Lost Time Ch. 19

[dime_liora]

Title: Lost Time Chapter 19/27
Wordcount: 6,150
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

Dean’s left standing behind Sam in her wake, listening to the door close and Bobby's car start before they’re gone and he’s left alone with his brother. His lover. Fuck. Now what is he supposed to do?

Chasing after Sam wasn’t a plan of action, it wasn’t something Dean had really been able to help at the time, and what happened in the woods wasn’t something he’d been planning either. If he was going to go after this…relationship or whatever the fuck it was then Dean had planned on slowly making his way through it. Deciding as it went along whether or not it would have a sexual aspect. Chasing Sam had been the result of something primal and feral taking over, and suddenly Dean could only think of the image he’d had last night of Sam wrapped around that little blonde that came to see him one day. Dean couldn’t take it, couldn’t swallow it down, and instead he’d marked his territory and held on.

It occurred to him that Sam hadn’t necessarily agreed to Dean’s terms, hadn’t acknowledged any of it other than not screaming at Dean or running away again. It’s probably necessary for them to talk about it, to hash it out, but Dean is fucking tired of talking about his feelings. He’d like to go a day where it doesn’t feel like his heart is playing the role of a punching bag, where he isn’t required to air out his insides for other people’s benefit.

So instead of bringing up the woods, or the girl, or any of the things they really need to get straight Dean puts one hand on Sam’s shoulder and pitches his voice friendly and carefree. “Want to go to that Italian place Sammy?”

Sam jerks once, surprise and maybe alarm, and then meets Dean’s gaze and gives him a look like he’s gone crazy. “We just had spaghetti and meatballs the other day.”

“That’s sorta close-minded Sam. There’s more to Italian food than spaghetti and meatballs.”

Sam’s face works through a cavalcade of emotions before it breaks into laughter, and when Dean sees the dimples something that’s been knotted inside of him since the morning he found out Sam was his brother lets go. “You’re a jerk.”

“And you’re a bitch, but I’m above name-calling. Let’s get dressed and roll out.” He releases Sam’s shoulder and digs through his duffel for a change of clothes. When Sam has left the room he drops the smile and considers, for what is definitely not the first time, how he’s going to handle all of this. If his father knew…but his father is dead. Salted and burned in the hunter fashion, and Dean and Sam are the last two Winchesters on earth. It’s odd that he finds the journal while he’s thinking about his dad. Settled down in the bottom of the bag, tucked beneath a pair of jeans and with one sock worked under the cover the leather stares at him accusingly.

He drops the journal on the floor beside his bag and takes the clothes he wants. There’s a flash of guilt mixed in with his shock, and then he pushes it down. It’s John Winchester that took Sam from him. John Winchester that gave him Sam in the first place and then stole him. Sam was right, the time they should have spent bonding as brothers is lost forever, and what they have now is the best they can do. His father did that to them, abandoned Sam, and it contradicted every lesson Dean was ever taught about the importance of family and blood.

Dean will keep Sam on the straight and narrow not because it was his father’s last order but because it’s his job. Has been since he was four, hell since he was born, and always will be. But the last part of that order, the part about executing Sam, well that part can fuck off because Dean won’t do it. Can’t do it really.

And does it really matter if he can or can’t? Sam has had more than a taste of Hell, and the possibility that his brother would get into bed with a demon after all of that is so slim it’s laughable. This thought, idly passing as Dean pulls on jeans, will be one that haunts him later more than any other moment in his life.




-----





Sam can’t stop laughing. It’s part relief, part hysteria, but mostly Dean. The guy is a bottomless pit, finishes off an entire calzone and then eats a large portion of Sam’s lasagna. He tops it off with two cannolis and then leans back in his seat and burps like a Viking warrior complimenting the meal. There’s sauce on his chin, a sated look in his green eyes, and Sam loves him more in that moment than he ever has before.

It’s so natural to fall back into their early pattern that Sam can barely handle it. They go back to the house and watch a horror movie, and Dean laughs through half of it. His lecture to Sam about the difference between Hollywood vampires and real vampires is informative and shocking. He’s so blasé about the whole thing, hands gesturing casually as he discusses mouths full of fangs and beheadings. It should be frightening really, disconcerting, but he finds his eyes following calloused fingers with fascination.

They sleep in separate beds, Sam not even suggesting differently, and when he wakes in the morning he’s greeted by mossy green eyes staring at him. He clears his throat once and then rubs at his face. “Little creepy there don’t you think man?”

“You drool.” Dean’s grin is lopsided and warm. “A lot.”

“Yeah well you snore. Makes us even.” Sam pushes his way up and Dean’s hand lands heavy on his shoulder, the ever-present heat searing his skin. Sam waits for Dean to speak, and when he doesn’t Sam breaks the ice himself. “Dean?”

“I won’t stop hunting.” Dean’s face is a weird mixture of apologetic and fierce, and Sam has to fight to get his head around the words.

“Did I ask you too?”

Dean shakes his head once, swallows, and then keeps Sam’s eyes. “I would like it if-I mean if you thought-“ The words stop abruptly and Dean’s rubbing his hair, a nervous gesture Sam knows now, and looking away.

“You wanted to know if I’d come with you?” Sam tries to keep the tone gentle because this is going to either be an argument or a bonding moment depending on his response.

“Yeah. It’s a stupid idea though.” Dean’s shaking his head, withdrawing, and Sam grabs at his wrist before he can get away.

“No. If the hunt is close I could go. I could help research or whatever. I just can’t go too far. I can’t leave Ope alone like that.” Dean’s eyes are wide, and he looks at Sam’s hand for a long time before he speaks.

“I’d need to train you. Like dad trained me.” His voice is odd, thick, and Sam knows what Dean’s thinking of now. His lost father and his lost chance to do this with Sam when he was still young and should have been learning.

Sam pulls once, hard, and Dean falls forward into the bed with him. They’re kissing before Dean can get himself situated, and when Sam pulls back he gets to see Dean’s face relaxed and open, lashes down swept and lips parted.

“I’m a quick learner.” Dean’s smile is everything, and Sam’s glad to see it, even happier to taste it.





----




They start training that day, and Sam’s amazed at how different Dean is when he’s in teacher mode. There’s no trace of the lover there, it’s all commanding big brother, and Sam’s strangely glad for that. He spends hours getting thrown, leg swept, pinned. He spars the best he can but Dean’s amazingly fast, flexible, and graceful. Sam’s height and weight advantage amount to nothing in the face of Dean’s superior training and ability. By the time they’re done he’s sweaty, exhausted, and fully alive.

He was worried it would get sexual, lot of physical contact in sparring, but there was never a moment when it crossed the line. They eat lunch in the kitchen, panting still and flushed with the exertion, and Dean lets Sam take first shower before he heads into the bathroom without a word. Sam has time to ponder the differences between Dean’s two faces, and what it would take to make him so hardened and jaded.

What must a life of transience and violence be like? Sam only knows one side of it, the victim side, and it’s good to be learning how to go the other way. To be the fist instead of the flesh. It’s different than what he did with Brady, lacks the cruelty of it, and Sam’s honestly excited about the prospect of being the hero for once.

They watch a basketball game, and Dean roots for the Bulls even as Sam’s shouting for the Celtics. When his team loses Dean taunts him mercilessly, and Sam takes it grumbling half-heartedly to hide his joy. When his phone beeps he opens it to see a text message from Ruby. Dean glances his way, catches sight of the name attached to “Hang out tonight?” and the smile on his lips dies.

Sam types back, quickly and fiercely, “Can’t. We gotta talk.” and then catches Dean’s eyes.

“I’m going to tell her it was a mistake.” Dean doesn’t meet his eyes, drinks his beer and leans back into the couch flipping channels.

“Do what you want to Sam.”

Sam doesn’t miss the tone, the defeat and anger, and he almost laughs. “Dean.” When Dean doesn’t turn his way he grabs the angular jaw and turns it ‘til green gazes back at him. “Dean. I’ve been fighting you for this. I’m not going to throw it away for some girl I barely know. I just can’t tell her through a text message that I’m involved with someone.”

Dean nods once, sharp and hard, but his eyes have softened a bit. Sam takes the chance to kiss him, and it’s hesitant at first and then slides into passion.

They take it back to Sam’s bedroom, and the slick of skin on skin is incredible. Sam lets Dean burn his way through him, holds onto hard muscles, and tastes sweat and lust every time his lips meet Dean’s skin. It’s better than he remembered, slower and softer, and Sam likes it this way just as much as the fast and hard version.

They fall asleep there, Sam’s leg crossed over Dean’s and his head turned so his face is buried in Dean’s bicep. It’s worth every moment of anguish it took to get there.





-----





Sam wakes up to the sound of an argument in the kitchen, and he’s up seconds after Dean, pulling on his pants and stumbling through the door of his room to get to the source of the raised voices.

Ophelia’s got a finger buried in Alan's chest as she shouts at him, and Sam stops in the doorway with Dean behind him. “-ask for your fucking opinion!”

“This is ridiculous. You want me to drive you all over the place but then keep my mouth shut when you go out of-”

“I asked Hannah for a ride not you asshole! You just butted your way in like always!”

Sam watches Alan rear back, eyes wide at the tone of her voice, and then he settles for going back to angry instead of apologetic. “We’ve discussed this before Ophelia. A hundred times. You're so damn blinded by maternal instinct or whatever you can't see what you're doing to yourself! He's a fucking stray and you're blind now! Literally!”

Sam hears Dean’s indrawn breath, feels his own fists clench, but Ophelia is the one who takes action. “Oh yeah, I’m sorry, I forgot. My having something more important than fucking you meant you needed to fuck my best friend. It was so logical the first time why not make it the basis for every fucking argument afterwards.” Her voice is venomous, thick and hateful as her finger leaves his chest and she steps back.

Alan's face falls, anger leaving as quickly as it came and Sam knows what comes next, has seen this argument happen more than once. “Ophelia. Ope. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just-“

She shakes her head and points in the general direction of the door. “Get out before I figure out where your fucking face is.”

Ope pushes past him and runs face first into Sam. Before she can stumble or apologize Sam grabs her up, turns to hand her to Dean, and then grabs Alan by the shoulder and leads him outside, pushing him along the porch and down the steps.

“That's why you cheated?” He’s amazed at how level his own voice is, how calm he sounds.

“I-fuck-Sam I just-“

"You need to leave before I kick your ass."

"This isn't-" He doesn’t finish, waves one hand and walks away. The sound of his truck rumbling to life and pulling out is his goodbye.

When Sam gets back into the kitchen Ophelia is standing with her head down and her hands clenched as Dean stares at her. She manages to bite out, “Sorry guys.”

“For what?” Dean sounds honestly perplexed and her head comes up at that.

“I wanted you to have more time alone.”

“Well,” Dean looks at Sam for half a second before returning his eyes to her, “You are sort of blind. So as long as we’re really quiet it’s not-“ He doesn’t get to finish because Sam slaps a hand over his mouth, whole body rigid with shock and horror.

Ophelia’s laughter breaks the silence, and when Sam turns she’s got her hands over her mouth as she continues to guffaw. When she finally gets her breath back her head is shaking. “You’re fucking disgusting.” It’s said in amusement, tenderness in every note of her tone as she smiles broadly.

Sam removes his hand and Dean smiles back at her. “Yeah. Heard that one before.”

She leaves without responding, trailing laughter behind her as she goes. When Dean turns back Sam kisses him, overwhelmed with gratitude and love. The sunlight shines through Dean’s short blonde hair, and for half a second Sam thinks cheesy thoughts and then closes his eyes and just tastes the man in front of him.





-----



Dean finds that he loves sparring with Sam. Loves training Sam. It’s the kind of thing he always imagined doing with his brother, and the two of them work well together. Sam really is a quick learner, and by his third lesson he’s holding up against Dean so well it’s hard to remember he’s just started. Sam still can’t beat him, but he’s getting better with every day.

His first trip with Sam to the gym Sam frequents is an eye-opening experience. He hasn’t been thinking of Sam sexually while they spar, too focused on making sure Sam is learning without getting injured. Standing in the same room as Sam lifts weights though Dean learns something about himself. The imaginary line in his head between Sam as brother and Sam as lover is quite thin, and the play of muscles across Sam’s back and arms when he does a rep leaves Dean drooling and admiring. Ophelia has turned out to be more than a little right, they can compromise and be both.

He takes Sam in the showers, curtain pulled around their wedge of the pie-shaped shower heads, but both feet exposed under the metal. Sam’s nervousness about it only spurs Dean on, and he keeps one reluctant hand over Sam’s plush mouth to stifle the noises as he divides his attention between what he’s doing and anyone else who may be coming in.

The Impala gets delivered and Dean has them back it into the workshop. He's only spent time in the ritual space upstairs before, and Dean marvels at the collection of tools for a little while before he gets started. Her uncle was thorough and orderly, and he makes sure to be careful with all of it because his father trained him that way. Sam wanders in and out as Dean gets started, watching him through strangely hooded eyes and occasionally retrieving a tool Dean requests. Sometimes Sam just sits in the same room, listening to whatever Dean is playing on the stereo and reading a book. It’s more time that goes in the brother category, and Dean finds he loves it almost as much as sparring, almost or as much as fucking.

When the call comes in from Ophelia’s doctor Dean insists he’ll take her. His decision is influenced heavily by the fact that he knows Sam is going to have the blonde girl stop by so he can give her the brush off. Dean doesn’t want to be there for that, doesn’t want to see her, so he packs Ope up in the Jeep and rides off.

She talks the whole time, voice nervous and hands moving constantly to punctuate sentences and underline phrases. If asked later Dean doubts she’ll remember a thing she’s saying, so he takes it in stride. When they reach the doctor’s office the look the receptionist gives them puts Dean on edge. The woman’s tone does the same for Ophelia.

The doctor is no better, tense and nervous as he tells them there’s no sign of tumor, no sign of anything really, other than an anomaly on the MRI. He wants to give her another one, keep her in the hospital for observation while they run a battery of tests they haven’t done yet. Dean catches a glimpse of the MRI scan and sees the shape on her brain. Stares at it for a long time while she argues about whether or not she’ll let herself be admitted.

She ends up winning the argument, and Dean shares a long stare with the doctor after she’s found her way out of the room. “Mr. Tyler your friend’s results…she needs to be admitted. She needs to be studied.”

Dean isn’t sure if he agrees or not. The scan unsettles him badly, and he points to it and clears his throat. “What part of the brain is that?”

“Her occipital lobe, the part that controls sight. I’ve never seen…it’s strange really. Does it look like a-?”

Dean stares at it a little longer and then turns back to take in the doctor’s pale face. “No.” He steps out into the hallway and leads her away from the physical copy of the image burned into his eyes.

The ride back is spent in silence until they reach the halfway point and her voice breaks over the music. “What was it?”

“There’s a-uh-a handprint on your brain. Lobe for your sight.”

She nods once, as if she expected that, and then lights a cigarette. “Ok. Ok that’s fucking creepy. You think Sam is done with the slut?”

Dean has to bite back anger at the thought, and he grips the wheel tighter when he answers. “He better be.”

Her grin is hesitant, only half there, and Dean takes it in with one sweep of his eyes before looking back to their destination. He keeps glancing at her though, making sure she’s ok and that’s why he sees the change. The minute they turn into the driveway her hand starts that odd tremor. Her jaw starts to work, mouth moving, and Dean stops the car and turns off the radio.

“Ope. Ope what’s happening to you?” Something about these episodes has started to bother him, something he can’t put a finger on.

“I don’t-“ Her hands clench on her own thighs and he watches the trails of thick tears that leak out from under her glasses.

“What do you smell Ope?” It’s been the one constant. The one thing she’s always said.

“Matches-sulfur-terrible-“Her head bounces back against the headrest and he hits the gas, flying down the driveway as she begins to seize in earnest. He makes it to the end and sees the girl’s car, everything clicking into place at once.

It’s not the best thing he can do, certainly not the kindest, but he lifts Ophelia’s thrashing form out of the car and lays her on the grass before racing up the stairs. Because she’s great, really, Dean likes her a lot, but Sam. Sam is up there and if Dean’s right then there’s trouble. Bad trouble.

He rounded the corner of the porch and saw Sam talking to the blonde, face relaxed and easy as his brother pushed hair out of his eyes and lifted them to find Dean.

“Ruby this is-“ Sam’s voice died mid-sentence and Dean had time to see his brother's eyes widen, see the confusion dawn, before the girl was turning to Dean and tensing.

Dean moved, instinct taking over, and the flask was in his hand and open before he got within range, one hand flinging holy water even as he shouted, “Christo.”

He saw the flash of black, the flinch, and then Ruby was grabbing her face and howling as the holy water hit. Sam Dean’s head was screaming as he pushed the blonde forward, breaking the salt line with one foot and manhandling the demon through the door. She landed one vicious blow and Dean was thrown backwards into the table. Air left his lungs at the pain, and then he was up and throwing more holy water even as he saw Sam stumbling through the door and calling his name. He thought of Bobby casually mentioning the broken trap and salt line. Of mentioning the painted traps up here.

Dean kept pushing until the demon threw him again, and then Sam was there and apparently reading his mind because he slammed into the demon and grabbed her waist, pushing her the last few feet into the circle of the devil’s trap drawn on the ceiling. Dean saw Sam stumble back, and then Ruby was left in the circle, slamming against the invisible barrier as she screamed at them.

“You think this will do anything? That this will stop us?”

Dean felt strong hands on his elbows, lifting him up, and then he was being taken outside into the cold air. Hands searched his face, pressed lightly against his ribs and Dean sucked in a harsh breath when one suggested that it was probably broken and didn’t want to be touched. He could still hear the bitch inside even as he turned his eyes to look at Sam.

His brother’s face was pale, hands trembling as he kept checking Dean over. Dean grabbed his hands, took a breath and then spoke. “Sam? Did she try to feed you anything? Give you anything?” He couldn’t stop thinking about Brady, how Brady slipped Sam his blood, but Sam was already shaking his head.

“No. No I-she didn’t-oh god.” Sam pulled his hands free and covered his face. “She’s a demon. They found me. They found me here.”

“Stop. Sam stop.” He was grabbing the bigger body, pulling it against himself and holding despite the groan from his rib. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you and I won’t let anything happen to you ok Sammy? Deep breaths man, deep breaths. You’re fine.”

It took Sam a few minutes, but when he was finally under control he pulled back and looked around. “How did you know?”

Dean half-grinned, ready to brag about how he’d put it all together, and then he remembered Ophelia. “Aw shit. Come on.” He pulled back from Sam, pressed one hand against his side to hold the rib steady and made his way around the porch again and down the hill. He found her on the ground where he left her, face pointed to the sky and hands covering her eyes. At some point she’d lost her sunglasses, and when Sam pulled her hands back Dean saw that she was biting her lip so hard there was blood. She needed a change of clothes again, and he averted his eyes as Sam lifted her easily and took her upstairs through the basement.

He dug through his own bag, grabbing a pair of his sweats and one of his shirts before stepping back to the bathroom and opening the door. He can hear the bitch screaming in the kitchen, taunting them, and there’s a moment where he sees red even as he’s holding the clothes out to Sam. Ophelia’s eyes move back and forth through the room, her head tilted towards the living room as Sam opens the shower and starts the water running.

Dean watched them both for a moment, and then stepped out and closed the door. He had work to do, and he needed the supplies to do it.





-----





Sam waited until she was out of the shower, helped dry her off, and then maneuvered her into Dean’s clothes. She was weak, her hands fluttering as she tried to hold on. A million things ran through Sam’s head and he couldn’t focus on any of them very well. She’d had a seizure and Dean had left her on the grass. Dean had known Ruby was a demon, Ruby was a demon, and Sam couldn’t figure out how. They had a demon in their kitchen.

It was the culmination of Sam’s greatest fears, to bring that part of his life into this one, to lose everything he’d gained to the influence of black eyes and damnation. He didn’t realize Ophelia was talking to him until her hand grabbed painfully at his shoulder.

“Sam, I know I’m not in a good state, but who the fuck is screaming in the kitchen?”

He pulled her sunglasses up from the counter and slid them on. Chewed on his answer until he knew she was about to speak again and then pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m sorry Ope. This is-I-Ruby’s a demon.”

Her voice was muffled by his chest. “Why are we in here then?”

He pulled back and looked at her, at the determination laced with exhaustion, and he almost refused. She needed to lie down, and he needed to talk to Dean, but she wouldn’t put up with that and he knew it. He let her grip his forearm tightly and walked her into the kitchen. Dean was laying out a line of items, and he looked up once and met Sam’s eyes before looking Ophelia over. The hunter mask was firmly in place. “I’ll be right back Sam. I have some stuff in the trunk that I need.”

Sam pulled a kitchen chair back to the counter and settled Ophelia in it before standing beside her. Ruby looked them over.

“Sammy. Don’t you think you should let me go before this gets worse?” Her smile was broad, helpful, and Sam felt nausea claw its way up his throat before he swallowed it down. He didn’t speak to her, kept his eyes moving around the cast of characters in the room to avoid getting bogged down in mind games. Brady had always been good at those.

“Look around you Sam, haven’t you done enough damage already? Your pseudo-sister blind, your brother damning himself in you, and now they’re both marked for death. When Brady gets his hands on that little bitch-“

“You talk too fucking much.” Ophelia’s hands rifled through the pockets of Dean’s sweats to find her cigarette pack and pull one out. She lit it and took a deep breath, reached up with her free hand, searched until she found Sam's hand and squeezed it tightly.

“And you think entirely too little. You think you’re gonna walk away from this? Brady’s going to come back for Sam eventually, and when he does the things he’s gonna do to you.” She whistled once and then laughed. “Girl I’d hate to be you right now. You really shouldn’t have taken his toy. You're gonna wish that shifter I sent after you finished you off. It would have been a mercy.”

Which made that Sam's fault too. Ruby had sent that thing to kill her, to isolate him. Sam’s hand gripped at her shoulder, and she patted it once distractedly as she took a drag. “Keep gloating. I’m a big fan of irony.”

“You’re also a big fan of pain apparently. Inviting the Winchesters in, selling your sight, what else have you given them? Do you join in their little incestuous hoedowns? I bet that’s hot, to get as dirty as they are-“

“Exorcizo te, immundíssime spíritus, omnis incúrsio adversárii, omne phantasma, omnis légio-”

Ruby’s screams are terrible, a counterpoint to the sound of Ophelia’s bland and uninterested tone, and when Dean comes back through the door and stares open-mouthed at her Sam wonders what the hell is going even as he’s stepping back and away from Ophelia. She falls silent, and when she does Ruby stops screaming and launches herself at the wall of the trap.

“You fucking cunt. I’ll kill you. I’ll let Brady fuck you half-dead and then I’ll rip you to shreds. Cut your fucking guts out and half eat them like your father did your mother. Would you like that?“

“In nómine Dómini nostri Jesu Christi eradicáre, et effugáre ab hoc plásmate Dei.” The screams come again even as Ruby’s words get through to Sam. He doesn’t see surprise on Ophelia’s face, catches the look of understanding on Dean’s and considers lying down and dying right there. Everything. They know everything she's saying is true, and that means nothing will keep Ophelia safe. All the strength goes out of Sam's legs. Ruby's grin is weak when the screaming finally stops. Ophelia’s voice on the other hand, it could cut steel, and she’s leaning forward with both hands firmly on her thighs. “Sam. Can you put this cigarette out and head to the basement? Stay there for a bit while Dean and I take care of this.”

As if he’s just realized he’s supposed to be doing something Dean moves forward, gets an ashtray and puts out Ophelia’s cigarette before crossing over to Sam. He drops his bag and touches Sam’s shoulder hesitantly. The green eyes are heavy, serious, and Dean’s voice stays low and intimate. “Sammy, you don’t need to watch this. You don’t have to stay.”

Sam can’t stop his head from shaking, his hands from trembling, because there’s a whole new world of pain he’s been introduced to and he can’t leave them to this. It’s his mess, his problem, and for once he’s got to take care of it. “No. I need to-I have to be here.”

Dean doesn’t argue and Ophelia’s head is nodding slowly even as she’s leaning back in the chair.

“Ok bitch there's two ways this can go. Either one is gonna fucking suck for you, but one of them is much faster. Please, please, do me a favor and pick the slow one.” Ope looks vicious when she speaks. Bloodthirsty.

Dean let go of Sam’s shoulder and picked up the bag he’d brought in, unzipped it and laid out more tools and a jug of water without speaking. He holds each one up for a second as if to inspect them, and Sam knows that the real purpose is to give Ruby a good eyeful of what’s in store for her.

“If you think I’m afraid of Dean Winchester you’re dead wrong. After all, if he sends me back to Hell I can just take my aggression out on his daddy.”

Sam watched the line in Dean’s shoulders change, the way his body froze solid, and then the dirty-blonde head rose and Dean’s voice came out in a growl so thick it was almost hard to understand. “What did you say?”

“Aw, you didn’t figure it out yet? Where did you think your miracle came from Dean? Angels? Papa Winchester made a deal.”

Sam wanted to move, wanted to grab at Dean before he did something stupid, but it turned out to be unnecessary. Dean stood and cracked his neck once before opening a jug of water and flinging some of it in Ruby’s face. The screaming started again.

When Ruby stopped the silence in the room was deafening, and then Dean cleared his throat. “Alright, let’s start at the beginning. Why did Azazel give Sam his blood?”

“Fuck you asshole I’m-“ Dean doused her with holy water again and the screaming started.

Sam eventually went numb, the cycle of hurting Ruby and listening to her torrents of hate were too much. His brain shut down, gripping tightly to the possibility that he was having a vivid nightmare and any second now it would end and he would wake up. After all did he really remember waking up? Did he remember breakfast? He didn’t think so. If he couldn’t remember those things then they might not have happened, and that was his best bet.

He had no idea how much time had passed before he felt a strong grip on his shoulder and looked up to see Dean staring down at him. “Sammy, you ok?”

He turned his head to look at familiar fingers, calloused and strong, and nodded to try to assure both Dean and himself. He looked around Dean’s side to see Ruby on her knees, hands holding her up, and Ophelia crouched a little ways outside of the border of the Devil’s Trap. “What is Ophelia doing?”

Dean looked over his shoulder and then back at Sam. “We’re gonna finish this. You should leave Sam.”

“I’ve been to an exorcism before. Remember?” He doesn’t mean to sound angry or hurtful but he does. Dean’s smile is gentle and off-putting.

“Yeah I do. That’s why I think you should step out Sammy.”

Sam kept Dean’s gaze even as he spoke. “End it Ope.”

“Fucking gladly. Crucis Jesu Christi Dómini nostri: Qui cum Patre et eódem Spíritu Sancto vivit et regnat Deus, per ómnia sæcula sæculórum.”

There’s a flowing cloud of black that escapes Ruby’s mouth, Sam knows it all too well, and then the body falls and lays still as Ophelia pushes herself up. Her face, when she turns around, is so tightly locked down it looks like her skin has solidified and hardened. Sam wants to go to her, touch her, but he can’t make himself move. She crosses the room instead, hands out, and Dean takes her wrist and leads her hands to Sam.

He watches as her face crumbles, her emotions completely out of whack, and she wraps herself around him as she cries. “Sam.” It’s the only word she gets out. Dean leaves them, Ruby’s corpse hanging over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and the two of them stay like that for an hour according to the wall clock before she speaks again.

“We’re going to stop Sam. We’re going to stop blaming ourselves for what we can’t control. Starts here and now. Got me?”

He hides his face in her hair and tries to remember what he’s supposed to say. He’s at fault here, knows it like he knows his name, and yet she’s trying to insist he give that up. He remembers the dreams of Ope and Dean being tortured. Tortured by him. They should have let Ruby take him.

“Yeah Ope. I got it. I’ll try.” He kissed her scalp, inhaled her scent, and then heard Dean come back in.

She needed help getting to bed, the strain of the seizure and the exorcism too much, and Sam helps her there. When she’s tucked in and sleeping he feels hands grab him and pull him up, out of her bedroom and into his.

They don’t talk, don’t argue, they just touch at first and it starts innocent and moves far beyond that rapidly. Somehow Sam finds himself with his fingers stretching Dean open and his mouth on the pulse of Dean’s member. He’s pushing his way in before he realizes he’s crying, and while they’ve never subscribed to the meaningless porn conversations people so often share in bed Dean starts to talk.

“Can’t lose you again Sammy-can’t-please-please-you have to-oh god Sam-“ His voice is broken, some concoction of reverence and fear and Sam finds himself grabbing Dean’s hips and thrusting harder, proving that he’s alive and there and well. He has to be strong. Guilt or no guilt he has to be strong because Sam has spent his time in Hell, has suffered and been broken, but now he has to take care of Dean. Take care of Ophelia. It’s time to be someone else, someone who can stand under pressure because what happened today can’t happen again.

It’s time for Sam to fight.

Comments

[sammichgirl]

Ohhhh, so much to read this weekend, I loved it! :)

I loved that Dean marked Sam. You betcha he is his territory. I was surprised Sam didn't say he was Dean's back to him, after all the chasing...maybe his mind was in a more blissed out space? Or is that foreshadowing?

Jerk! Bitch! How I have missed you. Excellent way to add that in, BTW. And the training, and the banter...very brotherly. It's like they just fall into it easily...I kinda love that.

Ophelia has a HANDPRINT on her brain? Is it Jana's? Or soemthing else? Hmmm, that's disturbing.

Ruby is gone! Celebrate! Hope she doesn't come back. ANd Sam, visions of him torturing Dean and Ope. :( No, please no! I hope Sam fighting to keep them safe doesn't turn dark.

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

Yeah, just saw where I missed changing it from living room to kitchen. Another fallout bit from when the house wasn't warded because Ope had no knowledge previously.

I was so glad to find a good way to bring it in, because honestly? I get all doe-eyed when they're sweet to each other, but I go "awww" with every bitch jerk conversation.

And yeah, boo to Ruby. Big boos.

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

oh my goodness--that was a wild roller coaster of a chapter! Excellent use of Ruby and the exorcism! She was a bitch and a half, with her little sweet self. *patooie* It was very pleasing to see her get it. And now, more questions flying around in my brain! Handprint!!!!!!!

Dean and Sam sparring and learning things about each other, this made me very happy. :)

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

Why thank you! I live to kill Ruby. :)