A Different Piece of Sky: 2/6
Master Post | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Soundtrack
“Are you gonna wake up anytime today?”
Sam rolled over, squinting at her brother’s form through the bright light. “What time is it?”
“Almost eight.”
Cursing, Sam sat up, slipping out of bed. “What the hell? Why didn’t my alarm go off? I’ve gotta be at school in fifteen minutes!” Dean just laughed and she scowled at him. “What is with you?”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “If you were going to school today, do you really think I wouldn’t have woken you up?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Dad is on his way home,” Dean said, stripping the bed linens. “We’ve got cleaning and you haven’t worked out a single day since he left.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s not true. I go running all the time.”
“And you think that’ll be good enough for Dad?”
Nothing she did was ever good enough for Dad. “It’s not like he ever takes me on hunts anyway. It’s been forever. What does it matter?”
He ignored her, putting all of the laundry in a large sack. Dean only looked at her when she cleared her throat purposefully. “It matters because it’s what Dad wants. And he’s let us stay here for a while so you don’t complain all the time, the least we can do is what he asks of us.”
She stared at him then shook her head. Apparently having a home was too much to ask for in this family. “Dean, seriously? Do you hear yourself?”
“You’ve got until I get back from the Laundromat to eat and get ready. Shouldn’t take me longer than twenty minutes.”
Sam snorted. “How are you possibly gonna do two loads of laundry in twenty minutes?”
Smirking, he said, “There’s a hot chick that works there. She said she’d be happy to look after the laundry for a few hours and I get a date tomorrow.”
Ignoring her sudden nausea, she rolled her eyes, going out to the kitchen and calling, “You’re disgusting sometimes.” At least he had left her some coffee, and she poured herself a cup, just inhaling the rich smell.
Throwing the bags of laundry over his shoulder, he said, “Whatever, Sam. Half hour, tops. Be ready.”
Rolling her eyes, she said, “I got it, go.” There was probably a reason that she didn’t want to wake up this morning, but she took the last two pieces of bread out of the bag, sticking them in the toaster and buttered them to try to get rid of some of the stale taste. When the Impala pulled out of the driveway, she settled on the couch, wondering if she should tempt fate by trying to put the old milk in her coffee. Only Dean liked to drink it black. But she was a Winchester and her day could always get worse, so she just made a face and drank it down.
When Dean got home forty-five minutes later, smile far too evident on his face, Sam was waiting on the couch watching syndicated reruns of the Jerry Springer show. It was a sad state of her life when even that show didn’t make her feel better about her family. He looked approvingly at her sweats and she could see the remnants of cheap gloss smeared across his lips. “I thought we’d run first,” he said.
The sun was already starting to get high and she could only imagine how hot it was, but she nodded. “Sure.”
As soon as he was changed into his workout clothes, they headed out, getting off the pavement to one of the tree-lined biking trails they had in the area. She let Dean set the pace, relaxing into the steady rhythm. After fifteen minutes, he fell back in step with her. “So…”
“So what?” she said, wishing she had skipped modesty and just worn her sports bra.
“So what’s with you today? Or, really, all the time lately?” He shrugged. “You’re always on edge. And I know you can’t be PMS-ing that much.”
She didn’t need PMS as an excuse to want to punch her brother. “Nothing’s with me, Dean.”
“That’s exactly it!” He grabbed her arm, stopping the progress and turning her to face him. “It’s the way you talk and your attitude. It’s like all you do is bitch.”
She pulled back from him, throwing her arms up in the air. “What the hell do you want from me? I’m here, aren’t I? You wake me up, tell me I can’t go to school, insist I work all day because Dad’s coming back, which is really only a fifty-fifty chance.”
He shook his head. “Don’t talk about him like that.”
“What dad do you have, Dean? Because mine doesn’t show up as often as yours apparently seems to. How do you know that there wasn’t something important going on at school today? You just assumed that nothing was happening in my life and I had all day to devote to you doing what Dad wants when Dad wouldn’t even notice!”
Sighing, he wiped his face with the bottom of his shirt, more out of frustration than heat. “I figured that if something important was happening, you would tell me.”
Turning away, she continued down the trail to get away from him. “I don’t tell you everything, Dean.”
“Since when?” He chased after her quickly. “Since when don’t you tell me anything, Sam? A few years ago, I couldn’t get you to shut up.”
“Why should I have to tell you everything?” She shifted on the balls of her feet, muscles clenching from the stress. “Why should I tell you anything?”
He reeled back from the words, looking hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She sighed, headache starting to pound behind her eyes. “You’re always just…you think everything important to me is stupid. My school work, or if I want to, I dunno, have a friend or something. Basically, if it doesn’t have anything to do with hunting or Dad’s orders, it doesn’t matter to you and it shouldn’t matter to me!”
His face was impassive as he stared back at her. “Sam…”
“Am I wrong?” She stared back at him, watching a flush rise beneath his freckles. “Please, tell me if I am. Say ‘oh, Sam, I think your stuff is so important! Please, let me help you with your schoolwork, or take you to the mall, or let you borrow the car so you can maybe go on a date like the rest of the seventeen year old girls in the world, most of whom I’ve slept with!’ Go ahead.” He said nothing and after a long minute, she nodded. “That’s what I thought. Are we done here?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, turning and heading back towards the house at a dead sprint. She was usually faster than Dean, but it didn’t take long for him to catch up to her uneven steps. They didn’t talk until they reached the house and she moved to go inside. “Wait,” Dean said, and she turned to him, knowing her misery showed on her face. He sighed. “Look, a run isn’t good enough.”
“You know what, Dean? I’m okay with not being good enough.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he said, “At least…spar with me. Whoever wins gets first shower and the other has to start cleaning the up.”
She shrugged. “Whatever.” Pulling off her shirt, she left it on top of the Impala, not wanting him to have anything to hold on to and take her down. He moved to the side yard where the grass was sparse. Dean lunged first and she dodged it, elbowing him in the stomach harder than necessary. He grunted, moving back quickly before taking her arm, twisting it behind her back. She tucked her ankle behind his leg, kicking him enough to make him let go.
Dancing out of his reach, she watched him carefully. Patience was never one of Dean’s strengths and she wasn’t surprised when he jumped towards her, clearly trying to take her down. She moved quickly, kneeing him in the stomach, before kicking him out of the way. Panting hard, she aimed a punch towards his chest when she thought he was still off balance, but he caught her hand instead, pulling her close enough to him that he could sweep her legs from behind her.
The wind was knocked out of her as she fell hard, but she managed to grab on to his shirt, and before Dean realized what was going on, he was on top of her and they were both on the ground. Sam grunted in pain as his elbow jammed into her stomach. Groaning, Dean huffed a hot breath against her neck.
They both stayed there for a few minutes, until Dean turned his head towards her. His green eyes made her feel like she was falling all over again and she couldn’t tell which of their heartbeats were echoing through her. “I think I win,” he said finally.
“Okay.” Her mouth was full of dust and sweat and some foreign need that she didn’t want to name.
Dean climbed off of her and headed inside. Long after Sam heard the door shut behind him, she lay in the dirt, closing her eyes and just bathing in the warm sun. She wanted to stop all the thinking and wondering and questions that invaded her life in unnecessary ways. As far as she was concerned, everyone had things about themselves that they didn’t want to confront. Hers was just 6’1”, biologically related to her, and possibly the best, most beautiful, most frustrating man on the planet.
She had decided time and again that things would be better-would be good-if something was different: if her mom had never died, if her dad wasn’t on such an obsessive crusade, if she and Dean…
It wasn’t fair to torture herself with things that would never be.
When another bead of sweat dripped down her face and onto ground below, Sam rolled to her side and got to her feet quickly, knowing she’d feel the effects of the day’s workout tomorrow when she wanted it least. The house was quiet except for the steady pound of the water in the shower, and she set to work straightening the living room, shoving all of Dean’s newspapers into a garbage bag, knowing he already would have set aside anything that seemed like a decent hunt. Sam never figured out how they accumulated so much trash and didn’t notice it, but she had the bag filled with various pizza boxes and take out containers and empty beer cans by the time Dean got out of the shower.
He was rubbing the top of his head with a towel when she finally tied up the bag and put it next to the front door to go out. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she said, putting the stopper at the bottom of the sink as she ran water over the dishes that seemed to have calcified in there.
“I tried to leave you some hot water.”
She knew there would be none left. “Thanks.” After squirting the last of the dish soap into the sink, Sam moved past Dean into the bathroom. It was still full of steam and Sam tried to ignore the distinct scent of her brother as she stripped off her dirty work out clothes. As she had anticipated, the water was lukewarm at best. She couldn’t make herself care. There was a significant part of her that thought drowning would be preferable to what waited on the other side of the bathroom door.
The cold water calmed her down a bit and she was feeling somewhat perkier by the time she climbed out. She always felt better when she was clean. Wrapping a towel around herself, she crept into the main room slowly, half-relieved and half-confused when Dean was nowhere in sight. A quick glance out the window informed her that the Impala wasn’t there either. The logical part of her brain informed her that he was probably picking up food, or the laundry, or doing whatever the hell else he had done at the Laundromat before.
Not that she cared.
Even so, she closed the door to the bedroom before dropping her towel, searching for some clean clothes in her bag. There were only the basic shirts and sweats, but Sam paused when she pulled out the blue dress she had bought. Pursing her lips, she laid it out on the bed, towel-drying her hair for a few minutes as she stared at it.
The brave part of her spoke up first, and she tentatively pulled the dress on over her hips, zipping it up in the back. In the bedroom, there was something that had probably once been a mirror, but had so many cracks and warping that it was at the very best, a shadow of its former self. Still, Sam stood in front of it, pushing her hair back from her face and trying to see how she looked in the dress as best as she could.
It made her feel equally nervous and giddy, like she was doing something wrong, and not what she was actually doing, which was just wearing a dress and looking at herself in the mirror. It was a little short and there was certainly more cleavage than she ever showed-it didn’t exactly work with any of her hoodies-but Sam felt oddly powerful in it, like she imagined body armor would feel.
Then the door swung open and Dean stood there, jaw dropped as he stared at her. They both struggled with words for a few seconds before she snapped, “God, Dean, can’t you knock?”
Closing his mouth, he swallowed hard. “Dad’s home,” he said simply, then closed the door.
Sam stripped quickly, shoving the dress back into her duffle and then leaning against the door, breathing as heavily as she had during her work out. It didn’t matter that Dean knew she had a dress. She was almost eighteen, she was allowed to own a dress and she was even allowed to wear it sometimes.
There was a fire in the pit of her stomach as she thought of the way that Dean had looked at her in the dress, of how he his eyes had lit up, pupils blown wide. She squeezed her own eyes shut, burying her face in her hands. All she really wanted was for Dean to look at her like that again and it was tearing her apart.
Finally, she pulled on a tank top and some sweat pants, dragging a brush through her hair before going out into the main room. Her dad and Dean were already sitting at the table, working through a large pizza. “Hi, Daddy.”
“Hey, Sam,” John said.
There was a slice of pizza waiting for her and she sat down, eating it slowly, because seconds weren’t promised with her brother working on the same pie. “Your hunt went well?”
“No one got too hurt and that’s all we can hope for.” John took a long drink of his beer. “I’m probably heading out in another day or so, this is mostly just a supply stop. Next hunt sounds dangerous, but should be over quickly one way or the other.”
The fact that he could talk that cavalierly, that his own family was simply a supply stop, made the pizza churn in her stomach, but she forced herself to take a bite. To her right, Dean was conspicuously not looking at her.
“You need any help, Dad?” he said.
John shook his head. “You don’t have much training with this, but if I get it done without too many problems, I’ll tell you about it when I get back and then you can go with me next time. I’m sure I’ll be back by next Monday, though, and then we’ll probably need to hit the road again.”
Sam didn’t want to think about leaving, so instead she focused on staring at Dean’s ear, trying to force him to look at her using only the power of her mind. Apparently, her mind powers were no match for Dean’s stubbornness, as his gaze was fixed on the wall behind John’s head.
For the first time in a long time, Sam watched her father closely. His hair was grayer than she remembered; face more drawn, harder and thinner at the same time. He kept shooting furtive looks at the door. John looked as caged as she felt a lot of the time. It shouldn’t sicken her to see which parts of her came from him, but it did and that made her feel more ill.
“We understand, Dad,” Dean said. “There’s work to be done.”
John just nodded. There were times Sam thought that he wasn’t hunting, not really. It wasn’t about hunting at all. He was just out there, looking for the lost love of his life somewhere on the road. It was all just hope that Mary would come back to him one day.
Wiping his mouth, John said, “What about you, Sam?”
“What about me, sir?”
“Anything you want to talk about?”
She shrugged. “School’s fine.”
He nodded, but his eyes narrowed at her. “You look…different.”
Was she different? Maybe if different meant not the same to the rest of the world, but she didn’t really feel unlike herself. John only saw her in small moments, slowly blinking through the film that was his daughter growing up. She was a little different every day, which meant she was very different by the time she saw him again.
“Yeah,” she said. “I got a haircut.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Hey, Kaley, when do you want to work on this project?” Sam asked, shouldering her backpack. It seemed to get heavier every day. She was going to have to start making sure Dean wasn’t putting weights in it to build up her strength. “I was thinking Saturday.”
“Saturday?” She laughed. “That’s a joke, right?”
Sam blinked in surprise. “Um…no? Do you have a religion thing, or something?”
“Only if Amanda’s party counts as a religion, which it should. Aren’t you going?”
“I wasn’t invited.”
Kaley laughed again. “No one’s invited. They just…hear. And show up.”
Sam shrugged, heading for the door of the classroom. “I didn’t even hear about it.”
“Well, now you have.” She smirked. “C’mon, Winchester, don’t you party?”
“Not really,” she said honestly. “Even if I did, I don’t think my brother would let me go.”
Nodding in understanding, Kaley said, “The over-protective type, right?”
“Yeah, that’s…that’s basically Dean in a nutshell.”
Kaley’s just shrugged, elbowing her lightly in the side of her ribs. “So don’t tell him.”
Sam wondered if her shock showed on her face. “You want me to lie to my big brother?”
“Not lie! Come over in the afternoon and we’ll work on the project. And then we’ll go to the party after we’re done. Hell, you can probably even sleep over, if you want.” She smiled at Sam, and Sam couldn’t help but smile back. “We’ll make a day of it, it’ll be fun.”
Biting her bottom lip, Sam looked out to the parking lot, where she could see Dean in the Impala waiting for her. “I’ll…I’ll think about it, okay?”
“Sure, let me know tomorrow. See ya, Sam.”
She waved good-bye, and then jogged over to the car. “Hey, Dean.”
“Hey, I’ve got good news,” he said, turning the radio down. “Dad says he’ll be back by Monday.”
Her heart dropped into her stomach at the words. “Back like…coming back to get supplies, or…”
“Back, like, we’ll probably be in Arizona by Wednesday. He said he heard something about a Chupacabra.”
She nodded slowly. “Oh. Well… Can I go to a friend’s house on Saturday then? Spend the night?”
Dean looked at her in surprise. “You have…spend-the-night friends?”
“Yeah,” she said, shrugging, voice increasing in both pace and bitterness. “I mean, we have to do this project together for school and it’s due next week, and we were gonna get together to work on it this weekend, but we’re gonna need a while to get it completed, and since we’re apparently leaving on Monday, I’m not just going to abandon her with it.”
“Okay, fine. I’ll drop you off there on Saturday, and then I guess I’ll finish all of the chores.”
She stuck her tongue out at him in an attempt to lighten her own mood. “Yeah, I guess you will.”
He rolled his eyes playfully. “Yeah, we’ll see about that on Sunday.”
She nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. On Sunday.” As he drove quickly around the bus blocking their way home, Sam held her bag strap tightly, trying not to think about how she had just lied to her brother.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
She was never quite sure how they ended up like this, which could be construed as a little odd, considering how often it happened, how often it had happened her entire life. They would sit on a couch, or a bed and just study or watch TV and maybe they were just the kind of people that didn’t sit still, restless by nature, but they would move around each other thoughtlessly, somehow ending up more comfortable against each other.
At the moment, Sam’s head was resting in Dean’s lap and his practiced hands were stroking through her hair, blunt nails teasing gently at her scalp. She sighed happily, shutting her eyes. There was homework to be done even if they were leaving on Monday-Sam usually did it to spite them and so that she would have work to show her new teachers what she had been up to, but she couldn’t make herself get up, let alone think.
“So I’m dropping you off at your friend’s tomorrow?” Dean said lowly.
“Hm?” It took a second for her brain to catch up. “Oh, right. Yeah, Kaley.”
He made a small noise that she couldn’t decipher. “It’s been a while since you’ve been to someone’s house.”
Normally, she would get defensive; remind him that was a good thing, that most families encouraged friends as something positive and that it might be nice to have friends one of these days, but then his hand stroked firmly down her neck, rubbing out the tenseness of the day and she melted. There were times that he knew her so well that she didn’t understand trying to lie even to herself.
She sometimes wondered what to call that. Someone knowing you well enough that they could see through your bullshit, even when you didn’t realize you were bullshitting.
Savoring the strong kneading of his hands against her body, Sam rolled on to her back, watching his face as he absent-mindedly worked out the kinks in her shoulders and arms. His attention was on a made-for-TV movie that he had seen so many times before he was silently mouthing along the lines. She reached out and wrapped her fingers in the cord of the amulet, tugging on it gently just to feel the weight of it against her palm. He glanced down at her, smiling questioningly. Sam shook her head, moving closer to him and he instinctively started rubbing her head again.
There were times like this when it was just them and they weren’t fighting that Sam figured this was as close to perfect as life got. Sam thought that they belonged to each other, as much as anyone ever belonged to another person, and maybe even beyond that. They weren’t people, not in the normal sense. They couldn’t belong with each other in the normal sense. The fact that Sam was okay with it not being normal said it all.
Dean told her once in passing about how John had given her to him, tasked him with protecting her for the rest of her life. She was almost certain that that’s when everything was changed, where her entire life was decided: John gave her away, he chose Mary. And Sam had been Dean’s ever since.
She was so lost in the feeling of him rubbing her back that it took her a few moments to notice that he was trying to stand up. Sam made a small noise of protest until he picked her up, carrying her protectively into the bedroom. “Time for bed, Sammy,” he said softly, easing the blanket over her.
Reaching out, she caught his hand before he could leave and he only hesitated a second before climbing in behind her. His arm wrapped possessively around her waist and she slept as much on him as she did the bed.
They were slowly fading into unconsciousness when the phone rang and Sam groaned under her breath as Dean pulled away. “Hello?” he said quietly into the phone. “Yes, sir. Of course. I can go do it now. Yeah, Sammy’s fine. Okay. Okay. Yes, sir.” He closed the phone, grabbing his boots from the floor and putting them on.
“Where are you going?”
“Go back to sleep,” he said, kissing her forehead tenderly. It made her heart thump painfully in her chest, halfway through healing and breaking again.
“Stay.”
He stopped lacing up his shoe, staring at her silently for a few minutes. “I’ll be right back. Promise. Sleep.”
Turning over, Sam faced away from him, not wanting him to see how much it affected her. She stayed there quietly, hardly breathing until she heard the front door close and the Impala start up, her stomach twisting nauseatingly. It was a sick cycle: Sam chose Dean, Dean chose John, and even years after her death, John still chose Mary every single time.
Sam wondered if anyone would ever choose her.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
If she thought getting her hair done was bad, Kaley doing her make up was worse. Much worse. She was constantly flinching away from the wands, or brushes, or whatever instrument of torture they chose to inflict upon her. Apparently, hunter training did not make her the best beauty specimen. She was used to avoiding pokey things coming towards her face.
At least Sharon, Kaley’s mom, was slightly gentler with the curling iron, though Sam could feel herself jerking away from it at times. “Never used a curling iron?” she said, laughing lightly.
“Not exactly.” Sam had been burned a lot, just not by something that wasn’t supposed to be for killing things.
Sharon watched Sam in the mirror, though she was trying to be inconspicuous about it. “You seem uncomfortable.”
Sam smiled at her, trying not to prove her point. “No, I’m sorry, it’s just… I’m not used to any of this stuff.” She gestured at the countertop full of makeup and brushes and hair products that she had never even heard of. It felt like she was missing out on an entirely different lifestyle.
“You and your mom never did anything like this?”
Her breath caught in her throat. She thought that after seventeen years, she’d be used to this. “My mom died when I was a baby. It’s just me and my dad and my brother.” Sam stared straight ahead, avoiding everyone’s gaze. Pity never brought Mom back.
Frowning sadly, Sharon said, “I’m sorry, honey. That must be hard.”
She shrugged, not sure what to say to that. She had no idea what life would be like if her mother hadn’t burned to death on her ceiling. Different, certainly, but Sam wasn’t naïve enough to think it would have been easier. John would still be her father. Dean would still be…Dean.
Sharon finished with her hair; running her fingers through the tightened curls and making Sam wonder what the point to the curling iron was. Patting her back, Sharon said, “You look lovely, honey. I bet your mother would think so, too.”
Moving closer to the mirror, Sam inspected herself carefully. Her hair was shinier than usual and her face looked different in ways that she couldn’t put her finger on. It was almost like she was wearing a mask that would crack if she moved her face too much. She wasn’t sure if she liked it or not. “Thank you.”
Kaley led her back into her room, helping her slide into the blue dress. Sam never thought she’d get to wear it at all, let alone this soon. Holding up two pairs of heels, Kaley said, “These will both work with your dress. Which ones do you want?”
“Whichever ones are shorter.”
Rolling her eyes, Kaley handed her the silver ones, then helped Sam work the straps that were far too difficult for things that just went on your feet. Standing up, Sam checked herself out in the full-length mirror on Kaley’s closet door. “Do, I, um… I mean, do I look okay?”
Kaley crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not sure I wanna go anymore. It’s a bad idea to go to a party with someone that looks better than you.” When Sam just looked at her in confusion, Kaley laughed. “I’m kidding. You look fabulous.” Grabbing her purse, she winked at Sam. “Let’s go, there’s a fine line between fashionably late and too late.”
Wobbling in her shoes, Sam held the banister as she took the stairs slowly. John was going to kill her if she got hurt just walking. “Mom, we’re leaving!” Kaley called, then lowered her voice conspiratorially. “We should get out of here before she wants to take pictures or something.”
Sharon was already heading towards the stairs with the camera. “Wait, wait! Let me take a few. You look beautiful, Sam.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Walker.”
“Yeah, thanks, Mom,” Kaley said, rolling her eyes. Still, she smiled and posed when her mom snapped a few pictures.
After making Kaley throw a jacket on over her tank top, Sharon said, “You girls have fun. Curfew is at one, don’t push it like last time, Kaley.”
“Yes, Mom. C’mon, Sam.” Sam waved goodbye as Kaley pulled her out the door and into the car, adjusting her dress the whole way.
Amanda’s street was full of cars by the time they got there, and Kaley pulled up behind a van, blocking it in and rolling her eyes. “It’s Matt’s,” she said when Sam looked at her curiously. “He’s not allowed to leave without me anyway.”
There were people everywhere, inside and outside, but Kaley took her hand and led her into the throng in the living room. Lisa spotted them first, pushing her way through the crowd. “It’s about time you got here! Lookin’ good, Winchester,” she said, appraising Sam quickly. “You clean up well. And speaking of cleaning up, Kay, Lucy has been circling Matt all night.”
“What?” Kaley said, voice going up an octave. “Where are they?”
“They were heading out back, last I saw.”
Cursing, Kaley took off her jacket and left it sitting on the back of a chair. “That little slut.” She smiled at Sam apologetically. “Sorry, I’ve got to take care of this. Have fun!”
Before she could say anything, both of the girls disappeared into the crowd, leaving Sam alone. The room was hot and stuffy, too many people in too small a space, the bass of music she didn’t recognize echoing and making the walls vibrate. She glanced around, trying to spot a familiar face-they had only been there a few weeks and no one was clicking in her memory. Pushing back her sudden loneliness, she tried to tell herself that she didn’t want to go home. She was going to be an actual person.
She jumped and turned at a hand on her shoulder, focusing on a tall, thin guy behind her. “Hey, Sam!”
“Hi…Paul!” she said, hoping it was right. He just grinned and she relaxed-at least she had gotten that right.
“You look great.”
Her skirt suddenly felt too short. “Thanks.” What else was she supposed to say? He didn’t look any different. She had no idea what the protocol in this situation was. It was a depressing thought when she realized that she knew how to deal with ghosts better than teenage guys. Ghosts at least had a rule book and that was one she knew.
“Want a drink?” he said and she nodded, following him into the kitchen.
The beer was disgusting and cheap, even more so than the kind Dean bought, but she kept her face as neutral as possible. “So,” she said after an awkward pause. “How do you think you did on that Spanish test?”
Groaning, he shook his head. “I don’t even want to think about it. When the hell am I going to have to use Spanish?”
She nodded, thinking she was the only person who actually used more Latin in their everyday life. “I know what you mean.” There was a large jostle behind her and she stumbled into Paul, banging her hip on the table full of cups.
He caught her, chuckling. “Are you okay? You shouldn’t drink so much.”
Sam tried to laugh at his poor joke, but she just burned with embarrassment. What the hell was she even doing? She felt ashamed to be here, in this dress, in these shoes that weren’t even hers. Her dad would be ashamed. The very thought of Dean seeing her made her sick to her stomach.
Paul was staring at her and she ducked her head. “These are Kaley’s shoes. I’m just not used to them.”
“That’s cool,” he said, sounding overly excited. “We could sit down.”
It was probably a good idea and they found some space on a loveseat in the living room, pushing aside everyone’s jackets and bags. Sam sipped her beer slowly, crossing and uncrossing her legs in an effort to get comfortable.
Clearing her throat, she said, “So that history project is a real bitch.”
“God, I know,” he said, grunted. “I haven’t even started on it. Hayworth is such a bastard.”
“Yeah.” She didn’t have any real opinion of their teacher. Teachers were another thing that seemed to blend together. She’d seen every single kind. There was only one, or two that had ever really stood out.
They were silent as she struggled to think of something else to say. She was so fucking bad at this. Paul smiled sweetly at her. “You really do look great. I mean…seriously.”
Ducking her head, she blushed. All of this attention was weird. “Thanks.”
He laughed lightly and when she looked up at him, he leaned forward and kissed her softly. It wasn’t her first kiss. Lee Brigs had kissed her back when she was twelve. It was weird and she hadn’t liked it. When he tried again, she’d broken his nose. His mom had called Dean to yell and threaten to sue. Dean had just laughed, told her ‘that’s my girl,’ and bought her ice cream. It had never happened since then, though she supposed that she hadn’t actually been facilitating it.
She was mildly proud of herself for not jumping away, forcing herself to relax as he kissed her. Moving closer, he put his arm around her. Paul’s hand moved down her back and he kissed her harder, more intently. Sam kissed back, desperate to feel something more than the uncomfortable pull in her stomach. She couldn’t be nearly that hopeless. Not yet.
“Sam!”
She jumped at the voice, wondering if there was a pagan god of irony and bad luck and overall crap that decided to use her as a plaything. “Dean?”
He marched through the party, face a mask of anger. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, ignoring how she shook in his presence.
“Dad’s home.”
The two words felt like the end of everything. “He said Monday,” she said, her voice a pleading whisper.
“Yeah, well, he’s home now and he sent me to get you. We’re going. Now.” He reached down and grabbed her arm, pulling her up and dragging her towards the door.
She twisted in his grasp as he pulled her outside. “Dean, let me go. Dean!” Pulling her arm back, she tried to hit him, stumbling in the unfamiliar shoes.
He jumped back, but released her. “What the hell, Sam?”
“I know how to walk, Dean!”
“You’ll excuse me if I don’t have a lot of faith in your abilities right now,” he spat. “Seriously, what the hell is this? Going to some party? Lying to me about it? Dressing up like some tramp and kissing some guy you barely know?”
The words were like a punch to the stomach and she struggled to breathe. “Oh, fuck you, Dean.”
“Whatever, Sam,” he said, pulling his keys out of the pocket of his jacket. “Get in the car, we’re going home.” When she didn’t move, he glared at her. “I said get in the car.”
“No,” she said softly. “No, you know what, I didn’t do anything wrong. I went to a party with a friend. You can’t just treat me like this!”
He stepped closer getting into her face, but she refused to shy away. “You lied to me, Sam! Do you have any idea what it felt like to go to your stupid friend Casey’s house and hear that not only were you not there, but you two went to a fucking party? And then I walk in to see you wearing that and kissing on some guy!”
“It was just a kiss!” She was screaming now and couldn’t stop. “I know you did more than that at my age.” At his surprised look, she laughed angrily. “Don’t look at me like that; I was thirteen, not a retard.”
“Well, now you’re seventeen and I’m telling you to get in the car.” He walked over to the driver’s side door, opening it quickly. “Sam, get in the car.” She didn’t move and he lowered his voice menacingly. “If you don’t get in the car right now, I’m gonna go home and I’m gonna get Dad, and he’s gonna come out here and get you, is that what you want?”
Scowling, Sam went to the car, getting in and slamming the door behind her. Even the engine sounded angry as Dean started the Impala. He was still grumbling underneath his breath. “I can’t fucking believe you.”
She blinked back tears as he headed towards the house. “We have to go to Kaley’s.”
“What? Why? I got your stuff.”
“These are her shoes,” she said, staring down at her feet. “I can’t just leave town with them.”
Cursing loudly, he made a sharp u-turn and she held tightly to the door as the car fishtailed for a moment, before Dean regained control. She left the shoes on the porch, not wanting to face Kaley’s mom like this.
Dean still hadn’t let go of the steering wheel, she noticed when she got back into the car and he quickly threw the car in reverse, peeling out of there. She put her bare feet up on the dash and he smacked them down immediately. “Jesus, don’t know what’s with you lately.”
“What do you mean, what’s with me?”
“You’re not acting like yourself, Sam!” he said, as if it were obvious. “Getting your hair done and wearing dresses and make up, and lying to me to go to parties to make out with boys. That sure as hell ain’t the Sam I know.”
She rolled her eyes. “So basically I’m never allowed to be a girl, is that it? Because I know you haven’t realized it yet, Dean, but I am female. I even have boobs.”
He laughed bitterly. “You think I haven’t realized that?”
“Apparently not!” she said. “I mean, if you think these things are weird because that’s what girls do and I know you know what girls do, Dean.”
“Yeah, regular girls, but not you!”
She kicked the dash angrily, over and over. “Why am I not allowed to be a regular girl?” she screamed. Dean stared at her in shock as she punched his arm, again and again until he had to pull over. “Maybe I want to be a regular girl, Dean!”
“Sam,” he said, turning off the engine and trying to grab her arms, but she pulled away.
“No, shut up!” She wiped her eyes furiously. “You know what sucks a lot, Dean? Being a hunter. And you know what sucks even more? Being a Winchester! Because it means I never get to be a girl. I have to fight and move every few weeks and I never get to have a life! I never get to dress up, or go to a party. The only guy I’ve known longer than a few months is you, so I never get to kiss a guy, or get asked on a date and you know what? Guys want to ask me out! I’m not hideous. Sometimes guys even want to kiss me.”
He smiled at her softly, almost against his will. “You look beautiful, Sam.”
She continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “And sometimes I want to go to a party and dress up and be pretty; that shouldn’t be a crime. I like looking pretty and I like being a girl. And maybe I want a guy to think I’m beautiful and to want to kiss me. What’s so bad about that, Dean? I just…I just wanted to be normal for one night.”
Sighing wearily, he stared at her. “Are you done?”
Sam shook her head, tears starting to pour down her cheeks. “Why, Dean? I work so hard, why couldn’t I just have this night?”
“Hey, hey,” he said, cupping her face in his hands and brushing away her tears with the pads of his thumb. “Sam, look at me. Look at me, please.”
It was either the worst, or best decision she ever made because somehow looking at him became kissing him, his hands holding her face tenderly as his mouth ravaged hers. She whimpered, holding helplessly onto his strong arms and kissing him back. This was how she imagined it would feel when the world was ending, everything crumbling beneath her feet: nothing would ever be the same again, and it had never felt so right that she didn’t care. The last necessary step to perfection.
Sliding closer to him, she kissed him back, deeper and slower as she gave everything over to him. His arms moved around her, holding her tightly as if he wanted her to break against him. Her heart had already shattered. This was just him picking up the pieces and putting them back together in places they had never been before. The right places, when she hadn’t even realized she had been wrong.
One of his hands twisted in her tight curls and she felt the scratch of his stubble against her cheek as his firm lips pressed against hers. Her body felt warm all over, lungs laboring as she tried to catch her breath, but she was too intoxicated to stop kissing him. This was what she was waiting for, to make her life worth it, to give it meaning. She wondered how long she had been waiting for Dean.
Finally, he pulled away slowly, his eyes closed as if he couldn’t bear to look at her. Trying to make as little noise as possible, Sam got back into the passenger seat, entire body throbbing as if every part of her was connected directly to her lips. Dean sat there for a second, taking deep breaths before turning the car back on and driving towards the apartment.
They didn’t speak as they walked inside; quiet so as not to disturb John. For a long while, Sam and Dean just stared at each other. Then he shook his head. “I’m going to go take a shower.” He closed the door to the bathroom harder than necessary and she jumped at the noise, standing there staring at the wall and trembling long after Dean left her.
The bedroom was dark and she could see her father’s body on the bed as she snuck in there. But John knew, he always knew. “Sam?”
“Yeah, Daddy, it’s just me,” she said breathlessly, hoping that the small amount of light filtering in from the living room wouldn’t give her away. John just grunted and rolled over. Blinking back her tears, she stripped the dress off her body, rolling it up and stuffing it into the bottom of her duffle bag.
Her mouth was dry, probably from all the crying and she went to the kitchen, drinking down whoever’s beer was left on the counter. The drafty house chilled her almost nude body, but she didn’t shudder, then she caught her reflection in the mirror. The mirror reflected back the insanity of the night; mascara smeared down her face, black streaks the remainder of her tears. Her hair was a wild tangle of curls. The pink lip gloss that Kaley gave her was long gone, kissed away by her brother. Now her lips were red and swollen, and just touching them sent a thrill down her body that she didn’t want to try and explain.
She could still hear the shower running in the bathroom, but she didn’t care anymore. Sighing, she pushed the door open and quickly closed it behind her, leaning against the back of it. Sticking his head out of the shower, Dean said, “What are you doing here?”
“I need to wash this makeup off,” she said, but made no move towards the sink. “Dad woke up and almost saw me.”
Dean hesitated a moment, clearly weighing his options in his head, then slid open the shower curtain. “Come on, then.”
Gripping the counter hard, she watched him carefully, and then nodded. Goosebumps erupted over her flesh as she slid down the lace panties and stepped into the tub with her brother. His body was the only warm thing. “It’s cold,” she whispered, reaching around his body for the tap, turning the heat up.
“I know.” She could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “Here, let me help.”
She was confused, until he touched her face, his wet hands running down her cheeks. Sam was pretty sure this wasn’t the way to remove make up, but she didn’t say anything, especially as his thumb caught on her bottom lip, stilling there. “Dean,” she tried to say, but it just came out as a whimper.
“Fuck, Sam.” He groaned, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers. She braced her arms on his biceps, shaking in confusion and uncertainty. “Sammy, I just can’t.”
Sam started to nod and reach for the curtain to get out when Dean kissed her again. Her body reacted immediately, surging up towards him and he deepened the kiss, licking into her mouth.
Her moan echoed off the tile as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Dean…” She stepped closer, naked body pressing against his as the warm water ran over them, splashing around the places their skin touched as if they were joined as one. He placed his hands on her hips, letting the palm of his hands curve around them and holding her firm.
Biting her neck, Dean whimpered against her skin. “Dammit, Sam, please.”
She didn’t know what he was asking and that scared her, unable to comprehend the way he knew exactly how to touch her. Instead, she just made herself available to him, pliant, reacting to his strokes and kisses as openly as possible.
Her knees buckled as his hand reached between her legs, stroking her in a place she rarely even touched herself. Dean grabbed her leg, wrapping it around his waist and she could feel how hard he was against her. The idea made her shiver uncontrollably, fighting to be closer to him, her back cold without his touch.
Dean was still Dean, still knew how to take care of her and he pressed her back against the wall, hitching both legs around his waist, and pressing her against him fully. The sound she made was somewhere between a whimper and a mewl, and she held tightly to his broad shoulders more for her own sanity, than for fear that he would drop her. Even after all these years, he held her up so easily in his hands.
“Sam,” he said, more in the way his lips brushed against her skin than any actual words. “Sam, Sam, Sam…” His mouth moved over her breasts, first one then the other, just mapping them with his mouth before he sucked one nipple into it, hard and dirty and she arched her back for more.
Her hips rocked against his as her craving for completion went unanswered. “Dean!” she cried in response to him, as if it was the only word she knew. It was the first word she ever said and somehow every part of her knew it would also be her last. Dean was her first and last, her everything.
He shushed her. She wasn’t sure if it was because of their father in the next room, or because he knew what she was asking, she would never be sure. “I got you, Sammy.”
Dean didn’t prepare her, didn’t ask her if she was ready, if this was what she wanted. There were still things between them that didn’t need words. He pushed into her slowly, inch by inch until she was full and she shook like a leaf in his grasp, body unquiet.
Sam opened her eyes to look at him, knowing she could never be okay with this until she saw him with his freckles standing out against his flushed skin, long eyelashes speckled with droplets of water, green eyes staring at her like he knew what made up every part of her, and maybe he did; maybe he knew that he was every part of her.
She shifted her hips and she was ready. Dean pulled back slowly, and then thrust into her, letting that simple movement rock them together. It was as much pleasure as unity, their unison a cacophony of moans taking up the bathroom, taking up the world. When she threw her head back, it didn’t hit tile; he had put his hand there, protecting her again. Sam was safe.
His lips returned to her body, kissing and sucking on every part of her in reach as her nails dug deep into his shoulder. The dull ache of her back let her know that it would be bruised tomorrow, but she was far past caring. All she needed right now was more Dean, nothing but him and she kissed him firmly, letting him be her air.
When he pulled away, he panted on her neck, eyes dark with need. “Sam…Sam…”
She pushed her hips against his, the spark of pleasure growing and building with each thrust. “Dean, please,” she whimpered, words lost to her. “I need…”
“I got you, baby,” he said, gripping her hips tighter, pulling her to him closer and closer, until she rested her head on his shoulder, wondering if they could ever come away from this separate again, knowing that she didn’t want to.
Sam came first, biting into his neck to silence her cry, shuddering in his arms and riding the wave of pleasure. Dean continued to hold her, gasping for something she tried desperately to give him. When he came in her, saying her name in that tone of love and perfection and right, the realization struck her.
This is what it was like to be complete.
Master Post | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Soundtrack
“Are you gonna wake up anytime today?”
Sam rolled over, squinting at her brother’s form through the bright light. “What time is it?”
“Almost eight.”
Cursing, Sam sat up, slipping out of bed. “What the hell? Why didn’t my alarm go off? I’ve gotta be at school in fifteen minutes!” Dean just laughed and she scowled at him. “What is with you?”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “If you were going to school today, do you really think I wouldn’t have woken you up?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Dad is on his way home,” Dean said, stripping the bed linens. “We’ve got cleaning and you haven’t worked out a single day since he left.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s not true. I go running all the time.”
“And you think that’ll be good enough for Dad?”
Nothing she did was ever good enough for Dad. “It’s not like he ever takes me on hunts anyway. It’s been forever. What does it matter?”
He ignored her, putting all of the laundry in a large sack. Dean only looked at her when she cleared her throat purposefully. “It matters because it’s what Dad wants. And he’s let us stay here for a while so you don’t complain all the time, the least we can do is what he asks of us.”
She stared at him then shook her head. Apparently having a home was too much to ask for in this family. “Dean, seriously? Do you hear yourself?”
“You’ve got until I get back from the Laundromat to eat and get ready. Shouldn’t take me longer than twenty minutes.”
Sam snorted. “How are you possibly gonna do two loads of laundry in twenty minutes?”
Smirking, he said, “There’s a hot chick that works there. She said she’d be happy to look after the laundry for a few hours and I get a date tomorrow.”
Ignoring her sudden nausea, she rolled her eyes, going out to the kitchen and calling, “You’re disgusting sometimes.” At least he had left her some coffee, and she poured herself a cup, just inhaling the rich smell.
Throwing the bags of laundry over his shoulder, he said, “Whatever, Sam. Half hour, tops. Be ready.”
Rolling her eyes, she said, “I got it, go.” There was probably a reason that she didn’t want to wake up this morning, but she took the last two pieces of bread out of the bag, sticking them in the toaster and buttered them to try to get rid of some of the stale taste. When the Impala pulled out of the driveway, she settled on the couch, wondering if she should tempt fate by trying to put the old milk in her coffee. Only Dean liked to drink it black. But she was a Winchester and her day could always get worse, so she just made a face and drank it down.
When Dean got home forty-five minutes later, smile far too evident on his face, Sam was waiting on the couch watching syndicated reruns of the Jerry Springer show. It was a sad state of her life when even that show didn’t make her feel better about her family. He looked approvingly at her sweats and she could see the remnants of cheap gloss smeared across his lips. “I thought we’d run first,” he said.
The sun was already starting to get high and she could only imagine how hot it was, but she nodded. “Sure.”
As soon as he was changed into his workout clothes, they headed out, getting off the pavement to one of the tree-lined biking trails they had in the area. She let Dean set the pace, relaxing into the steady rhythm. After fifteen minutes, he fell back in step with her. “So…”
“So what?” she said, wishing she had skipped modesty and just worn her sports bra.
“So what’s with you today? Or, really, all the time lately?” He shrugged. “You’re always on edge. And I know you can’t be PMS-ing that much.”
She didn’t need PMS as an excuse to want to punch her brother. “Nothing’s with me, Dean.”
“That’s exactly it!” He grabbed her arm, stopping the progress and turning her to face him. “It’s the way you talk and your attitude. It’s like all you do is bitch.”
She pulled back from him, throwing her arms up in the air. “What the hell do you want from me? I’m here, aren’t I? You wake me up, tell me I can’t go to school, insist I work all day because Dad’s coming back, which is really only a fifty-fifty chance.”
He shook his head. “Don’t talk about him like that.”
“What dad do you have, Dean? Because mine doesn’t show up as often as yours apparently seems to. How do you know that there wasn’t something important going on at school today? You just assumed that nothing was happening in my life and I had all day to devote to you doing what Dad wants when Dad wouldn’t even notice!”
Sighing, he wiped his face with the bottom of his shirt, more out of frustration than heat. “I figured that if something important was happening, you would tell me.”
Turning away, she continued down the trail to get away from him. “I don’t tell you everything, Dean.”
“Since when?” He chased after her quickly. “Since when don’t you tell me anything, Sam? A few years ago, I couldn’t get you to shut up.”
“Why should I have to tell you everything?” She shifted on the balls of her feet, muscles clenching from the stress. “Why should I tell you anything?”
He reeled back from the words, looking hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She sighed, headache starting to pound behind her eyes. “You’re always just…you think everything important to me is stupid. My school work, or if I want to, I dunno, have a friend or something. Basically, if it doesn’t have anything to do with hunting or Dad’s orders, it doesn’t matter to you and it shouldn’t matter to me!”
His face was impassive as he stared back at her. “Sam…”
“Am I wrong?” She stared back at him, watching a flush rise beneath his freckles. “Please, tell me if I am. Say ‘oh, Sam, I think your stuff is so important! Please, let me help you with your schoolwork, or take you to the mall, or let you borrow the car so you can maybe go on a date like the rest of the seventeen year old girls in the world, most of whom I’ve slept with!’ Go ahead.” He said nothing and after a long minute, she nodded. “That’s what I thought. Are we done here?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, turning and heading back towards the house at a dead sprint. She was usually faster than Dean, but it didn’t take long for him to catch up to her uneven steps. They didn’t talk until they reached the house and she moved to go inside. “Wait,” Dean said, and she turned to him, knowing her misery showed on her face. He sighed. “Look, a run isn’t good enough.”
“You know what, Dean? I’m okay with not being good enough.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he said, “At least…spar with me. Whoever wins gets first shower and the other has to start cleaning the up.”
She shrugged. “Whatever.” Pulling off her shirt, she left it on top of the Impala, not wanting him to have anything to hold on to and take her down. He moved to the side yard where the grass was sparse. Dean lunged first and she dodged it, elbowing him in the stomach harder than necessary. He grunted, moving back quickly before taking her arm, twisting it behind her back. She tucked her ankle behind his leg, kicking him enough to make him let go.
Dancing out of his reach, she watched him carefully. Patience was never one of Dean’s strengths and she wasn’t surprised when he jumped towards her, clearly trying to take her down. She moved quickly, kneeing him in the stomach, before kicking him out of the way. Panting hard, she aimed a punch towards his chest when she thought he was still off balance, but he caught her hand instead, pulling her close enough to him that he could sweep her legs from behind her.
The wind was knocked out of her as she fell hard, but she managed to grab on to his shirt, and before Dean realized what was going on, he was on top of her and they were both on the ground. Sam grunted in pain as his elbow jammed into her stomach. Groaning, Dean huffed a hot breath against her neck.
They both stayed there for a few minutes, until Dean turned his head towards her. His green eyes made her feel like she was falling all over again and she couldn’t tell which of their heartbeats were echoing through her. “I think I win,” he said finally.
“Okay.” Her mouth was full of dust and sweat and some foreign need that she didn’t want to name.
Dean climbed off of her and headed inside. Long after Sam heard the door shut behind him, she lay in the dirt, closing her eyes and just bathing in the warm sun. She wanted to stop all the thinking and wondering and questions that invaded her life in unnecessary ways. As far as she was concerned, everyone had things about themselves that they didn’t want to confront. Hers was just 6’1”, biologically related to her, and possibly the best, most beautiful, most frustrating man on the planet.
She had decided time and again that things would be better-would be good-if something was different: if her mom had never died, if her dad wasn’t on such an obsessive crusade, if she and Dean…
It wasn’t fair to torture herself with things that would never be.
When another bead of sweat dripped down her face and onto ground below, Sam rolled to her side and got to her feet quickly, knowing she’d feel the effects of the day’s workout tomorrow when she wanted it least. The house was quiet except for the steady pound of the water in the shower, and she set to work straightening the living room, shoving all of Dean’s newspapers into a garbage bag, knowing he already would have set aside anything that seemed like a decent hunt. Sam never figured out how they accumulated so much trash and didn’t notice it, but she had the bag filled with various pizza boxes and take out containers and empty beer cans by the time Dean got out of the shower.
He was rubbing the top of his head with a towel when she finally tied up the bag and put it next to the front door to go out. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she said, putting the stopper at the bottom of the sink as she ran water over the dishes that seemed to have calcified in there.
“I tried to leave you some hot water.”
She knew there would be none left. “Thanks.” After squirting the last of the dish soap into the sink, Sam moved past Dean into the bathroom. It was still full of steam and Sam tried to ignore the distinct scent of her brother as she stripped off her dirty work out clothes. As she had anticipated, the water was lukewarm at best. She couldn’t make herself care. There was a significant part of her that thought drowning would be preferable to what waited on the other side of the bathroom door.
The cold water calmed her down a bit and she was feeling somewhat perkier by the time she climbed out. She always felt better when she was clean. Wrapping a towel around herself, she crept into the main room slowly, half-relieved and half-confused when Dean was nowhere in sight. A quick glance out the window informed her that the Impala wasn’t there either. The logical part of her brain informed her that he was probably picking up food, or the laundry, or doing whatever the hell else he had done at the Laundromat before.
Not that she cared.
Even so, she closed the door to the bedroom before dropping her towel, searching for some clean clothes in her bag. There were only the basic shirts and sweats, but Sam paused when she pulled out the blue dress she had bought. Pursing her lips, she laid it out on the bed, towel-drying her hair for a few minutes as she stared at it.
The brave part of her spoke up first, and she tentatively pulled the dress on over her hips, zipping it up in the back. In the bedroom, there was something that had probably once been a mirror, but had so many cracks and warping that it was at the very best, a shadow of its former self. Still, Sam stood in front of it, pushing her hair back from her face and trying to see how she looked in the dress as best as she could.
It made her feel equally nervous and giddy, like she was doing something wrong, and not what she was actually doing, which was just wearing a dress and looking at herself in the mirror. It was a little short and there was certainly more cleavage than she ever showed-it didn’t exactly work with any of her hoodies-but Sam felt oddly powerful in it, like she imagined body armor would feel.
Then the door swung open and Dean stood there, jaw dropped as he stared at her. They both struggled with words for a few seconds before she snapped, “God, Dean, can’t you knock?”
Closing his mouth, he swallowed hard. “Dad’s home,” he said simply, then closed the door.
Sam stripped quickly, shoving the dress back into her duffle and then leaning against the door, breathing as heavily as she had during her work out. It didn’t matter that Dean knew she had a dress. She was almost eighteen, she was allowed to own a dress and she was even allowed to wear it sometimes.
There was a fire in the pit of her stomach as she thought of the way that Dean had looked at her in the dress, of how he his eyes had lit up, pupils blown wide. She squeezed her own eyes shut, burying her face in her hands. All she really wanted was for Dean to look at her like that again and it was tearing her apart.
Finally, she pulled on a tank top and some sweat pants, dragging a brush through her hair before going out into the main room. Her dad and Dean were already sitting at the table, working through a large pizza. “Hi, Daddy.”
“Hey, Sam,” John said.
There was a slice of pizza waiting for her and she sat down, eating it slowly, because seconds weren’t promised with her brother working on the same pie. “Your hunt went well?”
“No one got too hurt and that’s all we can hope for.” John took a long drink of his beer. “I’m probably heading out in another day or so, this is mostly just a supply stop. Next hunt sounds dangerous, but should be over quickly one way or the other.”
The fact that he could talk that cavalierly, that his own family was simply a supply stop, made the pizza churn in her stomach, but she forced herself to take a bite. To her right, Dean was conspicuously not looking at her.
“You need any help, Dad?” he said.
John shook his head. “You don’t have much training with this, but if I get it done without too many problems, I’ll tell you about it when I get back and then you can go with me next time. I’m sure I’ll be back by next Monday, though, and then we’ll probably need to hit the road again.”
Sam didn’t want to think about leaving, so instead she focused on staring at Dean’s ear, trying to force him to look at her using only the power of her mind. Apparently, her mind powers were no match for Dean’s stubbornness, as his gaze was fixed on the wall behind John’s head.
For the first time in a long time, Sam watched her father closely. His hair was grayer than she remembered; face more drawn, harder and thinner at the same time. He kept shooting furtive looks at the door. John looked as caged as she felt a lot of the time. It shouldn’t sicken her to see which parts of her came from him, but it did and that made her feel more ill.
“We understand, Dad,” Dean said. “There’s work to be done.”
John just nodded. There were times Sam thought that he wasn’t hunting, not really. It wasn’t about hunting at all. He was just out there, looking for the lost love of his life somewhere on the road. It was all just hope that Mary would come back to him one day.
Wiping his mouth, John said, “What about you, Sam?”
“What about me, sir?”
“Anything you want to talk about?”
She shrugged. “School’s fine.”
He nodded, but his eyes narrowed at her. “You look…different.”
Was she different? Maybe if different meant not the same to the rest of the world, but she didn’t really feel unlike herself. John only saw her in small moments, slowly blinking through the film that was his daughter growing up. She was a little different every day, which meant she was very different by the time she saw him again.
“Yeah,” she said. “I got a haircut.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Hey, Kaley, when do you want to work on this project?” Sam asked, shouldering her backpack. It seemed to get heavier every day. She was going to have to start making sure Dean wasn’t putting weights in it to build up her strength. “I was thinking Saturday.”
“Saturday?” She laughed. “That’s a joke, right?”
Sam blinked in surprise. “Um…no? Do you have a religion thing, or something?”
“Only if Amanda’s party counts as a religion, which it should. Aren’t you going?”
“I wasn’t invited.”
Kaley laughed again. “No one’s invited. They just…hear. And show up.”
Sam shrugged, heading for the door of the classroom. “I didn’t even hear about it.”
“Well, now you have.” She smirked. “C’mon, Winchester, don’t you party?”
“Not really,” she said honestly. “Even if I did, I don’t think my brother would let me go.”
Nodding in understanding, Kaley said, “The over-protective type, right?”
“Yeah, that’s…that’s basically Dean in a nutshell.”
Kaley’s just shrugged, elbowing her lightly in the side of her ribs. “So don’t tell him.”
Sam wondered if her shock showed on her face. “You want me to lie to my big brother?”
“Not lie! Come over in the afternoon and we’ll work on the project. And then we’ll go to the party after we’re done. Hell, you can probably even sleep over, if you want.” She smiled at Sam, and Sam couldn’t help but smile back. “We’ll make a day of it, it’ll be fun.”
Biting her bottom lip, Sam looked out to the parking lot, where she could see Dean in the Impala waiting for her. “I’ll…I’ll think about it, okay?”
“Sure, let me know tomorrow. See ya, Sam.”
She waved good-bye, and then jogged over to the car. “Hey, Dean.”
“Hey, I’ve got good news,” he said, turning the radio down. “Dad says he’ll be back by Monday.”
Her heart dropped into her stomach at the words. “Back like…coming back to get supplies, or…”
“Back, like, we’ll probably be in Arizona by Wednesday. He said he heard something about a Chupacabra.”
She nodded slowly. “Oh. Well… Can I go to a friend’s house on Saturday then? Spend the night?”
Dean looked at her in surprise. “You have…spend-the-night friends?”
“Yeah,” she said, shrugging, voice increasing in both pace and bitterness. “I mean, we have to do this project together for school and it’s due next week, and we were gonna get together to work on it this weekend, but we’re gonna need a while to get it completed, and since we’re apparently leaving on Monday, I’m not just going to abandon her with it.”
“Okay, fine. I’ll drop you off there on Saturday, and then I guess I’ll finish all of the chores.”
She stuck her tongue out at him in an attempt to lighten her own mood. “Yeah, I guess you will.”
He rolled his eyes playfully. “Yeah, we’ll see about that on Sunday.”
She nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. On Sunday.” As he drove quickly around the bus blocking their way home, Sam held her bag strap tightly, trying not to think about how she had just lied to her brother.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
She was never quite sure how they ended up like this, which could be construed as a little odd, considering how often it happened, how often it had happened her entire life. They would sit on a couch, or a bed and just study or watch TV and maybe they were just the kind of people that didn’t sit still, restless by nature, but they would move around each other thoughtlessly, somehow ending up more comfortable against each other.
At the moment, Sam’s head was resting in Dean’s lap and his practiced hands were stroking through her hair, blunt nails teasing gently at her scalp. She sighed happily, shutting her eyes. There was homework to be done even if they were leaving on Monday-Sam usually did it to spite them and so that she would have work to show her new teachers what she had been up to, but she couldn’t make herself get up, let alone think.
“So I’m dropping you off at your friend’s tomorrow?” Dean said lowly.
“Hm?” It took a second for her brain to catch up. “Oh, right. Yeah, Kaley.”
He made a small noise that she couldn’t decipher. “It’s been a while since you’ve been to someone’s house.”
Normally, she would get defensive; remind him that was a good thing, that most families encouraged friends as something positive and that it might be nice to have friends one of these days, but then his hand stroked firmly down her neck, rubbing out the tenseness of the day and she melted. There were times that he knew her so well that she didn’t understand trying to lie even to herself.
She sometimes wondered what to call that. Someone knowing you well enough that they could see through your bullshit, even when you didn’t realize you were bullshitting.
Savoring the strong kneading of his hands against her body, Sam rolled on to her back, watching his face as he absent-mindedly worked out the kinks in her shoulders and arms. His attention was on a made-for-TV movie that he had seen so many times before he was silently mouthing along the lines. She reached out and wrapped her fingers in the cord of the amulet, tugging on it gently just to feel the weight of it against her palm. He glanced down at her, smiling questioningly. Sam shook her head, moving closer to him and he instinctively started rubbing her head again.
There were times like this when it was just them and they weren’t fighting that Sam figured this was as close to perfect as life got. Sam thought that they belonged to each other, as much as anyone ever belonged to another person, and maybe even beyond that. They weren’t people, not in the normal sense. They couldn’t belong with each other in the normal sense. The fact that Sam was okay with it not being normal said it all.
Dean told her once in passing about how John had given her to him, tasked him with protecting her for the rest of her life. She was almost certain that that’s when everything was changed, where her entire life was decided: John gave her away, he chose Mary. And Sam had been Dean’s ever since.
She was so lost in the feeling of him rubbing her back that it took her a few moments to notice that he was trying to stand up. Sam made a small noise of protest until he picked her up, carrying her protectively into the bedroom. “Time for bed, Sammy,” he said softly, easing the blanket over her.
Reaching out, she caught his hand before he could leave and he only hesitated a second before climbing in behind her. His arm wrapped possessively around her waist and she slept as much on him as she did the bed.
They were slowly fading into unconsciousness when the phone rang and Sam groaned under her breath as Dean pulled away. “Hello?” he said quietly into the phone. “Yes, sir. Of course. I can go do it now. Yeah, Sammy’s fine. Okay. Okay. Yes, sir.” He closed the phone, grabbing his boots from the floor and putting them on.
“Where are you going?”
“Go back to sleep,” he said, kissing her forehead tenderly. It made her heart thump painfully in her chest, halfway through healing and breaking again.
“Stay.”
He stopped lacing up his shoe, staring at her silently for a few minutes. “I’ll be right back. Promise. Sleep.”
Turning over, Sam faced away from him, not wanting him to see how much it affected her. She stayed there quietly, hardly breathing until she heard the front door close and the Impala start up, her stomach twisting nauseatingly. It was a sick cycle: Sam chose Dean, Dean chose John, and even years after her death, John still chose Mary every single time.
Sam wondered if anyone would ever choose her.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
If she thought getting her hair done was bad, Kaley doing her make up was worse. Much worse. She was constantly flinching away from the wands, or brushes, or whatever instrument of torture they chose to inflict upon her. Apparently, hunter training did not make her the best beauty specimen. She was used to avoiding pokey things coming towards her face.
At least Sharon, Kaley’s mom, was slightly gentler with the curling iron, though Sam could feel herself jerking away from it at times. “Never used a curling iron?” she said, laughing lightly.
“Not exactly.” Sam had been burned a lot, just not by something that wasn’t supposed to be for killing things.
Sharon watched Sam in the mirror, though she was trying to be inconspicuous about it. “You seem uncomfortable.”
Sam smiled at her, trying not to prove her point. “No, I’m sorry, it’s just… I’m not used to any of this stuff.” She gestured at the countertop full of makeup and brushes and hair products that she had never even heard of. It felt like she was missing out on an entirely different lifestyle.
“You and your mom never did anything like this?”
Her breath caught in her throat. She thought that after seventeen years, she’d be used to this. “My mom died when I was a baby. It’s just me and my dad and my brother.” Sam stared straight ahead, avoiding everyone’s gaze. Pity never brought Mom back.
Frowning sadly, Sharon said, “I’m sorry, honey. That must be hard.”
She shrugged, not sure what to say to that. She had no idea what life would be like if her mother hadn’t burned to death on her ceiling. Different, certainly, but Sam wasn’t naïve enough to think it would have been easier. John would still be her father. Dean would still be…Dean.
Sharon finished with her hair; running her fingers through the tightened curls and making Sam wonder what the point to the curling iron was. Patting her back, Sharon said, “You look lovely, honey. I bet your mother would think so, too.”
Moving closer to the mirror, Sam inspected herself carefully. Her hair was shinier than usual and her face looked different in ways that she couldn’t put her finger on. It was almost like she was wearing a mask that would crack if she moved her face too much. She wasn’t sure if she liked it or not. “Thank you.”
Kaley led her back into her room, helping her slide into the blue dress. Sam never thought she’d get to wear it at all, let alone this soon. Holding up two pairs of heels, Kaley said, “These will both work with your dress. Which ones do you want?”
“Whichever ones are shorter.”
Rolling her eyes, Kaley handed her the silver ones, then helped Sam work the straps that were far too difficult for things that just went on your feet. Standing up, Sam checked herself out in the full-length mirror on Kaley’s closet door. “Do, I, um… I mean, do I look okay?”
Kaley crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not sure I wanna go anymore. It’s a bad idea to go to a party with someone that looks better than you.” When Sam just looked at her in confusion, Kaley laughed. “I’m kidding. You look fabulous.” Grabbing her purse, she winked at Sam. “Let’s go, there’s a fine line between fashionably late and too late.”
Wobbling in her shoes, Sam held the banister as she took the stairs slowly. John was going to kill her if she got hurt just walking. “Mom, we’re leaving!” Kaley called, then lowered her voice conspiratorially. “We should get out of here before she wants to take pictures or something.”
Sharon was already heading towards the stairs with the camera. “Wait, wait! Let me take a few. You look beautiful, Sam.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Walker.”
“Yeah, thanks, Mom,” Kaley said, rolling her eyes. Still, she smiled and posed when her mom snapped a few pictures.
After making Kaley throw a jacket on over her tank top, Sharon said, “You girls have fun. Curfew is at one, don’t push it like last time, Kaley.”
“Yes, Mom. C’mon, Sam.” Sam waved goodbye as Kaley pulled her out the door and into the car, adjusting her dress the whole way.
Amanda’s street was full of cars by the time they got there, and Kaley pulled up behind a van, blocking it in and rolling her eyes. “It’s Matt’s,” she said when Sam looked at her curiously. “He’s not allowed to leave without me anyway.”
There were people everywhere, inside and outside, but Kaley took her hand and led her into the throng in the living room. Lisa spotted them first, pushing her way through the crowd. “It’s about time you got here! Lookin’ good, Winchester,” she said, appraising Sam quickly. “You clean up well. And speaking of cleaning up, Kay, Lucy has been circling Matt all night.”
“What?” Kaley said, voice going up an octave. “Where are they?”
“They were heading out back, last I saw.”
Cursing, Kaley took off her jacket and left it sitting on the back of a chair. “That little slut.” She smiled at Sam apologetically. “Sorry, I’ve got to take care of this. Have fun!”
Before she could say anything, both of the girls disappeared into the crowd, leaving Sam alone. The room was hot and stuffy, too many people in too small a space, the bass of music she didn’t recognize echoing and making the walls vibrate. She glanced around, trying to spot a familiar face-they had only been there a few weeks and no one was clicking in her memory. Pushing back her sudden loneliness, she tried to tell herself that she didn’t want to go home. She was going to be an actual person.
She jumped and turned at a hand on her shoulder, focusing on a tall, thin guy behind her. “Hey, Sam!”
“Hi…Paul!” she said, hoping it was right. He just grinned and she relaxed-at least she had gotten that right.
“You look great.”
Her skirt suddenly felt too short. “Thanks.” What else was she supposed to say? He didn’t look any different. She had no idea what the protocol in this situation was. It was a depressing thought when she realized that she knew how to deal with ghosts better than teenage guys. Ghosts at least had a rule book and that was one she knew.
“Want a drink?” he said and she nodded, following him into the kitchen.
The beer was disgusting and cheap, even more so than the kind Dean bought, but she kept her face as neutral as possible. “So,” she said after an awkward pause. “How do you think you did on that Spanish test?”
Groaning, he shook his head. “I don’t even want to think about it. When the hell am I going to have to use Spanish?”
She nodded, thinking she was the only person who actually used more Latin in their everyday life. “I know what you mean.” There was a large jostle behind her and she stumbled into Paul, banging her hip on the table full of cups.
He caught her, chuckling. “Are you okay? You shouldn’t drink so much.”
Sam tried to laugh at his poor joke, but she just burned with embarrassment. What the hell was she even doing? She felt ashamed to be here, in this dress, in these shoes that weren’t even hers. Her dad would be ashamed. The very thought of Dean seeing her made her sick to her stomach.
Paul was staring at her and she ducked her head. “These are Kaley’s shoes. I’m just not used to them.”
“That’s cool,” he said, sounding overly excited. “We could sit down.”
It was probably a good idea and they found some space on a loveseat in the living room, pushing aside everyone’s jackets and bags. Sam sipped her beer slowly, crossing and uncrossing her legs in an effort to get comfortable.
Clearing her throat, she said, “So that history project is a real bitch.”
“God, I know,” he said, grunted. “I haven’t even started on it. Hayworth is such a bastard.”
“Yeah.” She didn’t have any real opinion of their teacher. Teachers were another thing that seemed to blend together. She’d seen every single kind. There was only one, or two that had ever really stood out.
They were silent as she struggled to think of something else to say. She was so fucking bad at this. Paul smiled sweetly at her. “You really do look great. I mean…seriously.”
Ducking her head, she blushed. All of this attention was weird. “Thanks.”
He laughed lightly and when she looked up at him, he leaned forward and kissed her softly. It wasn’t her first kiss. Lee Brigs had kissed her back when she was twelve. It was weird and she hadn’t liked it. When he tried again, she’d broken his nose. His mom had called Dean to yell and threaten to sue. Dean had just laughed, told her ‘that’s my girl,’ and bought her ice cream. It had never happened since then, though she supposed that she hadn’t actually been facilitating it.
She was mildly proud of herself for not jumping away, forcing herself to relax as he kissed her. Moving closer, he put his arm around her. Paul’s hand moved down her back and he kissed her harder, more intently. Sam kissed back, desperate to feel something more than the uncomfortable pull in her stomach. She couldn’t be nearly that hopeless. Not yet.
“Sam!”
She jumped at the voice, wondering if there was a pagan god of irony and bad luck and overall crap that decided to use her as a plaything. “Dean?”
He marched through the party, face a mask of anger. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, ignoring how she shook in his presence.
“Dad’s home.”
The two words felt like the end of everything. “He said Monday,” she said, her voice a pleading whisper.
“Yeah, well, he’s home now and he sent me to get you. We’re going. Now.” He reached down and grabbed her arm, pulling her up and dragging her towards the door.
She twisted in his grasp as he pulled her outside. “Dean, let me go. Dean!” Pulling her arm back, she tried to hit him, stumbling in the unfamiliar shoes.
He jumped back, but released her. “What the hell, Sam?”
“I know how to walk, Dean!”
“You’ll excuse me if I don’t have a lot of faith in your abilities right now,” he spat. “Seriously, what the hell is this? Going to some party? Lying to me about it? Dressing up like some tramp and kissing some guy you barely know?”
The words were like a punch to the stomach and she struggled to breathe. “Oh, fuck you, Dean.”
“Whatever, Sam,” he said, pulling his keys out of the pocket of his jacket. “Get in the car, we’re going home.” When she didn’t move, he glared at her. “I said get in the car.”
“No,” she said softly. “No, you know what, I didn’t do anything wrong. I went to a party with a friend. You can’t just treat me like this!”
He stepped closer getting into her face, but she refused to shy away. “You lied to me, Sam! Do you have any idea what it felt like to go to your stupid friend Casey’s house and hear that not only were you not there, but you two went to a fucking party? And then I walk in to see you wearing that and kissing on some guy!”
“It was just a kiss!” She was screaming now and couldn’t stop. “I know you did more than that at my age.” At his surprised look, she laughed angrily. “Don’t look at me like that; I was thirteen, not a retard.”
“Well, now you’re seventeen and I’m telling you to get in the car.” He walked over to the driver’s side door, opening it quickly. “Sam, get in the car.” She didn’t move and he lowered his voice menacingly. “If you don’t get in the car right now, I’m gonna go home and I’m gonna get Dad, and he’s gonna come out here and get you, is that what you want?”
Scowling, Sam went to the car, getting in and slamming the door behind her. Even the engine sounded angry as Dean started the Impala. He was still grumbling underneath his breath. “I can’t fucking believe you.”
She blinked back tears as he headed towards the house. “We have to go to Kaley’s.”
“What? Why? I got your stuff.”
“These are her shoes,” she said, staring down at her feet. “I can’t just leave town with them.”
Cursing loudly, he made a sharp u-turn and she held tightly to the door as the car fishtailed for a moment, before Dean regained control. She left the shoes on the porch, not wanting to face Kaley’s mom like this.
Dean still hadn’t let go of the steering wheel, she noticed when she got back into the car and he quickly threw the car in reverse, peeling out of there. She put her bare feet up on the dash and he smacked them down immediately. “Jesus, don’t know what’s with you lately.”
“What do you mean, what’s with me?”
“You’re not acting like yourself, Sam!” he said, as if it were obvious. “Getting your hair done and wearing dresses and make up, and lying to me to go to parties to make out with boys. That sure as hell ain’t the Sam I know.”
She rolled her eyes. “So basically I’m never allowed to be a girl, is that it? Because I know you haven’t realized it yet, Dean, but I am female. I even have boobs.”
He laughed bitterly. “You think I haven’t realized that?”
“Apparently not!” she said. “I mean, if you think these things are weird because that’s what girls do and I know you know what girls do, Dean.”
“Yeah, regular girls, but not you!”
She kicked the dash angrily, over and over. “Why am I not allowed to be a regular girl?” she screamed. Dean stared at her in shock as she punched his arm, again and again until he had to pull over. “Maybe I want to be a regular girl, Dean!”
“Sam,” he said, turning off the engine and trying to grab her arms, but she pulled away.
“No, shut up!” She wiped her eyes furiously. “You know what sucks a lot, Dean? Being a hunter. And you know what sucks even more? Being a Winchester! Because it means I never get to be a girl. I have to fight and move every few weeks and I never get to have a life! I never get to dress up, or go to a party. The only guy I’ve known longer than a few months is you, so I never get to kiss a guy, or get asked on a date and you know what? Guys want to ask me out! I’m not hideous. Sometimes guys even want to kiss me.”
He smiled at her softly, almost against his will. “You look beautiful, Sam.”
She continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “And sometimes I want to go to a party and dress up and be pretty; that shouldn’t be a crime. I like looking pretty and I like being a girl. And maybe I want a guy to think I’m beautiful and to want to kiss me. What’s so bad about that, Dean? I just…I just wanted to be normal for one night.”
Sighing wearily, he stared at her. “Are you done?”
Sam shook her head, tears starting to pour down her cheeks. “Why, Dean? I work so hard, why couldn’t I just have this night?”
“Hey, hey,” he said, cupping her face in his hands and brushing away her tears with the pads of his thumb. “Sam, look at me. Look at me, please.”
It was either the worst, or best decision she ever made because somehow looking at him became kissing him, his hands holding her face tenderly as his mouth ravaged hers. She whimpered, holding helplessly onto his strong arms and kissing him back. This was how she imagined it would feel when the world was ending, everything crumbling beneath her feet: nothing would ever be the same again, and it had never felt so right that she didn’t care. The last necessary step to perfection.
Sliding closer to him, she kissed him back, deeper and slower as she gave everything over to him. His arms moved around her, holding her tightly as if he wanted her to break against him. Her heart had already shattered. This was just him picking up the pieces and putting them back together in places they had never been before. The right places, when she hadn’t even realized she had been wrong.
One of his hands twisted in her tight curls and she felt the scratch of his stubble against her cheek as his firm lips pressed against hers. Her body felt warm all over, lungs laboring as she tried to catch her breath, but she was too intoxicated to stop kissing him. This was what she was waiting for, to make her life worth it, to give it meaning. She wondered how long she had been waiting for Dean.
Finally, he pulled away slowly, his eyes closed as if he couldn’t bear to look at her. Trying to make as little noise as possible, Sam got back into the passenger seat, entire body throbbing as if every part of her was connected directly to her lips. Dean sat there for a second, taking deep breaths before turning the car back on and driving towards the apartment.
They didn’t speak as they walked inside; quiet so as not to disturb John. For a long while, Sam and Dean just stared at each other. Then he shook his head. “I’m going to go take a shower.” He closed the door to the bathroom harder than necessary and she jumped at the noise, standing there staring at the wall and trembling long after Dean left her.
The bedroom was dark and she could see her father’s body on the bed as she snuck in there. But John knew, he always knew. “Sam?”
“Yeah, Daddy, it’s just me,” she said breathlessly, hoping that the small amount of light filtering in from the living room wouldn’t give her away. John just grunted and rolled over. Blinking back her tears, she stripped the dress off her body, rolling it up and stuffing it into the bottom of her duffle bag.
Her mouth was dry, probably from all the crying and she went to the kitchen, drinking down whoever’s beer was left on the counter. The drafty house chilled her almost nude body, but she didn’t shudder, then she caught her reflection in the mirror. The mirror reflected back the insanity of the night; mascara smeared down her face, black streaks the remainder of her tears. Her hair was a wild tangle of curls. The pink lip gloss that Kaley gave her was long gone, kissed away by her brother. Now her lips were red and swollen, and just touching them sent a thrill down her body that she didn’t want to try and explain.
She could still hear the shower running in the bathroom, but she didn’t care anymore. Sighing, she pushed the door open and quickly closed it behind her, leaning against the back of it. Sticking his head out of the shower, Dean said, “What are you doing here?”
“I need to wash this makeup off,” she said, but made no move towards the sink. “Dad woke up and almost saw me.”
Dean hesitated a moment, clearly weighing his options in his head, then slid open the shower curtain. “Come on, then.”
Gripping the counter hard, she watched him carefully, and then nodded. Goosebumps erupted over her flesh as she slid down the lace panties and stepped into the tub with her brother. His body was the only warm thing. “It’s cold,” she whispered, reaching around his body for the tap, turning the heat up.
“I know.” She could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “Here, let me help.”
She was confused, until he touched her face, his wet hands running down her cheeks. Sam was pretty sure this wasn’t the way to remove make up, but she didn’t say anything, especially as his thumb caught on her bottom lip, stilling there. “Dean,” she tried to say, but it just came out as a whimper.
“Fuck, Sam.” He groaned, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers. She braced her arms on his biceps, shaking in confusion and uncertainty. “Sammy, I just can’t.”
Sam started to nod and reach for the curtain to get out when Dean kissed her again. Her body reacted immediately, surging up towards him and he deepened the kiss, licking into her mouth.
Her moan echoed off the tile as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Dean…” She stepped closer, naked body pressing against his as the warm water ran over them, splashing around the places their skin touched as if they were joined as one. He placed his hands on her hips, letting the palm of his hands curve around them and holding her firm.
Biting her neck, Dean whimpered against her skin. “Dammit, Sam, please.”
She didn’t know what he was asking and that scared her, unable to comprehend the way he knew exactly how to touch her. Instead, she just made herself available to him, pliant, reacting to his strokes and kisses as openly as possible.
Her knees buckled as his hand reached between her legs, stroking her in a place she rarely even touched herself. Dean grabbed her leg, wrapping it around his waist and she could feel how hard he was against her. The idea made her shiver uncontrollably, fighting to be closer to him, her back cold without his touch.
Dean was still Dean, still knew how to take care of her and he pressed her back against the wall, hitching both legs around his waist, and pressing her against him fully. The sound she made was somewhere between a whimper and a mewl, and she held tightly to his broad shoulders more for her own sanity, than for fear that he would drop her. Even after all these years, he held her up so easily in his hands.
“Sam,” he said, more in the way his lips brushed against her skin than any actual words. “Sam, Sam, Sam…” His mouth moved over her breasts, first one then the other, just mapping them with his mouth before he sucked one nipple into it, hard and dirty and she arched her back for more.
Her hips rocked against his as her craving for completion went unanswered. “Dean!” she cried in response to him, as if it was the only word she knew. It was the first word she ever said and somehow every part of her knew it would also be her last. Dean was her first and last, her everything.
He shushed her. She wasn’t sure if it was because of their father in the next room, or because he knew what she was asking, she would never be sure. “I got you, Sammy.”
Dean didn’t prepare her, didn’t ask her if she was ready, if this was what she wanted. There were still things between them that didn’t need words. He pushed into her slowly, inch by inch until she was full and she shook like a leaf in his grasp, body unquiet.
Sam opened her eyes to look at him, knowing she could never be okay with this until she saw him with his freckles standing out against his flushed skin, long eyelashes speckled with droplets of water, green eyes staring at her like he knew what made up every part of her, and maybe he did; maybe he knew that he was every part of her.
She shifted her hips and she was ready. Dean pulled back slowly, and then thrust into her, letting that simple movement rock them together. It was as much pleasure as unity, their unison a cacophony of moans taking up the bathroom, taking up the world. When she threw her head back, it didn’t hit tile; he had put his hand there, protecting her again. Sam was safe.
His lips returned to her body, kissing and sucking on every part of her in reach as her nails dug deep into his shoulder. The dull ache of her back let her know that it would be bruised tomorrow, but she was far past caring. All she needed right now was more Dean, nothing but him and she kissed him firmly, letting him be her air.
When he pulled away, he panted on her neck, eyes dark with need. “Sam…Sam…”
She pushed her hips against his, the spark of pleasure growing and building with each thrust. “Dean, please,” she whimpered, words lost to her. “I need…”
“I got you, baby,” he said, gripping her hips tighter, pulling her to him closer and closer, until she rested her head on his shoulder, wondering if they could ever come away from this separate again, knowing that she didn’t want to.
Sam came first, biting into his neck to silence her cry, shuddering in his arms and riding the wave of pleasure. Dean continued to hold her, gasping for something she tried desperately to give him. When he came in her, saying her name in that tone of love and perfection and right, the realization struck her.
This is what it was like to be complete.
Master Post | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Soundtrack