Facing Reality
AN: here is yet more wincest, hehe ><; my journal has been taken over. This just popped into my head and I couldn't get it out so I just had to write it. hopefully it hasn't been done and you guys like it!!! It was half written on my phone btw, I've edited it but please excuse minor mistakes!! XD thanks for reading! <3
FACING REALITY
Chapter one
It wasn't the first time that they'd hunted a djinn. Not by a long shot.
It wasn't even Dean's first time letting one of the things get to him. In those last, split seconds before Deans life started over he had a sudden and frighteningly clear understanding of what was about to happen.
He knew that it was going to get him, tie his body up in its lair and drain the life from him bit by bit while he thought he was living out his dream life. He also knew that he was going to let it.
That was perhaps the only thing that really surprised him.
They had won. The apocalypse was over, completely avoided in fact.
Sam was alive and well, he had his soul back and things were better between them than they had been in so long.
Everything was fixed. So why did he want things different again?
Why at the last second did he hesitate and let the thing take him away?
He felt the cold fingers slide around him like ice and suddenly he was being shaken awake.
It took longer than it should have for Dean to figure out where he was, for his eyes to adjust to the bright light and for Sam's hands on him to feel like anything other than the cold grip of the unknown.
Finally, he blinked up at his brother's concerned face and pushed up into a sitting position.
Sam stepped back and sank into the bed next to Dean's making him realize with a weird sinking feeling that he was in their room.
It was a particularly sleazy place that smelled a lot like Cheetos when they'd first checked in two nights ago, but right now the curtains were pulled back, the sun shining into the room and making it bearable. Sam was staring at him, that look on his face that said clearly that he was waiting and it was just so 'normal' that Dean had to look away.
“What time is it?” he asked.
“Three,” Sam answered. “You fell asleep about an hour ago.”
Dean looked down at the bed, spotting the remote lying next to his thigh. An episode of Touched by An Angel was playing on TV and he shut it off with a shudder before Monica started glowing.
“You started moaning,” Sam said. “And then crying out-”
“Okay,” Dean interrupted. “I don't need a play-by-play, Sammy.”
He pushed up out of bed, ignoring Sam’s searching eyes and went to the washroom. He locked the door behind him and spent a minute splashing his face with cold water before he finally looked at himself.
He was pale and his eyes wide but he was otherwise completely normal. No sign of any scuffle, not a scratch on him. In fact the only true sign that anything had happened was that Dean’s hands were still shaking.
When he finally came out Sam was sitting at the small table, hunched over his lap top. Relieved that he was distracted, Dean pulled open his bag looking for a clean shirt.
The one he was wearing was cold with sweat which was kind of embarrassing considering how cold the weather was in North Carolina right now. Besides it hadn’t been such a scary dream to begin with, and definitely not scary enough to land him in a cold sweat. Dean had dealt with scarier things in real life without so much as flinching. Hell, even the fairies had given him more trouble.
“So, do you want to talk about it?”
Dean flinched at the sudden sound of Sam’s voice and sighed, turning on his brother.
“What’s there to talk about Sam? It was just a nightmare.”
Sam raised his eyebrows and nodded, clearly stopping himself from saying more. Maybe he wanted to point out that it must have been bad if Dean had been scared. Maybe he wanted to point out that it was possibly the first time he’d seen his brother jerk awake in fear.
Dean yanked a shirt free and pulled it on, ignoring the feel of Sam’s questioning gaze on his back. Man, it sucked living in such close
quarters sometimes.
“Anything on the case?” he asked.
“No,” Sam answered grimly. “Emily Carson’s husband confessed to the murder this morning. He had the murder weapon hidden in his dashboard.”
“So the vengeful spirit?”
“Definitely not there.”
Dean let out a sigh of frustration. They had driven four hours out of their way to check out the possible haunting the day before but nothing substantial had showed up and the EMF hadn’t even blipped.
“But,” Sam said, suddenly sounding hopeful, “there’s what looks like a werewolf in Ohio.”
That comment had Dean pausing for several reasons.
He looked at Sam, unsure for a moment whether he was pulling his leg or being serious.
They hadn’t seen a single werewolf since Madison and now that
Sam had his soul back Dean hadn’t really thought they would ever hunt one if they could avoid it.
Then of course there was the other issue.
“Is this really the time?”
Sam just looked at him.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
He looked genuinely confused which just made Dean’s head hurt.
“Man, why are you putting up such a fight on this one?” he asked.
Frowning, Sam shut his computer, fixing his full attention on his brother.
“Dean, I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“Do I have to spell it out for you?” he asked. “The mother.”
Sam raised a brow and snorted.
“Okay, Dean, maybe you need to spell it out a little more clearly than that.”
“Forget it,” Dean muttered. Sam had been more or less avoiding the issue since The Mother had risen properly, dragging Dean on any hunt in the vicinity. What was another one?
“You want to go hunt a werewolf, we’ll go hunt a werewolf, but sooner or later we’re going to have to deal with this.”
He stuffed his things into his bag before Sam even had the chance to stand up and a moment later was out in the cool air, not so softly shutting the door behind him.
A minute later Sam was behind him, looking genuinely confused and uncertain.
The expression kicked Dean in the gut and he looked away. After so long without his emotions they looked almost magnified in Sam now. And in all honestly, he had never liked upsetting his brother.
They drove in silence for more than two hours before they had to stop for gas. When Dean got back in the car and started to pull out of the lot Sam placed a hand on his leg.
It was done in such a comforting way that the tension literally drained from Dean before he really registered it. He shot Sam a look and without having to be told, his brother pulled his hand away, crossing his arms, and continuing to stare out the window as he had been before.
They did drive through for dinner and still didn’t get into town until after midnight. It would have been perfect timing if the lunar cycle was on, but they were a night early.
He stretched by the car while Sam checked them in, his joints cracking and popping in the cool night air. Whatever tension had filled the car for most of the day had long since drained away over the hours but it all came flooding back when Dean opened the door and saw their room.
It was fairly large for what Dean was use to. The TV looked to be from this decade and the desk was big enough for Sam to spread his research out.
Dean would have said that they'd lucked out if not for the bed. The single, large, king sized bed that was erected in the centre of the room like a freaking altar.
“What the hell is that?” he asked gesturing at the monstrosity.
Sam shrugged.
“I could do without the pink sheets, but it doesn't look that bad.”
He dropped his pack onto the floor and shrugged out of his jacket while Dean stared at him.
Sam had never once asked for a single bed for the two of them but other people made assumptions of their own on more than one occasion.
“Do you want me to go get a different room?” he asked.
Sam shrugged. “This room is fine.”
He opened the washroom door.
“Dude, there's an actual bath tub!”
“Uh-huh. When was the last time you actually fit in a bath tub?”
Sam laughed.
“Good point,” he said.
When Sam came out of the room, Dean was still standing at the door looking in.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Dean gestured to the bed with an awkward shrug. Did this really require an explanation? It was weird to sleep together unless they really had to. They weren’t little kids anymore.
“Were there no rooms with two separate beds?”
“Dean…” Sam stared at Dean for a moment and then sat slowly on the edge of the bed and with a sinking feeling Dean finally realized that something was wrong.
“You’re confusing the hell out of me,” he finally whispered. “Did I do something?”
Dean opened and closed his mouth drawing a blank on how to answer that.
What was there to tell?
“You got one king sized bed instead of queens?”
He left the door coming to stand in front of Sam. His brother had made his hackles rise more times than he could count over the past year but never for something like this. Never for reaching out and taking Deans hand in his own, for stroking his skin with a callused finger.
“I thought that's how we did things now?” he asked.
Sam’s evident uncertainty made Deans gut twist.
His voice was shaking but he asked anyway.
“And why would you think that?”
Sam just looked up at him, his eyes pleading with full force for Dean to just understand.
“Whats the point of having your own bed if you're only ever going to be sleeping in mine?”
Maybe Sam was the college boy but Dean didn't need a fancy education to know what Sam meant. The look in his eyes, their joined hands, the goddamn bed made it all very obvious.
Chapter two
FACING REALITY
Chapter one
It wasn't the first time that they'd hunted a djinn. Not by a long shot.
It wasn't even Dean's first time letting one of the things get to him. In those last, split seconds before Deans life started over he had a sudden and frighteningly clear understanding of what was about to happen.
He knew that it was going to get him, tie his body up in its lair and drain the life from him bit by bit while he thought he was living out his dream life. He also knew that he was going to let it.
That was perhaps the only thing that really surprised him.
They had won. The apocalypse was over, completely avoided in fact.
Sam was alive and well, he had his soul back and things were better between them than they had been in so long.
Everything was fixed. So why did he want things different again?
Why at the last second did he hesitate and let the thing take him away?
He felt the cold fingers slide around him like ice and suddenly he was being shaken awake.
It took longer than it should have for Dean to figure out where he was, for his eyes to adjust to the bright light and for Sam's hands on him to feel like anything other than the cold grip of the unknown.
Finally, he blinked up at his brother's concerned face and pushed up into a sitting position.
Sam stepped back and sank into the bed next to Dean's making him realize with a weird sinking feeling that he was in their room.
It was a particularly sleazy place that smelled a lot like Cheetos when they'd first checked in two nights ago, but right now the curtains were pulled back, the sun shining into the room and making it bearable. Sam was staring at him, that look on his face that said clearly that he was waiting and it was just so 'normal' that Dean had to look away.
“What time is it?” he asked.
“Three,” Sam answered. “You fell asleep about an hour ago.”
Dean looked down at the bed, spotting the remote lying next to his thigh. An episode of Touched by An Angel was playing on TV and he shut it off with a shudder before Monica started glowing.
“You started moaning,” Sam said. “And then crying out-”
“Okay,” Dean interrupted. “I don't need a play-by-play, Sammy.”
He pushed up out of bed, ignoring Sam’s searching eyes and went to the washroom. He locked the door behind him and spent a minute splashing his face with cold water before he finally looked at himself.
He was pale and his eyes wide but he was otherwise completely normal. No sign of any scuffle, not a scratch on him. In fact the only true sign that anything had happened was that Dean’s hands were still shaking.
When he finally came out Sam was sitting at the small table, hunched over his lap top. Relieved that he was distracted, Dean pulled open his bag looking for a clean shirt.
The one he was wearing was cold with sweat which was kind of embarrassing considering how cold the weather was in North Carolina right now. Besides it hadn’t been such a scary dream to begin with, and definitely not scary enough to land him in a cold sweat. Dean had dealt with scarier things in real life without so much as flinching. Hell, even the fairies had given him more trouble.
“So, do you want to talk about it?”
Dean flinched at the sudden sound of Sam’s voice and sighed, turning on his brother.
“What’s there to talk about Sam? It was just a nightmare.”
Sam raised his eyebrows and nodded, clearly stopping himself from saying more. Maybe he wanted to point out that it must have been bad if Dean had been scared. Maybe he wanted to point out that it was possibly the first time he’d seen his brother jerk awake in fear.
Dean yanked a shirt free and pulled it on, ignoring the feel of Sam’s questioning gaze on his back. Man, it sucked living in such close
quarters sometimes.
“Anything on the case?” he asked.
“No,” Sam answered grimly. “Emily Carson’s husband confessed to the murder this morning. He had the murder weapon hidden in his dashboard.”
“So the vengeful spirit?”
“Definitely not there.”
Dean let out a sigh of frustration. They had driven four hours out of their way to check out the possible haunting the day before but nothing substantial had showed up and the EMF hadn’t even blipped.
“But,” Sam said, suddenly sounding hopeful, “there’s what looks like a werewolf in Ohio.”
That comment had Dean pausing for several reasons.
He looked at Sam, unsure for a moment whether he was pulling his leg or being serious.
They hadn’t seen a single werewolf since Madison and now that
Sam had his soul back Dean hadn’t really thought they would ever hunt one if they could avoid it.
Then of course there was the other issue.
“Is this really the time?”
Sam just looked at him.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
He looked genuinely confused which just made Dean’s head hurt.
“Man, why are you putting up such a fight on this one?” he asked.
Frowning, Sam shut his computer, fixing his full attention on his brother.
“Dean, I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“Do I have to spell it out for you?” he asked. “The mother.”
Sam raised a brow and snorted.
“Okay, Dean, maybe you need to spell it out a little more clearly than that.”
“Forget it,” Dean muttered. Sam had been more or less avoiding the issue since The Mother had risen properly, dragging Dean on any hunt in the vicinity. What was another one?
“You want to go hunt a werewolf, we’ll go hunt a werewolf, but sooner or later we’re going to have to deal with this.”
He stuffed his things into his bag before Sam even had the chance to stand up and a moment later was out in the cool air, not so softly shutting the door behind him.
A minute later Sam was behind him, looking genuinely confused and uncertain.
The expression kicked Dean in the gut and he looked away. After so long without his emotions they looked almost magnified in Sam now. And in all honestly, he had never liked upsetting his brother.
They drove in silence for more than two hours before they had to stop for gas. When Dean got back in the car and started to pull out of the lot Sam placed a hand on his leg.
It was done in such a comforting way that the tension literally drained from Dean before he really registered it. He shot Sam a look and without having to be told, his brother pulled his hand away, crossing his arms, and continuing to stare out the window as he had been before.
They did drive through for dinner and still didn’t get into town until after midnight. It would have been perfect timing if the lunar cycle was on, but they were a night early.
He stretched by the car while Sam checked them in, his joints cracking and popping in the cool night air. Whatever tension had filled the car for most of the day had long since drained away over the hours but it all came flooding back when Dean opened the door and saw their room.
It was fairly large for what Dean was use to. The TV looked to be from this decade and the desk was big enough for Sam to spread his research out.
Dean would have said that they'd lucked out if not for the bed. The single, large, king sized bed that was erected in the centre of the room like a freaking altar.
“What the hell is that?” he asked gesturing at the monstrosity.
Sam shrugged.
“I could do without the pink sheets, but it doesn't look that bad.”
He dropped his pack onto the floor and shrugged out of his jacket while Dean stared at him.
Sam had never once asked for a single bed for the two of them but other people made assumptions of their own on more than one occasion.
“Do you want me to go get a different room?” he asked.
Sam shrugged. “This room is fine.”
He opened the washroom door.
“Dude, there's an actual bath tub!”
“Uh-huh. When was the last time you actually fit in a bath tub?”
Sam laughed.
“Good point,” he said.
When Sam came out of the room, Dean was still standing at the door looking in.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Dean gestured to the bed with an awkward shrug. Did this really require an explanation? It was weird to sleep together unless they really had to. They weren’t little kids anymore.
“Were there no rooms with two separate beds?”
“Dean…” Sam stared at Dean for a moment and then sat slowly on the edge of the bed and with a sinking feeling Dean finally realized that something was wrong.
“You’re confusing the hell out of me,” he finally whispered. “Did I do something?”
Dean opened and closed his mouth drawing a blank on how to answer that.
What was there to tell?
“You got one king sized bed instead of queens?”
He left the door coming to stand in front of Sam. His brother had made his hackles rise more times than he could count over the past year but never for something like this. Never for reaching out and taking Deans hand in his own, for stroking his skin with a callused finger.
“I thought that's how we did things now?” he asked.
Sam’s evident uncertainty made Deans gut twist.
His voice was shaking but he asked anyway.
“And why would you think that?”
Sam just looked up at him, his eyes pleading with full force for Dean to just understand.
“Whats the point of having your own bed if you're only ever going to be sleeping in mine?”
Maybe Sam was the college boy but Dean didn't need a fancy education to know what Sam meant. The look in his eyes, their joined hands, the goddamn bed made it all very obvious.
Chapter two