Give 'Em Hell, Supernatural, Keeper!verse, NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural, Keeper!Verse
Title: Give 'Em Hell (All Keeper Verse Here)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4170
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean (long term established wincest), Dana (Dean's daughter)/Scott (OMC), OCs
Summary: Takes place many years after the last entry. Dana is in the final stages of her second pregnancy, and Sam and Dean are looking for a little quiet time alone before the birth...but when they stumble on a haunting, and Dana goes into labor early, tragedy strikes
A/Ns & Warnings: This story has been a long time coming. I have known this is how this verse would end for years. I have avoided writing it for that long. Alas, Brain has needed catharsis this week or something. CHARACTER DEATH. Bring the tissues. As a note, this doesn't mean I'll never write in Keeper again, just that this is where the story ends...any new additions will be time stamps, fill in stories about things I glossed over, etc.
"Sam, have you seen John's blanket?"
He looked up from packing his bag to find Dean filling the doorway with a sleepy and weepy toddler in his arms. John rubbed at one red rimmed eye as Sam crossed the room. "I thought he was asleep."
"Yeah, so did I." Dean agree, passing him over to Sam. "As soon as I left the room, he was crying again. He won't sleep without the damn thing."
"Did you check downstairs?" Sam asked, cajoling John with a hand rubbing his back while he wrapped comfort and sleep around him like a blanket. Unlike Dana, who had been receptive to every touch of Sam's when she was this age, John seemed to fight it.
"I'll bet it got left at the daycare again." Dean dropped to his knees to look under the bed, then groaned when he tried to get up. "Damn."
Sam snickered and offered him a hand. Dean grabbed it and used it to leverage himself up off the floor. "Not a word."
Sam shook his head. "Wouldn't dream of it, old man."
Dean smacked him playfully and moved around the bed. "Still young enough to spank your sorry behind."
Sam reached out to caress him mentally. "Better watch your mouth, or someone will be getting a spanking."
"Do the two of you ever not think about sex?" Dana asked, exasperated as she came in the room.
"Do you ever knock?" Dean asked.
"My house now, why knock?"
John lifted his head as Dana's voice filled the room. "Mommy."
She held up the blanket. "I got to the hospital and realized this was in the back seat." She reached to take John, but Sam shook his head.
"I've got him. You do not need to be lifting."
She rolled her eyes but handed him the blanket. "Fine, but stop spoiling him. Don't think I don't know about the cookies."
Sam left her with Dean and took John back to his room, the room that had been Dana's once upon a time. He settled John down on the bed and gave him the blanket, still trying to urge sleep onto him. "Stay." John said as Sam got up to leave him.
"Okay, for a minute." Sam put his hand down on the tired little body, rubbing his thumb over his tummy. He was clearly tired but not ready to sleep. "Is something wrong, John?"
"No go, SamSam."
"Is that what this is about? You know me and Grandpa will only be gone a few days." Sam and Dean had planned a long weekend away, a little respite before chaos erupted in the Winchester house. Dana was still a month from her due date, but she was carrying twins and the doctor had warned them she would probably go into labor early.
"Mommy." John rubbed at his eyes again and suddenly stopped fighting Sam's mental touch. Under the surface, he was afraid of something…but Sam couldn't read it clearly.
"Your mommy is just fine. Your daddy will be home tonight. Grandpa and I will be back in just a few days…and then you'll have new family. But right now, you need to take your nap." He took advantage of being unhindered by three year old will power and tapped John toward sleep.
"Is he down?" Dana asked as Sam emerged from the bedroom.
"He is now. He's worried about something though."
Dana made a face and headed for the stairs. "That's probably my fault. He crawled into bed with me last night and I had a nightmare."
Sam frowned and she shook her head. "Not that kind. Just…random…" She sighed heavily, her one hand rubbing lightly over her very large stomach as she turned into the living room. "Too much stress and not enough…oh." She pressed her hand flat against her stomach. "Wow. He's unhappy." She grabbed Sam's hand and pressed it to her stomach. He could feel the tiny foot kicking out at them, a tiny life fighting to be heard.
When it had subsided she sighed and lowered herself into the chair. "It was just a dream."
"Tell me anyway?" Sam asked, sitting on the end of the coffee table and reaching for her hand."
"Sometimes I wonder which one of us is the mother here, Sam." Dana said, though she took his hands and closed her eyes. She rubbed against his shields with her own before dropping them and guiding him in.
Her mind had become a very ordered, very peaceful place. Most of the time anyway. She rolled out the dream, which was mostly emotion…anxiety, separation and loss…but there was something about him…about him and Dean and a hunt. It faded though before it became anything more than a passing thought and then Dana was pulling them back up. "See? Nothing."
"I just wanted to be sure." Sam patted her knee.
"I should get back to the hospital." She pushed herself up, rubbing at her lower back.
"You work too much for a woman who is eight months pregnant with twins."
"And you worry too much for someone who isn't." Dana kissed his cheek and grabbed her keys. "I'll be home early." She stopped at the door. "One of you will remember to pick Scott up at the airport at 3?"
"We aren't that forgetful, Dana." Dean said as he joined Sam.
She waved as she left and Dean slipped his arms around Sam. "Now, what was that about spankings?"
Sam smiled and slipped his fingers into the back pocket of Dean's jeans. It still amazed him sometimes…all these years together and just a touch or the sound of Dean's voice could make him smile.
"John is down for his nap, we have at least four hours before we have to go get Scott." Dean kissed over his chin. "I say we use the time wisely."
Sam kissed him, tongues tangling as he turned them toward the stairs. "You're incorrigible."
"And you love it." Dean responded.
"Love you." Sam murmured, opening up their connection to full and pouring his affection into Dean. "So fucking much."
"Sounding like a girl, Sammy." Dean brought up an image of them fucking, Sam on his knees with Dean behind him. Sam's cock responded predictably. "So easy." Dean murmured out loud as his hand stroked along Sam's cock.
"I'll show you girl." Sam countered, filling Dean's head with another image, of Dean on his back, legs in the air while Sam fucked down into him hard.
They were half way up the stairs, still holding one another. "Careful now, or I'll just take you here." Dean said.
"And then neither of us will walk for two days." Sam said with a laugh. "Remember the last time you tried to get adventurous?"
Dean made a face and pushed him up the stairs. "Get moving then."
It was difficult, this getting older thing. It was easy to forget when they were together that they were both getting too old for some things. A memory floated between them, their first Christmas, when Dana was still just a baby. Thirty three years had passed, almost thirty four.
So much had changed since then, and yet, the memory was as fresh as if it had just happened. Dean's hand slid through his hair, drawing him into the room that once had been Sam's, and now served as a guest room. Sam wrapped the dampening field around them, just in case Dana happened home early again, or John woke up.
His fingers worked Dean's belt open while Dean kissed a trail down his neck, licking and nipping until Sam's fingers found his skin. Then Dean tipped his head back, offering Sam his neck while his fingers popped the button on Sam's jeans.
It took longer than it used to to get down to skin and they both slowed down once there, easing onto the bed. Dean reached for lube, and Sam reached inside him to brush a virtual finger over the spot inside him that had made many of the last few years possible, letting the feeling of warmth and healing flow through him and pushing it across his connection to Dean.
Dean wriggled under him, grinning as he popped the top on the bottle of lube. Sam let him dribble it into his hand, moving so that he was kneeling between Dean's knees, and as he slid that slick hand down to work him open, Dean lifted and tilted his hips, getting a pillow under him to make the angle work.
Sam eased in, filling him at the same time he opened their connection full tilt, letting himself revel in the feeling of being as close as they could be, body and mind connected. Memories spilled out between them, a lifetime of moments, touches and kisses, sex…Sam laughed, letting Dean roll them so that he was on top.
The memories were increasingly of sex as Dean rocked on top of him…sex in Yosemite, sex in the car, sex in a motel room when they'd finished a hunt…sex the first time after Sam had nearly died…after he'd gone away to get himself back…Sam's orgasm caught him by surprise, ripping through him quickly. The look on Dean's face showed his surprise as well. Sam flipped them back so that Dean was on his back, easing out of him and moving down to take Dean in his mouth.
"Remember the first time I did this?" Sam pulled the image up, Dean on the hood of the Impala, so desperate and needy and very drunk. They'd only just met, and Sam wasn't even aware of who he was…not really.
Dean countered with other memories, after their bond had developed, when they could touch each other in ways that went way beyond the physical. Sam took the hint, wrapping his mind around Dean's, using all of his senses to focus on Dean's cock.
Seconds later, his brother was thrusting up and cussing, his come filling Sam's mouth. Sam slid up along his sweaty body and laid beside him, gathering Dean close. They would have plenty of time for more, once they'd picked up Scott and had driven out to the quiet bed and breakfast where they would spend the long weekend.
"Are we really this old?" Dean asked as they sat out on the balcony of the house, looking out over a ravine that cut through the area. It was only ten at night, and they were the only guests at the B&B.
Sam gave him the cold beer he'd brought up from the kitchen. "Well, you are. I'm just keeping you company."
"Funny." Dean took the beer and shook his head. "I never expected to live to see fifty." He said it softly, not really looking at Sam. "Hell, I never expected to have a kid, or to fall in love…before I met you, my thoughts about the future got about as far as whether or not I'd get laid that night."
Sam smiled, leaning on the railing to look out into the fog that rose up out of the ravine. "My future was…mapped out. I just didn't know it." He took a sip of his beer. "And here we are, both of us getting old, a brilliant daughter about to give you brilliant grandkids, and…" He squinted, feeling something moving in the mist below.
"Sam?"
He shook his head and stepped back, sitting beside Dean. "It's nothing. We're not here to…Drink your beer."
Dean was frowning at him. "What was it?"
Sam sighed. "Not sure. But we're here to relax. I'm sure it's nothing."
Except he wasn't sure, and Dean knew it. For the moment though, he chose to ignore it. "We're on vacation, Sammy." Dean said after a moment. "Whatever it is, can wait."
"Oh." Sam turned away from Dean and the lady who ran the B&B, moving away from their conversation about the horrible accidents on the bridge that crossed the ravine. Dana was clearly trying to get his attention. He stepped out of the dining room and reached across the distance for her.
Mostly what he got was stabbing pain and cursing. "Labor?" Her response was nearly violent but wordless and Sam chuckled. "Okay, we'll head home. Take it easy. Try not to break Scott's hand."
He stepped back into the dining room and lifted his hand. "Ah, Dana just went into labor."
Dean stood so fast he knocked the chair over. "She's early."
Sam nodded. "Doctor warned she might be. Told her we'd get on the road."
"Yeah, I'll get out stuff." Dean raced for the stairs, leaving Sam with the older woman.
"Sorry, Mrs. Duffy. I'd love to hear the rest of the story." Sam offered her a smile.
"You really shouldn't leave this late." Mrs. Duffy said.
"We'll be fine." Sam said, taking his bag from Dean as he hit the bottom of the stairs. "We'll come back."
Dean got behind the wheel and started the car. Sam dumped his bag in the trunk and paused, feeling oddly like he was being watched. He glanced around him and shook it off.
They pulled out of the winding driveway and onto the two lane road that led to the bridge…and Sam felt it again. "Dean….stop."
Dean looked at him like he was crazy, but stepped on the break. "We're not alone."
"I don't see anything." Dean said softly, his hand slipping under the seat for his gun.
"Me either. Doesn't mean it isn't there. Just…go slowly."
Dean nodded, setting the gun on the seat. He eased them forward, both of them watching around the car for signs. They moved forward, onto the bridge. For a moment Sam thought maybe whatever it was that he'd felt had moved on, then he felt a surge of rage and the car shuddered under him.
"Dean!"
"Yeah, I know." He was all but standing on the brake, attempting to stop their slide toward the railing as the car was dragged out to the center of the bridge and off to the side. Dean steered hard to the right, gritting his teeth. "I can't…fuck, Sam, get out."
Dean pushed him and Sam grabbed for him, even as the car swerved. "Dean!" Sam screamed as the door opened, as he was thrown out of the car. He slammed into the wall of the bridge, his head crashing into concrete. "Dean!"
The car spun, slamming into the railing. The bridge groaned, the railing giving way and the Impala was slipping through the hole. "Dean!" Sam scrambled for the twisted and broken concrete, his mind reaching for Dean's, surprised when Dean grabbed on to him too.
The car was creaking as it was pushed off the bridge. Sam was bleeding from more places than he could count as he crawled closer.
"Window"
Sam dove at the car, his hand breaking through the driver's side window.
Dean's hand found his, even as the car went crashing over the rail. Glass broke around Dean as the car went down, slicing Sam's hand and Dean's face and Sam fought to pull him up with blood slicking his hand, making it hard to keep hold.
Dean looked up at him, blinking through blood in his eyes. "Behind you."
Sam didn't have to look to feel it, know it was there. It screamed rage at them and Sam could feel it shoving him.
"Sam!"
Somewhere below them, the car found solid ground, exploding upward in a fiery blast that Sam half imagined he could feel.
His bad shoulder was screeching at the stretch and weight he was asking it to hold, his foot was slipping on the concrete. "Can't hold." Sam's left hand was wrapped around some exposed rebar, but he was slipping.
"Let go."
"No." Sam answered audibly, shaking his head.
"Let me go." Dean sent a little more forcefully. His mind caressed against Sam's, warm and loving. "Take care of our girl."
His hand went slack in Sam's and it made it that much harder to hold on. "Dean! No. No!"
The ghost shoved and pushed and Sam's foot fell clear of the concrete, his body following it over the edge so that it was just his left hand on the rebar holding the both of them. Dean was slipping from his fingers.
Sam screamed as his hand slipped from the rebar, reaching out with his mind and free hand for anything, but there was only Dean…and a long drop below them. "Dean." Sam wrapped his mind around his brother, determined to at least spare him some of the pain to come. The ground was rushing up, even as Sam managed to get his arms around Dean too.
"Love you."
Sam pulled as much energy from the air around him and from Dean as he could, hoping against hope he might somehow cushion the blow. Somewhere in the midst he felt Dana questing, worried, and he pushed her away, slammed up the wall and closed his eyes.
The first touch of something other than air seemed surreal, then came the cracking sound as the tree broke beneath them, sending them hurtling down. The ground grabbed at them with greedy hands, the sound sickening.
Then there was silence and darkness.
Something was buzzing in his head…attention…focus…it hurt, but he couldn't place why.
"Sam."
Sam. Yes. That was right. Sam. He was Sam. Or parts of him were. The parts that hurt.
"Sam."
Annoying, like a bug in his ear. He tried to shake his head to make it stop, but he didn't think he actually moved.
"SAM!"
Dana. Suddenly he knew the voice, knew the fear, knew he was in trouble. He knew he was hurt and it was bad, though at the moment he had no idea how or why. Just that it was bad.
Fall. Ghost. He should hurt more than he did, he was fairly sure of it. He could taste blood, flat and warm on his tongue. Dana was buzzing at him…he could feel her, but not understand her.
Healing.
He reached for it, for the power that was uniquely his. It flared and for a brief moment warmth filled him, then agony crashed in over him like a smothering blanket. He was vaguely aware of screaming…and slowly realized it was his own voice.
"Sam, answer me."
"Hurts." Sam sent back, though he wasn't sure it actually went anywhere.
He was forgetting something…something important.
Dean.
"Dean?" The word came out a gurgle, hard on his ears. He had no sense of his brother. Nothing. "Dean!"
"Sam, I can help."
"No." He pushed her away, opened his eyes, though he didn't see anything right away. It was dark, cold. "Dean!"
Slowly, Sam turned his head. Dean's broken body lay just out of arm's reach, bloody and twisted in impossible ways. "No…Dean…Dean!"
Sam tried to focus on his chest, on seeing whether or not he was breathing…and after a long moment, his chest rose slightly and fell again. "He's alive."
Sam stretched his arm, but couldn't reach him. He had to touch him, had to know…His fingers dug into the dirt under him, pulling him a few inches closer. Dana was still there in his head and he couldn't push her away and focus on what he needed to do.
As he moved, his body screamed out its injury, worse then any pain he'd ever known. His legs were shattered, the bones splintered. His bad hip was busted into pieces, that arm and shoulder beyond repair. His chest rattled as he moved, the sound of his breathing wet and sticky.
Each inch was painstaking and horrific, pausing to breathe through the pain, pushing that tiny blob of healing power just to keep himself from passing out from the pain.
His hand finally found Dean's, and his thoughts rushed across the connection, recoiling as he encountered the furious agony that filled Dean's mind and body. There was massive brain injury, bleeding, swelling…it crowded in against the cacophony of pain feeding in from the rest of his body.
His heart was still beating, but only barely. Sam reached into him, pushing some of it away, behind walls that wouldn't hold long, finally finding the core of Dean all huddled underneath. "Dean."
There wasn't a lot of conscious thought, but Dean latched onto him. "SamSamSamSamSam."
"Yes."
"Sam, please answer me." Dana, trying to find them in the dark.
Sam tried to find a comfortable way to hold Dean's presence, to protect them both from the slow death slipping in to take them away. "Dean, stay with me just a little." Sam whispered to him, no longer fighting Dana's touch.
"Sammy…cold…"
"I know. Dana. Sam did what he could to bridge the gap, but his control was fading.
"Daddy?" Dana's grief reverberated through them and Sam almost lost the connection. "Help is coming. Hold on."
No help was going to get there fast enough. "Dana…love you…"
"No…not yet, let me…I need you to…" Words fell away then and pictures filled them, two tiny new lives, red faces and dark hair, pink blankets. "Sam, Dad…please…"
Somewhere in the distance he could hear sirens, but they were too far away. Dean's body shivered under his hand. His mind clung to Sam's. "Love you so much Sammy."
"Dean." He didn't have words to say goodbye to either of them, he could only hold the dying ember of Dean's life as it faded, and slowly let go of the distant spark that was Dana…it was colder then, darker.
For the briefest moment Sam imagined he saw a face in that darkness…half familiar, a welcome smile…but he couldn't open his eyes again. It hurt too much. "Dean…"
She was ready for them when they came. Two police officers, with their hats in their hands, their gentle words only confirming what she had witnessed long distance, verifying the cold, empty space where Sam had been ever since she could remember.
Scott stood with her as she listened to them tell her about the car and the bridge, held her up as the door closed. She wanted to be strong for them, but the loss cut through her stomach like a knife and she couldn't breathe.
It was better than the numbness that followed, mindlessly moving through the motions of taking care of her children, planning funerals. There were things to be done, rituals to be observed. Neither of them would want to linger.
It was a funeral worthy of two hunters, of two men who loved one another so completely that they overcame obstacles most of the world would never understand to be together. In the end, it was fitting somehow that they died together.
And, if that bridge strangely blew up one night a few months later, dropping concrete and rebar, and more than one set of remains into the ravine, no one could say for certain how or why.
But a few days later, Dana knelt on the grass in an old Lawrence graveyard, sitting with one of her girls on her lap, while Scott held the other. John, who had been there before, traced a finger over the name on the stone.
"Winchester. Like me."
"That's right, John." Dana blinked back tears. "My Papa is here, he was John too."
She opened the box Scott had set on the blanket. Two urns inside it held the remains of her fathers. She shifted her daughter to Scott's other arm and lifted them both. "And now…we're bringing your Papa and SamSam to be with him."
She opened the box that held her grandfather's urn and settled the others in with it. Their names had already been carved into the headstone, under Mary and Michael and John.
Dana held her son to her for a moment, then gestured to Scott to bring the girls closer. She took the nearer of them and turned to face the stone. "I wanted all of you to meet our girls. They're six months old today. This is Samantha Missouri Winchester-Wu and Deana Mary Winchester-Wu. I know…it's a mouthful." She made no attempt to hide or wipe away the tears.
After a few minutes, Scott stood, putting Deana in the stroller and coming back for Samantha. "Come on John, let's give mommy a few minutes."
Dana bowed her head when they were gone, her mind filling with the last images she had gotten from Sam. So much pain. It wasn't fair. He deserved a quieter death, an easier death. She curled forward, resting her head on the cool marble of the headstone.
"I don't know how…" she let her voice trail off, imagining Sam's voice telling her softly that she did know…she just didn't want to admit it. "You're right of course."
She sat back, wiping her face. "I'm going to miss the hell out of you two. I hope you know that. Knew that…" She stood, pulling a silver flask from her back pocket. She opened it, took a sip, then poured the rest out.
"Give 'em hell, boys. Give 'em hell."
Title: Give 'Em Hell (All Keeper Verse Here)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4170
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean (long term established wincest), Dana (Dean's daughter)/Scott (OMC), OCs
Summary: Takes place many years after the last entry. Dana is in the final stages of her second pregnancy, and Sam and Dean are looking for a little quiet time alone before the birth...but when they stumble on a haunting, and Dana goes into labor early, tragedy strikes
A/Ns & Warnings: This story has been a long time coming. I have known this is how this verse would end for years. I have avoided writing it for that long. Alas, Brain has needed catharsis this week or something. CHARACTER DEATH. Bring the tissues. As a note, this doesn't mean I'll never write in Keeper again, just that this is where the story ends...any new additions will be time stamps, fill in stories about things I glossed over, etc.
"Sam, have you seen John's blanket?"
He looked up from packing his bag to find Dean filling the doorway with a sleepy and weepy toddler in his arms. John rubbed at one red rimmed eye as Sam crossed the room. "I thought he was asleep."
"Yeah, so did I." Dean agree, passing him over to Sam. "As soon as I left the room, he was crying again. He won't sleep without the damn thing."
"Did you check downstairs?" Sam asked, cajoling John with a hand rubbing his back while he wrapped comfort and sleep around him like a blanket. Unlike Dana, who had been receptive to every touch of Sam's when she was this age, John seemed to fight it.
"I'll bet it got left at the daycare again." Dean dropped to his knees to look under the bed, then groaned when he tried to get up. "Damn."
Sam snickered and offered him a hand. Dean grabbed it and used it to leverage himself up off the floor. "Not a word."
Sam shook his head. "Wouldn't dream of it, old man."
Dean smacked him playfully and moved around the bed. "Still young enough to spank your sorry behind."
Sam reached out to caress him mentally. "Better watch your mouth, or someone will be getting a spanking."
"Do the two of you ever not think about sex?" Dana asked, exasperated as she came in the room.
"Do you ever knock?" Dean asked.
"My house now, why knock?"
John lifted his head as Dana's voice filled the room. "Mommy."
She held up the blanket. "I got to the hospital and realized this was in the back seat." She reached to take John, but Sam shook his head.
"I've got him. You do not need to be lifting."
She rolled her eyes but handed him the blanket. "Fine, but stop spoiling him. Don't think I don't know about the cookies."
Sam left her with Dean and took John back to his room, the room that had been Dana's once upon a time. He settled John down on the bed and gave him the blanket, still trying to urge sleep onto him. "Stay." John said as Sam got up to leave him.
"Okay, for a minute." Sam put his hand down on the tired little body, rubbing his thumb over his tummy. He was clearly tired but not ready to sleep. "Is something wrong, John?"
"No go, SamSam."
"Is that what this is about? You know me and Grandpa will only be gone a few days." Sam and Dean had planned a long weekend away, a little respite before chaos erupted in the Winchester house. Dana was still a month from her due date, but she was carrying twins and the doctor had warned them she would probably go into labor early.
"Mommy." John rubbed at his eyes again and suddenly stopped fighting Sam's mental touch. Under the surface, he was afraid of something…but Sam couldn't read it clearly.
"Your mommy is just fine. Your daddy will be home tonight. Grandpa and I will be back in just a few days…and then you'll have new family. But right now, you need to take your nap." He took advantage of being unhindered by three year old will power and tapped John toward sleep.
"Is he down?" Dana asked as Sam emerged from the bedroom.
"He is now. He's worried about something though."
Dana made a face and headed for the stairs. "That's probably my fault. He crawled into bed with me last night and I had a nightmare."
Sam frowned and she shook her head. "Not that kind. Just…random…" She sighed heavily, her one hand rubbing lightly over her very large stomach as she turned into the living room. "Too much stress and not enough…oh." She pressed her hand flat against her stomach. "Wow. He's unhappy." She grabbed Sam's hand and pressed it to her stomach. He could feel the tiny foot kicking out at them, a tiny life fighting to be heard.
When it had subsided she sighed and lowered herself into the chair. "It was just a dream."
"Tell me anyway?" Sam asked, sitting on the end of the coffee table and reaching for her hand."
"Sometimes I wonder which one of us is the mother here, Sam." Dana said, though she took his hands and closed her eyes. She rubbed against his shields with her own before dropping them and guiding him in.
Her mind had become a very ordered, very peaceful place. Most of the time anyway. She rolled out the dream, which was mostly emotion…anxiety, separation and loss…but there was something about him…about him and Dean and a hunt. It faded though before it became anything more than a passing thought and then Dana was pulling them back up. "See? Nothing."
"I just wanted to be sure." Sam patted her knee.
"I should get back to the hospital." She pushed herself up, rubbing at her lower back.
"You work too much for a woman who is eight months pregnant with twins."
"And you worry too much for someone who isn't." Dana kissed his cheek and grabbed her keys. "I'll be home early." She stopped at the door. "One of you will remember to pick Scott up at the airport at 3?"
"We aren't that forgetful, Dana." Dean said as he joined Sam.
She waved as she left and Dean slipped his arms around Sam. "Now, what was that about spankings?"
Sam smiled and slipped his fingers into the back pocket of Dean's jeans. It still amazed him sometimes…all these years together and just a touch or the sound of Dean's voice could make him smile.
"John is down for his nap, we have at least four hours before we have to go get Scott." Dean kissed over his chin. "I say we use the time wisely."
Sam kissed him, tongues tangling as he turned them toward the stairs. "You're incorrigible."
"And you love it." Dean responded.
"Love you." Sam murmured, opening up their connection to full and pouring his affection into Dean. "So fucking much."
"Sounding like a girl, Sammy." Dean brought up an image of them fucking, Sam on his knees with Dean behind him. Sam's cock responded predictably. "So easy." Dean murmured out loud as his hand stroked along Sam's cock.
"I'll show you girl." Sam countered, filling Dean's head with another image, of Dean on his back, legs in the air while Sam fucked down into him hard.
They were half way up the stairs, still holding one another. "Careful now, or I'll just take you here." Dean said.
"And then neither of us will walk for two days." Sam said with a laugh. "Remember the last time you tried to get adventurous?"
Dean made a face and pushed him up the stairs. "Get moving then."
It was difficult, this getting older thing. It was easy to forget when they were together that they were both getting too old for some things. A memory floated between them, their first Christmas, when Dana was still just a baby. Thirty three years had passed, almost thirty four.
So much had changed since then, and yet, the memory was as fresh as if it had just happened. Dean's hand slid through his hair, drawing him into the room that once had been Sam's, and now served as a guest room. Sam wrapped the dampening field around them, just in case Dana happened home early again, or John woke up.
His fingers worked Dean's belt open while Dean kissed a trail down his neck, licking and nipping until Sam's fingers found his skin. Then Dean tipped his head back, offering Sam his neck while his fingers popped the button on Sam's jeans.
It took longer than it used to to get down to skin and they both slowed down once there, easing onto the bed. Dean reached for lube, and Sam reached inside him to brush a virtual finger over the spot inside him that had made many of the last few years possible, letting the feeling of warmth and healing flow through him and pushing it across his connection to Dean.
Dean wriggled under him, grinning as he popped the top on the bottle of lube. Sam let him dribble it into his hand, moving so that he was kneeling between Dean's knees, and as he slid that slick hand down to work him open, Dean lifted and tilted his hips, getting a pillow under him to make the angle work.
Sam eased in, filling him at the same time he opened their connection full tilt, letting himself revel in the feeling of being as close as they could be, body and mind connected. Memories spilled out between them, a lifetime of moments, touches and kisses, sex…Sam laughed, letting Dean roll them so that he was on top.
The memories were increasingly of sex as Dean rocked on top of him…sex in Yosemite, sex in the car, sex in a motel room when they'd finished a hunt…sex the first time after Sam had nearly died…after he'd gone away to get himself back…Sam's orgasm caught him by surprise, ripping through him quickly. The look on Dean's face showed his surprise as well. Sam flipped them back so that Dean was on his back, easing out of him and moving down to take Dean in his mouth.
"Remember the first time I did this?" Sam pulled the image up, Dean on the hood of the Impala, so desperate and needy and very drunk. They'd only just met, and Sam wasn't even aware of who he was…not really.
Dean countered with other memories, after their bond had developed, when they could touch each other in ways that went way beyond the physical. Sam took the hint, wrapping his mind around Dean's, using all of his senses to focus on Dean's cock.
Seconds later, his brother was thrusting up and cussing, his come filling Sam's mouth. Sam slid up along his sweaty body and laid beside him, gathering Dean close. They would have plenty of time for more, once they'd picked up Scott and had driven out to the quiet bed and breakfast where they would spend the long weekend.
"Are we really this old?" Dean asked as they sat out on the balcony of the house, looking out over a ravine that cut through the area. It was only ten at night, and they were the only guests at the B&B.
Sam gave him the cold beer he'd brought up from the kitchen. "Well, you are. I'm just keeping you company."
"Funny." Dean took the beer and shook his head. "I never expected to live to see fifty." He said it softly, not really looking at Sam. "Hell, I never expected to have a kid, or to fall in love…before I met you, my thoughts about the future got about as far as whether or not I'd get laid that night."
Sam smiled, leaning on the railing to look out into the fog that rose up out of the ravine. "My future was…mapped out. I just didn't know it." He took a sip of his beer. "And here we are, both of us getting old, a brilliant daughter about to give you brilliant grandkids, and…" He squinted, feeling something moving in the mist below.
"Sam?"
He shook his head and stepped back, sitting beside Dean. "It's nothing. We're not here to…Drink your beer."
Dean was frowning at him. "What was it?"
Sam sighed. "Not sure. But we're here to relax. I'm sure it's nothing."
Except he wasn't sure, and Dean knew it. For the moment though, he chose to ignore it. "We're on vacation, Sammy." Dean said after a moment. "Whatever it is, can wait."
"Oh." Sam turned away from Dean and the lady who ran the B&B, moving away from their conversation about the horrible accidents on the bridge that crossed the ravine. Dana was clearly trying to get his attention. He stepped out of the dining room and reached across the distance for her.
Mostly what he got was stabbing pain and cursing. "Labor?" Her response was nearly violent but wordless and Sam chuckled. "Okay, we'll head home. Take it easy. Try not to break Scott's hand."
He stepped back into the dining room and lifted his hand. "Ah, Dana just went into labor."
Dean stood so fast he knocked the chair over. "She's early."
Sam nodded. "Doctor warned she might be. Told her we'd get on the road."
"Yeah, I'll get out stuff." Dean raced for the stairs, leaving Sam with the older woman.
"Sorry, Mrs. Duffy. I'd love to hear the rest of the story." Sam offered her a smile.
"You really shouldn't leave this late." Mrs. Duffy said.
"We'll be fine." Sam said, taking his bag from Dean as he hit the bottom of the stairs. "We'll come back."
Dean got behind the wheel and started the car. Sam dumped his bag in the trunk and paused, feeling oddly like he was being watched. He glanced around him and shook it off.
They pulled out of the winding driveway and onto the two lane road that led to the bridge…and Sam felt it again. "Dean….stop."
Dean looked at him like he was crazy, but stepped on the break. "We're not alone."
"I don't see anything." Dean said softly, his hand slipping under the seat for his gun.
"Me either. Doesn't mean it isn't there. Just…go slowly."
Dean nodded, setting the gun on the seat. He eased them forward, both of them watching around the car for signs. They moved forward, onto the bridge. For a moment Sam thought maybe whatever it was that he'd felt had moved on, then he felt a surge of rage and the car shuddered under him.
"Dean!"
"Yeah, I know." He was all but standing on the brake, attempting to stop their slide toward the railing as the car was dragged out to the center of the bridge and off to the side. Dean steered hard to the right, gritting his teeth. "I can't…fuck, Sam, get out."
Dean pushed him and Sam grabbed for him, even as the car swerved. "Dean!" Sam screamed as the door opened, as he was thrown out of the car. He slammed into the wall of the bridge, his head crashing into concrete. "Dean!"
The car spun, slamming into the railing. The bridge groaned, the railing giving way and the Impala was slipping through the hole. "Dean!" Sam scrambled for the twisted and broken concrete, his mind reaching for Dean's, surprised when Dean grabbed on to him too.
The car was creaking as it was pushed off the bridge. Sam was bleeding from more places than he could count as he crawled closer.
"Window"
Sam dove at the car, his hand breaking through the driver's side window.
Dean's hand found his, even as the car went crashing over the rail. Glass broke around Dean as the car went down, slicing Sam's hand and Dean's face and Sam fought to pull him up with blood slicking his hand, making it hard to keep hold.
Dean looked up at him, blinking through blood in his eyes. "Behind you."
Sam didn't have to look to feel it, know it was there. It screamed rage at them and Sam could feel it shoving him.
"Sam!"
Somewhere below them, the car found solid ground, exploding upward in a fiery blast that Sam half imagined he could feel.
His bad shoulder was screeching at the stretch and weight he was asking it to hold, his foot was slipping on the concrete. "Can't hold." Sam's left hand was wrapped around some exposed rebar, but he was slipping.
"Let go."
"No." Sam answered audibly, shaking his head.
"Let me go." Dean sent a little more forcefully. His mind caressed against Sam's, warm and loving. "Take care of our girl."
His hand went slack in Sam's and it made it that much harder to hold on. "Dean! No. No!"
The ghost shoved and pushed and Sam's foot fell clear of the concrete, his body following it over the edge so that it was just his left hand on the rebar holding the both of them. Dean was slipping from his fingers.
Sam screamed as his hand slipped from the rebar, reaching out with his mind and free hand for anything, but there was only Dean…and a long drop below them. "Dean." Sam wrapped his mind around his brother, determined to at least spare him some of the pain to come. The ground was rushing up, even as Sam managed to get his arms around Dean too.
"Love you."
Sam pulled as much energy from the air around him and from Dean as he could, hoping against hope he might somehow cushion the blow. Somewhere in the midst he felt Dana questing, worried, and he pushed her away, slammed up the wall and closed his eyes.
The first touch of something other than air seemed surreal, then came the cracking sound as the tree broke beneath them, sending them hurtling down. The ground grabbed at them with greedy hands, the sound sickening.
Then there was silence and darkness.
Something was buzzing in his head…attention…focus…it hurt, but he couldn't place why.
"Sam."
Sam. Yes. That was right. Sam. He was Sam. Or parts of him were. The parts that hurt.
"Sam."
Annoying, like a bug in his ear. He tried to shake his head to make it stop, but he didn't think he actually moved.
"SAM!"
Dana. Suddenly he knew the voice, knew the fear, knew he was in trouble. He knew he was hurt and it was bad, though at the moment he had no idea how or why. Just that it was bad.
Fall. Ghost. He should hurt more than he did, he was fairly sure of it. He could taste blood, flat and warm on his tongue. Dana was buzzing at him…he could feel her, but not understand her.
Healing.
He reached for it, for the power that was uniquely his. It flared and for a brief moment warmth filled him, then agony crashed in over him like a smothering blanket. He was vaguely aware of screaming…and slowly realized it was his own voice.
"Sam, answer me."
"Hurts." Sam sent back, though he wasn't sure it actually went anywhere.
He was forgetting something…something important.
Dean.
"Dean?" The word came out a gurgle, hard on his ears. He had no sense of his brother. Nothing. "Dean!"
"Sam, I can help."
"No." He pushed her away, opened his eyes, though he didn't see anything right away. It was dark, cold. "Dean!"
Slowly, Sam turned his head. Dean's broken body lay just out of arm's reach, bloody and twisted in impossible ways. "No…Dean…Dean!"
Sam tried to focus on his chest, on seeing whether or not he was breathing…and after a long moment, his chest rose slightly and fell again. "He's alive."
Sam stretched his arm, but couldn't reach him. He had to touch him, had to know…His fingers dug into the dirt under him, pulling him a few inches closer. Dana was still there in his head and he couldn't push her away and focus on what he needed to do.
As he moved, his body screamed out its injury, worse then any pain he'd ever known. His legs were shattered, the bones splintered. His bad hip was busted into pieces, that arm and shoulder beyond repair. His chest rattled as he moved, the sound of his breathing wet and sticky.
Each inch was painstaking and horrific, pausing to breathe through the pain, pushing that tiny blob of healing power just to keep himself from passing out from the pain.
His hand finally found Dean's, and his thoughts rushed across the connection, recoiling as he encountered the furious agony that filled Dean's mind and body. There was massive brain injury, bleeding, swelling…it crowded in against the cacophony of pain feeding in from the rest of his body.
His heart was still beating, but only barely. Sam reached into him, pushing some of it away, behind walls that wouldn't hold long, finally finding the core of Dean all huddled underneath. "Dean."
There wasn't a lot of conscious thought, but Dean latched onto him. "SamSamSamSamSam."
"Yes."
"Sam, please answer me." Dana, trying to find them in the dark.
Sam tried to find a comfortable way to hold Dean's presence, to protect them both from the slow death slipping in to take them away. "Dean, stay with me just a little." Sam whispered to him, no longer fighting Dana's touch.
"Sammy…cold…"
"I know. Dana. Sam did what he could to bridge the gap, but his control was fading.
"Daddy?" Dana's grief reverberated through them and Sam almost lost the connection. "Help is coming. Hold on."
No help was going to get there fast enough. "Dana…love you…"
"No…not yet, let me…I need you to…" Words fell away then and pictures filled them, two tiny new lives, red faces and dark hair, pink blankets. "Sam, Dad…please…"
Somewhere in the distance he could hear sirens, but they were too far away. Dean's body shivered under his hand. His mind clung to Sam's. "Love you so much Sammy."
"Dean." He didn't have words to say goodbye to either of them, he could only hold the dying ember of Dean's life as it faded, and slowly let go of the distant spark that was Dana…it was colder then, darker.
For the briefest moment Sam imagined he saw a face in that darkness…half familiar, a welcome smile…but he couldn't open his eyes again. It hurt too much. "Dean…"
She was ready for them when they came. Two police officers, with their hats in their hands, their gentle words only confirming what she had witnessed long distance, verifying the cold, empty space where Sam had been ever since she could remember.
Scott stood with her as she listened to them tell her about the car and the bridge, held her up as the door closed. She wanted to be strong for them, but the loss cut through her stomach like a knife and she couldn't breathe.
It was better than the numbness that followed, mindlessly moving through the motions of taking care of her children, planning funerals. There were things to be done, rituals to be observed. Neither of them would want to linger.
It was a funeral worthy of two hunters, of two men who loved one another so completely that they overcame obstacles most of the world would never understand to be together. In the end, it was fitting somehow that they died together.
And, if that bridge strangely blew up one night a few months later, dropping concrete and rebar, and more than one set of remains into the ravine, no one could say for certain how or why.
But a few days later, Dana knelt on the grass in an old Lawrence graveyard, sitting with one of her girls on her lap, while Scott held the other. John, who had been there before, traced a finger over the name on the stone.
"Winchester. Like me."
"That's right, John." Dana blinked back tears. "My Papa is here, he was John too."
She opened the box Scott had set on the blanket. Two urns inside it held the remains of her fathers. She shifted her daughter to Scott's other arm and lifted them both. "And now…we're bringing your Papa and SamSam to be with him."
She opened the box that held her grandfather's urn and settled the others in with it. Their names had already been carved into the headstone, under Mary and Michael and John.
Dana held her son to her for a moment, then gestured to Scott to bring the girls closer. She took the nearer of them and turned to face the stone. "I wanted all of you to meet our girls. They're six months old today. This is Samantha Missouri Winchester-Wu and Deana Mary Winchester-Wu. I know…it's a mouthful." She made no attempt to hide or wipe away the tears.
After a few minutes, Scott stood, putting Deana in the stroller and coming back for Samantha. "Come on John, let's give mommy a few minutes."
Dana bowed her head when they were gone, her mind filling with the last images she had gotten from Sam. So much pain. It wasn't fair. He deserved a quieter death, an easier death. She curled forward, resting her head on the cool marble of the headstone.
"I don't know how…" she let her voice trail off, imagining Sam's voice telling her softly that she did know…she just didn't want to admit it. "You're right of course."
She sat back, wiping her face. "I'm going to miss the hell out of you two. I hope you know that. Knew that…" She stood, pulling a silver flask from her back pocket. She opened it, took a sip, then poured the rest out.
"Give 'em hell, boys. Give 'em hell."