Fic: Making Choices (part four) - Wincest - NC-17

[gestaltrose]

Good decisions come from experience, and experience comes from bad decisions ~Author Unknown
Mid-March 1998
Dean is 19
Harry is 17
Sam is 15

Sam was so angry he was seeing spots. He slammed out the door of the latest rental they were staying at and started to walk. Knowing he was so close to losing control, he could feel his magic trying to get out. He walked for a good half an hour before heading back to the house, still feeling angry and out of control.

“Sam?” Harry walked out the door after spotting him, closing it softer than Sam had.

“Damn it, it’s not fair!” Sam whirled and yelled at Harry.

“It’s my life, Sam.”

“But . . . but,” Sam sputtered. “Don’t you want more than this? College. You’ve got a full ride, a fucking full ride, and you want to just throw it away? You . . .”

“Me, Sam. I know what I want and it doesn’t include college. That’s your dream, little brother.” Harry pushed a strand of hair that was hanging in Sam’s face behind his ear. “And why were you opening my mail, anyway?”

He shrugged. “It was from a college and said Winchester. I sent out a thing at school asking about more information. I thought that was it.” Sam didn’t say how panicked he felt when he saw it, wondering if Dad or Dean had seen it first. But he didn’t let himself get distracted. “Don’t you want more?” Sam asked Harry again.

“Yeah, I do. I want to be able to live without wondering if someone is going to come and try to take me again. You heard all the stories about what happened the last time Voldemort gained power,” Harry said, sounding a bit exasperated.

Sam put his hand up to cover Harry’s mouth. They had been told about saying that name in particular. Sam’s eyes flicked up to Harry’s scar and back to meet his eyes.

Harry pulled Sam’s hand away. “Dad and Dean understand. Can’t you try?” He squinted like he was suddenly standing in bright light his eyes narrowing behind his glasses.

Oh shit, thought Sam. “Not supposed to say the name,” Sam spoke quietly as he held Harry up from collapsing. Nana Bishee had told them that Harry was connected to that asshole through his scar and saying his name was just about like waving a red flag in front of a bull. It got his attention. Damn it! They weren’t that far from the house so Sam tried to help Harry back to it. Harry’s hand was pressed against his forehead and he was muttering to himself.

Making it to the yard, Sam called out to Dean, not understanding why he hadn’t come out already. The bond should have been tugging at him. Dad was the one who came outside and found them. Harry curled up in pain and Sam trying to help him up. As Dad lifted Harry, Sam saw that his scar was bleeding just like when they first met.

Getting to his feet, he scrambled in after Dad.

“Dean!” Dad was yelling as Sam shut the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry flinch.

Sam looked up just as Dean came stumbling out of his bedroom, his bloodshot eyes widening before he seemed to focus on Harry. Dean took Harry from Dad and moved him onto the couch. Sam could smell the alcohol on Dean’s breath and it answered Sam’s question about where he’d been.

Harry leaned into Dean’s hand on his forehead and Sam looked over at Dad and decided that now was a good time to run interference. Sam was aware that Dad knew Dean had been drinking but not why.

“Come on, Dean can take care of him. I’ll tell you what happened,” Sam offered up information knowing that his Dad would take him up on it.

Sam puttered as much as he could, straightening the kitchen and making some fresh coffee, but he finally sat down in front of John and explained exactly what had happened.

“That guy is going to need seen to, sooner rather than later,” Dad growled after Sam mentioned Voldemort. Sam nodded sharply; he couldn’t agree more. Running a hand through his hair, Dad seemed to make a decision.

“You boys need to go and stay with Bobby for a while. I need to take Dean to see someone.”

Sam wanted to protest. Dean was his. However, the look on his father’s face brooked no argument. Sam sighed and nodded, knowing he had hoped in vain that Dad hadn’t noticed just how drunk Dean was. Maybe Harry knew a way they could keep tabs on Dean.

Dean was leaning against the doorframe when Sam looked up. Wondering for the millionth time what was going on inside Dean’s head, Sam just looked back down at the coffee cup in his hands. Getting up, Sam poured Dean a cup before he handed it over as he passed. He gave Dean a look that told him they’d be talking later.

Sam heard Dean move to sit with Dad and Dad start talking low and in his most persuasive voice. It startled Sam because Dad never tried to persuade them. It was always - do this - do that - don’t ask questions - don’t hesitate. Sam got so sick of it sometimes, but Dad was asking . . . asking Dean something. Shaking his head in disbelief, he went to check on Harry.

Walking into the darkened room, Sam looked at Harry. He lay on the couch, his eyes closed and his face tight with pain. Sam knelt beside him, touching his hand lightly. Harry cracked his eyes open and gave Sam a small smile.

“Is Dean okay?”

Sam nodded. “He’s been drinking,” he added.

Harry winced and Sam glanced at his scar. Suddenly, when he looked at Sam his eyes were red. Holding still, Sam hollered for his dad. This time, Harry didn’t flinch at all. His red eyes were fixed on Sam. “Sam Winchester,” said Harry who didn’t sound at all like Harry.

“Dad,” Sam yelled again.

“Shit.” Sam heard his dad cuss behind him. “Hold on, Sam, Harry,” Dad said and left.

Dean skidded into the room after Dad was gone. “Sam?”

Sam still wouldn’t or couldn’t break eye contact with Harry. “It’s not him,” Sam stated matter-of-factly. Harry looked at Dean and Sam suddenly felt like he could breathe again.

Harry said, “Triad,” in a sibilant voice that was nothing like Harry. The red eyes focused back on Sam and he could feel him trying to get into his mind. It was like tentacles were wrapped around his brain, slowly squeezing.

Dad slammed back into the room and the eyes moved to look at him. Dean was there, pressing his hand into the middle of Sam’s back. Sam could feel the sweat almost dripping off him, his back damp under Dean’s hand. Harry blinked and blinked again, the red leaving his eyes as Dad started to chant at him in Latin.

Harry collapsed; Sam would have, too, except for Dean. They watched as Dad checked on Harry, and then finished the exorcism. Although, if he had asked Sam, Sam could have told him that whatever had been in Harry was long gone. Harry lifted his head and Sam wanted nothing more than to go to him and comfort him but Dad was there.

Reaching out, Sam brushed his fingers against Harry’s and he found his hand gripped in Harry’s firm grasp. Dean stood there for a moment, his hands touching each of them.

“Dean,” Dad snapped out. Dean let his hands drop and, turning, he left the room, following Dad back to the kitchen. Sam felt the loss immediately.

Sam stared at Harry. He cocked a half smile.

“I know, I’m not supposed to say his name,” Harry told him.

Sam let out a relived huff and then he moved in close, his lips nearly pressed up against Harry’s. He kissed Harry gently until Harry reached up and wrapped his long fingers in Sam’s hair and pulled him closer. The kiss became rough, almost violent, as they both needed some kind of reassurance Sam could feel Harry’s glasses digging into his face. Finally Harry pulled back and Sam leaned his forehead against Harry’s. They rested there, just breathing each other’s air and then Sam pushed himself up, getting to his feet. He looked between the kitchen and the couch.

There was a brief look of fear that crossed Harry’s face and Sam decided to stay where he was. He moved and lifted Harry’s legs so that when he sat they would drape across his lap. Realizing he felt disjointed and that he had been all evening, he brushed his hand over Harry’s ankle.

“Why are you so angry?” Harry asked. Sam hadn’t really thought about why he was getting mad all the time.

“It’s everything, I guess. When I go to school and see people leading normal lives . . . sometimes I just want that so bad I can taste it. But I wouldn’t . . . sometimes I don’t want to be different.” Sam looked up into Harry’s eyes. “I . . .” his voice trailed off as he saw a look of pain cross Harry’s face. “Is it?” he asked, his eyes glancing at Harry’s scar.

“No, not him.” Harry spoke quietly, reassuring Sam that it wasn’t Voldemort. “I guess I wanted to be special,” he admitted. “The Dursleys always told me what crap I was and I guess I always wanted to be better than they thought. Different is okay with me.”

Sam stroked Harry’s ankle. “I didn’t mean . . .”

“I know,” Harry said. “I just want you to understand why I’m not so worried about college. There is so much evil that only we can deal with,” Harry looked up and his green eyes flashed in the light of the table lamp the light reflecting off of his glasses, “that I cannot just look the other way.”

Now Sam felt like utter crap. He looked down at the legs sprawled across his lap.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t have dreams. It’s not that I don’t sometimes wish things were different but if they were . . . if my parents lived, if your mom lived, then we would have never met. You would probably be going to school in Salem. Dean, who the hell knows. And me, I would be at Hogwarts. I would never know you or Dad or Dean and . . .” Harry’s voice trailed off and Sam glanced up at him. He was staring at the doorway. Sam looked over and saw Dad standing there, listening.

“And . . .” Dad prompted him.

“I wouldn’t want that,” Harry said. “You are my family.”

Dad nodded and Harry smiled. From Dad it was as good as a pat on the back, telling you you’d done a good job.

“And Winchesters take care of each other. Has this happened before?”

Harry didn’t even ask what. “No, sir, not like that.”

“But . . .”

“Sometimes I get flashes of anger or pleasure. Sometimes I have nightmares and he’s inside my dreams and it hurts; he hurts me. But Dean is there before it gets too bad.”

Dad changed the subject. “Why was Dean drinking?”

“Why don’t you ask me?” Dean said from behind their father. Their dad didn’t know about everything they did together and was he ever relieved that Dad didn’t. Sam knew that he was deflecting attention off of Harry and onto himself.

Dad moved aside and pointed Dean into the room. Sam watched as Dean stepped past Dad. “Okay, why were you drinking?”

“Because I was mad, Sam was mad, Harry was upset and it felt like I was going to explode.”

“Your mistake could have been much worse,” Dad said sounding disappointed and Sam winced.

“I know,” Dean replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Dad,” Sam tried to jump in and help Dean out. “It was me, too, not just Dean. I was the one who lost my temper first.”

“Yeah, what about that, Sam?” Dad said his name and it almost cracked the air like a whip.

Sam could feel his temper rising at just the tone in his father’s voice. “What the fuck do you care? You’re never here anyway.”

“Sam,” Harry whispered his name and grabbed his wrist, trying to soothe him. Sam looked at him and he could see the worry in Harry’s eyes.

“Sorry,” Sam said, trying not to sound petulant. “It’s just been rough.”

“Rough how?” Dad looked at Dean for an answer.

“Bills and stuff,” Dean said dismissively. Sam bristled again and Harry tugged on his arm, shaking his head.

Bills and stuff his ass. They had run out of money in the middle of the month. Dean’s part time job paid him on the fifth and the twentieth. There was about five days where they had nothing but pancakes because that was all there was. Dean was hardly eating so he and Harry could have more and Sam had to try hard to keep them down.

“Why didn’t you tell me I hadn’t left enough money?” Dad turned it around on Dean again. Sam bit his tongue so hard it was bleeding.

“We were making due, sir.”

Sam watched as Dad ran a hand through his hair. “Next time, tell me,” he said and Dean nodded.

“Get packed. You boys are going to stay with Bobby. Dean and me need to go and pick up something.”

“What about school?” Sam asked. “Harry is almost done, and you are just . . .”

“Damn it, Sam!” Dad was yelling again. “Just do what I tell you and go pack.”

Sam glared at his father and then he felt Harry brush his fingers across the back of his neck and he relaxed a little. “Fine,” he said and turned to look at Harry.

“Harry stays. I need to talk to him.” Dad didn’t sound mad about that at least. Sam looked at Dean, who shrugged and then followed him out.

Making it to his room, Sam let Dean in and then turned on him. “What the fuck?”

“Shh, Sam. If we concentrate we can figure out what they’re talking about,” Dean said quietly and sat down on his bed, scooting back so he was leaning against the wall. He crossed his legs and Sam scurried up beside him, both of them dropping into the light trance that Nana Bishee had taught them.

“Sam’s right,” Dad said. “What about school? It wouldn’t take much for you to graduate.”

“School can wait. This is important, more important than a piece of paper, sir,” Sam knew the sincerity behind Harry’s words even if he wanted to deny it. He could feel the truth. “Bishee said they were torturing Muggles, trying to terrify everyone. I’ve gotten a few copies of their paper from Sirius.” Harry paused as Dad growled about it.

“Anyway.” Sam couldn’t believe how Harry just spoke over the top of their father. “It seems to be working. Apparently the government is almost paralyzed and the Death Eaters are becoming more and more obvious. They closed the school after an attack on some Muggleborns. He needs to be stopped.”

“Fine, let them stop him.”

“Apparently there’s a prophesy about him and me. I need to figure out how to get rid of him for good.”

“We,” Dad said.

“What?”

“We need to figure out how to get rid of him. You are a part of this family.”

Sam knew Harry was smiling. “Yes, sir.”

“Go and pack. We need to get to Bobby’s as soon as we can. I need to find something that can help us, and he can keep you safe while we go after it,” Dad said, cryptic as always.

Sam dropped out of the trance as Harry left the room. Feeling the heat from Dean as he sprawled next to him, Sam took a chance and turned a bit. Dean was ahead of him for once and moved his arm so Sam could get in close.

“Sorry,” Sam breathed into Dean’s neck.

“I know. Me, too,” Dean replied.

Sam pulled back as Harry knocked on his door. Telling him to come in, Harry looked at the two of them. “We okay?”

“We’re okay,” Sam said and Harry looked at Dean. Dean nodded and Sam felt a wave of relief flow over him.

“Then pack,” Harry said.

“Fine,” Sam said with a smile and pulled out his duffel. “Magic?” Sam asked Dean.

“For shrinking not packing,” Dean told him as he stood up. “And not my stuff. Remember what happened last time.”

“’kay,” Sam said with a small smirk on his face. They had used a password and then Sam had ‘forgotten’ Dean’s and managed to keep from laughing in front of him as Dean grew more and more desperate, sounding like the queen in Rumpelstiltskin until he managed to say the right thing.

They packed and Sam, Dean and Harry were in the car following Dad in his truck down the road. Sam didn’t even look back. They had left so many places that he never bothered anymore.

Two days later, they pulled into Uncle Bobby’s junkyard. Sam and Harry grabbed their bags as Dean, Dad and Bobby talked. Narrowing his eyes at Dean, Sam passed by them on his way inside. Sam wasn’t happy that Dean was going to leave with Dad. Bobby was good but he wasn’t their guardian and with what had happened, Sam was worried that something was going to go wrong.

Dean had spent the car ride trying to mollify him but it hadn’t helped. Apparently Dad had found this thing and it could help them but the guy who had it knew Dad and Dean had to go, too. Dad talked to Bobby about a gun and Sam finally figured out it was the same one he’d been looking for when he’d left them in Oregon. Uncle Bobby looked serious and they had stopped talking and looked at Harry and then at him.

“I don’t know, John,” Uncle Bobby said.

Dad shook his head and spoke in a quiet voice. Sam pulled Harry inside and they tromped upstairs and tossed their stuff in a room. “Doesn’t it bug you?”

“What?”

“That they don’t ever tell us anything.” Sam sat on his bed watching as Harry shrugged.

“Dean’ll tell us,” Harry said, plopping on the bed across from Sam.

Thinking about Dean made Sam remember what he wanted to ask Harry. “Is there some way we can watch out for Dean?”

Harry narrowed his eyes and then dug in his duffel. Unshrinking a couple of books that Nana had made him buy, he looked through one on charms. They studied different things, things that would complement each other. Harry was better with charm work and Sam was better at transfiguration. They were both better than they wanted to be at divination but it was never helpful, even with their studies. Nana told them to appreciate the little glimpses that they got but not to let them rule their life.

“Tracking charm,” Harry said after a moment.

Sam shook his head. “The last time we tried that, Dean glowed.”

“Well, you got to admit, he was easy to track.” Harry exchanged a smile with Sam. “But this one is different; it works with the bond that we have. Actually, it will make it easier for Dean to find us if we need him.”

Harry and Sam spent a long time discussing it. It was getting dark outside and they wondered how much time they had before Dean would come upstairs. Sam asked about the faults and tried to make sure that Harry had considered everything. No, they decided, Dean wouldn’t glow or be able to get inside their heads. After the first time that Dean had joined them but then been so stubborn about everything, they had devoted a few hours into seeing if they could keep him out. As far as Sam could tell, Dean hadn’t even tried since then.

Sam wanted to know how they could find Dean. Harry tried to explain but he decided to show Sam. Sitting down and facing each other, Harry showed Sam the way the bond could work right now.

“Close your eyes,” Harry directed him. “Now picture the bond, however you see it.”

Sam imagined a network of lights that stretched between him and his brothers. Like a web of light that looped around them and through them, connecting them all.

“Got it?”

Sam nodded.

“Now get ready, like you are going to cast a spell, gathering the magic inside you.”

“’kay,” Sam said, concentrating on the feeling of magic building inside of him.

“Now push your magic down the bond, however you . . . Woah!”

Sam opened his eyes at Harry’s exclamation. The room was lit up like a small star was in the room. Sam automatically let the magic go.

“Well that was unexpected,” Harry said.

“Dean is going to . . .”

The door slammed open and Dean stood there panting. He’d run from wherever he’d been. “Are you all right? What’s going on?” Dean looked at where Sam and Harry sat on the floor leaning against the bed, both of them looking guilty. “What the hell are you doing now?”

“Tracking charm,” Harry said quietly.

“Fuck that! That was no tracking charm . . .”

“I found one that would work with the bond, oh wise guardian. Now that Sam’s activated it . . .” Harry nodded at his little brother. “Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes, please,” Harry said to Dean.

Sam could tell Dean was angry and off kilter but he did it.

“Now think of Sam,” Harry said as he stood and helped Sam up, pushing him towards the corner away from where he’d been. Sam understood and quietly moved as far away as possible from where he’d been.

“Now point at him,” Harry directed Dean. Dean started to point at where Sam had been, but then his arm swung out until he was pointing at Sam.

“We can do it, too.” Harry tried to convince Dean this was a good thing.

“Guardian,” Dean said, pointing at himself and reminding them that he was the one supposed to be watching out for them.

Harry nodded. “This’ll make it easier. It won’t glow again. I promise.”

“Why did it?” Sam asked.

“Tell me how you saw us all connected.”

“With ropes of light.” As Sam spoke, he understood why everything had lit up. He was the one who’d powered the thing and the magic just used his image.

“Well, I’ve got to tell Dad and Bobby something,” Dean said.

“Just tell them we were practicing without you and we won’t do it again,” Harry said.

“Better not,” Dean said and shut the door behind him.

Sam and Harry waited for Dean to go downstairs before Sam moved back over and sat next to Harry again. “Did it work, then?” Sam asked.

Harry smiled and Sam suddenly wanted to kiss him. “What do you think? You put enough power in the thing to light up a small town.”

Sam blushed. He hadn’t meant to.

“Close your eyes again. Think of me,” Harry told him.

Sam did and he could feel Harry. He knew the wound that Harry had taken from a poltergeist in Chicago was hurting. Sam suppressed a wave of rage because Dad hadn’t let him go but had taken Harry and Dean. If he had taken Sam, Harry might not have gotten hurt.

“Your leg hurts,” Sam said.

“Huh?” Harry looked at Sam. Reaching down, he rubbed at his calf. Sam knew if he could see through the jeans there would be a jagged scar where Harry’s hand was. “I guess it does. I just ignore it now.” He smiled. “But see, it works. We can keep an eye on Dean.” And he could keep eye on them . . . so much for blocking him out.

Sam leaned against Harry, suddenly exhausted. Harry’s arm came around his shoulder. “We should unpack and get ready for bed. Uncle Bobby’ll want us downstairs for dinner soon and you know we’re going to get lectured.”

Groaning, Sam turned, pressing his nose into Harry’s neck. They had spent two days solid in the car and they both smelled like stale sweat and the certain smell of the Impala. It all said home to Sam. Smiling as Harry’s breath caught, Sam nuzzled his neck before he pressed his lips to it and kissed.

“Sam,” Harry said his name quietly but with longing.

“Yeah?” Sam asked as he moved his mouth up to Harry’s ear.

“Unpack,” Harry murmured and Sam huffed. Calling his wand to hand, he quickly had all the clothes put away in their respective dressers.

Not a moment too soon as Dad was yelling for them from the bottom of the stairs. Sam and Harry exchanged a rueful glance before they stood and made their way downstairs.

They sat and listened to Dad lecture them on using magic unsupervised and without permission. Both of them nodded and looked properly chastised, or at least that’s what Sam hoped.

The thing was, with the bond, whenever they did magic Dean would know. That meant they could do it even when Dean wasn’t physically present and it would count as being supervised. Of course, none of them had said anything to Dad or Uncle Bobby, hoping for it to go unnoticed. Yeah, Sam thought, except for the light thing they were right on track. Harry was ready to take his final exams but Sam still had at least another summer with Nana before they would let him try to take his test, even if he felt he was ready.

Uncle Bobby talked Dad into spending the night and therefore Dean followed Harry and Sam upstairs at bedtime. Sam lay on his bed listening to Harry explaining about the link and how it affected their bond. Dean murmured a question to Harry that Sam couldn’t make out and then there was the sound of kissing.

Sam kept his eyes open, staring at the darkness that enveloped him. If he closed his eyes he would slip down the links between them and, as much as he wanted to, he knew it would just drive Dean away. So he listened instead, imagining what was going on in Harry’s bed. He slid his hand inside his pajamas and cupped his balls before moving his hand up to quietly stroke his cock.

Little gasps and moans, silenced by lips, crossed the darkness of the room. Sam tried to keep his breathing steady as he jacked off, listening. The moans turned to hisses as Harry got nearer to his orgasm. Sam wondered if Harry knew he spoke as an íaxassee when he was turned on.

Sam stroked faster, still trying to be quiet. Biting his lip so hard it bled, he came with hardly a hitch in his breathing as Dean’s breath grew ragged and Harry encouraged him with small, quiet moans. They finished, at least Sam assumed so, and the bed creaked as Dean got up. Sam listened to him pull on his pants and then the door opened and Sam quickly shut his eyes as the light in the hall illuminated the room.

The door shut and Harry called his wand to him. Sam heard a cleaning spell murmured and then felt the gentle warmth run across his body. He looked over at where Harry was and, even though he couldn’t see him, he knew Harry was smiling at him.

“Thank you,” he whispered, trying not to sound sad or jealous.

“It’ll happen, just give it time,” Harry tried to reassure him. However, every sign he was getting from Dean said he regretted ever touching him, kissing him, and it just made Sam feel worse. He wasn’t going to push himself where he wasn’t wanted.

Dean slipped back into the room and Sam rolled onto his side, facing the wall. Closing his eyes, he thought of everything but Dean until he fell asleep. Waking in the morning, he wasn’t surprised to find Dad and Dean already gone.

Uncle Bobby told Sam that he was going to school the next day. Sam, Dean and Harry had all been at Bobby’s often enough that the school district more or less just rolled its eyes and let them in. Harry wasn’t going, he wasn’t planning on graduating anyway, so he was going to stay and help out Uncle Bobby while Sam was in school.

Sam had a bad feeling when he was going to leave the next morning. Waking Harry, he told him to make sure to put some wards up.

“You have a vision?” Harry asked as he rubbed his eyes.

“No, just a feeling.”

“’kay,” Harry said, sitting up. Bobby hollered up the stairs and Sam walked to the door.

“Remember,” he said.

“Wards, got it,” Harry muttered and then looked at Sam. “You okay?”

Sam couldn’t get the feeling of approaching doom to go away. However, he gave Harry his best smile. “I’m good.” He tried to believe it. “See you later.”

“’kay, bye.” Harry closed his eyes again and he waved in Sam’s direction. Sam left with one last look at Harry, sprawled out on the bed with his arm raised over his head. Sam’s eyes lingered on the patch of skin that showed between the edge of Harry’s t-shirt and his underwear.

Sam left, waving at Bobby as he walked down the drive to catch the bus.

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