Lost Time Ch. 18

[dime_liora]

Title: Lost Time Chapter 18/27
Wordcount: 6,682
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Dean/Sam, Gabriel/OFC
Warning(s): Violence, Sex, Expletives, Mentions of an Abusive Relationship
Notes: Still very AU. If you like this, thank sammichgirl, who told me it was time to make it public. :) If you don't it's totally not her fault.
Summary: Sam Burton has an average life, a foul-mouthed sister, and a dream of putting his past behind him. All of that changes when Dean Winchester comes to stay.

First part
Previous part

Sam snuck out of the room after she had fallen asleep to find Dean sitting in the hallway with his head in his hands. He sat beside him and stayed silent for a long time, soaking in Dean’s heat and wishing he could be closer. As if Dean could read his mind he put an arm around Sam’s shoulders and pulled him in. They stayed that way listening to the clock tick as Sam shook with the fear that Ophelia was slipping out of his hands. Wasn’t the blindness bad enough?

Eventually Dean broke the silence. “Sam.” It had weight, a pulse, and Sam soaked in the sound of it coming from Dean’s mouth, absorbed the universe that Dean could put into one simple word. Love and longing and loss and everything else wrapped into his name and Sam wanted so badly to kiss Dean but instead he held perfectly still and listened.

“Sam I-I’m in a bad way right now. I can’t give you-Jesus Sam I can’t give you what you want. We didn’t know and we crossed this line Sammy and we can’t cross it again. It doesn’t matter if we want to, we can’t. You can understand that right?” There’s hope now, mixed in with the rest of it, and Sam focuses on the word we preceding want before he really comprehends the rest.

If he was smart, if he was just a little bit smarter he would roll out of Dean’s hold and move away. He would accept what Dean could offer him and be Dean’s brother so that he could at least have this. This little bit of contact. Because in the end any of Dean’s love was better than none of it.

Instead, what came out of his mouth wasn’t words but a low and desperate noise. It was too much. The father he never knew he had was dead, the mother he didn’t remember was dead, and all that was left was a brother he wanted as a lover and a sister whose brain was trying to kill her. Dean’s arm tightened, but it was too late. Sam was breaking and he knew it. Losing what little control he’d had over himself.

“Dean-Dean-I can’t. I just can’t. You want me to grieve him but he left me there-and you want me to pretend I feel like your brother but I don’t, and neither do you. Please. Please don’t do this to us. We’ll never make it as brothers man. We can’t.”

He’s kissing Dean before he can stop himself, and it’s almost how he remembered it minus Dean’s involvement. Lips plush but dry, Dean’s right arm holding him and his left hand pushing against his chest, but Sam was lost. Drowning, he was drowning, and Dean was his last anchor in the world. There was a minute, maybe more, of Sam’s lips moving and Dean’s holding still, of that contradictory push and pull, and then Sam disengaged and really looked at Dean.

The sharp jaw was clenched tight, eyes shut and two small tears trickling down, and when Dean finally opened his eyes there was green drowned in agony and lust. Sam pulled back. Stumbled his way up and apologized even as he fumbled for the bedroom door. He thought he might have heard Dean call for him to stay, say his name in that way again, but Sam was too busy trying to get away before he grabbed onto Dean and pulled him down into the water Sam had found himself in.

He fell asleep hours later, gripping Ophelia so tight he was worried he’d break her.





-----





When Sam woke up she was gone, and he walked into the kitchen to find her sitting at the table with Bobby and Caleb. Dean was nowhere in sight. Sam poured himself a cup of coffee and took the seat beside her. Her sunglasses were fixed in place, and for the first time Sam realized Dean handed over his own clothes to dress her last night. The sweats were tied as tight as they could be and still hung low on her hips, the shirt swallowed her, and Sam was overcome for a moment with fondness and fear. She was so tiny. So tiny and so frail.

Bobby broke the silence at the table. “Elephant in the room. Sam, Caleb wants to run some tests on you. Will you let him?”

Sam broke off his staring at Ophelia to look to the new hunter across from him. Caleb eyed him speculatively as he sipped his coffee. Ophelia spoke first.

“I thought I warned you about this.” Her tone was deadly, fingers gripping her mug tightly.

“It’s just a formality ma’am. Sam himself admitted he drank demon blood for almost a year. That’s not the kinda thing you just shrug off.”

Sam looked up at the sound of a thick grunt to see Dean standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at Bobby with hooded eyes before he leveled his gaze at Sam. Which meant now Dean knew, and found out like this, and fuck. Sam watched Dean’s face shut down, what little chance he had left disappear into the air, and then Ophelia’s hand found his as if she could sense his distress. She cleared her throat. “Sam didn’t shrug it off. He suffered for fucking months to get it out of his system. What more do you want?”

"Ope-" Dean's voice was almost a warning, but Caleb cut him off.

“Nothing big, just a little holy water, some standard precautions. I’m not accusing him of anything I’m just-“

“I’ll do it.” Her head flew his way, eyebrows shooting above the top of her sunglasses. He could feel the weight of Dean’s stare, it had never left him, but Sam turned instead to look at Caleb. “Whatever tests you want. I’ll do them. That way we can have it over and done with.”

“Sam this is ridiculous. Dean, tell this lunatic Sam’s not a fucking demon.” She had turned her head in Dean’s direction, face pleading and hopeful.

“Caleb's gonna do the tests sweetheart. You and I are going to a doctor together. Get you checked out just in case.” Dean crossed the room and poured himself coffee. “You might want to get dressed.”

“Fuck you. Fuck both of you.” She stood, hands shaking at her sides in rage, and then left the room so angry she forgot the guide rope and the pace she was supposed to keep. Sam heard her hit something, curse, and then a door slammed.

“It’s not an accusation Sam, I just wanna be cautious. In my line of-“

“Stop.” Sam rubbed at his neck tiredly and avoided Caleb's expression. “Just stop. I already agreed.”




----




Dean sat in the driver’s seat of her Jeep and followed the directions Bobby had given him. The doctor’s office was a little over an hour away, and he watched as she fumbled through the CD case and pulled something at random before feeling the dashboard for the slot.

“Want me to-" He cut off when she gave him the finger.

She twisted the volume knob to the right and then leaned back and Dean recognized the song and briefly wondered how in the hell she'd managed to randomly pick it.

“You ever love someone so much you thought your little heart was gonna break in two? I didn't think so.”

He could still feel Sam’s lips on his the night before, the taste of Sam had overridden the lingering taste of whiskey and pot. Had left him half-hard and broken apart until he’d forced himself to leave the hallway and crawl into bed. Now he was here, riding in the car and smothering under the weight of her rage.

“Baby did a bad bad thing. Baby did a bad bad thing, feel like crying, feel like crying.”

Demon blood. Not PCP or something simple, Brady had been feeding his little brother demon blood. Why? What possible fucking purpose could he have for it? Sam, poor fucking Sam, had spent a year hopped up on evil juice and what that even did to a person Dean couldn’t begin to guess. They were halfway to the doctor’s office when he broke down and pulled over on the side of the road before cutting the engine.

“What do you want me to do? Want me to turn around and tell Caleb no, that he can’t test Sam? That won't concern him at all. Want me to send us both to Hell, give in and just grab him? Fuck my brother ‘til we both end up fully damned?” His hands were gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles were white. “What the fuck am I supposed to do here Ophelia, ‘cause I’ll be honest we’re in new territory and I’m a little lost.”

She sat still in the seat, hands rubbing at her thighs and face pointed towards the warmth of the sun against the window. “You said you wouldn’t let anyone hurt him.”

It was so quiet, so weak, and for a moment Dean wasn’t sure he’d even heard it right. “Yeah, I did. I meant it.”

“You’re hurting him. You are. You’re supposed to take care of him and you aren’t. I’m not-what if-“ Her hands rose, trembling softly and rubbed at her eyes underneath the big sunglasses. “I may not be around much longer Dean. This-“ she gestured helplessly towards her own head, “wasn’t part of the deal. I don’t know what the fuck it is. And with my condition being blind is a fucking death sentence. If I die and you won’t stand up for him then who the hell will?”

It wasn’t angry, she didn’t sound angry, she was resigned and sad and Dean felt his own rage ebb away as if she’d poked a hole in him.

“I don’t know how to stop hurting him, but being his-whatever-it’s not the way. It can’t be the way.” He wanted her to see, maybe if she did she could explain it to Sam. Maybe she could explain it to Dean.

“I didn’t see the rule book that said loving a person was bad. I missed the part where it made you hell bound. I understand the part where the two of you seem to think there’s this line drawn in the sand that says you can’t be both things at once, and I get that. I really do. It’s called a taboo for a reason. But Dean, you have to believe me when I say it’s not a universal taboo, and the book you’re quoting from to condemn yourself and Sam isn’t a book you believe in. You use it as a tool, not as a guideline, and that’s a big fucking difference.”

He was shaking, holding on to his resistance by a thread and this was the wrong place to be if he wanted to hold back. The taste of Sam reared its head again and Dean tried to swallow it down. “I just can’t.”

“Fine. Then at least stand up for him, because by letting Caleb do those tests you confirmed every fear he ever had about telling you what Brady did. You told him you think he’s evil, and that’s what he’s been telling himself for years.”

Several deep breaths and then something she'd said hit him. "How does being blind affect your condition?"

Ope's face tightened briefly and then she twisted the cigarette around in her fingers and put it out on her forearm. Dean let out a bark of shock before knocking it from her hand. Then he realized she hadn't made a sound.

"What-fuck what was that?"

"Congenital insensitivity to pain. It's a-fuck man a lot of medical words that don't mean anything beyond I can't feel pain. Physical pain. I can feel pressure, but not pain."

He waits for the other shoe to drop and when it doesn't come he can't help the shrug. "That stopped you from hunting? I would think that would help."

She made a face and lit a new cigarette. "Dean if I get hit hard enough to break a rib and it punctures my lung I won't know until the blood starts coming up. Break a bone? Done it like fifteen times and each time I don't know until the fucking thing wouldn't work. Ripped my ACL and didn't know. Pain is the body's natural way of saying 'fucking stop that idiot' and I don't have that. You asked about my tongue? I did that shit when I was teething. It was how they got me diagnosed. So when something inside starts crapping out and the only symptom is pain related I'm fucked. If system failure doesn't kill someone like me there's a fairly high suicide rate." She took a deep drag and gestured that he should start moving. He didn't.

"Suicide?"

There's a long pause, and Dean honestly doesn't believe she'll answer. "I never know. Sam rubs my legs out after a run, and he looks me over every night or so to make sure I didn't fuck something up. Before that though? I'd be walking and my knee would just crumble, or my hand would give out. 'Cause I did something, but I didn't know it. Doctors, fuck dude specialists, treat me like I'm some kind of fucking thing. I sorta am man. A doll missing parts. Before Sam I just-that day in Texas? I was on this holiday Jeff sponsored and I was planning on climbing that last cliff, getting baked, and then jumping. I couldn't take it anymore. The never knowing, and the constant feeling of being adrift on some fucking sea in a leaky boat. Sam saved me. Not the other way around. I was terrified because I could be dying and not know-not fucking care. Then there was Sam, and suddenly I cared a whole fucking lot." She fumbled for the cigarettes and lit a new one. "They can think whatever they want. Sam's my goddamn hero. Sam's the reason I'm not a spatter mark in Texas."

Dean started the car, pulled out on the road, and drove to the doctor’s office.

After several long silent minutes he turned her way. "You can win staring contests because your eyes don't hurt from holding them open. That candle thing works because you can't feel the burn."

"Yep."

"I want my twenty bucks back cheater." Even she sounded surprised when she laughed.




----




Sam drank holy water, listened to an endless stream of Latin, crossed salt lines and then through an intricate series of symbols that Caleb put together. As if the ones above and below their doors already were faulty. None of it bothered him at all. He almost threw his hands up, almost rolled his eyes when Caleb laid down a thicker salt line and told Sam to cross it. They’d had salt lines for forever, but Sam did it. Gave in because what the fuck else was he supposed to do?

Dean knew. Dean knew and it was exactly as bad as Sam always thought it would be because Dean could see him. Really see him. Ophelia had this bias, this crazy belief in him, but Dean saw the freak, the monster, and what did it matter now? Best to get it over with, settle their concerns as best he could, and simply watch them all walk away. After all Sam had issued an ultimatum last night that would assure Dean’s departure, and then what?

Sam would stay, stay with Ope until she died and then he’d follow her. If she wanted him. Sam didn’t really expect that to last much longer either, because eventually everyone saw Sam for what he really was. When the tests all came out negative, when Caleb had finished explaining that Sam had been marked as a baby, given blood, and leaving him was supposed to hide him from the demons Sam simply nodded.

Evil from the time he was an infant, Sam had never really had a chance. All those foster homes only proved it, inherently Sam was flawed and each and every one of those people had known it. For a long time when he was little Sam dreamed of a family that wanted him, that had been forced to part with him, but now he knew the truth. His mother died for him, his father abandoned him, and now he’d permanently wrecked his brother’s psyche. He just kept nodding, feeling like a bobblehead the whole time, until Caleb stopped talking and asked if he had any questions. Then Sam shook his head and left the room.

What was the point? He saw it in Caleb's eyes every time the man looked at him. After all it was Caleb who had agreed with John Winchester, who had helped to stage the fire and then left Sam with nothing more than a first name and a target on his back.

If he’d been kept in the Winchester clan, given an older brother who would do anything for him, been warned about demons since childhood maybe Sam could have been safe. Could have stayed clean. It didn’t matter though; none of it did, because in the end Sam was what he was. In the end Dean was leaving, closing him out, and somehow Sam found himself sitting at his laptop sending Ruby an email about meeting up.

He needed an outlet, needed to drop some of this tension and there was really no one else. Ruby replied almost immediately, suggested they get drinks together, and Sam accepted. Because, honestly, fuck it.





----





The doctor was on his third repetition of the lecture about reporting in faster for something as serious as blindness and seizures while Ophelia faced the window. Dean couldn’t help but notice she did that a lot, looked for the warmth of the sun as if she was seeking the light again. She never did it with artificial light.

He wanted to tell the doctor she was blind not deaf, to grab her up and walk out, something really because standing here listening to the arrogant son of a bitch call her irresponsible while she stared blindly at the sunlight she’d never see again made his blood boil. They’d been sent from the doctor’s office to the hospital, and there Ophelia had undergone both an EEG and an MRI before they drew off blood and started to question Dean in front of her as if she wasn’t in the room. The sun was setting by the time they sent her home to wait for results, and that was after Dean backed her play to not be kept for observation.

They rode home with the radio playing softly, stars peeking out above them and the cold wind whipping through the car as she smoked. He wasn’t sure he wanted to break the silence, to hear more of his faults repeated to him after this morning. After all, she was right about a lot of it. He should have stood up for Sam, should have pressed the fact that Sam didn’t need the tests. Instead he’d fed the kid’s years of self-esteem issues because Dean was too worried about Caleb seeing through him, seeing what he’d done with Sam, to argue. So once again, Dean had abandoned Sam.

He didn’t miss the look Bobby gave him when he’d come in, after the demon blood revelation. The calculating look Caleb sent from Ophelia, draped in Dean’s favorite Led Zeppelin shirt and sweats, to Dean’s ruffled appearance. Didn’t miss it, and didn’t try to argue it. Let Caleb's attention be divided so that he couldn’t see where Dean’s real interests were.

When they reached the house the lights were on, and Dean made sure she made it up the hill and into the kitchen before pushing her gently into a chair and making her a sandwich. She’d eaten half an apple in the hospital cafeteria and then pushed it away with a thick noise before laying her head down on the table. It appeared hospitals drained her as much as they did Dean.

Bobby wandered in at some point and touched her hair gently after saying her name. She grunted around her sandwich and then swallowed hard. “Where’s Sam?”

“A date.” Dean didn’t miss the way Bobby's eyes cut to him, took in the unavoidable tightening of Dean’s fists. Bobby looked away and gave Dean his privacy. “Some girl he knows from school.”

There was silence, and then Ophelia nodded once and put the remains of the sandwich down. “Dean, I want you to read to me tonight. Can you do that?”

“Yeah sweetheart. Latin?” She nodded once and then stood and reached for the guide rope. Her steps were heavy, slower than the pace Sam had explained to him, and when she was gone Bobby met his eyes.

“What’s the news son?”

Dean finished spreading mustard and bit into his own sandwich. “None yet. Lotta lectures, lotta tests, but results in a week. Meantime no alcohol, rest, the usual.” He didn’t ask about Sam’s date. Didn’t ask anything although he wanted to. The thought of Sam out, laughing in that carefree way, smiling with those dimples, had Dean gripping the sandwich so tight he was pushing its contents out of the sides.

“Sam passed all Caleb's tests. Which means he's planning on leaving tomorrow. Says he thinks he wore out his welcome.” Bobby fiddled with the remains of Ophelia’s meal and then picked them up and carried the mess to the trash. “Wanna go with him?”

Dean thought of the Impala, sitting in an impound lot in the city his father had died in waiting for someone to claim it and have it moved. Bobby’s junkyard would be perfect for rebuilding, and Dean would be damned if his childhood home was left rotting in an impound lot. “Maybe.”

Bobby nodded once and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “Headed to bed. See yah tomorrow boy.” The older hunter paused in the doorway and fiddled with his cap. "Dean?"

"Yeah Bobby?"

"I ain't saying it's right or wrong one way or another, but Sam is a special kid. He deserves better than you running out on him. I think he's had enough of the Winchesters doing that for a lifetime."

Dean only grunted, finished his sandwich with slow determination, and then rubbed at his mouth 'til he was under control. When he joined Ophelia in her room she was tracing the spines of her books with slow determination.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how that works.” She jumped and pointed a finger at him.

“Gonna put a goddamn bell on you. Make some noise ok?” Dean laughed softly, moved forward and studied her collection.

“What book?”

“Benvenuti. Green cover.”  Dean searched through the books 'til he found the one she wanted and then watched her take a careful spot on the floor with her back to the dresser and the ashtray beside her. He sat on the bed, opened the book, and then started to read.

It was stiff, incredibly informative about demons though, and he slogged through as she nodded occasionally and smoked intermittently. He noticed how dry his throat was at the same time he heard the door between the living room and the back hallway open. Then he heard the feminine giggle, Sam’s voice slurred and pitched low, and the door to Sam’s room opening. He looked over to see if Ophelia had heard it, and his already frayed nerves took another hit.

She had all the symptoms she’d had the night before, when the seizure was still manageable and before she’d hit the ground. How fucking long had that been happening? “Ophelia?” He kept his voice low and careful as he crossed the room to her side.

“That smell. Please-shit-“ Her mouth kept moving even as her voice failed her, a hideous parody of dubbed kung-fu movies. Sam had warned him about this, explained the partial seizures in great detail, and the only thing to do was time it, record the symptoms, wait to see if it got worse. He wanted to get Sam, wanted to grab his little brother and drag him in not just to ruin his date but to ease her fear a bit.

Instead he sat beside her, letting her hands grasp helplessly and painfully tight at his arms while he heard Sam’s date progress on the other side of the wall. When the seizure stopped, when she was left leaning weakly against him and crying for a different reason Dean reached over, flipped her stereo on to cover the sound of moans from the next room, and held on.

He waited 'til it had to be over, until he wouldn’t have to listen to Sam’s sounds coming from someone else’s hands, and then pulled her up and offered her the same clothes she’d slept in the night before. She took them silently, changed in front of him with no sign of embarrassment, and then climbed into bed. They lay shoulder to shoulder, silent in the darkness 'til she broke it with a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

He swallowed thickly. She was apologizing for the seizure, which hurt, but she was apologizing for Sam too and that hurt worse. “Do this a lot?” It would make sense. They were blood after all and it was the kind of thing Dean would do. Except she'd explicitly told him he was the first in a long time.

“Never.” Her hand reached out and sought his in the darkness, holding on for long minutes and then letting go. “Not once.”

Dean absorbed that, stared at the stars on the ceiling, and eventually he fell asleep.





-----





Sam woke to sunlight burning his retinas, a jackhammer beating against the inside of his skull, and nausea that matched his post-nightmare levels. He was alone in his bed, naked, covered in tiny bites and scratches. Which meant bringing Ruby back here wasn’t a dream, and Sam couldn’t believe himself. He’d just meant to meet with her, to talk to someone who wasn’t drowning in angst for just a few minutes. Instead one drink became six, and then ten, and then coming back to the house, dragging feet through the basement door and into bed while Ruby attacked his mouth the whole way.

Sam made it to the bathroom in time to lose everything left in his stomach, and then he brushed his teeth twice and showered until the hot water ran out. By the time he made it to the kitchen he felt like he’d died twice. Ophelia was there with Bobby, and her sunglasses sat on the table in front of her. Her eyes were dark, heavily shadowed and showing her fatigue. She was wearing Dean’s clothes again, and Sam realized he had no idea where she’d laid down to not sleep. If he thought he’d hit rock bottom the tremulous smile she gave him only made it worse.

“Morning Sammy. Bobby's making waffles.” She lit a cigarette with fingers that visibly trembled.

He didn’t even have time to pour coffee before Dean joined them and took a seat beside her, picking her glasses up and sliding them over her bruised eyes. “Morning Sam. Good night last night?” Dean’s smile was lascivious, empty, and he waggled an eyebrow before relaxing back into his seat.

It was too much, too soon, and Sam couldn’t even begin to process it. He was pretty sure at some point last night he’d thought what a good idea it all was. To show Dean he was capable of getting his kicks elsewhere. Cause jealousy and hurt. Something, there’d been logic when the alcohol was involved, but now he was only ashamed at his behavior. He took a seat and watched as Bobby delivered a plate full of waffles and avoided making eye contact with anyone.

“How was the doctor’s visit?” Sam looked everywhere, the waffles that didn’t hold any interest for him and the tree line out of the window. Everywhere but at Dean and Ophelia’s faces.

“Tests. Results in a week.” She missed the ashtray completely when she tapped at her cigarette and then gestured with her left hand. “Or whenever. No rush."

Sam watched Dean wipe up the ashes silently, and when she went to put the cigarette out on the table he led her hand without a word to the right spot. She nodded once in his direction and then pushed herself up to make her way out of the kitchen and away from them. Sam let her leave.

Dean piled a plate high with waffles, and then fixed a smaller one and pushed it in front of Sam. “Gotta eat little brother. Get back the energy you spent last night.” Dean winked at him, it was hideous, and then began to devour his own waffles. Sam watched Bobby stare at Dean for a minute in horror before he left the kitchen too. It was just the two of them, and Sam pushed once at the waffles in front of him before giving up.

“Dean I didn’t-“

“You wanted to see if I would be jealous.” Dean’s voice wasn’t jovial anymore, wasn’t the light-hearted ‘atta-boy’ tone he’d had so far. Green eyes remained fixed on the plate in front of him.

“Dean I shouldn’t have-“

“Why not Sam? You’re young, single, it only makes sense that you spread your wild oats.” Dean swallowed a mouthful of waffle, and this time the lusty grin was a terrible parody, hideous and fake beyond all belief. “Hope you wrapped it up though Sammy. Gotta be safe right?”

“Stop. Oh god please stop.” Sam felt like he was shaking apart, like one more word would tumble him into little pieces on the floor, and the look on Dean’s face just got worse with every second. He reached out, pulled back before he could touch Dean, and then got up and staggered out of the kitchen door. Seconds after his feet hit the porch Sam started to run, bare feet flying across the freezing cold stone as his legs moved to outdistance his brain.

He hit the tree-line and kept going, feet pounding out across the frozen ground as his heart raced and his arms pushed him onwards. Deeper into the woods, further, and Sam realized as something heavy grabbed him from behind that he’d been hitting branches the whole way and hadn’t noticed. He felt the warm trickle of blood where one had scratched his face even as he started to blindly struggle against the fire that was enveloping him.

“Goddamn it Sam.” Lips traveled up the back of his neck, tasted his shoulder and then fingers were fumbling for the waistband of Sam’s sweats even as he gave up the fight and grabbed the wrists to try to stop them.

“Dirty. I’m dirty Dean. I’m sorry. Sorry.” He couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop shaking as those hands pulled his pants down, as Dean explored the flesh of his ass and up his lower back. Dean’s heat threatening to burn him out, to destroy him, and Sam really hoped that maybe this time it would.

He felt slick fingers at his entrance, a hand griping tightly at his hip when two fingers breached him, and the familiar burn. Dean’s lips traced his spine, tasted the dip above his ass, and then the voice he’d fallen in love with, rough and lust-filled, came over the sound of his sobs. “If you are I am too. Shut up Sammy. I can’t listen to you right now.” The fingers spread, he feels wetness and then a third, and the prep work goes so fast Sam can barely follow it before he’s being pushed to his knees.

Dean entered him swiftly, there was pain because honestly spit was not enough lubrication, and then Dean fell still and they stayed right there, Sam’s knees pushed into the leaves and the cold dirt and his hands scrabbling for purchase as his arms shook.

“You-“ Dean pulled back and thrust, and Sam bit his lip to keep from crying out at the mixture of pain and pleasure. “You’re killing me. You’re fucking killing me Sam.” Dean’s movements became steady, hard and deep, and Sam couldn’t stop the whimpers falling from his mouth, the low keen when Dean’s hand gripped his length and started to move rough and strong around him.

They stayed like that, rhythm picking up and breaths panting through cold air until Sam hit his orgasm, so sudden and unexpected he was lightheaded and then Dean came inside him and Sam was left gasping as Dean collapsed against his back.

“Sammy, Sammy, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t-I can’t stop. I can’t.” The lips pressed against him, and Sam felt Dean shaking, felt a wetness that wasn’t saliva, but when he tried to pull away and turn hands gripped him in place so hard it hurt.

“Dean.” The word fell from his mouth, a plea for understanding, and Dean seemed to get it. The bruising grip became gentle, stroking and moving, and Dean pressed his face between Sam’s shoulder blades and shuddered before he spoke again.

“Mine. Be mine. Be my brother, my lover, whatever just be mine. I can’t share you like that again. So fuck you Sam, it worked, and don’t do it again ok?” Dean’s voice was deadly hard, should have been scary, but the message left Sam soaring. Flying. He pulled forward and turned awkwardly, hissing at the pain of withdrawal before collapsing backwards onto the ground and pulling Dean’s furnace heat with him. They stayed that way for a long time, wrapped in leaves and twigs and holding onto each other.

Breaking apart together.



------




Dean stared at Sam’s scratched cheek, the flush still evident in the tan skin and the sparkle in hazel eyes. Had he missed how sad Sam looked since he came back? How broken down and heavy his brother had been? It was all gone now and if Dean missed it then he saw it now in comparison. His own weight and depression had been too much, and now looking at Sam he could see the change. He watched the way Sam seared chicken and hummed softly to a tune Dean didn’t know. When Bobby came through the archway the humming stopped but Sam kept moving with that lightness Dean hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

They were going to hell together and Dean couldn’t seem to make himself care. His list of sins had always been fairly extensive, and now it was just a little longer.

Bobby sat across from him and adjusted his cap. “You’re gonna need to be more vigilant idjit. I found a broken salt line this morning at the basement door and drag marks through the devil's trap. Maybe make those paint instead of chalk like the ones up here.”

Dean’s familiar with the tone, Bobby slightly hungover and pre-coffee. He already knows Sam broke the line, can picture his brother staggering drunkenly through it with the blonde tramp, but he lets it go and nods. Takes the lecture this time to avoid awkwardness. He doesn’t want to remind Sam about the night before because Dean doesn’t want to be reminded. He’d laid in bed for hours before sleeping, going over every conversation, every angle, and weighing all of it before he reached his conclusion.

If he got up in the morning and Sam was happy looking, still with the girl, any of the things Dean least wanted to see he would smile and nod and take off. Come back when he could look at his little brother and only see his little brother. On the other hand if he came out and found Sam worse than he was before, and Dean thought he would, that would be the end of it. He had been struggling for so long, hanging on the fence of what he wanted to do, and that would be the deciding factor. Because Dean’s hang-ups could not push Sam into self-destructive behavior. Dean wouldn’t allow it.

There was really only so much damage he was willing to cause, and ruining Sam was just too much. Bobby drank his coffee and watched Dean speculatively. They were building to a conversation, Dean knew it, and he was willing to hold out and let Bobby start it.

At the moment Dean was just too relieved at Sam’s smile to care about anything else.





------





“I gotta get back home son. Am I sending the Impala here or there?”

“Here,” Dean’s voice is relaxed, calm, “so I can stay with my brother.”

Sam turns quickly, focusing on the chicken in the pan even as he bites back tears. Bobby grunts once and then the chair is squeaking and sliding back under his weight. “Alright boy, sounds good. I'll be taking Caleb with me. Take care of yourself.” Dean makes a sound of agreement, and then Sam jumps a little when he hears Bobby’s voice come again much closer to him this time. “You too Sam.”

Sam nods once, makes a strangled sound, and then Bobby is gone with just a pat to his shoulder. There’s silence in the kitchen for a long time. Then Ope sticks her head in the door and gets their attention. "Hey guys, Bobby is giving me a ride to Augusta."

Sam stared at her for a long minute, glanced to see Dean’s confusion, and then looked back to see the doorway empty. He left the kitchen, Dean trailing behind him, and found Ophelia tapping along stacks of clothing in her dresser drawers and reciting the color order Sam had set up. She pulled out a blue thermal and dropped it in the bag beside her.

“What the hell is going on?” Sam wants it to sound concerned or demanding but it comes out amused.

She didn’t turn her head, didn’t even bother with the pretense as her smile turned wily and she pulled out another shirt. “Bobby needed to leave. I needed to go to Augusta. Didn’t he tell you?”

“He told me part of it. This is weird timing Ophelia. Your seizures are-“

“Bobby knows all the precautions as well as you do. I'm going to meet with some Braille teacher he found. You and Dean are going to have a few days alone to not spend time with wet hair and bare feet in the cold outdoors.” Her smug grin overtook the bottom half of her face. “Win-win for everybody involved. So you guys have fun.” She crouched and felt around until she found the zipper on her bag and closed it.

Sam felt his mouth working like a fish out of water, and Dean took over. "Ope, how did you-“

“Bobby saw you. He said you’re getting that old junker of yours shipped here to fix it up. Where are you storing it?” She had the bag closed and she stood and shouldered it.

“One, not a junker. A classic. Two, gonna find a local shop that’ll let me-Bobby saw us?” Dean’s face looked horrified and Sam wasn’t sure if he should be worried Dean was going to rescind his earlier statements or laugh at the expression.

“We’re both happy about it. Get it sent here. Sam knows where the keys are, and you know where the workshop is. Just use that. All Jeff's tools are still there.”

Dean’s throat worked and Sam watched something strange cross his face. “Ope-you don’t have to-“

She stepped forward, fingers reaching blindly and finding Dean, grasping his arms as she held on tightly. “You’re part of my family now too Dean. You’re welcome to anything you find there, and to stay as long as you like. Glad you pulled your head out of your ass.”

Bobby stuck his head in the door and called her name, and without anything else said she slipped out of the door and through the house on Bobby's heels.

Comments

[sammichgirl]

I don't even know where to start! And there are so many great scenes here, I'm having a hard time picking the one out.

(BTW, you will need to feed my addiction...you know, in your spare time, of course.)

Broken Sam. How can Dean not give an inch with that kiss?

My God, that's how Dean finds out about the blood drinking? And then he fucking lets them do the tests? Sam's crossed salt lines, he's been under Devil's Traps, and still? I can't believe Ope didn't swing at him. I would have.

I love Ope taking Dean down a couple pegs with her talk. And then the revelation about her condition - my stars. That IS a death sentence, for most people. Sam was her hero. Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. They saved each other!

Sam thinks he is evil. Inherently bad. *cries* I wish Dean could understand a tiny bit of how Sam must be feeling. NOT RUBY!

Damn, he did. With Ruby. Now, was Ophelia having another regular seizure, or can she smell demons near with the sulphur, or are they two distinct separate things? I don't want to feel bad for Dean here, but I do, because he and Sam should be together.

Oh, the makeup sex in the woods! That was yummy, and finally FINALLY Dean comes to his senses. Breaking apart together - love that line. Dean better stop hurting Sam now.

Wait - Dean knows Ruby is a demon? Who broke the lines for her - Sam? Because he was drunk and didn't think? Maybe Ruby counted on it. But Dean wouldn't have let Ruby go if he knew she was a demon.

NOOOOOOOOOOOO! Unless it was Caleb. He was staying in the basement. Is Caleb in league with the demons? Is he a demon? Is that why he helped John when Sam was a baby? Is that why he wanted the tests done on Sam? But no, Dean wouldn't let Caleb go either then. So it had to have been Sam, on accident.

Ok, so it's a toss up for me...either the scene with the boys in the woods or the scene with Dean and Ope on the way to the doctor.

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

I think I'll need to clarify that scene a bit. The idea was that Dean knew Sam accidentally broke it. It was tricky editing, because in the original where Ope didn't know anything about the hunter lifestyle Sam could stumble in anywhere without Ruby being an issue. Halfway through editing it I peered at the sentence for several seconds and then though "Oh shit that doesn't make any sense."

Sam will get better. Then worse. Then better again! I can promise cyclical with an upswing. ;)

The makeup sex in the woods is my favorite scene, but I'm so proud of my OC making your possibility list I'm posting more chapters. Also, I love feeding addictions.

[fourtenpm.livejournal.com]

wait, so Ope still has some of Jana`s sight, does that mean once, she got rid of it, she won't be blind?

enjoying the story very much. waiting impatiently for the next chapter.

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

Theoretically that would work. If only they knew someone who could do such a thing...

Also, wait no longer! :D

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

Your description of Ope's condition was heart-breaking and horrifying. I can imagine how she'd contemplate suicide. It adds another layer to Sam's love for her—and lessens what I thought was dependence on her.

And Sam! Poor, poor, never catch a break Sam. It kills me how much he wants to do right but is so convinced he's bad. I feel like this watching canon Sam some times. Thanks so much for dragging me through thorns before letting a little light in the picture. ;)

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

When I first wrote Ope, I may have mentioned this I can never remember, she was a totally different person. I'd seen an article about CIP and it was lodged somewhere in the back of my brain, so when I started rewriting this and remaking her I incorporated it. Which meant research. I'll be honest, I'd never considered the suicide angle of it until I started reading all these personal accounts from sufferers, including one in which a man's brother had it as well and he killed himself. The tongue thing is actually how it's usually first caught. I was horrified and fascinated with the whole thing really, and I couldn't help but build her with it once I'd seen it.

And yeah, poor Sam. I always root for him, and then lower my fist and go, "Oh come on!" and then go back to rooting. He's like the poster boy for good intentions gone wrong, and I think that's part of the power of his character. The constant need to say, "But he has the best intentions." And the anguish of watching him try and fail over and over again.