I’m not sure-I didn’t get to see it. Maybe a zombie virus, like in 28 Days Later. That was some fucked up shit.” Dean shudders.
“Guess we’re lucky then.”
“You call this lucky?” Dean gestures to the woods surrounding them.
“We could have Ebola.”
“Don’t even say that,” Dean says, but he’s laughing, and that makes Sam smile.
By nightfall, they still haven’t found the stable and the temperature is falling. “Don’t say a word,” Dean says.
“Don’t get grouchy with me,” Sam says. “Because I didn’t say anything.”
“Yeah, but I can hear you thinking it.”
“That’s not true.” Sam sighs, exasperated, and drops his backpack to the ground.
***
Fifteen minutes later, Sam is lying on the still-soggy ground in a sleeping bag. “This isn’t working. I’m getting colder-my hands are numb.”
“Okay, what did Dad always say?” Dean asks.
Dean gets up and Sam follows, stumbling. He really can’t feel his feet, and Sam has no idea what Dad used to say, or even what Dean’s talking about but he tries to pay attention as Dean unzips both sleeping bags and lays them out flat, connecting the sides and zipping them together to form one big sleeping bag.
He covers the bags with a brand-new down-filled blanket and then points, like Sam’s three years old again. “In,” Dean says to him, motioning at the mock-bed.
Sam’s too tired and too cold to protest, and he vaguely remembers Dad telling them to use body heat whenever they could, because that was better than any blanket.
Dean slips next to him, and Sam scoots closer, leg bumping into Dean’s as he tries to get warm.
“Stay over on your side,” Dean says, kicking at Sam. “I don’t want your hairy legs on me.”
Sam scowls, thinking that the whole purpose of this arrangement is to share body heat, and he’s wearing thick jeans so it’s not like his actual leg would touch Dean anyway. It’s impossible to stay far apart, and they end up nearly squashed together no matter how much Sam tries to pull himself back against the edge of the sleeping bags.
Dean’s breathing changes, evening out, and he burrows in, snuggling closer to Sam, his face buried in Sam’s neck, his body pressed flush against Sam’s.
Fucking wonderful. Dean was so pissy about his space, and now that he’s asleep, he’s practically on top of Sam, who hasn’t been this close to another person in months. His brother’s warm breath against his skin feels good, feels better than good, and now he’s getting hard.
He grits his teeth-this is fucking insane, he’s losing his mind; the last two days have been more than he can handle and he’s finally going to snap and just go nuts. He’s snuggled into his brother, and he’s hard, dammit. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to think about the most boring topic in the world, but it’s useless. He even imagines himself detailing the interior of the Impala, which he finds tedious, but it only reminds him of Dean.
What feels like hours later, he gives up on trying to sleep. He slips out of the cocoon Dean created and creeps over to a nearby tree, wrapping his left arm around it so he won’t fall over, and pops the button of his jeans open. He’s not sure he’s ever jacked off outside before, and certainly not in this sort of weather, but it doesn’t matter in that moment, he’s got to come, or he’ll never get to sleep.
He gets his cock out, making sure it’s free of his pants so he won’t end up wet and sticky and then touches himself, eyes closing. He tries to imagine Scarlett Johansson, but he can’t picture her face or even her boobs, and he finds himself thinking about the way Dean’s hair smells. He strokes himself harder, wondering what the fuck’s wrong with him. He’s never in his life thought of Dean like this, and now, of all times, he’s getting a hard-on for his brother.
He comes quickly, biting his lip and leaning forward to minimize the mess. It’s not great, but it’s not completely unsatisfying either, and he takes a minute to breathe in before he zips himself back up, wiping his hand on the tree bark as well as he can before making his way back to their makeshift bed. He slides down into the blankets, teeth chattering, and accidentally kicks Dean in the shin.
“Jesus Sam, be still. Why are you still awake?”
“Don’t know,” Sam stutters, rubbing his frozen hands together.
“Why the hell are your hands so cold?” Dean doesn’t wait for him to answer. “It’s like fucking Call of the Wild out here.” Dean takes Sam’s hands and shoves them under his shirt, hissing when Sam’s skin makes contact with his stomach.
“You read that?” Sam barely gets the words out, but he has to make Dean think everything’s okay, has to tease him and pick at him like always. If he’s normal, then Dean won’t worry, and Dean won’t ask questions, and everything will be fine, once Sam’s gotten some sleep.
“Shut up, dork. I’m allowed to read too, you know.”
Sam half-grins. It worked, or so he thinks, until Dean pulls Sam closer, hands rubbing over Sam’s back, slow and soothing, and now Sam can really smell Dean’s hair, washed quickly in the freezing creek water with cheap shampoo.
Sam drifts off, his brother’s palms warm against his skin.
Part 2