Lost Time Ch. 20

[dime_liora]

Title: Lost Time Chapter 20/27
Wordcount: 5,492
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

When Dean wakes up Sam is gone, his side of the bed is cold, and the sun is shining in through the window. He runs into Ophelia coming out of the bathroom and fights the urge to hug her. She looks beaten down, broken apart, and the smile she pulls over it is dead and terrible. He goes into the bathroom instead, spends extra time shaving and showering before going into the kitchen. He expects to see Sam looking like Ope, possibly worse, and that’s why the smile that greets him when he enters is so unsettling.

Sam’s almost cheery as he serves them both breakfast, Ophelia’s wrinkled brow is kissed and Sam’s hand trails the back of Dean’s neck as he moves around dropping plates and pouring coffee. There’s a long silence, and then Dean breaks it. “Practicing for marriage Sammy?”

His brother turns his head and smiles brightly. “You proposing?” It’s light, easy, and Dean wants to shake it off of him. He knows instinctively what Sam’s doing. Being strong for him and Ophelia, but being strong is Dean’s job. It’s Dean’s responsibility to hold Sam together and not the other way around. The sudden anger is overwhelming.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He sees out of the corner of his eye that Ophelia’s head has dropped, her fingers tapping a staccato beat on the table.

“I think that question is better pointed at you. Am I not allowed to be in a good mood?” Sam’s hands are moving rapidly, restocking the cabinets from the dish rack and Dean finds his own clenching on the table.

“Not after yesterday you’re not. We all know your story now Sam, you can give up the happy go lucky act.” Ophelia’s fingers are moving over the table more rapidly, and she starts shaking her head as their argument gets louder.

“Jesus Dean, sorry, I’ll mope around so you can feel better about yourself. God knows I would hate to deny you your masculine superiority.”

Hands slammed against the tabletop, and Ophelia was standing and staring towards the door. Dean watched her, practically vibrating with anger, and wondered if maybe he’d gone about this the wrong way.

“If the two of you don’t fucking stop it I’m going to lose my shit. Sam, quit being cheery. We all want you miserable. Dean, stop worrying about Sam. Ignore his feelings completely. Hear how ridiculous you’re both being?” She took a deep breath and scrubbed her face with one hand, “We buried a corpse together boys, it’s time for unity right now. Got me?”

Dean stared at her, open-mouthed and unsure if he should be angry or amused. He settled for a middle ground. “Ope, I’m not-“

“I swear to god if what is coming out of your mouth isn’t an apology to Sam followed by a loud round of kisses I’m going to find a blunt object and beat you with it.” Dean watched Sam come over to her and take her elbows softly, lead her back into the chair, and then all six ridiculous feet and change of him was kneeling in front of Dean.

“Sam I’m-“ Sam shook his head and grabbed the sides of Dean’s face, big hands almost swallowing the flesh as he pulled him forward and kissed him. He let Sam take control, let Sam lead the pace, and when his little brother pulled back Dean licked his lips instinctively and let himself smile. “Yeah ok. Unity. Go Team Winchester.”

Sam laughed once, breath puffing against Dean’s wet lips, and then he took a seat and made himself a plate of breakfast. Ophelia muttered around a mouth of food, “Or Team Burton.”





-----





Sam waits until they’ve all eaten to start asking questions.

“So how did we know Ruby was a demon yesterday?” It’s still hard to swallow, hard to remember that he let her in the damn house, that he touched her.

Dean swallows hard while Ophelia lights a cigarette and taps her fingers against the table. “Ope kept saying the same thing during those seizures of hers. That she smelled sulfur, and that one time that something was watching us.”

Sam has to think back to remember that one, and there was another message wasn’t there? He shakes that off when he hears how hesitant and soft her voice is. “I’m seizing as a warning against demon proximity?” A complicated series of thoughts flew across her face, until she settled on annoyed. “That’s not fucking helpful.”

“Well it let us know that skanky bitch was a demon so there’s that.” Dean’s got this awkward look, half-apologetic and half-vicious. Sam’s amazed to see Ophelia nod at him once in commiseration.

“No, no it’s not helpful. It’s terrible. If demons are after me then every time one gets close she’ll-“ Sam has to stop and take deep breaths, get a tight grip on himself. “Did we get any helpful information out of Ruby?”

Dean’s face went dark and Ophelia took a deep drag. For a moment they both stayed silent, and then Dean cleared his throat. “We got that they still want you, and if the lack of cavalry is any indication she hadn’t tipped them that she found you yet. So there’s that.”

“And we know Azazel had a boss.” Ophelia stubbed out her cigarette carefully and took another few bites of breakfast before she finished her thought. “The question is who? It’s not Brady so we’re kind of out of options there.”

“So, to recap, we’re up against an unknown number of demons with a shadowy boss who want me for some purpose related to the demon blood they had me drink?” Sam took in Dean’s anger and Ophelia’s bleak look. He almost jumped when Dean’s hot hand settled on his arm.

“Nobody’s gonna get you Sammy. Not while I’m around, ok?” Dean’s face is intense, focused, and Sam has to swallow hard at the sight of the love and fierce protectiveness shining out of those green eyes. “Nobody’s touching my brother.”

Ophelia stood and pulled her hair back. “Let’s begin with the obvious. We need protection. We need concealment. I think I have something for both but should we ask Bobby?”

“Maybe? But Bobby's probably already given you as much defensive knowledge as he's got.” Sam saw a light go on in Dean’s eyes. “But I have dad’s journal. There might be something in there.”

Ophelia shrugged. “It’s a start. I can look into back-up ideas. In the meantime you keep training Sam and we make this place a fortress against evil.” She started to leave the kitchen and stopped in the archway. “Hey guys, it’s time to get those tattoos ok? Go see Tommy with the designs. They’re supposed to be able to stop possession.”





-----





Ophelia described sigil after sigil, drew some of them sloppily when Dean asked for clarification and suggested books to show others. They spent the entire day carving them into trees around the property, placing them in the corner of doorways and under rugs. When every window and door had one beyond it Ophelia nodded seriously and then asked hesitantly if Dean would read his father’s journal aloud to her. The naked hunger on her face for what John Winchester would have to say about the supernatural world was obvious, and Dean agreed even though he was hesitant. He knew his father's reputation, but he didn't know what his dad would have to say.

He and Sam went together to get the tattoos, and Tommy ended up playing the Beatles the entire time and mocking Dean’s hesitation while he lamented Ope's "accident". Dean liked him enormously. Sam stared openly the entire time, and when the process was over and they’d left the shop Dean asked him what exactly he was staring at.

“I’ve never seen such an interesting collection of freckles.” Dean thought about that, considered his possible responses, and settled for mockery.

“Why Samantha, I’m pleased you like them. Maybe you can connect them later.” The humor in it died a quick death when he saw the hunger in Sam’s eyes.

Time passed, and Dean watched it go. Sparring became increasingly difficult as Sam gained skill with it. Eventually he managed to knock Dean down and keep him down, which was the day Dean started working on Sam’s aim. His back couldn’t take many more poundings like that. Sam was eager to learn, eager to harness his own potential, and the child-like glee he applied to being able to live up to Dean’s expectations was so good to see it hurt.

They fought, a lot, but it was always resolved in a day or less. The more Sam’s skill improved the more willing he was to butt heads with Dean, to insist on what he wanted. Every argument was tempered by the warmth Dean felt at seeing that defiant spark in Sam’s eyes.

His dad's journal had a wealth of information about hunts, but the cramped handwriting and the occasional impenetrable code made it slow going. Dean found a recounting of the night his mother died that had tears in his eyes and his hands trembling, but he had yet to find any information on Sam or what happened the night of the second fire.

He worked on the Impala when he could, and watching her come back to life was cathartic for him in a way he hadn’t expected. It was the second most important thing his father had ever placed in his hands, and he was rebuilding it along with Sam. Gone was the hunched look, the fear and lack of self-esteem, slowly replaced by a sense of self-worth Dean was glad to see. Sam would join him sometimes while he worked on repairs, and Dean would share a beer with him and lecture him on which tools did what or how to properly care for her. As far as Dean was concerned Sam was the next successor to the Impala, and he’d need to know how to love her the right way.

The day of Sam’s job interview Dean found Ophelia in the old barn with him, listening as he pounded out dents and sang along with Def Leppard. He took a break halfway through the day and palmed sweat off his brow when she held out a beer. The days were finally gaining some semblance of warmth, but Ophelia assured him it wasn’t going to last.

He stood beside the workbench she’d gotten up on and stared at the Impala as they drank together. Eventually she broke the silence. “Hey Dean, I was talking to a professor I know at UMaine Farmington. Religious Studies guy. I’m hoping to pump him for information, but he’s kinda distracted right now.”

He saw the bobber above him and took the bait anyway. “Distracted by what sweetheart?”

She leaned back and tried looking casual, one hand gripping the beer bottle and the other sliding along the rough wood beneath her. He never missed how tactile she was after she’d lost her sight, figured she was seeing with her fingers. “Well apparently a fellow professor decided it would be a good idea to jump from a window. Well known man-slut, really big into fucking students for grades. Witness reports say he went in with a young girl dressed in white, but she never came out. The students are babbling about some kind of freaky legend.” She fought a grin and lost. “They think it was a vengeful ghost of a girl who committed suicide. Prof is so busy handling counseling and rumors he can’t really focus on the research I asked him for.”

Dean considered it for a long time, sipping his beer and mapping out where he’d need to work next to get the Impala back in top shape. He could let her sit out one hunt though. Borrowing the Jeep wouldn’t be all bad. “I see. Is Sam ok with me leaving for a little while?”

“Sam’s going too. He insisted. He already told the job people he had a prior engagement and needed the time off.” Her grin had turned so broad it looked a little insane, and Dean was half-tempted to goose her to make it go down.

“Sam’s going too? So this means you’re going?” He watched the grin go a little wider and then fall back into a controllable size.

“Oh fuck that. Small room with you two? Not a chance in hell. We scheduled a baby-sitter for me. You guys are going alone. Two brothers, on the road, fighting evil. It’s like a movie plot.”

Dean thought about the long hours devoted to research, the horrors he’d seen over the years, the hunts that went bad. “Who the hell would want to watch that?”

He accepted though, partially because he was eager to get back into the game, but mostly because Sam wanted to go with him. Sam wanted to hunt, and he’d mock Ophelia’s statement all he wanted but it was what he’d longed for his entire life. He and his brother on the road together, hunting evil, saving people. Granted, the parts that were slick and sweaty hadn’t been in his imaginings, but life wasn’t always what you expected it to be.





-----





Sam stared at Lina for a long time before he turned back and gripped Ophelia’s arm. “Are you sure you’re ok with this? Dean can go alone you know, or you can come along.”

Lina stuck her tongue out at him and wrapped an arm around Ope’s waist. “We’re good Sam. I can be responsible.”

Ophelia raised one eyebrow in Lina's direction and then pulled away and held her arms out so Sam could hug her. He did, gripping extra tight and taking a deep breath of her familiar smell. “I’m going to be fine Sammy. Just fine. Now stop mother-henning and get going. I can feel Dean twitching from here.”

Sam looked her over one last time and then turned to Lina and pointed a finger, watching the girl roll her eyes and then fake interest in his lecture. “Keep her out of the basement, those stairs are too steep. Make sure she eats regularly and at least one healthy meal a day. She needs to sleep some, and if she isn’t I’ll know Lina. Don’t ever leave her alone. Got me?”

Ophelia looked a bit put-out, and Dean moved smoothly in between them and tapped Lina once on the shoulder before flashing his most charming smile. Sam didn’t miss the way Lina's knees seemed to wobble, or how she suddenly looked attentive. “We’d be real appreciative if you took good care of her sweetheart. Sammy’s just a little over-protective, but we know you’ll do a fine job.” He drawled the whole thing, accent ridiculously overblown, and Lina actually giggled when he was done.

It was only the hilarity of Ophelia’s face struggling to control itself that kept Sam from hitting Dean or throwing out a biting insult. She hugged Sam once more and then reached out for Dean. They held onto each for a long minute, and then Dean let her go and winked once even though she couldn’t see it. “We’ll be back Ope.”

“Yeah. Bring me a souvenir!”

It was a struggle for Sam to leave her with spacey Lina. The girl Ope had fired because she couldn't keep a schedule or take a coherent phone message. The girl who had once insisted she thought the bulb she’d placed in her plant would refill itself. They made it all the way to the Jeep before he asked Dean if he was sure Ophelia shouldn’t come along.

“Sam. Jesus man, you’re not the girl’s mother. She’ll be fine. Anyway, Lina seemed nice.”

Sam leveled Dean with a gaze that went unnoticed as his brother backed out of the space. “She seemed nice, or her transparent shirt and huge breasts seemed nice Dean?”

Dean shrugged. “Little of Column A, little of Column B?”

“You’re a jerk.” Sam turned his head away, and then tensed when Dean put a hand on his knee. The caress turned intimate in seconds, fingers trailing up his thigh and brushing along his hipbone.

“I’m your jerk. Bitch.” Suddenly, being alone with Dean in a motel room for days didn’t seem like such a bad thing.





-----





He was never going on a hunt with Dean again. Something about the combination of being out of the house, of the cheap motel room, and the stress of questioning witnesses combined within Dean to make him the biggest dick on the planet. The swagger was bad enough, but when the pranks started Sam really thought he’d go insane. From the missing wallet to the porn sites locking up his computer Sam spent the moments he and Dean were alone fighting the urge to scream at his brother. Dean’s insistence that it was payback didn’t help.

The stories though, that was the part Sam really couldn’t understand. Without his laptop he was left with calling Ophelia and asking her for information. He listened to the ringing for what seemed entirely too long and then she answered, voice foggy and half-there. “Yes?”

Sam glanced over at the alarm clock to see it was two in morning. He and Dean had just gotten back from hearing the obnoxious jock’s tale of woe and aliens. His eyes traveled the room to see Dean sitting at a table, cleaning his ordinance and pointedly not looking at Sam. Apparently no matter how many times he told Dean he didn’t bleach Dean’s hair, Sam was still the only suspect. He didn’t think the bleached look was good on Dean either, but now wasn’t the best time to mention it.

“Hey Ope. Were you sleeping?” He leaned back against the headboard and rubbed at his tired eyes. Lying to people was draining, having Dean openly ignore him was worse.

“Yeah Sammy, little bit. What’s up?”

“We’ve hit a brick wall here. I was wondering if you could maybe help us out a little?”

“Fire away Sam.” He heard the click of a lighter, the sound of her inhaling, and almost lectured her about smoking in the bed. Instead he carried the phone over to the rickety table Dean was at and hit speakerphone.

“So it started with the ghost story, but it’s gotten a little complicated since then. We’ve had reports of an alien abduction, and then tonight a professor was eaten.”

“Eaten by aliens or a ghost?”

Dean clicked the slide back onto his handgun and looked up at the phone. “Neither. An alligator. Sewer alligator.”

There was silence for a long second and then Sam heard a choked sound that became laughter. “Very funny guys." When neither of them laughed she attempted to sound serious. "Sewer alligators? No way.”

“Well sweetheart there’s never been proof of aliens either, but there you go.” Dean put the gun down and began disassembling a rifle. “Maybe if we were focused we’d have a better story for yah.”

Sam tried, really tried, to hold it in. It didn’t work. “Oh yeah. Maybe if we acted like professionals instead of flirting with bar sluts and pulling pranks we could-“

“Who dyed whose hair Sam? I look like a friggin’ Backstreet Boy.” Dean’s hands had clenched on the rifle, but before Sam could say anything back Ophelia cleared her throat.

“Guys, hey, be civil. What the hell is going on with you two?”

“Sam is-“

“Dean’s been-“

They started and stopped at the same time, and Sam glared right back at Dean while he watched his brother’s jaw work. This was what it was like to have a real sibling, Sam knew it, and he wasn’t sure he liked it much.

“Ok. We’re going to do this one at a time, no interruptions. Sam tell me everything, Dean you next. We’ll plan a course of action from there. No hitting.”

So Sam told his story, and damn if Dean didn’t interrupt him every five seconds. When he was done Dean told his version, making Sam out as some sort of touchy-feely basket case. Sam was pretty sure if he glared any harder his eyes would burn out.

“You guys are fucking impossible. You’re being played.”

Dean locked eyes with him, and Sam watched the jaw unclench before bright green eyes swept down to the phone. “Played? Wanna be more specific?”

“Trickster spirit, maybe a pooka but unlikely if people have really died. So Trickster. I’m sure your dad’s journal has something on how to kill it. It’s pitting you against each other so your investigation tanks, which probably means-“

Sam shook his head and groaned. “We already talked to it and got made. Damn it.”

Dean’s eyes were averted to the window as he rubbed at his hair. “Well. That explains a lot.”

“Hey did you say your hair got bleached? Can you describe-”

“Thanks for your help Ope. We’ll talk to you later.” Dean disconnected the call and stood, hands rubbing against his thighs as he looked around the room. When he spoke it sounded painful. “I’m sorry Sam. I should have believed you.”

Well, that was unexpected. Dean’s face was averted enough Sam couldn’t see it, so he stood and took Dean’s shoulder to turn him around. The face was tight, tense, and he pulled Dean into a hug.

“It’s cool man. I didn’t believe you either.” He released Dean fairly quickly, and stepped back. “I’ll go down to that Chinese place. Get us some food. Pepper steak right?”

“Yeah. Pepper steak. Thanks.”

Sam moved swiftly, giving Dean privacy with his thoughts.





------






Dean had an expectation when he crossed the threshold of the house he was dangerously close to calling home. Namely, the kitchen should have two people in it, both female and both waiting on them. Sam had sent Lina a text message when they were half an hour away and the ditzy blonde had yet to respond. When he saw instead a strange car in the driveway, and Ophelia sitting at the table nodding as a serious looking man in a tan trench coat spoke and gestured to her he pulled his gun without hesitation.

Behind him Sam let out a noise, and then Dean was using one arm to hold Sam back so he could be the first through the door. That answered the question of whether or not Sam knew him. If the guy was dangerous then Dean would be damned if his brother was the first one going in. They’d just killed the Trickster, it was supposed to be time to celebrate damn it.

He pushed the door open and pointed the gun at the intruder, the man’s eyes widening slightly as Ophelia’s head turned and she flashed a tired smile.

“Dean? Sam? Is that you guys?”

Dean kept the gun pointed as he responded to her. “You ok Ope?”

Sam pushed past him into the kitchen and grabbed her up, pulling her back and against him. Dean’s eyes took in the entirety of the scene now that he was close enough to. The water glasses at both settings, Ophelia clad in pajamas and with wet hair, the man at the table with his hands in the air and no sign of aggression whatsoever. He clicked the safety back on and tucked his father’s .45 into the back of his pants even as Ophelia answered, voice strained and confused.

“Guys? I’d like you to meet Dr. Jimmy Novak. Dr. Novak this is my brother Sam and his partner Dean.”

Sam held onto her for another second before she gently pushed herself away. Dean took over, trying to minimize the damage. He held one hand out and Dr. Novak took it with only a hint of hesitation. “Sorry ‘bout that. Really. You can just never be too careful right?”

Novak nodded once and then cleared his throat. “That is true. Caution is always best. I am sorry I frightened you.” The man’s voice was rough and gravelly, almost a growl despite the placid tone of it.

Ophelia’s head was moving back and forth between their voices, and her eyebrows had risen above the top of her sunglasses. “Scared you? How did they-“ Dean saw the pieces fall into place.

Sam didn’t give her a chance to pick her line of thought back up, big hand swallowing her elbow as he turned her to him and touched her wet hair. “Ophelia where the hell is Lina? We texted her that we’d be here soon.”

A slight flush crossed Ophelia’s cheeks and Dean took in the way Novak watched her. “I believe I can answer that question. I met your sister in the antiquarian bookstore. She was alone and having a seizure. I gave her a ride home once the episode had finished.”

Dean winced when Sam’s hands clenched reflexively, and then he watched his little brother lower her carefully into a chair and apologize for the squeeze. “Why were you alone Ope? Did you smell-did you have the usual warning signs?”

She tilted her head and reached out to find Sam’s shoulder and pat it. “I didn’t smell anything this time. I don’t think I did anyway; it went supernova pretty damn quick. Lina met-she was gone. I told her I’d be fine.”

Sam’s voice was laced with affection and concern. “Ophelia you’re not supposed to be alone. For good reason.” His eyes moved to Dr. Novak. “How long did it last?”

“Three and a half minutes. She was very insistent I not take her to the hospital, although I should have. I brought her home instead so she could change clothes. Is Lina her usual caretaker?”

“No. Lina is a bad friend who will never be watching Ope again.” Sam’s eyes cut back to her and then met Dean’s. The look said everything. Longest seizure yet, no warning sign, what the fuck?

Dean took over with a confident grin and a leading hand on Novak’s shoulder. “We really appreciate you looking after her, but we’ve got it from here. Thanks again.” He nudged gently to suggest the man should leave and it took the doctor a second to understand the gesture. He stood and nodded once at Dean before turning to Ophelia.

“You are a delightful young woman. I would like to see you again if at all possible. Can I leave you my contact information?”

“That would be great. Just get Sam to write it down.” Ophelia smiled softly and held out a hand that Novak took and shook gently.

When the doctor had left Sam sat next to her and Dean found her cigarettes and slid them into her hand. Sam was practically shaking with his rage, and Dean touched his shoulder once to remind him that he needed to control it in front of her. He dug through the fridge and grabbed her a soda before putting it next to the cigarettes. She gave him a small grin.

“I know you’re angry Sammy, but I told Lina it'd be fine. She’s…well fuck dude you know. A little off.”

“Yeah well I’m kinda angry about that too Ope. You weren’t ok, and it could have been worse. What if the demon that set you off got you? You’d be completely defenseless, and then what? I can’t lose you.” Sam’s voice, worried and sad, was painful to hear. The look on his face was worse and Ophelia reached for him and let him hug her again tightly before she responded.

“Sammy I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful. Promise. Wherever it was, Jimmy got me out of there fast enough it didn’t matter.”

Sam met his eyes over the top of her head and Dean took the next part, sliding down and putting a hand on her shoulder. “’Bout that Ope. I know he passed the wards, but letting a strange guy bring you home? Dangerous behavior sweetheart.”

She frowned and fumbled with her cigarettes. He could see the exhaustion, she was usually asleep this soon after a seizure, and he wondered how hard she was pushing herself to stay awake while Novak was still there. It was at least one sign of a sense of self-preservation.

“I didn’t have a lot of choices at that point and I needed to get the fuck out of there. He's a nice guy.” She paused for a moment and rubbed at her face. “Is there any chance he’s as hot as his voice is?”

Dean couldn’t help himself, he burst into laughter despite Sam’s disapproving look. “Well he may sound like Batman but he looks like a Mormon. Blue eyes, dark hair, dressed kinda out-dated. Not a bad body though.” Sam’s glare leveled at him and he winked once to mitigate the damage.

“Ophelia you can’t really be-“

She cut Sam off abruptly with a sad smile. “Sam, it takes an idiot to pass up free healthcare. Plus, it's not like I have anybody tying me down.”

Sam took in a deep breath and then nodded. “Ok. But someone goes on the first couple dates with you. I don’t trust him.”

“Well that will help my chances of getting laid, chaperones. I feel like a real princess.” She made a face and then pushed herself up and left the kitchen waving a hand over her shoulder. “Going to pass out boys. Make up sex is your next step.”

Dean had to bite the inside of his cheek and look away from Sam’s shock. Why anything she said shocked him anymore Dean couldn’t guess. There was silence for a long time and then he felt Sam’s hand on his knee. When he looked up the hazel eyes were dark and hooded. “We still have making up to do?”

He could say no, because honestly he was fine with it. Once they’d staked the tricky fucker all of Dean’s tension and anger had died with it. So…the real answer was no, but if Sam was offering to be apologetic who was Dean to turn him down?

“Yeah. I’d say there are some apologies left to be made.” He pulled Sam up, and then twisted Sam’s arm behind his back and leaned up into the younger man’s ear, pitching his voice low the way he knew Sam loved. “Maybe it’s time you got on your knees and said sorry.”

He heard Sam’s helpless little moan, felt a surge of blood to his groin, and then led Sam down the hall and into his room. When he heard Led Zeppelin start up in Ophelia’s room he let himself smile, and then Sam was on his knees unbuckling Dean’s belt, unzipping his pants, and swallowing his thoughts whole.

It was still as good as it had always been. If Dean had thought the word brother would make it uncomfortable, or give him a disgusting thrill, he’d been dead wrong. Instead the word simply became an extension of Sam’s name, an acceptable fact of reality that Dean could neither escape nor avoid. They didn’t have many titles here, first names and harsh curse words, pleas for more and wet sounds. Sam’s big hands could hold Dean down or pull him up, stretch him or grip him, tear him apart and put him back together.

He had to pull Sam away after a short time, grip the base of his cock and focus or else it would be over too soon. They undressed like they always did, urgently and without grace, before he had Sam on top of him and moving smoothly flesh to flesh. Sam was the master of friction, knew every angle to make Dean moan, every twist of his hips was perfection. When he heard the lube bottle, felt Sam’s fingers at his entrance, he simply lifted his hips for access and moaned Sam’s name. It was a plea, it was a command, and Sam granted and obeyed.

Fuck convention. Dean had never been conventional anyway. He gripped Sam’s broad shoulders, felt himself stretched open, and then Sam was inside and Dean was holding on for the ride. The bedside lamp showed hazel blown wide with black pupils, and Dean stared into the mass of colors as he listened to Sam beg him for more.

Afterwards they simply stayed beside each other, fingers stroking one another without linking, and Dean took deep breaths and stared up at the ceiling. Sam was the first to speak, voice husky and thick. “Hey Dean?”

“Yeah Sam?”

“Can this really last?” It was a hopeless sound, small and childlike. For one moment Dean thought of a baby in his arms, of a blond woman insisting that he would be the best big brother any little boy could ever ask for, and then it was gone replaced by the cold air Ophelia had predicted and the sweat remaining after their love-making.

“I’ll kill anything that tries to stop it.”

Comments

[sammichgirl]

I love that Sam is coming into his own, being defiant and little brothery, but worried too, what it will mean down the road.

TRICKSTER! So, I'm guessing it didn't look like Gabe. Or was it? Love that episode being worked in here.

Jimmy Novak. Hm. Is that really Cas? And he's interested in Ope? If it is Cas, Ope has toi be a decoy, and he's interested in the Winchester boys. Or maybe it's Jimmy before he said yes tto Cas. But then, why would he leave his wife and Clare?

I hope it lasts, and I hope Dean means what he says.

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I've never really written him vulnerable before I started working with this, and then I was insistent he had to grow. I saw that growth on the show, and it doesn't work without it. He's too strong a guy to stay wounded.

It didn't look like him, but I don't think I've ever explicitly stated in here that it *was* him, and I should find a way to do that. I'm sure he's pleased with himself.

I only have a few more minutes before everyone comes back, so I'm going to try to get all comment replies done ASAP so I'm social, but I'm loving reading these! :)

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

“Who the hell would want to watch that?”
Heeee! Loved that bit!

I loved the way you wove that "first" meeting with the Trickster into the story! Great job—plus I kept picturing Dean looking like Jensen in his soap opera days and that made me laugh out loud.

Jimmy Novak! Angel or not? And if he is, does that mean Ope is his charge this time around? It's kind of mind-boggling to think of a different angel scenario, but I like it in terms of Sam and Dean. I love the way that Sam's getting into the hunting life without the baggage of John's disapproval—or at least his perceived disapproval since most of what we know about that has been from canon Sam's POV. So, I look forward to seeing more of Jimmy and what it means for my girl.

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

I think one of my favorite bits of the show is how flippant it can be about the fourth wall. So I'm glad you liked that. :)

I had to look up pictures of your soap opera reference. I laughed for a good two minutes.

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

had to look up pictures of your soap opera reference. I laughed for a good two minutes.

Girrrl. That stuff was traaaaagic.

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

Is this a "soap operas love tragedy" tragic, or a "look up the youtube videos instantly and make sure you're somewhere you can pee yourself laughing" tragic?

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

Definitely pee yourself laughing tragic!

[dimeliora.livejournal.com]

I kept jumping to compilations later in the series in the hope that it'd be a little less painful.

It was not. It was not at all.

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

You are brave, very, very brave. I salute you!