FIC - Then And Now
title: Then And Now
pairing: Sam/Dean, mentions of Sam/Jessica
rating: R
a/n: pre-series and spoilers for season 1, some talk of underage action. I'm working on something else, but this one just came to me so I figured I'd throw it up here on my journal and trust my LJ buds to tell me whether or not it's awful :)
summary: How it started, and how it started again.
After Jericho, when Dean had thought he’d said a goodbye to Sam that would be long-lasting, if not permanent, he’d ended up going right back and dragging his brother from the fire that engulfed his apartment. They stood for a while, just watching while the emergency crews did their jobs, but it’s not like either of them thought a paramedic would be bringing Jess out on a stretcher and hurrying her into the back of an ambulance. They both knew it was too late for that before the first fire truck arrived on the scene.
Dean put his arms around his brother’s shoulders as he shook and cried. “God, Sam, I’m sorry, so fucking sorry, man”, he said, as he tried to take on some of the weight, though there was no way for him to really know the level of grief Sam must be feeling. He’d tried to make light of the situation when he’d met Jessica, giving her a flirty smile and making a comment about her tiny little Smurf t-shirt when he’d first gotten a look at her. But Sam had loved this girl, and now she was gone. Dean remembered losing his mother the same way, but the emotions surrounding Sam’s loss were obviously so very different.
The truth was that it was such a terribly conflicting moment for Dean when he was introduced to Jess. The part of him that wanted Sam to have this “normal” life, whatever the fuck that meant, was glad that he was here in this nice little apartment with a pretty girl who loved him and looked at him like he hung the moon. But then there was that piece of him that remembered the intimacy they had shared when they were teenagers, before Sam had cooled things down between them physically, and he felt like someone was prying at the edges of the hole that had been left in Dean’s heart all those years ago.
***********************************
The very first time they’d kissed was a memory that was etched into Sam’s brain and body like a brand, Dean a little tipsy from having a few beers while their Dad was gone, Sam completely sober and only 13 years old and leaning across the stained and faded sofa to press his lips to his brother’s, desperately hoping not to get his ass handed to him, instead having Dean fall into the kiss like it was the most natural thing in the world, Dean’s hands moving to cup Sam’s cheek and Sam feeling like he was falling down that first steep hill of the world’s most insane rollercoaster.
They enjoyed their newly-discovered world of kissing and touching and feeling even closer than they’d always been before, but they were still them, big brother and little brother. Sam trying to give Dean the stealth bird across the dinner table without Dad noticing, Dean wiping his dirty hands on Sam’s favorite shirt, the normal bouts of name-calling and pranks. It took a while before they did anything more physically serious, too long for Sam’s patience and not long enough for Dean’s sense of responsibility, but eventually all of that fell into place too. The first time Sam got his mouth around Dean’s cock, he thought he’d found Heaven. When Dean finally agreed to having sex, he cursed himself for having waited so long. And on top of all that, the words…mine, yours, love you, forever, so good, more, please. It just got better and better and they couldn’t live without it.
Until Sam stopped slipping into Dean’s bed and started making sure their knees or shoulders didn’t touch when they were sitting and watching a movie, until the days when John left them alone, Sam stopped falling into Dean’s arms to celebrate their opportunity to be openly affectionate and started spending all this time at the library or just aimlessly walking around whatever town they happened to be in.
At the time, Dean had figured it was because Sam was getting older and had realized that what they were doing was in some way wrong, or that he’d just outgrown this silly crush he had on his big brother. It felt like the most painful horrific rejection and, well, it was a rejection, but not for the reasons he’d thought. Soon enough, the truth came out. Sam had been taking the SAT, and applying to colleges, filling out scholarship applications, making his getaway plan and he felt like he had to pull away from his father and brother because he knew he’d be leaving them soon.
The truth was that at the time, Sam thought that it was the right thing to do. He needed to distance himself emotionally from Dean, because then it would be easier for them both when he left. He hadn’t outgrown anything, and the feelings he had for his brother were so much more than a crush. All the times he’d told Dean he’d love him for always, for longer than that, he’d meant it, with all of his heart. But it didn’t matter, because loving Dean and being with him in that way seemed even more unrealistic than the idea that Sam could have a shot at that longed-for and ever-evasive normal he thought he wanted so badly.
Of course, following the ages-old Winchester tradition, there was no conversation regarding these matters, because they didn’t have those kinds of talks. He just waited until he got his letter telling him that Stanford would take him and he wouldn’t have to pay a cent for his tuition, or books, or dorm room, because they wanted Sam Winchester. This Sam Winchester, not the one who could throw a knife from 50 feet and hit a target dead on, not the one who could spout exorcism rites in Latin on demand, not the one who knew how to make silver bullets by hand - the Sam Winchester who had aced the SAT, who had made straight As despite moving from one school to another every few months, who had an intellect that was dizzying even to the admissions staff at prestigious universities. The Sam Winchester who wrote the essay in his application about the philosophy of ethics and the question of honesty despite having been raised in a family that got by day to day because they were thieves and liars. That was who Stanford (among other schools) wanted, and that was who Sam knew he was. Had he learned the skill of the hunt? Well, of course he had, there was no other choice, but he had no passion for it.
Dean, and obviously John, had reacted badly to his announcement that he was leaving to go to university, mistaking Sam’s desertion of the hunting of supernatural creatures and specifically for Azazel for a lack of loyalty to his family, an insult to his mother who had died trying to save his life. They saw it only as a betrayal of their way of life, while Sam saw it as a way he could put it all behind him. He didn’t feel the loss of his mother any less profoundly than John and Dean, at least he didn’t think he did, but he saw the relentless pursuit of this yellow-eyed demon as a futile mission, and hell, what if they did find him? What if they found him and killed him? Would that get him back his mother? Would that give John his wife back? Would that have changed anything about the way they’d grown up? Fuck no, NO, it would not change anything, so why? Sam’s brother and his father had always looked at Sam as the one who was so emotional, when the truth was that he was just the one who was logical, analytical, pragmatic. And, when you get right down to it, selfish. Dean had never been able to deny Sam anything, and even John, in his own way, had tried so hard to make his younger son happy. Sam was used to getting what he wanted, it wasn't the prettiest part of his personality but it was the truth.
The night he was getting on the bus for Palo Alto, Sam had tried to get into bed with Dean, knowing it would be a long time before they saw each other again and hoping he hadn’t hurt his brother so badly that they couldn’t share just one last intimate time in each other’s arms. That was the moment when he felt exactly what Dean had felt - complete rejection and dismissal. Dean had turned him away and Sam would never, ever forget those words.
“Don’t you have more important things to do, Sam?”
Not even “Sammy”, which was what Dean had always called him when they were together in bed, just “Sam”. No more Sammy. He’d lost Sammy at that exact moment, and never gotten him back.
Sam’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces, but as he’d been taught, he held back the tears that were so close to the surface and moved away, leaving more than a handful of those pieces right there where they fell. He finished packing his duffle with the meager belongings he had - some clothes and an Evanescence CD and a few books and one stolen t-shirt of Dean’s that hadn’t been washed so it still smelled like him - and he walked out the front door of the rented apartment-of-the-month and made his way to the bus station on foot, alone.
Oh, he’d had fun in California. Frat parties, bars, all-night study sessions, soaking up knowledge about philosophy and law and society and history, being with girls, even with Jess, who he really had loved…yes, he did, he loved Jessica, but nothing he felt with her even remotely compared with what he’d felt for Dean for as long as he could remember.
******************************
So now, four years later, feeling Dean’s arms around his shoulders and watching as that life he’d created turned to cinders in front of him, he was shaken to his very foundation. What had he been thinking? That he could run from what he was destined for? That the yellow-eyed demon was just going to forget about him and his family? That he belonged anywhere else in the fucking world except for with his brother?
Neither of them was exactly sure when it was, definitely after that crazy lake fiasco in Wisconsin but before they met Bloody Mary in Toledo, Sam slid under the covers in Dean’s bed. Dean moved to make room for his brother, but neither of them touched or spoke to the other.
The night after they left Lawrence, Dean got into Sam’s bed and held on to him until they fell asleep.
When Sam got back to Indiana after having left his brother again, the floodgates opened and they were back there again, where they should have been all along. So much more of Sammy to learn, so many new scars on Dean to be explained and explored. There was a long road ahead, neither one of them would ever have imagined what they’d face over the next few years, but they knew they needed to be on that road together.
pairing: Sam/Dean, mentions of Sam/Jessica
rating: R
a/n: pre-series and spoilers for season 1, some talk of underage action. I'm working on something else, but this one just came to me so I figured I'd throw it up here on my journal and trust my LJ buds to tell me whether or not it's awful :)
summary: How it started, and how it started again.
After Jericho, when Dean had thought he’d said a goodbye to Sam that would be long-lasting, if not permanent, he’d ended up going right back and dragging his brother from the fire that engulfed his apartment. They stood for a while, just watching while the emergency crews did their jobs, but it’s not like either of them thought a paramedic would be bringing Jess out on a stretcher and hurrying her into the back of an ambulance. They both knew it was too late for that before the first fire truck arrived on the scene.
Dean put his arms around his brother’s shoulders as he shook and cried. “God, Sam, I’m sorry, so fucking sorry, man”, he said, as he tried to take on some of the weight, though there was no way for him to really know the level of grief Sam must be feeling. He’d tried to make light of the situation when he’d met Jessica, giving her a flirty smile and making a comment about her tiny little Smurf t-shirt when he’d first gotten a look at her. But Sam had loved this girl, and now she was gone. Dean remembered losing his mother the same way, but the emotions surrounding Sam’s loss were obviously so very different.
The truth was that it was such a terribly conflicting moment for Dean when he was introduced to Jess. The part of him that wanted Sam to have this “normal” life, whatever the fuck that meant, was glad that he was here in this nice little apartment with a pretty girl who loved him and looked at him like he hung the moon. But then there was that piece of him that remembered the intimacy they had shared when they were teenagers, before Sam had cooled things down between them physically, and he felt like someone was prying at the edges of the hole that had been left in Dean’s heart all those years ago.
***********************************
The very first time they’d kissed was a memory that was etched into Sam’s brain and body like a brand, Dean a little tipsy from having a few beers while their Dad was gone, Sam completely sober and only 13 years old and leaning across the stained and faded sofa to press his lips to his brother’s, desperately hoping not to get his ass handed to him, instead having Dean fall into the kiss like it was the most natural thing in the world, Dean’s hands moving to cup Sam’s cheek and Sam feeling like he was falling down that first steep hill of the world’s most insane rollercoaster.
They enjoyed their newly-discovered world of kissing and touching and feeling even closer than they’d always been before, but they were still them, big brother and little brother. Sam trying to give Dean the stealth bird across the dinner table without Dad noticing, Dean wiping his dirty hands on Sam’s favorite shirt, the normal bouts of name-calling and pranks. It took a while before they did anything more physically serious, too long for Sam’s patience and not long enough for Dean’s sense of responsibility, but eventually all of that fell into place too. The first time Sam got his mouth around Dean’s cock, he thought he’d found Heaven. When Dean finally agreed to having sex, he cursed himself for having waited so long. And on top of all that, the words…mine, yours, love you, forever, so good, more, please. It just got better and better and they couldn’t live without it.
Until Sam stopped slipping into Dean’s bed and started making sure their knees or shoulders didn’t touch when they were sitting and watching a movie, until the days when John left them alone, Sam stopped falling into Dean’s arms to celebrate their opportunity to be openly affectionate and started spending all this time at the library or just aimlessly walking around whatever town they happened to be in.
At the time, Dean had figured it was because Sam was getting older and had realized that what they were doing was in some way wrong, or that he’d just outgrown this silly crush he had on his big brother. It felt like the most painful horrific rejection and, well, it was a rejection, but not for the reasons he’d thought. Soon enough, the truth came out. Sam had been taking the SAT, and applying to colleges, filling out scholarship applications, making his getaway plan and he felt like he had to pull away from his father and brother because he knew he’d be leaving them soon.
The truth was that at the time, Sam thought that it was the right thing to do. He needed to distance himself emotionally from Dean, because then it would be easier for them both when he left. He hadn’t outgrown anything, and the feelings he had for his brother were so much more than a crush. All the times he’d told Dean he’d love him for always, for longer than that, he’d meant it, with all of his heart. But it didn’t matter, because loving Dean and being with him in that way seemed even more unrealistic than the idea that Sam could have a shot at that longed-for and ever-evasive normal he thought he wanted so badly.
Of course, following the ages-old Winchester tradition, there was no conversation regarding these matters, because they didn’t have those kinds of talks. He just waited until he got his letter telling him that Stanford would take him and he wouldn’t have to pay a cent for his tuition, or books, or dorm room, because they wanted Sam Winchester. This Sam Winchester, not the one who could throw a knife from 50 feet and hit a target dead on, not the one who could spout exorcism rites in Latin on demand, not the one who knew how to make silver bullets by hand - the Sam Winchester who had aced the SAT, who had made straight As despite moving from one school to another every few months, who had an intellect that was dizzying even to the admissions staff at prestigious universities. The Sam Winchester who wrote the essay in his application about the philosophy of ethics and the question of honesty despite having been raised in a family that got by day to day because they were thieves and liars. That was who Stanford (among other schools) wanted, and that was who Sam knew he was. Had he learned the skill of the hunt? Well, of course he had, there was no other choice, but he had no passion for it.
Dean, and obviously John, had reacted badly to his announcement that he was leaving to go to university, mistaking Sam’s desertion of the hunting of supernatural creatures and specifically for Azazel for a lack of loyalty to his family, an insult to his mother who had died trying to save his life. They saw it only as a betrayal of their way of life, while Sam saw it as a way he could put it all behind him. He didn’t feel the loss of his mother any less profoundly than John and Dean, at least he didn’t think he did, but he saw the relentless pursuit of this yellow-eyed demon as a futile mission, and hell, what if they did find him? What if they found him and killed him? Would that get him back his mother? Would that give John his wife back? Would that have changed anything about the way they’d grown up? Fuck no, NO, it would not change anything, so why? Sam’s brother and his father had always looked at Sam as the one who was so emotional, when the truth was that he was just the one who was logical, analytical, pragmatic. And, when you get right down to it, selfish. Dean had never been able to deny Sam anything, and even John, in his own way, had tried so hard to make his younger son happy. Sam was used to getting what he wanted, it wasn't the prettiest part of his personality but it was the truth.
The night he was getting on the bus for Palo Alto, Sam had tried to get into bed with Dean, knowing it would be a long time before they saw each other again and hoping he hadn’t hurt his brother so badly that they couldn’t share just one last intimate time in each other’s arms. That was the moment when he felt exactly what Dean had felt - complete rejection and dismissal. Dean had turned him away and Sam would never, ever forget those words.
“Don’t you have more important things to do, Sam?”
Not even “Sammy”, which was what Dean had always called him when they were together in bed, just “Sam”. No more Sammy. He’d lost Sammy at that exact moment, and never gotten him back.
Sam’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces, but as he’d been taught, he held back the tears that were so close to the surface and moved away, leaving more than a handful of those pieces right there where they fell. He finished packing his duffle with the meager belongings he had - some clothes and an Evanescence CD and a few books and one stolen t-shirt of Dean’s that hadn’t been washed so it still smelled like him - and he walked out the front door of the rented apartment-of-the-month and made his way to the bus station on foot, alone.
Oh, he’d had fun in California. Frat parties, bars, all-night study sessions, soaking up knowledge about philosophy and law and society and history, being with girls, even with Jess, who he really had loved…yes, he did, he loved Jessica, but nothing he felt with her even remotely compared with what he’d felt for Dean for as long as he could remember.
******************************
So now, four years later, feeling Dean’s arms around his shoulders and watching as that life he’d created turned to cinders in front of him, he was shaken to his very foundation. What had he been thinking? That he could run from what he was destined for? That the yellow-eyed demon was just going to forget about him and his family? That he belonged anywhere else in the fucking world except for with his brother?
Neither of them was exactly sure when it was, definitely after that crazy lake fiasco in Wisconsin but before they met Bloody Mary in Toledo, Sam slid under the covers in Dean’s bed. Dean moved to make room for his brother, but neither of them touched or spoke to the other.
The night after they left Lawrence, Dean got into Sam’s bed and held on to him until they fell asleep.
When Sam got back to Indiana after having left his brother again, the floodgates opened and they were back there again, where they should have been all along. So much more of Sammy to learn, so many new scars on Dean to be explained and explored. There was a long road ahead, neither one of them would ever have imagined what they’d face over the next few years, but they knew they needed to be on that road together.