A Different Kind of Crossroads Sam/Dean Part 1
Dean poured himself a cup of what passed for coffee in Bobby's kitchen, and straddled a backwards kitchen chair across the table from the homeowner himself. "Been a tough few days, huh Bobby?" He shook his head at the vampire images floating through his mind's eye.
Bobby folded his hands and let out a deep sigh. "Now that you bring it up, I've almost bit it quite a few times lately."
Dean gave a sad grin. "Hey, don't worry, me and Sam. We got your back. You're like a father to us."
"Dean, there are things you should know before I move on to the other side." Bobby shifted in his chair. "A few months before my wife died. Mary and John lost a baby." Bobby waited for the words to sink in. "They told Mary she probably couldn't have anymore. They didn't know nothin' back then."
Dean stared at him, not sure what he was trying to say. "Boy or girl?"
"They wanted to be surprised. And when they lost it, well, they didn't want to know." Bobby sighed again. "When my wife died, I was lost. I couldn't . . . function on my own, let alone. . . " Bobby scanned Dean's green eyes for some spark of understanding. "You were so small. . . and perfect, and just a constant reminder of your mother."
Dean's brow furrowed, not completely understanding Bobby's words.
"Mary and John were good people, and I, I thought I was doing the right thing. Hell, I still think I did the right thing. You needed a mom and a dad." He brushed some invisible speck off the table to calm his nerves. "I loved you boy, and I had no idea what the future held. I knew they'd protect you with everything they were. Mary was a hunter, she knew about the damn things that bumped in the night. And John was stable and caring. They loved you almost as much as I did."
The realization flooded his face when the words finally clicked. Dean jumped from the chair causing a clatter as it hit the table. "What? I'm a Winchester! I'm named Dean after my Grandmother Dena."
"You were BJ Singer before that." Bobby countered.
Dean's face contorted into a disgusted frown. "You named me Blow Job!!"
"Bobby Junior, ya idjit! And back then it wasn't as common for blow job as it is now." Bobby stood and walked toward Dean. "I just, wanted you to be happy, and taken care of. And we did that. Me and John did the best we could after Mary died, and . . . we loved you, son."
Dean knocked over the chair between him and Bobby and ran out the back door, speeding off in the Impala.
"That went pretty much like I thought it would." Bobby grumbled to himself.
Dean threw himself in a hotel room bed 100 miles away from Bobby's house and tried to sleep. He heard the knock a few hours after he had arrived. He trudged to the door and opened it. Sam stared at him, worry flushing his face. "What happened to you? Bobby said you took off like a bat outta hell, whatever that means."
Dean's voice was deep and thick. "How'd you find me?"
Sam smirked. "Made some calls, made sure Kiss wasn't in town. I was pretty sure you were Mr. Simmons though."
A small smile broke the dark facade. "Damn right I'm Gene Simmons."
Sam pushed his way past Dean into the tiny hotel room and sat on the double bed that took up most the space. "So come on Dean, what's going on?"
"I'm not your brother." His voice was cold and icy.
"Are you drunk?" Sam asked.
Dean screwed up his brow. "I wish, but no, I'm not." His eyes locked with Sam's and suddenly there was a relief washing over his face. "I'm not your brother." He said louder this time.
"Yeah, Dean you are!"
"No, I'm BJ Singer. Bobby and his wife had a son, dude. I'm their son." He peered at Sam under hooded lashes, eyes squinting. "And, now finally I understand why I never really felt like your brother." Dean's green eyes darkened.
Sam scoffed. "Never? Dean, listen, you are my brother. I mean, we feel so much for each other. We're so close. How can you say . . . ?" His lips felt the flitter of Dean's tongue before he realized they were kissing.
Dean pushed away too soon. "That's what I've always felt. Walking around looking at my baby brother like he was a piece of meat! I thought I was freak. I thought. . ." He looked away, hiding the pain he'd lived with for so long. "I thought, it was the reason we were so doomed. Cuz I. . . thought about you."
Sam stared at Dean, still lost in the sensation of there kiss, the sound of Dean's heart breaking and mending before him. "You . . . thought about me. But. . . "
"What? I drowned the thoughts in every diner waitress I could get my hands on! I drank just so I could sleep with you just a few feet from me every night." His mouth pursed as he realized how much he had said. His eyes welled up with tears as he grabbed the collar of Sam's jacket. "Don't hate me, Sam!"
Sam was a statue, staring down at Dean, with confusion and awe. He steadied his breath before he tried to speak. "Bobby. . . is your real dad?"
Dean slowly nodded, not letting his grip loosen on Sam.
"I couldn't hate you Dean." Sam stroked the spikes of his brother's hair and pulled his head into his strong chest. Sam breathed in the scent of his brother, the mix of coffee and beer and whatever detergent was cheap when they washed there clothes. He led Dean to the bed and they both sat down on the worn blanket. "Bobby told you he is your father."
Dean cleared his throat, his flippant facade rearing it's ugly head. "It sounded less Darth Vadar when he said it. But you know what? I don't even know if I believe him."
"Dean! He's Bobby! He raised us!" Sam tried to fight the next words that burst out of his mouth. "Hell, you kissed me like you believed him."
Dean grimaced. "About that, let's just forget that okay?" He became very aware of his knee touching Sam's, the familiarity continuing up their denim clad hips.
"Dean, my brother licked the inside of my mouth with his tongue. I can't really forget that!" He jumped off the bed, body shaken.
"Okay," Dean paced the room. "What do we usually do in a jam?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "We call Bobby."
"Hey. . . . Pop, kinda molested Sam when I figured out he wasn't my brother." Dean hung his head. "Got an incantation for that?" He huffed. "What else?"
Sam shook his head, eyes wide in thought. His large hand pulled through his hair as he turned and locked eyes with Dean. Sam's face went soft peering into Dean's sad green eyes. Mouth dry, he stepped toward the other hunter. "We could. . . . " His hand cupped Dean's face, tilting it upward. He stared at Dean's full lips, feeling his throat tighten. "We could. . . uh. . . .try it again?"
Dean's voice was nothing more than a low whisper. "Sammy." It was suppose to be a warning, but it sounded more like a demand.
Sam pulled him closer, feeling the hard line of Dean's arousal push into his hip. The air between them had grown thick and they both fought to catch their breath. Dean was lost in the heady scent of shampoo and soap coming off the taller man. His head literally swooned under the hazel gaze. "Don't joke." His voice sounded broken, hurt.
Sam dipped his head to Dean's parted lips. Slowly he pressed his mouth to Dean's, feeling the other man's breath expel in a huff. The room stood still. Neither of them able to hear over the rush of blood pounding through their ears. Lips responded as if they knew what they were doing. The kiss leading them deeper into there private world. The world where no one cared if Sam and Dean Winchester, John's boys, were standing in a motel room sliding eager hands up and down each others quivering bodies. Both longing for more but too terrified to move the intimacy farther. Tongues slid past each other, tasting of forbidden fruit. Sam's breath hitched at the groan that rumbled through Dean's broad chest. A whimper seeping into Dean's waiting mouth. The boys fumbled to remove the layers of flannel that restrained them as their blood line had done for so long. A flutter of fabric and they were finally feeling skin under their eager fingertips. Dean tugged at the taller man, pulling him down on the bed, longing to feel the crush of weight on top of him. Minutes felt like lifetimes as they both resisted the urge to ponder the implications of there actions and douse the fire growing between them. The sound of four boots hitting the floor echoed through the small room. Sam's hand whispered across the bulge in Dean's pants. He pulled the button free waiting for a refusing hand to smack him away. Dean found Sam's zipper and slowly guided it down, dragging a finger along the hard shaft that pushed at the cotton boxers. With new found determination, Sam stripped the denim from Dean's body, fighting his own pants off as well. They both lay panting and naked in a heap on the bed. Limbs intertwined as they succumbed to natures primal call.
Dean nudged down Sam's hard abs, nipping as he went, to lay claim to the hard cock that shimmered with fluid in the afternoon sun. His mouth devoured the length bringing a cry from Sam that shook Dean's resolve. Unaware of rhythm or technique, he worshiped the long hard shaft, slurping in every inch as he listened to Sam's head thrash at the mattress. Sam's hand grasped his brother's hair, pushing his head to the rhythm of his hips, bucking to meet the sweet pout that enveloped his manhood. Pulling up from the bed, Sam shot his release, feeling Dean suck the last drops from him as he shuddered through his orgasm.
Shining green eyes topped swollen lips, as Dean peered up past Sam's spent cock. His eyes begged Sam for anything ease the build up of desire that had plagued him for his entire adult life. Sam pulled him up into his arms, hearing Dean's heart thud against his chest. Sam kissed him again, wanting to wipe the fear out of his brother's eyes, knowing tomorrow, it would be his own eye's that shined with emotion. He wrapped his hand firmly around Dean's throbbing cock, slowly gliding his hand around the silky skin. He savored the sensation and the faces his brother made as he writhed in ecstasy. Dean's eyes fought to focus on his own arousal sliding in and out of the large hand. He bit is lip to fight off the scream, but the moan that escaped was wrought with raw need. Soon his body pushed into Sam's tightening hand, setting his own feverish speed. Dean through back his head inviting Sam to lick the sweat that was beading up on his shoulders and chest. "Now!" His body shuddered as the liquid doused Sam's large hand and trickled down Dean's length. They lay there in the light of day for a long time. Both spent and lost, hoping the other would speak, but soon stolen away from the silence by exhaustion and sleep.
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Bobby folded his hands and let out a deep sigh. "Now that you bring it up, I've almost bit it quite a few times lately."
Dean gave a sad grin. "Hey, don't worry, me and Sam. We got your back. You're like a father to us."
"Dean, there are things you should know before I move on to the other side." Bobby shifted in his chair. "A few months before my wife died. Mary and John lost a baby." Bobby waited for the words to sink in. "They told Mary she probably couldn't have anymore. They didn't know nothin' back then."
Dean stared at him, not sure what he was trying to say. "Boy or girl?"
"They wanted to be surprised. And when they lost it, well, they didn't want to know." Bobby sighed again. "When my wife died, I was lost. I couldn't . . . function on my own, let alone. . . " Bobby scanned Dean's green eyes for some spark of understanding. "You were so small. . . and perfect, and just a constant reminder of your mother."
Dean's brow furrowed, not completely understanding Bobby's words.
"Mary and John were good people, and I, I thought I was doing the right thing. Hell, I still think I did the right thing. You needed a mom and a dad." He brushed some invisible speck off the table to calm his nerves. "I loved you boy, and I had no idea what the future held. I knew they'd protect you with everything they were. Mary was a hunter, she knew about the damn things that bumped in the night. And John was stable and caring. They loved you almost as much as I did."
The realization flooded his face when the words finally clicked. Dean jumped from the chair causing a clatter as it hit the table. "What? I'm a Winchester! I'm named Dean after my Grandmother Dena."
"You were BJ Singer before that." Bobby countered.
Dean's face contorted into a disgusted frown. "You named me Blow Job!!"
"Bobby Junior, ya idjit! And back then it wasn't as common for blow job as it is now." Bobby stood and walked toward Dean. "I just, wanted you to be happy, and taken care of. And we did that. Me and John did the best we could after Mary died, and . . . we loved you, son."
Dean knocked over the chair between him and Bobby and ran out the back door, speeding off in the Impala.
"That went pretty much like I thought it would." Bobby grumbled to himself.
Dean threw himself in a hotel room bed 100 miles away from Bobby's house and tried to sleep. He heard the knock a few hours after he had arrived. He trudged to the door and opened it. Sam stared at him, worry flushing his face. "What happened to you? Bobby said you took off like a bat outta hell, whatever that means."
Dean's voice was deep and thick. "How'd you find me?"
Sam smirked. "Made some calls, made sure Kiss wasn't in town. I was pretty sure you were Mr. Simmons though."
A small smile broke the dark facade. "Damn right I'm Gene Simmons."
Sam pushed his way past Dean into the tiny hotel room and sat on the double bed that took up most the space. "So come on Dean, what's going on?"
"I'm not your brother." His voice was cold and icy.
"Are you drunk?" Sam asked.
Dean screwed up his brow. "I wish, but no, I'm not." His eyes locked with Sam's and suddenly there was a relief washing over his face. "I'm not your brother." He said louder this time.
"Yeah, Dean you are!"
"No, I'm BJ Singer. Bobby and his wife had a son, dude. I'm their son." He peered at Sam under hooded lashes, eyes squinting. "And, now finally I understand why I never really felt like your brother." Dean's green eyes darkened.
Sam scoffed. "Never? Dean, listen, you are my brother. I mean, we feel so much for each other. We're so close. How can you say . . . ?" His lips felt the flitter of Dean's tongue before he realized they were kissing.
Dean pushed away too soon. "That's what I've always felt. Walking around looking at my baby brother like he was a piece of meat! I thought I was freak. I thought. . ." He looked away, hiding the pain he'd lived with for so long. "I thought, it was the reason we were so doomed. Cuz I. . . thought about you."
Sam stared at Dean, still lost in the sensation of there kiss, the sound of Dean's heart breaking and mending before him. "You . . . thought about me. But. . . "
"What? I drowned the thoughts in every diner waitress I could get my hands on! I drank just so I could sleep with you just a few feet from me every night." His mouth pursed as he realized how much he had said. His eyes welled up with tears as he grabbed the collar of Sam's jacket. "Don't hate me, Sam!"
Sam was a statue, staring down at Dean, with confusion and awe. He steadied his breath before he tried to speak. "Bobby. . . is your real dad?"
Dean slowly nodded, not letting his grip loosen on Sam.
"I couldn't hate you Dean." Sam stroked the spikes of his brother's hair and pulled his head into his strong chest. Sam breathed in the scent of his brother, the mix of coffee and beer and whatever detergent was cheap when they washed there clothes. He led Dean to the bed and they both sat down on the worn blanket. "Bobby told you he is your father."
Dean cleared his throat, his flippant facade rearing it's ugly head. "It sounded less Darth Vadar when he said it. But you know what? I don't even know if I believe him."
"Dean! He's Bobby! He raised us!" Sam tried to fight the next words that burst out of his mouth. "Hell, you kissed me like you believed him."
Dean grimaced. "About that, let's just forget that okay?" He became very aware of his knee touching Sam's, the familiarity continuing up their denim clad hips.
"Dean, my brother licked the inside of my mouth with his tongue. I can't really forget that!" He jumped off the bed, body shaken.
"Okay," Dean paced the room. "What do we usually do in a jam?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "We call Bobby."
"Hey. . . . Pop, kinda molested Sam when I figured out he wasn't my brother." Dean hung his head. "Got an incantation for that?" He huffed. "What else?"
Sam shook his head, eyes wide in thought. His large hand pulled through his hair as he turned and locked eyes with Dean. Sam's face went soft peering into Dean's sad green eyes. Mouth dry, he stepped toward the other hunter. "We could. . . . " His hand cupped Dean's face, tilting it upward. He stared at Dean's full lips, feeling his throat tighten. "We could. . . uh. . . .try it again?"
Dean's voice was nothing more than a low whisper. "Sammy." It was suppose to be a warning, but it sounded more like a demand.
Sam pulled him closer, feeling the hard line of Dean's arousal push into his hip. The air between them had grown thick and they both fought to catch their breath. Dean was lost in the heady scent of shampoo and soap coming off the taller man. His head literally swooned under the hazel gaze. "Don't joke." His voice sounded broken, hurt.
Sam dipped his head to Dean's parted lips. Slowly he pressed his mouth to Dean's, feeling the other man's breath expel in a huff. The room stood still. Neither of them able to hear over the rush of blood pounding through their ears. Lips responded as if they knew what they were doing. The kiss leading them deeper into there private world. The world where no one cared if Sam and Dean Winchester, John's boys, were standing in a motel room sliding eager hands up and down each others quivering bodies. Both longing for more but too terrified to move the intimacy farther. Tongues slid past each other, tasting of forbidden fruit. Sam's breath hitched at the groan that rumbled through Dean's broad chest. A whimper seeping into Dean's waiting mouth. The boys fumbled to remove the layers of flannel that restrained them as their blood line had done for so long. A flutter of fabric and they were finally feeling skin under their eager fingertips. Dean tugged at the taller man, pulling him down on the bed, longing to feel the crush of weight on top of him. Minutes felt like lifetimes as they both resisted the urge to ponder the implications of there actions and douse the fire growing between them. The sound of four boots hitting the floor echoed through the small room. Sam's hand whispered across the bulge in Dean's pants. He pulled the button free waiting for a refusing hand to smack him away. Dean found Sam's zipper and slowly guided it down, dragging a finger along the hard shaft that pushed at the cotton boxers. With new found determination, Sam stripped the denim from Dean's body, fighting his own pants off as well. They both lay panting and naked in a heap on the bed. Limbs intertwined as they succumbed to natures primal call.
Dean nudged down Sam's hard abs, nipping as he went, to lay claim to the hard cock that shimmered with fluid in the afternoon sun. His mouth devoured the length bringing a cry from Sam that shook Dean's resolve. Unaware of rhythm or technique, he worshiped the long hard shaft, slurping in every inch as he listened to Sam's head thrash at the mattress. Sam's hand grasped his brother's hair, pushing his head to the rhythm of his hips, bucking to meet the sweet pout that enveloped his manhood. Pulling up from the bed, Sam shot his release, feeling Dean suck the last drops from him as he shuddered through his orgasm.
Shining green eyes topped swollen lips, as Dean peered up past Sam's spent cock. His eyes begged Sam for anything ease the build up of desire that had plagued him for his entire adult life. Sam pulled him up into his arms, hearing Dean's heart thud against his chest. Sam kissed him again, wanting to wipe the fear out of his brother's eyes, knowing tomorrow, it would be his own eye's that shined with emotion. He wrapped his hand firmly around Dean's throbbing cock, slowly gliding his hand around the silky skin. He savored the sensation and the faces his brother made as he writhed in ecstasy. Dean's eyes fought to focus on his own arousal sliding in and out of the large hand. He bit is lip to fight off the scream, but the moan that escaped was wrought with raw need. Soon his body pushed into Sam's tightening hand, setting his own feverish speed. Dean through back his head inviting Sam to lick the sweat that was beading up on his shoulders and chest. "Now!" His body shuddered as the liquid doused Sam's large hand and trickled down Dean's length. They lay there in the light of day for a long time. Both spent and lost, hoping the other would speak, but soon stolen away from the silence by exhaustion and sleep.
Next Chapter