FIC: Broken Promises 3/3 fandom: SPN (Sam/Dean. NC-17)
Masterpost
Previous chs: 1, 2
3/3
As soon as the bathroom door shut behind him, Dean collapsed against it. Sliding to the floor where he stayed huddled - willing his erection to go away. It didn’t.
His shoulders quaked as he tried to make sense of what was happening. The only thing he was sure about was this wasn’t hell and the man out there… His heart raced, swallowing trying the deny the truth, but Dean was certain the man out there wasn’t fake!Sam.
Yet he had been in hell; Dean knew that, it wasn’t something one forgets or could ever dream up. The last thing he remembered was fake!Sam fucking him. Maybe he passed out or fell asleep, Dean didn’t know, but either option in hell was a luxury. However when he woke up and opened his eyes, Dean didn’t even realize anything was different. At first it was like nothing had changed since he was in the same position with Sam pounding his ass, and it felt good. He was getting off on it.
Dean enjoyed being with fake!Sam whenever Alastair allowed it.
It had been one of Alastair’s rewards after Dean caved and accepted his place. The demon took as much pleasure from mind fucks as he did torture, especially when Alastair considered it a generous reward on his part. Forced to be with fake!Sam intimately - it definitely fucked with Dean’s mind. It was months before Alastair stopped watching, bored when Dean stopped resisting and eagerly spread his legs, maintained his erection and only came on demand.
Without Alastair there, the dynamics between him and fake!Sam changed, it was more intimate and eventually Dean took solace in fake!Sam’s embrace. His touch alternated between firm dominance to gentle caresses, bringing Dean to orgasm over and over again.
Their time together quickly became Dean’s escape, a safe haven. He knew it wasn’t Sam, not his Sam. However it didn’t matter how wrong it was, that what he wanted was a taboo that his father nor the real Sam would never forgive him for. Still, it never stopped Dean from trying to seek out the reward to be in fake!Sam’s arms, and he worked doubly hard to earn the favor. The more he craved time with Sam, the less he got, and the more Alastair dangled the reward.
The things he did under Alastair’s tutelage just to see fake!Sam filled him with shame. But this… how? Dean knew it wasn’t fake!Sam the moment he heard Sam talk. Fake!Sam rarely talked, for some reason it had lacked the right texture of Sam’s voice. Whenever he did, Dean physically reacted. His responses jerky filled with assurance that it was a demon in a meatsuit, a doppelganger of his brother.
In the beginning, Alastair quickly picked up on that and ordered fake!Sam not to talk. The order didn’t last as the demon got carried away in enjoying the sexual torture. Afterwards Alastair didn’t care, but when Alastair stopped watching, the demon in fake!Sam’s meatsuit suddenly did. He wanted the illusion, enjoyed when Dean blurred the lines, wanted him there in the moment, to have Dean’s response be genuine.
Consciously, Dean always knew that it was fake!Sam. It was why he silently always referred to him as fake!Sam. But in hell Alastair discovered a truth Dean never would have willingly admitted topside - he wanted Sam, and in hell he was willing to do whatever it took to be with him, fake or not.
However, in the other room - that wasn’t fake!Sam, but his brother. Dean realized the truth when Sam spoke; muttering an apology over and over.
At first he was horrified by the thought that Sam was there in hell with him, but that didn’t make sense; not that incest wasn’t a good mind fuck, it was, why Alastair brought in fake!Sam in the first place. It was a game he thoroughly enjoyed. However Dean knew he wasn’t in hell, he could feel the difference, because Alastair and Lilith weren’t there. For something like this, he’d have an audience. They’d be there, and wouldn’t have allowed Dean to leave the room.
Quietly observing definitely wasn’t their style.
No, somehow he was no longer in hell and the man out there - that was Sam, his real brother. Even knowing that, or maybe because of it, he was still hard. What the hell was he going to say to Sam?
He’s been hell’s bitch for ten years. A trained bitch dropping to his knees begging Fake!Sam to fuck him. He was a disgusted sick freak. Immobile, raked with shame, Dean silently cursed himself, and could only huddle against the door as tears rolled down his face.
*~*~*~*
Startled, Dean was nearly jumping in his skin when Sam had knocked on the door. To his shame, Dean’s erection was back at full force pulsing in excitement that Sam was on the other side of the door. Simultaneously, Dean clenched his fists, digging his nails into skin as his heart pounded loudly against his chest. Sam was seconds away from discovering the truth, a secret Dean had suppressed for years - that he was the true freak, a monster, and had always been, not Sam; because for years he had desired his own brother. It was sick, a deprived truth he had been forced to face at Alastair’s hand when he was in hell.
Now, by some unknown force Dean still didn’t understand, he was no longer in hell. And somehow he was with Sam, his Sam. Worse, he had contaminated his brother with his sinful incestuous desire. It was the only explanation he could think of.
Sam’s voice was just loud enough to carry through the door. “It’s okay Dean. I called Bobby. He and Ellen will be here soon.” He also heard the blatant sorrow in every word Sam uttered.
He didn’t know for sure, but imagined the full length of Sam’s body pressed against the door.
Above him, Dean heard then swallowed against the lump forming in his throat when he heard Sam choke out his name, then he heard Sam shift.
When Sam spoke again, his voice suddenly closer; it was as if Sam knew Dean was sitting on the floor, pressed up against the door. “Dean, please, you need to eat and drink. I made you something to eat. You don’t have to worry, I won’t… I’ll just leave it on the chair by the door - I’ll go outside so you can, so you’ll be more comfortable.”
Dean’s heart pounded as he listened on. Abruptly a chair scraped across the floor then Sam moved again before he walked away, the cabin door opened and then closed in his wake.
Dean sat there, dazed. Even with the door between them, Dean had heard the break in Sam’s voice then a hiccup escape. It was that hitch, something he hadn’t heard in Sam’s voice since their dad died. It was a tell sign that only he and dad knew, showcasing exactly how frightened Sam was. Hearing it tugged at Dean’s heart, urging him to protect his baby brother. An impulse he couldn’t deny, a yearning to fling the door open and take Sammy in his arms and crush him in an embrace telling him that everything would be alright.
Although upset and frustrated, Dean forced himself to ignore the desire to go after Sam. Swearing under his breath, Dean embedded his fingernails deeper, even as he tried to will, his erection to subside. It didn’t work as he glanced down eyeing his ridged erection, it was the only reason he couldn’t leave and go after his brother.
With a hard thud Dean banged his head against the door.
*~*~*~*
Humming with anxiety, Sam started to pace around the Impala. Sam’s arms started to swing while one hand clenched into a fist and the other raked through his hair. As his pace picked up, so did his emotions. His feelings out of control, guilt and pleasure fought for dominance.
Sam tried and failed to shut his mind down. Instead, his subconscious played devil’s advocate and replayed highlighting those moments he took Dean. Forcing him to remember how it felt to be inside Dean - that with Dean it was like perfection something he had never felt with anyone else before.
The intensity of those moments and the pleasure quickly collided with the moment he realized Dean was really there that the ritual worked. Only to have it all go downhill from there as Sam understood what Dean was trying to tell him: off. With one word Sam’s world flipped upside down then inside out - he had gone from being Dean’s savior to Dean’s rapist - driving his brother away from him forever.
Sam told Dean he’d leave him if that’s what it took, that doing the ritual was worth saving Dean. And it was. Only now is he starting to get an inkling of what it’d mean to leave Dean behind. He had thought seeing Dean’s body as nothing but a hollow husk in a comatose state was hell, but now… Having that moment of perfection inside of Dean, of pieces fitting together feeling whole then the thought of having to walk away tore at Sam’s heart.
He realized that it’s probably just a residual effect of the spell combining their souls. Still, just the thought of leaving Dean pained him in ways he had never experienced. And that was saying a lot for all the experience he had in holding Dean’s dead body. Even right now with only the cabin wall between them and less than two hundred feet apart, Sam ached to be with Dean.
Sam stopped and glared at the cabin. He braced his hands over the Impala’s roof as he tried to regain control. Fighting against the building need to go to Dean, to be with him, to hold and care for him… in frustrated anger Sam pounded his fists against the roof, forcing himself to stay put. Then he flushed with guilt and shame as his mind taunted him with the real truth, one he couldn’t deny: how he wanted to take and fuck Dean again.
*~*~*~*
It was late afternoon before Sam trusted himself enough to go back inside and check on Dean. Already twenty-four hours had passed since he’d started the ritual and nearly twelve since he’d called Bobby. He only hoped Bobby and Ellen would be there soon before he lost control and made things worse.
At the door he hesitated trying to decide on how to enter: quietly, to not disturb Dean, or nosily to let Dean know he was there. Deciding on the latter, Sam opened the door and stomped his feet, brushing off dirt as if there was a mat. Clearing his throat he called out, “Dean, I’m back.”
Sam stopped just inside the doorway and glanced over to the chair and the tray that Sam had left for Dean. It was untouched. The pit of his stomach dropped, his heart breaking further at Dean’s refusal to eat or drink because it had come from him.
Instinctually he wanted to force the issue because it was for Dean’s own good, but even as the thought came to him so did the image of Dean cringing away from his touch. Reminding him of the obvious fact, his brother wanted nothing to do with him.
Standing there in the mists of his internal flagellation the bathroom door creaked opened. Sam held his breath and looked up expectantly.
Dean stuck his head out before he timidly stepped out of the bathroom. Uncharacteristically shy, Dean stood there wearing the clothes Sam set aside for him: white tube socks, baggy gray sweat pants, a black tee-shirt with a plaid flannel shirt over it along with the blanket still wrapped tightly around his body like he was cold, or rather what Sam suspected, Dean’s attempt to shield himself from Sam.
Although just seeing Dean standing there eased a fraction of Sam’s pain and silently he gave thanks that the ritual had worked.
Long minutes passed as they both stood there facing each other. Although neither of them made direct eye contact with the other still they didn’t move away.
Sam wanted to say something, the words: I’m sorry and you’re safe now; were on the tip of his tongue, but Sam had said all that before. He needed to say something else anything else, but his mind refused to supply him with any alternatives.
The impasse was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a car pulling up. Nervously Sam held up his hand, silently telling Dean to stay as he rushed to the window to see who it was. Holding his breath, Sam pulled the curtain back just in time to see the driver park a car next to the impala. The passenger car’s door opened and Ellen popped out even before Bobby cut the engine.
Exhaling in relief that it was only Bobby and Ellen in what he suspected was a rental. Sam stood and faced Dean to tell him. Suddenly it dawned on him with Bobby and Ellen here, he’d have to follow through with his promise and walk away from Dean. It was too late; his time with Dean was over. Remorse and regret colored his voice as Sam spoke, meeting Dean’s gaze for the first time since he left the bathroom. “It’s okay Dean, its only Bobby and Ellen.”
He had just said their names, when Ellen burst through the door calling out Sam’s name.
“Sam…”
Sam turned in time to see how she halted in mid-step. Bobby was at her back and immediately bumped into her. The jolt caused her to waver before Bobby caught her arm to steady and balance her before she’d actually fall, cursing as he did. “Christ woman.”
When she didn’t respond, Bobby looked over to see what had her attention. Seeing Dean standing there, Bobby just stared in awe with wide-eyed wonder and muttered, “I’ll be damned.”
Ellen was the first to take action and moved toward Dean. Sam could see, each step Ellen took was cautious, fighting a maternal instinct to rush over and crush Dean with a hug. Meticulously slow, Ellen instinctively knew Dean was more skittish than a new born colt.
Other than dropping the blanket Dean seemed frozen in place.
Unable to do anything to stop it, Sam folded his arms over his chest and held on as he watched the scene unfold.
By the time Ellen was across the room standing directly in front of Dean, Dean was looking at the floor like he wished it’d swallow him whole. Ellen for her part, gently lifted Dean’s head forcing him to look at her. Although she hadn’t seen Dean when he was comatose, she had talked to Bobby on his condition and more recently in-depth conversations, plans, on what Dean’s care would entail. Seeing the obvious life in Dean’s eyes seemed to break her as the room fill with a loud quivering exhale. The next second instinct took over and she did what she had been fighting not to do from the moment she arrived and had seen Dean standing there - she quickly engulfed him within her arms.
Although Dean didn’t say anything, he reciprocated by returning her embrace.
Dean’s gesture wasn’t lost on anyone, especially Bobby who moved closer awaiting his turn.
Ellen sensed Bobby was there and seemed to understand. Reluctantly, she released Dean and moved to his side, allowing Bobby to take her place. Bobby stared at Dean. Before anyone could stop him, Bobby lifted a flask from his pocket and splashed Dean in the face with what Sam assumed was holy water as he said, “Deus.”
A look of annoyance crossed Dean’s face. He spit out the water even as Ellen demanded, “Was that necessary?”
Sam wanted to agree, but it was the first time he had seen a reasonable reaction that was so in-character of his brother.
Bobby removed his hat, scratching his head in utter disbelief while still staring at Dean. Then he finally choked out, “Dean?” A second later he was grabbing Dean in a fierce hug, pounding his back, refusing to let go.
It was too much; Sam turned away to stare at the wall. He wanted to partake in their elation, but words his consciousness gave to Bobby’s voice replayed in his head “Raping your own brother Sam - how can you, ever make that right?”
Immediately the words remind him of how they got to this point, of what he did in order to save Dean.
It was done, leaving him with nothing to take back. And the truth was he didn’t want to go back. Dean was here, free from hell and although the decision to leave will eat away at his soul, like the ritual itself Sam was determined and willing to sacrifice what he needed to do in order to keep his promise to Dean. This time it’d mean he had to walk away.
Dropping his arms, knowing it was time, Sam moved toward the door then paused without turning around. Clearing his voice loud enough for them to hear him, Sam interrupted, “I’ll go put my things in the rental. I can take it into town and leave it locked near the bus station, or if you prefer one of you can drop me off.”
Clearly confused, Ellen asked, “What?” even as Bobby demanded roughly, “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
Sam didn’t answer, but quickly noted the only one who didn’t say anything was, Dean. Swallowing hard Sam blurted out, “It’s for the best.” Then he opened the door.
Ellen started, “Sam wait...” but it was Dean who interrupted her, “No, let him go.”
Sam’s step faltered at hearing Dean’s voice, but at his words, Sam only offered a terse nod as he made his way outside letting the door fall shut behind him - his heart breaking with every step.
*~*~*~*
Dean’s shoulders sank as the door closed behind Sam. Sam leaving shouldn’t have surprised him; he was the one that was deranged spreading his sickness to Sam. The fact was if Sam told him to, he’d strip right now and drop to his knees then crawl after his brother begging for his cock, to fill and fuck his slutty hole.
It didn’t matter that it wasn’t fake!Sam. In fact, knowing it was his real brother excited Dean. Instead of feeling shame like he should, Dean actually wanted and desired his brother even more, if that was at all possible, than he had in his entire life or at any time he could remember from when he was in hell.
His common sense said, it was enough to admit that being in the pit twisted him to believe that incest was okay, and that was what and why he was feeling the way he did. However that wasn’t the entire truth. What he was feeling for Sam right now - it was somehow more than love, more than just the idea of Sam fucking him. He loved Sam as a brother, sure, but what he was feeling for Sam went beyond family sibling love, beyond what he ever felt for Cassie or Lisa. Dean didn’t question that the love he felt was deeper, in his soul, consuming his entire being.
Right now, without Sam he felt empty and every second he went without Sam at his side was quickly filling Dean with a painful ache.
His breathe hitched, increasing to a hurtful spasm. Swallowing, Dean silently admitted that it didn’t matter; he deserves to pay for every sinful thought and desire he’s ever had about Sam. The plain truth is that it’s his sins that have cost him his brother.
Hanging his head in shame, Dean has a moment of clarity - Sam knows.
Bobby and Ellen had been here less than ten-fifteen minutes and Sam was all ready to leave. He was so ashamed of him, Sam couldn’t even look at him.
As much as it pains him, Dean realizes that its better that Sam leaves so he can no longer contaminate him with his sick perversions.
*~*~*~*
Behind him, Sam heard the door open followed by the raised voices between, Ellen and Bobby. Ignoring them Sam kept moving and made his way over to the car opening the trunk to throw his bag inside. Sam’s hand tightened on the hood to steady his stance as a wave of nausea suddenly hits and heightened to a sharper pain.
After a moment, Sam inhaled and then clenched his jaw. Swallowing down the pain he slammed the trunk shut.
When he looked up Ellen was running over to him, wrapping an arm around his waist. “You’re not going anywhere, you hear me. Now let’s get back inside, Dean needs you.”
Although he was feeling weaker and dizzier by the second, Sam tried to untangle himself from Ellen, but she had anticipated his attempt and preempted him. Before he could change tactics Bobby was there, taking his other arm and helping her get him back inside.
Opening the door, he had expected to see Dean standing there. Instead Dean had collapsed and was on the floor, rocking and cradling his stomach.
In a panic, Sam tried to shove Bobby away in order to go to Dean, “Dean!”
Surprisingly, although their grip tightened, neither stopped him from going toward Dean but rather they helped him get there faster, then helped him down to the floor so he could gather Dean in his arms to find out what was wrong with him. “Dean, it’s alright I’m here. What happened?”
Dean only whimpered out, “Hurts.”
To soothe him, Sam started to thread his fingers through Dean’s hair. “Shush, you’re going to be fine Dean.” Mutely Dean nodded and curled his body into Sam’s touch.
Feeling stronger, Sam looked up expecting an explanation; his eyes darted between Bobby and Ellen. “What’s going on, what happened? Could he be in pain for not eating?”
Bobby and Ellen exchanged glances. Ellen had a look of resolve and crossed her arms as she proclaimed to Bobby, “Tell them or I will.”
Gut, intuition, or Ellen’s stance, it all pointed to the simple fact that there was something else going on here besides the fact that Dean didn’t eat. Raising his voice to a razor-sharp edge, Sam hissed, “Tell us what?” Then Sam notice a crimson shade started to creep up Bobby’s neck to the tips of his ears.
Taking his hat off, he slapped it against his thigh running a hand over his head in frustration, “Balls!”
Aggravated, Bobby stood there even as Ellen turned around and pulled up a chair, snickering as she uttered “Men.” Then she took the lead before Bobby could say anything else, and faced Sam. “Alright Sam, this isn’t easy, but all of this, Dean’s pain, yours, it all has to do with the ritual you did.”
“What…”
“Don’t worry honey, it worked. You’re both safe.”
Though Ellen didn’t say it Sam heard the proverbial but, and prodded her, “But…”
She glanced back at Bobby searching his face before returning her gaze on him. “But, it did more than just pull Dean’s soul from hell.”
Sam nodded and confirmed, “It bonded and anchored his to mine, so they can’t come after him again.”
Dean bit out, “You did what?”
At Dean’s tone, Sam turned to face his brother’s anger. “I’m sorry Dean, but I had to. I couldn’t just leave you in hell - not after you sacrificed and saved my life. I promised you I’d find a way to save you and I did. But don’t worry I’ll keep my other promise too, and leave as soon as you’re feeling okay.”
Ellen’s voice broke, “You can’t Sam, you, can’t leave him. Not now, not ever. The spell you did… It does more than just anchor Dean to you. From the day Bobby told us, we’ve been researching just like you. Rafe, he’s been staying with us, he ended up finding something similar, but when he showed me I dismissed it. I didn’t think you’d…” She turned away then back and locked eyes with Sam, silently offering an apology. “I didn’t think, period.”
“When I got to Bobby’s and he told me, I immediately called Rafe. I had him focus on it to find anything that could have been missed. There are a couple of big ones. First, it won’t work with just anyone… there has to be something there already, on both sides. It never would have worked otherwise. The second, it doesn’t just anchor and settle Dean’s soul, it literally is anchored to yours. If you, either of you physically or emotionally tried to separate from the other, that pain you just felt, according to what Rafe found it’ll get worse.”
Sam exclaimed, “What?”
“I’m sorry Sam, but it’s true. Although it didn’t give any particulars, I think there’s a possibility that in time the longer you’re together, and the stronger the bond, by then you actually might be able to handle some distance apart, but for now neither of you would survive being apart.”
“Oh god, what did I do.” Sam’s heart sank at every word Ellen said, realizing too late the extent of what he had condemned his brother to. Opening his mouth, he tried to apologize, “Dean I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to force you into anything like this - I just couldn’t…” His voice trailed off to a whisper as he continued to berate himself blatantly ignoring Dean’s mumbled protest.
Bobby shouted over them, “Idjits! Didn’t you hear a damn word she said? It wouldn’t have worked if you both didn’t already feel that way toward each other.”
Bitterly Sam recited what Bobby had said when he found the ritual, “You said it was rape.”
“Yeah, considering the state Dean was in with his soul trapped in hell, it is for normal people. BUT you’re fucking Winchesters, you ain’t normal! Every single one of you Winchesters scarifies themselves for the other. I’m not going to pretend to understand ‘cause the fact is I don’t. What I do know is: when I see a GODDAM miracle. Dean brought you back and you brought him back! That ritual working proves it; you’re each other’s soulmate. Who the hell am I, to argue with something that powerful?”
Silence descended in the wake of Bobby’s words. Although he closed his mouth Sam continued to openly stare at Bobby.
Ellen asked, “Sweetheart, do you understand what we’re saying?”
Sam met her gaze, slowly nodding.
“Dean, what about you, do you understand what’s going on?”
Slowly Dean sat up and drew his knees to his chest. “Sam did a ritual bonding our souls. Now we can’t be separated.”
“Yes, but remember he couldn’t do it unless you both already wanted and loved each other, like a spouse does not just as brothers.”
Sam didn’t hear Dean’s answer, but whatever he said or indicated to Ellen that he understood seem to pacify her.
Abruptly she nodded and stood, “Good. I think we’ll leave you two alone and come back tomorrow just to check in. We’ll bring you more food and a few comforts because I think you’ll be here for a bit letting that bond settle.”
With that she leaned over to first kiss Dean’s cheek then his before straightening and walking toward the door, calling over her shoulder to Bobby, “Ready?”
Bobby nodded and put his cap back on, “Yeah.” At the door he paused, “This goes for both of you, but Sam what I said before it doesn’t matter, just know we’re still family, got it?”
Sam nodded and saw Dean was doing the same even as Bobby turned and left. Minutes later they heard a trunk open and shut then a thud resounded by the front door. Car doors opened, and the engine fired up as they left.
Dazed, Sam started to mull over everything Bobby and Ellen said.
Dean was still staring at the door, but he was the first to break the silence, his voice cracking when he spoke, “Is it true?”
“What’s that?”
Dean blinked then snickered at his obtuseness, “That you want me?”
Sam licked his lips then nervously bobbed his head allowing his bangs to fall forward. Swallowing hard, he added too loudly, “Yeah.”
Dean didn’t move or react for what seemed like an eternity. Then slowly he scooted closer until his forehead was inches from Sam’s. Frozen, Sam waited for Dean to say something.
With each second that passed Sam’s heart started to beat louder in his chest, the level of anxiousness he felt rose with each breath, fighting a baser instinct to reach out and close the distance between them.
Dean’s voice rose and quietly confessed, “Me too.”
At his words, the fear Sam had been feeling started to melt away even as Dean looked up and met Sam’s gaze.
Just hearing Dean speak, elated Sam’s spirit, but what he saw in the depth of Dean’s eyes strengthened his soul. Suddenly Sam felt giddy and lighthearted like he was soaring. The corners of his mouth stretched out and anchored there displaying all of his teeth, “You know that means I’ll have to break my promise?”
Dean straightened his back and leaned forward even as the tip of his tongue rolled out to lick his bottom lip before decisively saying, “Good!” his eyes challenging, daring Sam to contradict him as he stared him down.
Sam’s eyes shifted drawn to the slick wetness on Dean’s lip that he broke his grin to roll his lips, imagining what Dean would taste like.
Dean snorted. Sam looked back up and was immediately captivated by the mischievous spark he saw in the depths of Dean’s magnetic green eyes. A moment later, he watched in fascination as a sprinkling of pink crept up his brother’s neck to burn bright on the outer shell of Dean’s ears.
Under his heated gaze, Dean dipped his head but didn’t bother to hide the grin he sported. Sam quickly returned the smile then laughed out right when Dean smirked and called him, “Bitch”.
Sam closed the distance until his shoulder collided and pushed against Dean. Then he stopped to hover just inside his personal space allowing the heat that had ignited between them to simmer to a sizzling sear with each breath.
Abruptly Dean stretched his neck up, brushing a quick kiss over his ear and pulled back, but not before leaving his mark: a wet trail over Sam’s ear.
Sam shuddered, as shivers of want and pleasure slithered down to pool in his groin. Once he caught his breath, Sam responded with a husky, “Jerk” then reached out to cup Dean’s neck, his thumb sweeping up under Dean’s jaw guiding him to meet Sam’s gaze. Steadily Sam inched forward making his intention clear, allowing Dean plenty of time to pull back.
Instead there was no hesitation as Dean’s tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, but he held his position waiting for Sam to breech the distance.
Sam closed his eyes, lips hovered a fraction above Dean’s. This close Sam greedily took in Dean’s scent and his breath before he crossed that final barrier delivering a feather-light touch of lips. He tried to focus on Dean, on how his lips were both soft and firm even as they parted invitingly.
Sam quivered under the sweet tenderness of the kiss. Its innocence faded by the second as the kiss sparked with energy quickly shattering Sam’s control.
It was electrifying sending jolt after jolt of pleasure throughout Sam’s body. Sam pressed harder, his tongue diving in to taste every inch of Dean as his baser instincts demanded more.
Dean complied and leaned in, lips parting as he kissed back in equal measure. Without breaking the kiss Dean wiggled closer, busily stripping off his clothes until Sam could feel flesh. But what unraveled Sam was when Dean shifted maneuvering his hands under Sam’s shirt, pressing his hands up to grip and mold against his chest.
Kiss after kiss, Sam was dizzy in pleasure. The effects of being on the receiving end of Dean’s fevered response was more passionate than any fantasy he had created. Seconds passed into minutes until Sam felt something shift and unlock between them. It opened and went deeper. Sam felt a pull connecting him to Dean then a feeling of sinking as layer after layer lined up against Dean’s psyche like they were somehow syncing and melding together. Instinctively Sam knew the moment they did.
Slowly Sam pulled away to meet Dean’s eyes to see if Dean was feeling the same things he was.
Dean stared back, his breath haggard, but Sam could see the truth reflected in his eyes. Their bond was tangible, the connection between them sparked, and every second that went by revealed a new layer within the bond.
Sam gasped in wonder, knowing without words Dean felt the same; there was no guilt or shame over their kiss. Whatever the ritual did besides bringing Dean back, it settled and awakened a tangible bond between them, anchoring until it was rooted into their very marrow.
He should be scared, shamed that he had done this to Dean, but even as each thought came to him it was easily dismissed. Staring into Dean’s eyes, Sam could only see the love he felt for Dean reflected back at him. Continuing to stare, Sam knew in his heart and soul Dean felt the same and he was grateful.
Abruptly, Dean smiled and huskily asked, as he handed Sam the tube of lube, “Ready to break that promise?”
Wordlessly Sam nodded and took the lube, then reached up to cup Dean’s neck, pulling him closer, in order to reclaim his lips. It started almost lazily, and between kisses he said, “Always ready for you.” As the words left his mouth Sam dove deeper, his tongue capturing Dean’s until Dean’s only responsive was a guttural moan. One that Sam took as consent and pushed further, seeking more.
Sam felt as if he had been standing at an abyss and easily stepped off; the bond pushing, urging him on. It quickly escalated to a fevered pitch as their bodies pushed and prodded until all he could feel was skin against skin.
There was no finesse, only a desperate frantic need to rut.
Needy Sam was ready; his cock hard and all set to sink into Dean’s heat. Blindly he reached out to wrap his hand around Dean’s cock. He found it hard and rigid as his own. His thumb swept over the head pleased to feel the slick wetness of pre-come.
Dean’s voice choked as he suddenly gasped out his name, “Sam!”
Sam looked up, his smile fading. Although it was easy to see Dean panting excitedly in need, it was the look he saw in Dean’s eyes that made him pause. He was about to pull back when Dean reach out, his hand overlaid on Sam’s to keep it anchored on his cock.
Dean licked his lips, his eyes still on Sam’s, his voice raspy as he pleaded and asked, “Talk to me Sam.”
Sam blinked in confusion and hesitated. The longer he waited; Sam saw a shadow of fear slither across Dean’s features and settle in his eyes, his entire body tightening with tension.
Seeing the fear jolted Sam into action. Instinct took over as his mouth opened and words spilled out talking from his heart. “Shush Dean, it’s okay; you’re safe and here with me - only me.”
With every word he spoke, Dean’s reaction was immediate and his tension disappeared. Suddenly Dean grinned and jerked his hips, reminding Sam he still had a healthy grasp on Dean’s cock.
Fingers squeezing around the girth, Sam muttered, “I want you Dean, please…”
“I want you too Sammy, fuck me, please…”
Sam’s entire body gave a jolt when he said please. Leaning in, Sam grinned, his hand rhythmically pumping Dean’s cock. Although his voice halted in raspy breaths, Sam kept talking. With every word he spoke Dean’s response heightened to lingering moans, hands that gripped hard enough to bruise, urging Sam on.
Sam cursed, his world tipping as his need spiraled beyond any fantasy. For the ritual it had been phantom Dean, a fantasy he had to create to make it work. Now his brother was alive, active, fully participating to the point of cursing Sam to fuck him now.
Sam didn’t need any further encouragement although he wasn’t able to articulate anything more than fuck and Dean over and over. Hitching Dean’s body up, Sam’s slick fingers slid into Dean’s hole. Dean whimpered, opening his legs wider and tilting his hips, demanding, “Fuck me Sammy, fuck me!”
The bond drove them on, to a fast and dirty rut. Sam wasted no time and sank in, filling Dean until he bottomed out. There the frantic haze started to lift and he stilled. Slowly Sam opened his eyes to look down at Dean. It was to find his brother’s mouth hung open in a soundless moan with his eyes closed tight. “Dean, you okay?”
For a second Dean did nothing then slowly as if he was watching in slow motion, Dean’s mouth curved into a grin before answered, “You got to be kidding me?” then he surprised Sam by laughing out right.
Sam’s worry faded, as Dean opened his eyes.
They sparked with life and laughter, although breathless with exhaustion, his voice carried confidence that Sam could clearly see within Dean’s gaze. “You keep stopping and I won’t be.” Even as Dean spoke, he contracted his muscles around Sam’s cock causing Sam to lose his shit as the pleasure slithered down his spine, his sacs pulling up tight.
Sam uttered, “Fuck!”
Dean chuckled, his muscles squeezing in a vice grip. “That’s the plan Sammy. Now will you please get on with it and fuck me with that gargantuan cock of yours?”
Sam blinked, and knew he really did have his brother back. With every heartbeat that went by, it left Sam with no lingering doubts that brother or not, they were true soulmates, bonded for life. Grinning, he snapped his hips forward. This time he couldn’t stop it, it was going to be animalistic, the need to take, to have, to rut. It was something they both needed. However the next round, or the third, he planned on taking his time. Setting a rhythm, Sam stared down into Dean’s grinning face. Next time, he’ll lick, kiss and explore every inch of Dean’s body. Knowing they’d have time, a lifetime together, forever, and he couldn’t be happier.
Fin~
Previous chs: 1, 2
3/3
As soon as the bathroom door shut behind him, Dean collapsed against it. Sliding to the floor where he stayed huddled - willing his erection to go away. It didn’t.
His shoulders quaked as he tried to make sense of what was happening. The only thing he was sure about was this wasn’t hell and the man out there… His heart raced, swallowing trying the deny the truth, but Dean was certain the man out there wasn’t fake!Sam.
Yet he had been in hell; Dean knew that, it wasn’t something one forgets or could ever dream up. The last thing he remembered was fake!Sam fucking him. Maybe he passed out or fell asleep, Dean didn’t know, but either option in hell was a luxury. However when he woke up and opened his eyes, Dean didn’t even realize anything was different. At first it was like nothing had changed since he was in the same position with Sam pounding his ass, and it felt good. He was getting off on it.
Dean enjoyed being with fake!Sam whenever Alastair allowed it.
It had been one of Alastair’s rewards after Dean caved and accepted his place. The demon took as much pleasure from mind fucks as he did torture, especially when Alastair considered it a generous reward on his part. Forced to be with fake!Sam intimately - it definitely fucked with Dean’s mind. It was months before Alastair stopped watching, bored when Dean stopped resisting and eagerly spread his legs, maintained his erection and only came on demand.
Without Alastair there, the dynamics between him and fake!Sam changed, it was more intimate and eventually Dean took solace in fake!Sam’s embrace. His touch alternated between firm dominance to gentle caresses, bringing Dean to orgasm over and over again.
Their time together quickly became Dean’s escape, a safe haven. He knew it wasn’t Sam, not his Sam. However it didn’t matter how wrong it was, that what he wanted was a taboo that his father nor the real Sam would never forgive him for. Still, it never stopped Dean from trying to seek out the reward to be in fake!Sam’s arms, and he worked doubly hard to earn the favor. The more he craved time with Sam, the less he got, and the more Alastair dangled the reward.
The things he did under Alastair’s tutelage just to see fake!Sam filled him with shame. But this… how? Dean knew it wasn’t fake!Sam the moment he heard Sam talk. Fake!Sam rarely talked, for some reason it had lacked the right texture of Sam’s voice. Whenever he did, Dean physically reacted. His responses jerky filled with assurance that it was a demon in a meatsuit, a doppelganger of his brother.
In the beginning, Alastair quickly picked up on that and ordered fake!Sam not to talk. The order didn’t last as the demon got carried away in enjoying the sexual torture. Afterwards Alastair didn’t care, but when Alastair stopped watching, the demon in fake!Sam’s meatsuit suddenly did. He wanted the illusion, enjoyed when Dean blurred the lines, wanted him there in the moment, to have Dean’s response be genuine.
Consciously, Dean always knew that it was fake!Sam. It was why he silently always referred to him as fake!Sam. But in hell Alastair discovered a truth Dean never would have willingly admitted topside - he wanted Sam, and in hell he was willing to do whatever it took to be with him, fake or not.
However, in the other room - that wasn’t fake!Sam, but his brother. Dean realized the truth when Sam spoke; muttering an apology over and over.
At first he was horrified by the thought that Sam was there in hell with him, but that didn’t make sense; not that incest wasn’t a good mind fuck, it was, why Alastair brought in fake!Sam in the first place. It was a game he thoroughly enjoyed. However Dean knew he wasn’t in hell, he could feel the difference, because Alastair and Lilith weren’t there. For something like this, he’d have an audience. They’d be there, and wouldn’t have allowed Dean to leave the room.
Quietly observing definitely wasn’t their style.
No, somehow he was no longer in hell and the man out there - that was Sam, his real brother. Even knowing that, or maybe because of it, he was still hard. What the hell was he going to say to Sam?
He’s been hell’s bitch for ten years. A trained bitch dropping to his knees begging Fake!Sam to fuck him. He was a disgusted sick freak. Immobile, raked with shame, Dean silently cursed himself, and could only huddle against the door as tears rolled down his face.
*~*~*~*
Startled, Dean was nearly jumping in his skin when Sam had knocked on the door. To his shame, Dean’s erection was back at full force pulsing in excitement that Sam was on the other side of the door. Simultaneously, Dean clenched his fists, digging his nails into skin as his heart pounded loudly against his chest. Sam was seconds away from discovering the truth, a secret Dean had suppressed for years - that he was the true freak, a monster, and had always been, not Sam; because for years he had desired his own brother. It was sick, a deprived truth he had been forced to face at Alastair’s hand when he was in hell.
Now, by some unknown force Dean still didn’t understand, he was no longer in hell. And somehow he was with Sam, his Sam. Worse, he had contaminated his brother with his sinful incestuous desire. It was the only explanation he could think of.
Sam’s voice was just loud enough to carry through the door. “It’s okay Dean. I called Bobby. He and Ellen will be here soon.” He also heard the blatant sorrow in every word Sam uttered.
He didn’t know for sure, but imagined the full length of Sam’s body pressed against the door.
Above him, Dean heard then swallowed against the lump forming in his throat when he heard Sam choke out his name, then he heard Sam shift.
When Sam spoke again, his voice suddenly closer; it was as if Sam knew Dean was sitting on the floor, pressed up against the door. “Dean, please, you need to eat and drink. I made you something to eat. You don’t have to worry, I won’t… I’ll just leave it on the chair by the door - I’ll go outside so you can, so you’ll be more comfortable.”
Dean’s heart pounded as he listened on. Abruptly a chair scraped across the floor then Sam moved again before he walked away, the cabin door opened and then closed in his wake.
Dean sat there, dazed. Even with the door between them, Dean had heard the break in Sam’s voice then a hiccup escape. It was that hitch, something he hadn’t heard in Sam’s voice since their dad died. It was a tell sign that only he and dad knew, showcasing exactly how frightened Sam was. Hearing it tugged at Dean’s heart, urging him to protect his baby brother. An impulse he couldn’t deny, a yearning to fling the door open and take Sammy in his arms and crush him in an embrace telling him that everything would be alright.
Although upset and frustrated, Dean forced himself to ignore the desire to go after Sam. Swearing under his breath, Dean embedded his fingernails deeper, even as he tried to will, his erection to subside. It didn’t work as he glanced down eyeing his ridged erection, it was the only reason he couldn’t leave and go after his brother.
With a hard thud Dean banged his head against the door.
*~*~*~*
Humming with anxiety, Sam started to pace around the Impala. Sam’s arms started to swing while one hand clenched into a fist and the other raked through his hair. As his pace picked up, so did his emotions. His feelings out of control, guilt and pleasure fought for dominance.
Sam tried and failed to shut his mind down. Instead, his subconscious played devil’s advocate and replayed highlighting those moments he took Dean. Forcing him to remember how it felt to be inside Dean - that with Dean it was like perfection something he had never felt with anyone else before.
The intensity of those moments and the pleasure quickly collided with the moment he realized Dean was really there that the ritual worked. Only to have it all go downhill from there as Sam understood what Dean was trying to tell him: off. With one word Sam’s world flipped upside down then inside out - he had gone from being Dean’s savior to Dean’s rapist - driving his brother away from him forever.
Sam told Dean he’d leave him if that’s what it took, that doing the ritual was worth saving Dean. And it was. Only now is he starting to get an inkling of what it’d mean to leave Dean behind. He had thought seeing Dean’s body as nothing but a hollow husk in a comatose state was hell, but now… Having that moment of perfection inside of Dean, of pieces fitting together feeling whole then the thought of having to walk away tore at Sam’s heart.
He realized that it’s probably just a residual effect of the spell combining their souls. Still, just the thought of leaving Dean pained him in ways he had never experienced. And that was saying a lot for all the experience he had in holding Dean’s dead body. Even right now with only the cabin wall between them and less than two hundred feet apart, Sam ached to be with Dean.
Sam stopped and glared at the cabin. He braced his hands over the Impala’s roof as he tried to regain control. Fighting against the building need to go to Dean, to be with him, to hold and care for him… in frustrated anger Sam pounded his fists against the roof, forcing himself to stay put. Then he flushed with guilt and shame as his mind taunted him with the real truth, one he couldn’t deny: how he wanted to take and fuck Dean again.
*~*~*~*
It was late afternoon before Sam trusted himself enough to go back inside and check on Dean. Already twenty-four hours had passed since he’d started the ritual and nearly twelve since he’d called Bobby. He only hoped Bobby and Ellen would be there soon before he lost control and made things worse.
At the door he hesitated trying to decide on how to enter: quietly, to not disturb Dean, or nosily to let Dean know he was there. Deciding on the latter, Sam opened the door and stomped his feet, brushing off dirt as if there was a mat. Clearing his throat he called out, “Dean, I’m back.”
Sam stopped just inside the doorway and glanced over to the chair and the tray that Sam had left for Dean. It was untouched. The pit of his stomach dropped, his heart breaking further at Dean’s refusal to eat or drink because it had come from him.
Instinctually he wanted to force the issue because it was for Dean’s own good, but even as the thought came to him so did the image of Dean cringing away from his touch. Reminding him of the obvious fact, his brother wanted nothing to do with him.
Standing there in the mists of his internal flagellation the bathroom door creaked opened. Sam held his breath and looked up expectantly.
Dean stuck his head out before he timidly stepped out of the bathroom. Uncharacteristically shy, Dean stood there wearing the clothes Sam set aside for him: white tube socks, baggy gray sweat pants, a black tee-shirt with a plaid flannel shirt over it along with the blanket still wrapped tightly around his body like he was cold, or rather what Sam suspected, Dean’s attempt to shield himself from Sam.
Although just seeing Dean standing there eased a fraction of Sam’s pain and silently he gave thanks that the ritual had worked.
Long minutes passed as they both stood there facing each other. Although neither of them made direct eye contact with the other still they didn’t move away.
Sam wanted to say something, the words: I’m sorry and you’re safe now; were on the tip of his tongue, but Sam had said all that before. He needed to say something else anything else, but his mind refused to supply him with any alternatives.
The impasse was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a car pulling up. Nervously Sam held up his hand, silently telling Dean to stay as he rushed to the window to see who it was. Holding his breath, Sam pulled the curtain back just in time to see the driver park a car next to the impala. The passenger car’s door opened and Ellen popped out even before Bobby cut the engine.
Exhaling in relief that it was only Bobby and Ellen in what he suspected was a rental. Sam stood and faced Dean to tell him. Suddenly it dawned on him with Bobby and Ellen here, he’d have to follow through with his promise and walk away from Dean. It was too late; his time with Dean was over. Remorse and regret colored his voice as Sam spoke, meeting Dean’s gaze for the first time since he left the bathroom. “It’s okay Dean, its only Bobby and Ellen.”
He had just said their names, when Ellen burst through the door calling out Sam’s name.
“Sam…”
Sam turned in time to see how she halted in mid-step. Bobby was at her back and immediately bumped into her. The jolt caused her to waver before Bobby caught her arm to steady and balance her before she’d actually fall, cursing as he did. “Christ woman.”
When she didn’t respond, Bobby looked over to see what had her attention. Seeing Dean standing there, Bobby just stared in awe with wide-eyed wonder and muttered, “I’ll be damned.”
Ellen was the first to take action and moved toward Dean. Sam could see, each step Ellen took was cautious, fighting a maternal instinct to rush over and crush Dean with a hug. Meticulously slow, Ellen instinctively knew Dean was more skittish than a new born colt.
Other than dropping the blanket Dean seemed frozen in place.
Unable to do anything to stop it, Sam folded his arms over his chest and held on as he watched the scene unfold.
By the time Ellen was across the room standing directly in front of Dean, Dean was looking at the floor like he wished it’d swallow him whole. Ellen for her part, gently lifted Dean’s head forcing him to look at her. Although she hadn’t seen Dean when he was comatose, she had talked to Bobby on his condition and more recently in-depth conversations, plans, on what Dean’s care would entail. Seeing the obvious life in Dean’s eyes seemed to break her as the room fill with a loud quivering exhale. The next second instinct took over and she did what she had been fighting not to do from the moment she arrived and had seen Dean standing there - she quickly engulfed him within her arms.
Although Dean didn’t say anything, he reciprocated by returning her embrace.
Dean’s gesture wasn’t lost on anyone, especially Bobby who moved closer awaiting his turn.
Ellen sensed Bobby was there and seemed to understand. Reluctantly, she released Dean and moved to his side, allowing Bobby to take her place. Bobby stared at Dean. Before anyone could stop him, Bobby lifted a flask from his pocket and splashed Dean in the face with what Sam assumed was holy water as he said, “Deus.”
A look of annoyance crossed Dean’s face. He spit out the water even as Ellen demanded, “Was that necessary?”
Sam wanted to agree, but it was the first time he had seen a reasonable reaction that was so in-character of his brother.
Bobby removed his hat, scratching his head in utter disbelief while still staring at Dean. Then he finally choked out, “Dean?” A second later he was grabbing Dean in a fierce hug, pounding his back, refusing to let go.
It was too much; Sam turned away to stare at the wall. He wanted to partake in their elation, but words his consciousness gave to Bobby’s voice replayed in his head “Raping your own brother Sam - how can you, ever make that right?”
Immediately the words remind him of how they got to this point, of what he did in order to save Dean.
It was done, leaving him with nothing to take back. And the truth was he didn’t want to go back. Dean was here, free from hell and although the decision to leave will eat away at his soul, like the ritual itself Sam was determined and willing to sacrifice what he needed to do in order to keep his promise to Dean. This time it’d mean he had to walk away.
Dropping his arms, knowing it was time, Sam moved toward the door then paused without turning around. Clearing his voice loud enough for them to hear him, Sam interrupted, “I’ll go put my things in the rental. I can take it into town and leave it locked near the bus station, or if you prefer one of you can drop me off.”
Clearly confused, Ellen asked, “What?” even as Bobby demanded roughly, “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
Sam didn’t answer, but quickly noted the only one who didn’t say anything was, Dean. Swallowing hard Sam blurted out, “It’s for the best.” Then he opened the door.
Ellen started, “Sam wait...” but it was Dean who interrupted her, “No, let him go.”
Sam’s step faltered at hearing Dean’s voice, but at his words, Sam only offered a terse nod as he made his way outside letting the door fall shut behind him - his heart breaking with every step.
*~*~*~*
Dean’s shoulders sank as the door closed behind Sam. Sam leaving shouldn’t have surprised him; he was the one that was deranged spreading his sickness to Sam. The fact was if Sam told him to, he’d strip right now and drop to his knees then crawl after his brother begging for his cock, to fill and fuck his slutty hole.
It didn’t matter that it wasn’t fake!Sam. In fact, knowing it was his real brother excited Dean. Instead of feeling shame like he should, Dean actually wanted and desired his brother even more, if that was at all possible, than he had in his entire life or at any time he could remember from when he was in hell.
His common sense said, it was enough to admit that being in the pit twisted him to believe that incest was okay, and that was what and why he was feeling the way he did. However that wasn’t the entire truth. What he was feeling for Sam right now - it was somehow more than love, more than just the idea of Sam fucking him. He loved Sam as a brother, sure, but what he was feeling for Sam went beyond family sibling love, beyond what he ever felt for Cassie or Lisa. Dean didn’t question that the love he felt was deeper, in his soul, consuming his entire being.
Right now, without Sam he felt empty and every second he went without Sam at his side was quickly filling Dean with a painful ache.
His breathe hitched, increasing to a hurtful spasm. Swallowing, Dean silently admitted that it didn’t matter; he deserves to pay for every sinful thought and desire he’s ever had about Sam. The plain truth is that it’s his sins that have cost him his brother.
Hanging his head in shame, Dean has a moment of clarity - Sam knows.
Bobby and Ellen had been here less than ten-fifteen minutes and Sam was all ready to leave. He was so ashamed of him, Sam couldn’t even look at him.
As much as it pains him, Dean realizes that its better that Sam leaves so he can no longer contaminate him with his sick perversions.
*~*~*~*
Behind him, Sam heard the door open followed by the raised voices between, Ellen and Bobby. Ignoring them Sam kept moving and made his way over to the car opening the trunk to throw his bag inside. Sam’s hand tightened on the hood to steady his stance as a wave of nausea suddenly hits and heightened to a sharper pain.
After a moment, Sam inhaled and then clenched his jaw. Swallowing down the pain he slammed the trunk shut.
When he looked up Ellen was running over to him, wrapping an arm around his waist. “You’re not going anywhere, you hear me. Now let’s get back inside, Dean needs you.”
Although he was feeling weaker and dizzier by the second, Sam tried to untangle himself from Ellen, but she had anticipated his attempt and preempted him. Before he could change tactics Bobby was there, taking his other arm and helping her get him back inside.
Opening the door, he had expected to see Dean standing there. Instead Dean had collapsed and was on the floor, rocking and cradling his stomach.
In a panic, Sam tried to shove Bobby away in order to go to Dean, “Dean!”
Surprisingly, although their grip tightened, neither stopped him from going toward Dean but rather they helped him get there faster, then helped him down to the floor so he could gather Dean in his arms to find out what was wrong with him. “Dean, it’s alright I’m here. What happened?”
Dean only whimpered out, “Hurts.”
To soothe him, Sam started to thread his fingers through Dean’s hair. “Shush, you’re going to be fine Dean.” Mutely Dean nodded and curled his body into Sam’s touch.
Feeling stronger, Sam looked up expecting an explanation; his eyes darted between Bobby and Ellen. “What’s going on, what happened? Could he be in pain for not eating?”
Bobby and Ellen exchanged glances. Ellen had a look of resolve and crossed her arms as she proclaimed to Bobby, “Tell them or I will.”
Gut, intuition, or Ellen’s stance, it all pointed to the simple fact that there was something else going on here besides the fact that Dean didn’t eat. Raising his voice to a razor-sharp edge, Sam hissed, “Tell us what?” Then Sam notice a crimson shade started to creep up Bobby’s neck to the tips of his ears.
Taking his hat off, he slapped it against his thigh running a hand over his head in frustration, “Balls!”
Aggravated, Bobby stood there even as Ellen turned around and pulled up a chair, snickering as she uttered “Men.” Then she took the lead before Bobby could say anything else, and faced Sam. “Alright Sam, this isn’t easy, but all of this, Dean’s pain, yours, it all has to do with the ritual you did.”
“What…”
“Don’t worry honey, it worked. You’re both safe.”
Though Ellen didn’t say it Sam heard the proverbial but, and prodded her, “But…”
She glanced back at Bobby searching his face before returning her gaze on him. “But, it did more than just pull Dean’s soul from hell.”
Sam nodded and confirmed, “It bonded and anchored his to mine, so they can’t come after him again.”
Dean bit out, “You did what?”
At Dean’s tone, Sam turned to face his brother’s anger. “I’m sorry Dean, but I had to. I couldn’t just leave you in hell - not after you sacrificed and saved my life. I promised you I’d find a way to save you and I did. But don’t worry I’ll keep my other promise too, and leave as soon as you’re feeling okay.”
Ellen’s voice broke, “You can’t Sam, you, can’t leave him. Not now, not ever. The spell you did… It does more than just anchor Dean to you. From the day Bobby told us, we’ve been researching just like you. Rafe, he’s been staying with us, he ended up finding something similar, but when he showed me I dismissed it. I didn’t think you’d…” She turned away then back and locked eyes with Sam, silently offering an apology. “I didn’t think, period.”
“When I got to Bobby’s and he told me, I immediately called Rafe. I had him focus on it to find anything that could have been missed. There are a couple of big ones. First, it won’t work with just anyone… there has to be something there already, on both sides. It never would have worked otherwise. The second, it doesn’t just anchor and settle Dean’s soul, it literally is anchored to yours. If you, either of you physically or emotionally tried to separate from the other, that pain you just felt, according to what Rafe found it’ll get worse.”
Sam exclaimed, “What?”
“I’m sorry Sam, but it’s true. Although it didn’t give any particulars, I think there’s a possibility that in time the longer you’re together, and the stronger the bond, by then you actually might be able to handle some distance apart, but for now neither of you would survive being apart.”
“Oh god, what did I do.” Sam’s heart sank at every word Ellen said, realizing too late the extent of what he had condemned his brother to. Opening his mouth, he tried to apologize, “Dean I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to force you into anything like this - I just couldn’t…” His voice trailed off to a whisper as he continued to berate himself blatantly ignoring Dean’s mumbled protest.
Bobby shouted over them, “Idjits! Didn’t you hear a damn word she said? It wouldn’t have worked if you both didn’t already feel that way toward each other.”
Bitterly Sam recited what Bobby had said when he found the ritual, “You said it was rape.”
“Yeah, considering the state Dean was in with his soul trapped in hell, it is for normal people. BUT you’re fucking Winchesters, you ain’t normal! Every single one of you Winchesters scarifies themselves for the other. I’m not going to pretend to understand ‘cause the fact is I don’t. What I do know is: when I see a GODDAM miracle. Dean brought you back and you brought him back! That ritual working proves it; you’re each other’s soulmate. Who the hell am I, to argue with something that powerful?”
Silence descended in the wake of Bobby’s words. Although he closed his mouth Sam continued to openly stare at Bobby.
Ellen asked, “Sweetheart, do you understand what we’re saying?”
Sam met her gaze, slowly nodding.
“Dean, what about you, do you understand what’s going on?”
Slowly Dean sat up and drew his knees to his chest. “Sam did a ritual bonding our souls. Now we can’t be separated.”
“Yes, but remember he couldn’t do it unless you both already wanted and loved each other, like a spouse does not just as brothers.”
Sam didn’t hear Dean’s answer, but whatever he said or indicated to Ellen that he understood seem to pacify her.
Abruptly she nodded and stood, “Good. I think we’ll leave you two alone and come back tomorrow just to check in. We’ll bring you more food and a few comforts because I think you’ll be here for a bit letting that bond settle.”
With that she leaned over to first kiss Dean’s cheek then his before straightening and walking toward the door, calling over her shoulder to Bobby, “Ready?”
Bobby nodded and put his cap back on, “Yeah.” At the door he paused, “This goes for both of you, but Sam what I said before it doesn’t matter, just know we’re still family, got it?”
Sam nodded and saw Dean was doing the same even as Bobby turned and left. Minutes later they heard a trunk open and shut then a thud resounded by the front door. Car doors opened, and the engine fired up as they left.
Dazed, Sam started to mull over everything Bobby and Ellen said.
Dean was still staring at the door, but he was the first to break the silence, his voice cracking when he spoke, “Is it true?”
“What’s that?”
Dean blinked then snickered at his obtuseness, “That you want me?”
Sam licked his lips then nervously bobbed his head allowing his bangs to fall forward. Swallowing hard, he added too loudly, “Yeah.”
Dean didn’t move or react for what seemed like an eternity. Then slowly he scooted closer until his forehead was inches from Sam’s. Frozen, Sam waited for Dean to say something.
With each second that passed Sam’s heart started to beat louder in his chest, the level of anxiousness he felt rose with each breath, fighting a baser instinct to reach out and close the distance between them.
Dean’s voice rose and quietly confessed, “Me too.”
At his words, the fear Sam had been feeling started to melt away even as Dean looked up and met Sam’s gaze.
Just hearing Dean speak, elated Sam’s spirit, but what he saw in the depth of Dean’s eyes strengthened his soul. Suddenly Sam felt giddy and lighthearted like he was soaring. The corners of his mouth stretched out and anchored there displaying all of his teeth, “You know that means I’ll have to break my promise?”
Dean straightened his back and leaned forward even as the tip of his tongue rolled out to lick his bottom lip before decisively saying, “Good!” his eyes challenging, daring Sam to contradict him as he stared him down.
Sam’s eyes shifted drawn to the slick wetness on Dean’s lip that he broke his grin to roll his lips, imagining what Dean would taste like.
Dean snorted. Sam looked back up and was immediately captivated by the mischievous spark he saw in the depths of Dean’s magnetic green eyes. A moment later, he watched in fascination as a sprinkling of pink crept up his brother’s neck to burn bright on the outer shell of Dean’s ears.
Under his heated gaze, Dean dipped his head but didn’t bother to hide the grin he sported. Sam quickly returned the smile then laughed out right when Dean smirked and called him, “Bitch”.
Sam closed the distance until his shoulder collided and pushed against Dean. Then he stopped to hover just inside his personal space allowing the heat that had ignited between them to simmer to a sizzling sear with each breath.
Abruptly Dean stretched his neck up, brushing a quick kiss over his ear and pulled back, but not before leaving his mark: a wet trail over Sam’s ear.
Sam shuddered, as shivers of want and pleasure slithered down to pool in his groin. Once he caught his breath, Sam responded with a husky, “Jerk” then reached out to cup Dean’s neck, his thumb sweeping up under Dean’s jaw guiding him to meet Sam’s gaze. Steadily Sam inched forward making his intention clear, allowing Dean plenty of time to pull back.
Instead there was no hesitation as Dean’s tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, but he held his position waiting for Sam to breech the distance.
Sam closed his eyes, lips hovered a fraction above Dean’s. This close Sam greedily took in Dean’s scent and his breath before he crossed that final barrier delivering a feather-light touch of lips. He tried to focus on Dean, on how his lips were both soft and firm even as they parted invitingly.
Sam quivered under the sweet tenderness of the kiss. Its innocence faded by the second as the kiss sparked with energy quickly shattering Sam’s control.
It was electrifying sending jolt after jolt of pleasure throughout Sam’s body. Sam pressed harder, his tongue diving in to taste every inch of Dean as his baser instincts demanded more.
Dean complied and leaned in, lips parting as he kissed back in equal measure. Without breaking the kiss Dean wiggled closer, busily stripping off his clothes until Sam could feel flesh. But what unraveled Sam was when Dean shifted maneuvering his hands under Sam’s shirt, pressing his hands up to grip and mold against his chest.
Kiss after kiss, Sam was dizzy in pleasure. The effects of being on the receiving end of Dean’s fevered response was more passionate than any fantasy he had created. Seconds passed into minutes until Sam felt something shift and unlock between them. It opened and went deeper. Sam felt a pull connecting him to Dean then a feeling of sinking as layer after layer lined up against Dean’s psyche like they were somehow syncing and melding together. Instinctively Sam knew the moment they did.
Slowly Sam pulled away to meet Dean’s eyes to see if Dean was feeling the same things he was.
Dean stared back, his breath haggard, but Sam could see the truth reflected in his eyes. Their bond was tangible, the connection between them sparked, and every second that went by revealed a new layer within the bond.
Sam gasped in wonder, knowing without words Dean felt the same; there was no guilt or shame over their kiss. Whatever the ritual did besides bringing Dean back, it settled and awakened a tangible bond between them, anchoring until it was rooted into their very marrow.
He should be scared, shamed that he had done this to Dean, but even as each thought came to him it was easily dismissed. Staring into Dean’s eyes, Sam could only see the love he felt for Dean reflected back at him. Continuing to stare, Sam knew in his heart and soul Dean felt the same and he was grateful.
Abruptly, Dean smiled and huskily asked, as he handed Sam the tube of lube, “Ready to break that promise?”
Wordlessly Sam nodded and took the lube, then reached up to cup Dean’s neck, pulling him closer, in order to reclaim his lips. It started almost lazily, and between kisses he said, “Always ready for you.” As the words left his mouth Sam dove deeper, his tongue capturing Dean’s until Dean’s only responsive was a guttural moan. One that Sam took as consent and pushed further, seeking more.
Sam felt as if he had been standing at an abyss and easily stepped off; the bond pushing, urging him on. It quickly escalated to a fevered pitch as their bodies pushed and prodded until all he could feel was skin against skin.
There was no finesse, only a desperate frantic need to rut.
Needy Sam was ready; his cock hard and all set to sink into Dean’s heat. Blindly he reached out to wrap his hand around Dean’s cock. He found it hard and rigid as his own. His thumb swept over the head pleased to feel the slick wetness of pre-come.
Dean’s voice choked as he suddenly gasped out his name, “Sam!”
Sam looked up, his smile fading. Although it was easy to see Dean panting excitedly in need, it was the look he saw in Dean’s eyes that made him pause. He was about to pull back when Dean reach out, his hand overlaid on Sam’s to keep it anchored on his cock.
Dean licked his lips, his eyes still on Sam’s, his voice raspy as he pleaded and asked, “Talk to me Sam.”
Sam blinked in confusion and hesitated. The longer he waited; Sam saw a shadow of fear slither across Dean’s features and settle in his eyes, his entire body tightening with tension.
Seeing the fear jolted Sam into action. Instinct took over as his mouth opened and words spilled out talking from his heart. “Shush Dean, it’s okay; you’re safe and here with me - only me.”
With every word he spoke, Dean’s reaction was immediate and his tension disappeared. Suddenly Dean grinned and jerked his hips, reminding Sam he still had a healthy grasp on Dean’s cock.
Fingers squeezing around the girth, Sam muttered, “I want you Dean, please…”
“I want you too Sammy, fuck me, please…”
Sam’s entire body gave a jolt when he said please. Leaning in, Sam grinned, his hand rhythmically pumping Dean’s cock. Although his voice halted in raspy breaths, Sam kept talking. With every word he spoke Dean’s response heightened to lingering moans, hands that gripped hard enough to bruise, urging Sam on.
Sam cursed, his world tipping as his need spiraled beyond any fantasy. For the ritual it had been phantom Dean, a fantasy he had to create to make it work. Now his brother was alive, active, fully participating to the point of cursing Sam to fuck him now.
Sam didn’t need any further encouragement although he wasn’t able to articulate anything more than fuck and Dean over and over. Hitching Dean’s body up, Sam’s slick fingers slid into Dean’s hole. Dean whimpered, opening his legs wider and tilting his hips, demanding, “Fuck me Sammy, fuck me!”
The bond drove them on, to a fast and dirty rut. Sam wasted no time and sank in, filling Dean until he bottomed out. There the frantic haze started to lift and he stilled. Slowly Sam opened his eyes to look down at Dean. It was to find his brother’s mouth hung open in a soundless moan with his eyes closed tight. “Dean, you okay?”
For a second Dean did nothing then slowly as if he was watching in slow motion, Dean’s mouth curved into a grin before answered, “You got to be kidding me?” then he surprised Sam by laughing out right.
Sam’s worry faded, as Dean opened his eyes.
They sparked with life and laughter, although breathless with exhaustion, his voice carried confidence that Sam could clearly see within Dean’s gaze. “You keep stopping and I won’t be.” Even as Dean spoke, he contracted his muscles around Sam’s cock causing Sam to lose his shit as the pleasure slithered down his spine, his sacs pulling up tight.
Sam uttered, “Fuck!”
Dean chuckled, his muscles squeezing in a vice grip. “That’s the plan Sammy. Now will you please get on with it and fuck me with that gargantuan cock of yours?”
Sam blinked, and knew he really did have his brother back. With every heartbeat that went by, it left Sam with no lingering doubts that brother or not, they were true soulmates, bonded for life. Grinning, he snapped his hips forward. This time he couldn’t stop it, it was going to be animalistic, the need to take, to have, to rut. It was something they both needed. However the next round, or the third, he planned on taking his time. Setting a rhythm, Sam stared down into Dean’s grinning face. Next time, he’ll lick, kiss and explore every inch of Dean’s body. Knowing they’d have time, a lifetime together, forever, and he couldn’t be happier.
Fin~