Polaris-Good Evening (2/2)
May. 3rd, 2013 10:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dime_lioraTitle: Polaris
Wordcount: 12,079 (In two parts)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Sam/Dean
Notes: The only fic I never transferred over, and my first attempt at a chapter story.
Summary: An intervention of pagan forces splits the brothers when they are young. Growing up apart and alone what will they do to be reunited, and how will they fight what is considered their destiny?
First Chapter
Previous Chapter
It takes three weeks for Utre to get her color back to normal. She can never clearly explain to Dean what happened to her, what drained her so badly, and he can't find a concise way to ask. Instead they talk about budgets, inventory, bar fights. Anything that doesn't include discussing the big reveal or that hideous night. It occurs to Dean that so many of the pantheons have incestuous relationships she may have never considered it a bad thing. Maybe Coyote was honest about that.
What really surprises him is how often Vecher is there, and the change in her demeanor. She's almost friendly, if the definition of friendship was confined to no longer spitting curses and dropping sideways insults. They fall into an easy back and forth, and one night she refers to him as her nephew without thinking about it. Dean keeps his mouth shut tight, hides his face, and hopes she can't see how badly he wants to make a joke. She wouldn't take it well. He knows logically that this is a good step, but it's a good step onto thin ice.
He and Sam stay basically on the same schedule, and Sam fills him in on the things he missed. He struggles with the urge to call dad. There are so many factors that can't be controlled though. He can't hunt with dad because it would leave Sam vulnerable, and if dad came here he'd kill as many of the daytime patrons as he could before they took him down. Coyote was damn right about that, Winchesters only see things in shades of black and white. Dad would never understand. There's also the factor that Dean and Sam sleep together whenever they can. That they fall into bed in a tangle of limbs, and most nights it's Sam on bottom but sometimes it's Dean. If dad even got a whiff of it Dean would be dead first. Sam would probably die second. There's no way to cover it either because they reek of it, and that becomes obvious when the nightly regulars start joking with Dean about his relationship with "the help".
Dean takes it in stride, watches closely to make sure nobody is giving Sam a hard time, and mostly laughs along with them. After all, it helps him make jokes at Sammy's expense and he's been denied that right for too many years.
He still doesn't drop those three little words though. Can't bring himself to say it because now it has so much more meaning than before. Every time he gets close he shies away, makes a joke or an insult and watches Sam smile it off. If it bothers his brother Sam never says.
The talking though, it's as if Sam's gone from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds. His voice is no longer croaky after only a few days, and then it's non-stop. He wants Dean to tell him about how he's grown up, how things make him feel, what he likes and doesn't like. Sam seems unsurprised when Dean's answers slip into the one-word category, and then he starts dodging Sam at random times by grabbing Utre and using her as a human shield. She seems amused most of the time, but every once and a while she finds an excuse to abandon him there at Sam's mercy. One day he'll figure out how to pay her back for that.
They hunt together, in brief bursts at close range, and Utre never asks them to take anyone with them. Dean suspects someone is there though, takes Coyote's rant to heart and assumes that there's a god or goddess in the wings making sure that the two of them don't get ambushed while they're out. He's begun to see little things he never let himself see before. How closely they watch Sam, how sometimes Sam or he will start to slip and then magically catch themselves, how the only time anything ever breaks when it falls is when it benefits Coyote or any of his trickster ilk. He wonders how long this has been going on, and why no one ever said anything, but if it's a matter of importance no one gives it any time or credence. Dean never asks, never pushes, and never says thanks. He feels the gratitude though.
Then one night they're in the middle of it, Dean balls deep in Sam's tight heat and gasping Sam's name as he grips his brother's hips. He's pretty sure they've been at it for an hour at least, and any minute now the random thoughts holding off his orgasm will have to leave so that he can reach climax. It's that or he'll go insane. Sam's underneath him, gasping and beyond words, or so Dean thinks until Sam speaks.
"I love you."
Dean shakes his head, sweat dripping in his eyes as he tries to figure out if he really heard that right. Sam's said other things that are coos before. I love this or I love when, but never-
He should say it back, knows he needs to say it back, because this is the moment. He's known this whole time, known and held it in, and the words are stuck in his mouth just like his orgasm is stuck somewhere in his gut. He feels the tension in Sam's back, the lines of muscles tightening as Sam braces himself for something bad, and Dean knows what it is. He presses his lips against Sam's shoulder, musters up all his courage, and manages only one short sentence. "Fuck Sammy."
The orgasm comes moments later, but there's no joy in it. Sam has already finished, finished forever ago, and they end up lying side by side without touching despite the bed being too small for that to be comfortable.
"You don't have to say it Dean. It's ok."
Dean doesn't sleep that night.
-----
He looks up from his drink to see a pair of generous hips that lead along a curvy body and end in elegantly coifed hair and dark sloe-eyes. She licks her dusky lips and sits across from him before eyeing his drink.
"Get your own Ish. I ain't interested in sharing tonight."
Her lips pout once and then she gestures to Utre and waits for her glass to be delivered. Utre drops it and crosses the room quickly to separate Coyote and Raven for the third time that day.
"Dean. I hear you're having a problem. You know I've always been fond of you. Maybe I can fix it."
Her accent is heavy enough he has to fight intoxication to understand it. Sam's working the night shift, and he has the whole day to get piss drunk so he can explain not being there. "What problem? I don't have a problem other than nosy deities constantly bothering me."
Her pout is gone in an instant, eyes narrowing as she sips her whiskey. "In my day when a boy got lippy he found that he was missing body parts. Are you that eager to relive the past Dean?"
He rolls his eyes once before finishing his whiskey. Utre doesn't refill it, and he gets the hint and pours it himself, taking the bottle back to his table. "Get to the point Ish. I'm tired of jawing about it."
"If you won't say it you'll drive him away. I've seen it before." Her fingers stroke the lip of his glass before moving back to her own mouth. "You have to decide what's more important; your pride or his sweet little ass."
Dean bristles at that but swallows down his retort. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh no, of course not. i know nothing about love. Good call Dean. Hey, I learned something new about geography the other day."
He bites the bait, but he knows where it's going and he's not eager to get there. "What's that?"
"Denial? Not just a river."
The Celts break into roaring laughter behind her, and she tips her head once before she leaves. Utre walks past eyeing his glass, and then heads back to her spot at the bar.
----
Twenty minutes later he finds himself slumped in a bar stool staring at Utre as she carefully pours fifteen of those tiny clay cups full of Sake.
"What the hell is wrong with me?"
She doesn't look up from her work, hand steady as she moves from cup to cup. "You have an over-inflated sense of Western masculinity that equates verbalizing emotions with weakness. You still secretly punish yourself for your relationship with Sam. You under-value yourself because you have always been taught to put your brother first." She finished the last cup and put each one on a tray before finally looking up. "Also, you are drunk, and have allowed a love goddess to put influence on you. Any minute now you will be unable to control yourself, you will climb those stairs, take Sam, and admit your feelings."
Dean wasn't sure if anger or dizziness were his primary emotion. "What? Who would-Ish. Fucking Ish. You let her?"
"Let is a strong verb. But in a word, yes. I did." She walked away then, and minutes later Dean found himself somehow standing in the bedroom door staring at Sam asleep. His little brother was sprawled across the entirety of the bed, and snoring so loudly it should have been shaking the walls. Dean had never loved him more, and he considered all the ways he could kill Ish for this. There were an awful lot of them.
Sam rolled over then, ass pointing upwards and face against the pillow, and Dean's cock stopped any train of drunken thought he'd had before. He was in the room and mouthing his way up Sam's leg before he knew what was happening. He tasted sweat, flesh, and most of all Sam as his brother groaned and kicked none to softly at Dean's midsection.
"Sleepin'" Sam grumbled as he tried to pull his leg away. Dean wasn't having any of it. He bit the muscled thigh in front of him and listened to the resulting moan. That was more like it. It took seconds to remove Sam's boxers, to lube two fingers and get them inside that heat even as he nibbled his way up the thigh. Then the talking started, and Dean's arousal wasn't affected by his horror over the words spilling from his mouth.
"It was your hands first. I'd watch your hands while you chopped ingredients, so efficient and smooth, and I'd get hard."
Sam started to turn around, a grunt of surprise working out of his mouth, and Dean pushed at his lower back to force him to stay on his stomach. Keep him from seeing Dean's face. It was the only bit of dignity he could preserve.
"I'd watch your smile, your dimples, fuck those eyes of yours. All big and innocent and hopeful and I'd want you. I'd want to push you down and devour you."
Dean added a third finger, twisted until he found the right spot, and listened to Sam moan incoherently as he continued biting and licking.
"Then we started doing this and I thought I couldn't want any more, couldn't need anything more, until I realized I loved you. Loved you and couldn't say it 'cause I didn't even know your fucking name. I hate fucking love goddesses."
Then Dean was sitting back, grabbing Sam around the waist and pulling. His brother got the hint and let himself be maneuvered, and then Sam was sitting on his lap, sinking down onto his shaft, and Dean buried his face in the crook of Sam's neck and hid it even as the words continued to spill out.
"Love you Sammy. Loved you since the beginning, not like this, but loved you. Can't stop, can't make it be anything else."
He thrust hard and Sam's head snapped back. He felt his brother's fingers scrambling for purchase on the bed, looking to help him with leverage or speed and Dean pushed at them, kept Sam impaled at his pace and depth. He bit down and then Sam was grabbing at him.
"Dean I-"
He angled just right and stole Sam's words, pushed hard again and again until all Sam could do was make noise.
"That's why I had to leave, because I'd do anything. Anything for you Sammy. Burn the fucking world down if I had to. Kill everything, everyone, just to keep you safe. Fuck."
He was close, and he used one hand to stroke Sam. It took just that one brush of his fingers and Sam was spasming, gasping his name and twisting on his dick like Dean had electrocuted him. It took three more deep thrusts and then Dean was following him down, spent and wrung out, collapsing backwards onto the bed with his head hanging over the edge. The room spun dizzyingly and the blood rush made his face red. That had to have been it.
Sam, who never seemed able to shut up, simply pulled Dean from the edge and then took the spot beside him. Their legs tangled, and Sam stayed silent. Blessedly silent.
The next time Ish came into the bar Sam gave her free drinks and food.
------
Sam stood dumbfounded as the deities began to pile birthday gifts on the bar. Dean watched the way his brother stared at the motley assortment. Handmade items, an amulet or two, and a small and very confused looking cat. Utre shooed the cat off the bar and briskly told it to go upstairs. Sam seemed shocked that it listened, and Dean couldn't stop laughing. His little brother had a lot to learn about living with immortal beings.
June presented a cake that Sam ate hesitantly at first, and then devoured like a starving man. Wednesday offered Sam a birthday duel, and Dean declined for him.
They were mid-celebration, gods and goddesses eating cake and arguing almost amiably, when the door swung open and John Winchester walked through it with murder written on his face. He'd aged Dean noticed, but only in the face. His hair was the same color as the last time he'd seen him, and he anchored himself in reality with that bit of the familiar as every patron turned their heads and narrowed their eyes. Dad walked through the crowd slowly, eyes tracking each of them 'til they landed on Sam who was choking on his bite of cake. Dean slapped his back harder than necessary and stood a little taller.
Utre was there in a moment, standing behind the two of them with her hand on Dean's arm, and he felt the reassuring heat of her skin. He waited until dad was all the way to the bar before he spoke.
"What'll it be sir?"
His father's eyes went to slits, mouth working silently, and then he put both hands on the counter and leaned forward. "Dean?" He sounded disbelieving, horrified, and a little angry. It was a better response than Dean had hoped for.
"Yes sir." Sam was standing then, wiping icing from his mouth and keeping his distance without being told. Dean was fucking glad. Behind his father some of the patrons were slipping out silently.
"I don't understand. How the hell did you know Sam was missing? Unless-" He looked once at the bar, glanced at Utre, and then settled his eyes on Sam's face. "You found him and you didn't tell me? How long have you been here?"
"Uh-well I was-I just couldn't-" Sam was looking around, eyes searching for an excuse, and then Coyote strolled up to the bar and plopped down beside dad.
Utre cut in smoothly, face calm and assuring. "Sam arrived a little over two years ago. He petitioned me to free Dean and I set him a series of tasks including two years of silence. It was not his fault."
Dean couldn't believe it, was too shocked to even look her way. Utre lied. Lied like a consummate professional, and Dean wasn't sure he'd keep a straight face if he looked her way. He felt hysterical laughter bubbling up.
"So you're the bitch that took my son all those years ago?" His father pulled a weapon, and Dean's eyes took it in and didn't recognize it. A six-shooter, old as fuck by looking at it, and beautifully crafted. Latin on the barrel. He didn't recognize it, but Coyote did. The god reared up, barstool clattering and eyes wide.
"Whoah, hey, let's all calm down now ok? That's not-that's not necessary." He caught Dean's gaze, expressive face flashing an S.O.S. that was unavoidable.
Dad glanced his way once and then looked back to Utre. "Tell me why I shouldn't end you right now."
Utre's hand tightened on Dean's arm when he went to speak. "I have no good reason for that. I was doing what we believed was best. What you already knew and wouldn't say. If you wish to shoot me for that then please go ahead."
Wednesday and his son stood from their position across the room, and his voice rumbled through the space as he squinted his one eye. "Just remember Winchester that you only have six bullets, and there're more than six of us in here. When you're out of ammo we'll tear you limb from limb."
Dean grabbed at her, wanted to pull her back and behind him, but Utre was already stepping forward with both hands up in surrender and that same peaceful look on her face. "You have secrets that cannot hide from me John Winchester. You have committed as many sins under the sun as you have the moon. Do you wish to discuss what you already knew? Do you want to talk about what the gypsy woman told you when you looked for Dean? You knew, whether you wished to admit it or not, that this was the best way. The only way. Fire that gun and everything is undone, all the good work and the bad. All that will be left is the world's blood on your hands. Put your pride and your gun away or be responsible for the end of days."
His father's hand is shaking, and Dean knows why. Knows without knowing how or when, just that the knowledge is there almost instantly. Sam makes a strangled noise, and Dean hopes against hope his little brother will keep his fucking mouth shut. His dad could have found him, could have saved him all those years ago. Dean's both bitter and appreciative, and he doesn't know how to keep all of that silent but he will. For everyone's sake.
Dad lowers the gun though. Lowers it slowly and then puts it away before catching Dean's eye. Which is when Sam breaks all protocol.
"You bastard. You self-serving bastard! All those years and you could have-"
"Samuel." Coyote's voice is tight and totally unlike him. "Maybe you boys should have the family reunion upstairs in private."
Dean leads the way without looking back, and he hears the two sets of footsteps behind him that assure him they're following. He wonders how Utre's going to defuse the situation downstairs after all of this bullshit. When he hits the top of the stairs and crosses to the table to sit he watches Sam refuse the chair he's offered. Instead his brother takes a position against the kitchen countertop and crosses his arms over his narrow chest. He looks like he could kill dad, and Dean's honestly a little afraid of just that outcome.
Dad takes a chair though, looks around the room once in a cursory manner before focusing on Dean. "I didn't have a choice."
That's not true, Dean knows it, but he cuts his eyes to Sam to silence him. "Ok. So now you know where we are. We're both safe and fine. That's good enough right?"
Dad's face cramps strangely, and then he holds one hand out and ruffles Dean's hair. It's a gesture that fell by the wayside shortly before Dean left, and it hurts to have it crop up here in this moment. Hurts worse that he leans into it slightly, as if no time has passed at all. "I just wanted what was best Dean. I'm sorry son. It was a shit thing to do."
Dean shrugs once, keeps his face placid. "I'm fine. I've been fine." You came for Sam. It goes unspoken between the three of them, the weight that hangs over all their heads. Between just his father and himself though is the knowledge that he let it happen because he believed Sam could go bad. Believed it without ever giving his little brother the benefit of the doubt. It makes Dean strangely angry, and anger is good. Puts him on even footing in this.
And that's apparently enough for John. Dean can feel Sam bristling but he doesn't look that way. "I'm glad to see you again son. Glad to see you're ok."
Dean nods and then tries to cut this off before Sam loses what little control he has left. "So what's going on sir?" It's an easy out for dad, and a good segue for Dean.
"I need you to come with me. I've got a lead on the demon, but time is running out. Sam should stay here if it's safe."
Dean's about to respond, but he stops to mull it over. Which gives the opening Sam needs to break in. "No." Dean turns to see that Sam's gone pale, his eyes wild and wide, his nostrils flaring as he grips himself. "Tell him no Dean. Right now."
He knows what's going unsaid. What Sam is remembering, and it's like a knife to the gut. Sam begged when he was a boy, but he won't beg this time. Will expect Dean to do the right thing and not abandon him. The problem is Sam and Dean have never agreed on what the right thing is.
"It'll be fine Sammy. You stay with Utre and I'll go. I'll be back before you know it." Dad's eyes are traveling back and forth between them and Dean hopes Sam will keep it under wraps. That Sam will understand.
His hopes are dashed when Sam pushes off the counter and storms out. Dad catches his eye. "He'll be ok. You pack up and meet me outside."
Dean has time to think while he's packing the bag. To consider the many possibilities here. Sure, he's giving it all up again to leave Sam behind, but it's for Sam. He'll understand. He'll forgive. He has to because this has to be done. If the demon dies then Sam is free. No more nightmares and no more deadly destiny. He grabs the duffel up and leaves the apartment, glances in the bar but doesn't see Sam anywhere. He heads into the basement and finds more nothing, so then he peeks into the stockroom. Spider is there, wrapped up in some woman Dean vaguely recognizes, and he shares a grin with the slim god before closing the door. He peeks into the refrigerated storeroom and finds his little brother leaning against a shelf and Utre sitting in front of him and staring at nothing with gleaming eyes.
"Sammy listen-"
"Fuck you." It's the angriest he's ever sounded, and Dean swallows his own rage and grips himself tightly.
"This is for you idiot. The demon dies and you're free. You can go anywhere, do anything, and you don't need to be protected anymore." Which isn't true. Could never be true because Sam should always be protected but it's the gist of the truth and Sam will have to live with that. Utre looks up from the space she's been staring into and frowns.
"Don't give me that shit. My whole life you've been walking away. You want to do it again? Fine. Do it. Just don't put it on me. You get to be the big hunter with dad now, and I'll just stay here and hide out while you live the life you really wanted."
He almost hits him, comes close, but Utre's gaze warns him off. He swallows hard and then directs his attention fully to her. "You'll take care of him?"
"If I asked you to stay? If I said that I needed you to stay what would you say?" She knows the answer. Her face says she knows it, but Dean has to answer anyway. He owes her that at least.
"I would go. You know why Utre."
She takes the four steps to his side and goes up on her tiptoes to kiss his jaw. "I love you sweetling. More than anything. Be safe."
He leaves before she can hurt him any worse. They're two states away when Dean realizes she never promised him anything.
----
It's too easy. Dean knows it the minute they walk through the door and find no one waiting for them. The tall figure in the middle of the crumbling room is there though, and dad pulls the Colt and speaks thunder. "This is for Mary."
He's explained the gun, explained all of it to Dean, and still it seems too easy. That all they ever needed to fix the situation was a legendary gun and some magic bullets. He sees the demon's face for half a second, blood red eyes flashing, and then the bullet lights him up and he slumps down dead. There's silence in the room, a heaviness Dean never expected this moment to have, and then it hits him why.
"Dad."
"We did it. Shit son we did it. After all these-"
"Dad. His eyes."
Dad stops blabbering, hand lowering as he turns slowly to Dean. Stares for a long minute and then sucks in a breath. "Sammy."
They've been on the road for two days. It's too long to wait and Dean knows it. He reaches for the pouch around his neck and thinks harder than he ever has before. He half-expects it not to work but Coyote's there in seconds, all traces of good humor extinguished.
"Why the fuck are you here boy? Where's your brother?"
Dean shakes his head, can't get words past the blockage in his throat even as dad is heading for the god. Then Dean's being grabbed, and he has time to notice Coyote's hands are as cold as Vecher's before he's flying through space and landing in front of the inferno that used to be his home. The front door has been chopped into pieces, and Coyote sucks in a breath before grabbing at Dean's arm. He's too slow, Dean is already moving towards the open doorway and into the blaze. Sammy.
He runs through the burning bar, ducks past exploding bottles and heads up the stairs screaming his brother's name and choking on smoke. The apartment isn't as bad yet, but the smoke is thicker and he chokes on it as he crosses the main area and heads to the hallway. Utre is on the floor, head pressed against the black wood door and in the hellish light Dean can barely pick out which red is illumination and which is blood. He looks into the other rooms but there's no Sam, and he already knew that didn't he?
He grabs Utre up and winces when he feels how light and wet she is. "I cannot go." Her voice is thick and wet, and she coughs what Dean can only assume is more blood out onto his neck. Her breath rattles in her chest, and he wonders if her lung is collapsed. Dean calculates how many hours after nightfall it is. How much blood she's lost. All of it runs through his head as he crosses the apartment and dashes down the stairs with her. Coyote is at the doorway and he lets out a sound like a mournful howl when he sees her in Dean's arms. She struggles briefly at the doorway, but Dean crosses the threshold and carries her into the cool night air. He can hear the sirens of the town's only firetruck down the road.
"Dean I must go back. Daz said-"
"Fuck Daz and fuck that. Where are you bleeding from Utre?" He's looking as he asks, the parking lot's lights unforgiving and brutal. There are so many cuts it's a wonder she's alive, goddess or no. He looks up at Coyote and sees the indecision there. "Coyote. We gotta get her healed."
He shakes his head mournfully and looks around before reaching out and grabbing them. They end up in some big building, made of logs and half-dark. An old and wrinkled Native-American man looks up from the fire in front of him to stare at them, and then takes Utre from his arms before bowing his head in Coyote's direction. The god's voice is sad and low. "Do what you can for her."
Dean waits with him in the main chamber, hands bouncing between his knees and covered in Utre's blood. He's covered in her blood. She was asking him to stay, asking him not to leave because she must have known. Dean didn't listen. He looks up to see Vecher's face pale and swimming in front of him. She looks wet, but that can't be right, and then Dean realizes he's crying.
"My sister?"
Dean shakes his head, doesn't know, and then braces for the pain he so richly deserves. It doesn't come.
"This is vhat she vanted. To be there for you vhen you needed her. Stop feeling guilty, it vas her choice fool."
It takes him a moment to realize Vecher is comforting him. Which only makes him feel worse. When the wrinkled old medicine man comes back out he speaks with Coyote in a language Dean doesn't know, and then toddles off. Dean is standing beside Vecher, waiting, and Coyote turns to them and gives a half-smile.
"She'll live. He's put her in the back of the lodge, and he says we can go there."
Utre's propped up against a wall, wrapped in a thick blanket with her bare and bandaged legs sticking out. She's lost so much color Dean can almost see through her skin, but her eyes glow brightly as if the sun was high in the sky. She doesn't smile at him, but her lips twitch once.
"Sweetling. You are safe."
Vecher steps in front of him and all the warmth is gone from her. "You are an idiot sister."
She nods once simply and then holds out a shaky hand. Dean sees that she's missing three fingers. "I love you as well Vecher." He watches the darker goddess kneel, taking her sister's maimed hand and pressing her face against it.
Dean doesn't want to ask, shouldn't, but he has to. "Sammy?"
Vecher hisses once without turning, Coyote goes as stiff as a board.
"They took him. I could not stop it. There's still time though."
Coyote's already shaking his head, walking away before Dean can ask. Vecher looks up from Utre's hand and catches Dean's eyes. "Say no Dean. Please."
Everything is off, everything feels weird, but Dean can still grasp the basics. Sam has been taken and that's not going to fly. "How do I save him?"
Vecher begins to weep, and Utre pats her head gently with her remaining fingers before gesturing Dean closer. He leans in and she puts the hand on the back of his head. It's so hot he feels his hair singeing.
"Kiss me sweetling. Kiss me and then go save your brother. But return by the third sunrise. Do you understand?"
Dean nods once, licks his lips, and then leans in and presses chastely against Utre. She tastes like summer sunshine, like warmth and gold, and a million other things he can't identify. When it's over he stands and sees that her eyes are no longer burning bright. He nods once and then meets Vecher's wet gaze. "I'll be back."
He finds Coyote waiting for him outside. There's only silence when he reaches for the god and the world slides out from under him again.
Next Chapter
Wordcount: 12,079 (In two parts)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Sam/Dean
Notes: The only fic I never transferred over, and my first attempt at a chapter story.
Summary: An intervention of pagan forces splits the brothers when they are young. Growing up apart and alone what will they do to be reunited, and how will they fight what is considered their destiny?
First Chapter
Previous Chapter
It takes three weeks for Utre to get her color back to normal. She can never clearly explain to Dean what happened to her, what drained her so badly, and he can't find a concise way to ask. Instead they talk about budgets, inventory, bar fights. Anything that doesn't include discussing the big reveal or that hideous night. It occurs to Dean that so many of the pantheons have incestuous relationships she may have never considered it a bad thing. Maybe Coyote was honest about that.
What really surprises him is how often Vecher is there, and the change in her demeanor. She's almost friendly, if the definition of friendship was confined to no longer spitting curses and dropping sideways insults. They fall into an easy back and forth, and one night she refers to him as her nephew without thinking about it. Dean keeps his mouth shut tight, hides his face, and hopes she can't see how badly he wants to make a joke. She wouldn't take it well. He knows logically that this is a good step, but it's a good step onto thin ice.
He and Sam stay basically on the same schedule, and Sam fills him in on the things he missed. He struggles with the urge to call dad. There are so many factors that can't be controlled though. He can't hunt with dad because it would leave Sam vulnerable, and if dad came here he'd kill as many of the daytime patrons as he could before they took him down. Coyote was damn right about that, Winchesters only see things in shades of black and white. Dad would never understand. There's also the factor that Dean and Sam sleep together whenever they can. That they fall into bed in a tangle of limbs, and most nights it's Sam on bottom but sometimes it's Dean. If dad even got a whiff of it Dean would be dead first. Sam would probably die second. There's no way to cover it either because they reek of it, and that becomes obvious when the nightly regulars start joking with Dean about his relationship with "the help".
Dean takes it in stride, watches closely to make sure nobody is giving Sam a hard time, and mostly laughs along with them. After all, it helps him make jokes at Sammy's expense and he's been denied that right for too many years.
He still doesn't drop those three little words though. Can't bring himself to say it because now it has so much more meaning than before. Every time he gets close he shies away, makes a joke or an insult and watches Sam smile it off. If it bothers his brother Sam never says.
The talking though, it's as if Sam's gone from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds. His voice is no longer croaky after only a few days, and then it's non-stop. He wants Dean to tell him about how he's grown up, how things make him feel, what he likes and doesn't like. Sam seems unsurprised when Dean's answers slip into the one-word category, and then he starts dodging Sam at random times by grabbing Utre and using her as a human shield. She seems amused most of the time, but every once and a while she finds an excuse to abandon him there at Sam's mercy. One day he'll figure out how to pay her back for that.
They hunt together, in brief bursts at close range, and Utre never asks them to take anyone with them. Dean suspects someone is there though, takes Coyote's rant to heart and assumes that there's a god or goddess in the wings making sure that the two of them don't get ambushed while they're out. He's begun to see little things he never let himself see before. How closely they watch Sam, how sometimes Sam or he will start to slip and then magically catch themselves, how the only time anything ever breaks when it falls is when it benefits Coyote or any of his trickster ilk. He wonders how long this has been going on, and why no one ever said anything, but if it's a matter of importance no one gives it any time or credence. Dean never asks, never pushes, and never says thanks. He feels the gratitude though.
Then one night they're in the middle of it, Dean balls deep in Sam's tight heat and gasping Sam's name as he grips his brother's hips. He's pretty sure they've been at it for an hour at least, and any minute now the random thoughts holding off his orgasm will have to leave so that he can reach climax. It's that or he'll go insane. Sam's underneath him, gasping and beyond words, or so Dean thinks until Sam speaks.
"I love you."
Dean shakes his head, sweat dripping in his eyes as he tries to figure out if he really heard that right. Sam's said other things that are coos before. I love this or I love when, but never-
He should say it back, knows he needs to say it back, because this is the moment. He's known this whole time, known and held it in, and the words are stuck in his mouth just like his orgasm is stuck somewhere in his gut. He feels the tension in Sam's back, the lines of muscles tightening as Sam braces himself for something bad, and Dean knows what it is. He presses his lips against Sam's shoulder, musters up all his courage, and manages only one short sentence. "Fuck Sammy."
The orgasm comes moments later, but there's no joy in it. Sam has already finished, finished forever ago, and they end up lying side by side without touching despite the bed being too small for that to be comfortable.
"You don't have to say it Dean. It's ok."
Dean doesn't sleep that night.
-----
He looks up from his drink to see a pair of generous hips that lead along a curvy body and end in elegantly coifed hair and dark sloe-eyes. She licks her dusky lips and sits across from him before eyeing his drink.
"Get your own Ish. I ain't interested in sharing tonight."
Her lips pout once and then she gestures to Utre and waits for her glass to be delivered. Utre drops it and crosses the room quickly to separate Coyote and Raven for the third time that day.
"Dean. I hear you're having a problem. You know I've always been fond of you. Maybe I can fix it."
Her accent is heavy enough he has to fight intoxication to understand it. Sam's working the night shift, and he has the whole day to get piss drunk so he can explain not being there. "What problem? I don't have a problem other than nosy deities constantly bothering me."
Her pout is gone in an instant, eyes narrowing as she sips her whiskey. "In my day when a boy got lippy he found that he was missing body parts. Are you that eager to relive the past Dean?"
He rolls his eyes once before finishing his whiskey. Utre doesn't refill it, and he gets the hint and pours it himself, taking the bottle back to his table. "Get to the point Ish. I'm tired of jawing about it."
"If you won't say it you'll drive him away. I've seen it before." Her fingers stroke the lip of his glass before moving back to her own mouth. "You have to decide what's more important; your pride or his sweet little ass."
Dean bristles at that but swallows down his retort. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh no, of course not. i know nothing about love. Good call Dean. Hey, I learned something new about geography the other day."
He bites the bait, but he knows where it's going and he's not eager to get there. "What's that?"
"Denial? Not just a river."
The Celts break into roaring laughter behind her, and she tips her head once before she leaves. Utre walks past eyeing his glass, and then heads back to her spot at the bar.
----
Twenty minutes later he finds himself slumped in a bar stool staring at Utre as she carefully pours fifteen of those tiny clay cups full of Sake.
"What the hell is wrong with me?"
She doesn't look up from her work, hand steady as she moves from cup to cup. "You have an over-inflated sense of Western masculinity that equates verbalizing emotions with weakness. You still secretly punish yourself for your relationship with Sam. You under-value yourself because you have always been taught to put your brother first." She finished the last cup and put each one on a tray before finally looking up. "Also, you are drunk, and have allowed a love goddess to put influence on you. Any minute now you will be unable to control yourself, you will climb those stairs, take Sam, and admit your feelings."
Dean wasn't sure if anger or dizziness were his primary emotion. "What? Who would-Ish. Fucking Ish. You let her?"
"Let is a strong verb. But in a word, yes. I did." She walked away then, and minutes later Dean found himself somehow standing in the bedroom door staring at Sam asleep. His little brother was sprawled across the entirety of the bed, and snoring so loudly it should have been shaking the walls. Dean had never loved him more, and he considered all the ways he could kill Ish for this. There were an awful lot of them.
Sam rolled over then, ass pointing upwards and face against the pillow, and Dean's cock stopped any train of drunken thought he'd had before. He was in the room and mouthing his way up Sam's leg before he knew what was happening. He tasted sweat, flesh, and most of all Sam as his brother groaned and kicked none to softly at Dean's midsection.
"Sleepin'" Sam grumbled as he tried to pull his leg away. Dean wasn't having any of it. He bit the muscled thigh in front of him and listened to the resulting moan. That was more like it. It took seconds to remove Sam's boxers, to lube two fingers and get them inside that heat even as he nibbled his way up the thigh. Then the talking started, and Dean's arousal wasn't affected by his horror over the words spilling from his mouth.
"It was your hands first. I'd watch your hands while you chopped ingredients, so efficient and smooth, and I'd get hard."
Sam started to turn around, a grunt of surprise working out of his mouth, and Dean pushed at his lower back to force him to stay on his stomach. Keep him from seeing Dean's face. It was the only bit of dignity he could preserve.
"I'd watch your smile, your dimples, fuck those eyes of yours. All big and innocent and hopeful and I'd want you. I'd want to push you down and devour you."
Dean added a third finger, twisted until he found the right spot, and listened to Sam moan incoherently as he continued biting and licking.
"Then we started doing this and I thought I couldn't want any more, couldn't need anything more, until I realized I loved you. Loved you and couldn't say it 'cause I didn't even know your fucking name. I hate fucking love goddesses."
Then Dean was sitting back, grabbing Sam around the waist and pulling. His brother got the hint and let himself be maneuvered, and then Sam was sitting on his lap, sinking down onto his shaft, and Dean buried his face in the crook of Sam's neck and hid it even as the words continued to spill out.
"Love you Sammy. Loved you since the beginning, not like this, but loved you. Can't stop, can't make it be anything else."
He thrust hard and Sam's head snapped back. He felt his brother's fingers scrambling for purchase on the bed, looking to help him with leverage or speed and Dean pushed at them, kept Sam impaled at his pace and depth. He bit down and then Sam was grabbing at him.
"Dean I-"
He angled just right and stole Sam's words, pushed hard again and again until all Sam could do was make noise.
"That's why I had to leave, because I'd do anything. Anything for you Sammy. Burn the fucking world down if I had to. Kill everything, everyone, just to keep you safe. Fuck."
He was close, and he used one hand to stroke Sam. It took just that one brush of his fingers and Sam was spasming, gasping his name and twisting on his dick like Dean had electrocuted him. It took three more deep thrusts and then Dean was following him down, spent and wrung out, collapsing backwards onto the bed with his head hanging over the edge. The room spun dizzyingly and the blood rush made his face red. That had to have been it.
Sam, who never seemed able to shut up, simply pulled Dean from the edge and then took the spot beside him. Their legs tangled, and Sam stayed silent. Blessedly silent.
The next time Ish came into the bar Sam gave her free drinks and food.
------
Sam stood dumbfounded as the deities began to pile birthday gifts on the bar. Dean watched the way his brother stared at the motley assortment. Handmade items, an amulet or two, and a small and very confused looking cat. Utre shooed the cat off the bar and briskly told it to go upstairs. Sam seemed shocked that it listened, and Dean couldn't stop laughing. His little brother had a lot to learn about living with immortal beings.
June presented a cake that Sam ate hesitantly at first, and then devoured like a starving man. Wednesday offered Sam a birthday duel, and Dean declined for him.
They were mid-celebration, gods and goddesses eating cake and arguing almost amiably, when the door swung open and John Winchester walked through it with murder written on his face. He'd aged Dean noticed, but only in the face. His hair was the same color as the last time he'd seen him, and he anchored himself in reality with that bit of the familiar as every patron turned their heads and narrowed their eyes. Dad walked through the crowd slowly, eyes tracking each of them 'til they landed on Sam who was choking on his bite of cake. Dean slapped his back harder than necessary and stood a little taller.
Utre was there in a moment, standing behind the two of them with her hand on Dean's arm, and he felt the reassuring heat of her skin. He waited until dad was all the way to the bar before he spoke.
"What'll it be sir?"
His father's eyes went to slits, mouth working silently, and then he put both hands on the counter and leaned forward. "Dean?" He sounded disbelieving, horrified, and a little angry. It was a better response than Dean had hoped for.
"Yes sir." Sam was standing then, wiping icing from his mouth and keeping his distance without being told. Dean was fucking glad. Behind his father some of the patrons were slipping out silently.
"I don't understand. How the hell did you know Sam was missing? Unless-" He looked once at the bar, glanced at Utre, and then settled his eyes on Sam's face. "You found him and you didn't tell me? How long have you been here?"
"Uh-well I was-I just couldn't-" Sam was looking around, eyes searching for an excuse, and then Coyote strolled up to the bar and plopped down beside dad.
Utre cut in smoothly, face calm and assuring. "Sam arrived a little over two years ago. He petitioned me to free Dean and I set him a series of tasks including two years of silence. It was not his fault."
Dean couldn't believe it, was too shocked to even look her way. Utre lied. Lied like a consummate professional, and Dean wasn't sure he'd keep a straight face if he looked her way. He felt hysterical laughter bubbling up.
"So you're the bitch that took my son all those years ago?" His father pulled a weapon, and Dean's eyes took it in and didn't recognize it. A six-shooter, old as fuck by looking at it, and beautifully crafted. Latin on the barrel. He didn't recognize it, but Coyote did. The god reared up, barstool clattering and eyes wide.
"Whoah, hey, let's all calm down now ok? That's not-that's not necessary." He caught Dean's gaze, expressive face flashing an S.O.S. that was unavoidable.
Dad glanced his way once and then looked back to Utre. "Tell me why I shouldn't end you right now."
Utre's hand tightened on Dean's arm when he went to speak. "I have no good reason for that. I was doing what we believed was best. What you already knew and wouldn't say. If you wish to shoot me for that then please go ahead."
Wednesday and his son stood from their position across the room, and his voice rumbled through the space as he squinted his one eye. "Just remember Winchester that you only have six bullets, and there're more than six of us in here. When you're out of ammo we'll tear you limb from limb."
Dean grabbed at her, wanted to pull her back and behind him, but Utre was already stepping forward with both hands up in surrender and that same peaceful look on her face. "You have secrets that cannot hide from me John Winchester. You have committed as many sins under the sun as you have the moon. Do you wish to discuss what you already knew? Do you want to talk about what the gypsy woman told you when you looked for Dean? You knew, whether you wished to admit it or not, that this was the best way. The only way. Fire that gun and everything is undone, all the good work and the bad. All that will be left is the world's blood on your hands. Put your pride and your gun away or be responsible for the end of days."
His father's hand is shaking, and Dean knows why. Knows without knowing how or when, just that the knowledge is there almost instantly. Sam makes a strangled noise, and Dean hopes against hope his little brother will keep his fucking mouth shut. His dad could have found him, could have saved him all those years ago. Dean's both bitter and appreciative, and he doesn't know how to keep all of that silent but he will. For everyone's sake.
Dad lowers the gun though. Lowers it slowly and then puts it away before catching Dean's eye. Which is when Sam breaks all protocol.
"You bastard. You self-serving bastard! All those years and you could have-"
"Samuel." Coyote's voice is tight and totally unlike him. "Maybe you boys should have the family reunion upstairs in private."
Dean leads the way without looking back, and he hears the two sets of footsteps behind him that assure him they're following. He wonders how Utre's going to defuse the situation downstairs after all of this bullshit. When he hits the top of the stairs and crosses to the table to sit he watches Sam refuse the chair he's offered. Instead his brother takes a position against the kitchen countertop and crosses his arms over his narrow chest. He looks like he could kill dad, and Dean's honestly a little afraid of just that outcome.
Dad takes a chair though, looks around the room once in a cursory manner before focusing on Dean. "I didn't have a choice."
That's not true, Dean knows it, but he cuts his eyes to Sam to silence him. "Ok. So now you know where we are. We're both safe and fine. That's good enough right?"
Dad's face cramps strangely, and then he holds one hand out and ruffles Dean's hair. It's a gesture that fell by the wayside shortly before Dean left, and it hurts to have it crop up here in this moment. Hurts worse that he leans into it slightly, as if no time has passed at all. "I just wanted what was best Dean. I'm sorry son. It was a shit thing to do."
Dean shrugs once, keeps his face placid. "I'm fine. I've been fine." You came for Sam. It goes unspoken between the three of them, the weight that hangs over all their heads. Between just his father and himself though is the knowledge that he let it happen because he believed Sam could go bad. Believed it without ever giving his little brother the benefit of the doubt. It makes Dean strangely angry, and anger is good. Puts him on even footing in this.
And that's apparently enough for John. Dean can feel Sam bristling but he doesn't look that way. "I'm glad to see you again son. Glad to see you're ok."
Dean nods and then tries to cut this off before Sam loses what little control he has left. "So what's going on sir?" It's an easy out for dad, and a good segue for Dean.
"I need you to come with me. I've got a lead on the demon, but time is running out. Sam should stay here if it's safe."
Dean's about to respond, but he stops to mull it over. Which gives the opening Sam needs to break in. "No." Dean turns to see that Sam's gone pale, his eyes wild and wide, his nostrils flaring as he grips himself. "Tell him no Dean. Right now."
He knows what's going unsaid. What Sam is remembering, and it's like a knife to the gut. Sam begged when he was a boy, but he won't beg this time. Will expect Dean to do the right thing and not abandon him. The problem is Sam and Dean have never agreed on what the right thing is.
"It'll be fine Sammy. You stay with Utre and I'll go. I'll be back before you know it." Dad's eyes are traveling back and forth between them and Dean hopes Sam will keep it under wraps. That Sam will understand.
His hopes are dashed when Sam pushes off the counter and storms out. Dad catches his eye. "He'll be ok. You pack up and meet me outside."
Dean has time to think while he's packing the bag. To consider the many possibilities here. Sure, he's giving it all up again to leave Sam behind, but it's for Sam. He'll understand. He'll forgive. He has to because this has to be done. If the demon dies then Sam is free. No more nightmares and no more deadly destiny. He grabs the duffel up and leaves the apartment, glances in the bar but doesn't see Sam anywhere. He heads into the basement and finds more nothing, so then he peeks into the stockroom. Spider is there, wrapped up in some woman Dean vaguely recognizes, and he shares a grin with the slim god before closing the door. He peeks into the refrigerated storeroom and finds his little brother leaning against a shelf and Utre sitting in front of him and staring at nothing with gleaming eyes.
"Sammy listen-"
"Fuck you." It's the angriest he's ever sounded, and Dean swallows his own rage and grips himself tightly.
"This is for you idiot. The demon dies and you're free. You can go anywhere, do anything, and you don't need to be protected anymore." Which isn't true. Could never be true because Sam should always be protected but it's the gist of the truth and Sam will have to live with that. Utre looks up from the space she's been staring into and frowns.
"Don't give me that shit. My whole life you've been walking away. You want to do it again? Fine. Do it. Just don't put it on me. You get to be the big hunter with dad now, and I'll just stay here and hide out while you live the life you really wanted."
He almost hits him, comes close, but Utre's gaze warns him off. He swallows hard and then directs his attention fully to her. "You'll take care of him?"
"If I asked you to stay? If I said that I needed you to stay what would you say?" She knows the answer. Her face says she knows it, but Dean has to answer anyway. He owes her that at least.
"I would go. You know why Utre."
She takes the four steps to his side and goes up on her tiptoes to kiss his jaw. "I love you sweetling. More than anything. Be safe."
He leaves before she can hurt him any worse. They're two states away when Dean realizes she never promised him anything.
----
It's too easy. Dean knows it the minute they walk through the door and find no one waiting for them. The tall figure in the middle of the crumbling room is there though, and dad pulls the Colt and speaks thunder. "This is for Mary."
He's explained the gun, explained all of it to Dean, and still it seems too easy. That all they ever needed to fix the situation was a legendary gun and some magic bullets. He sees the demon's face for half a second, blood red eyes flashing, and then the bullet lights him up and he slumps down dead. There's silence in the room, a heaviness Dean never expected this moment to have, and then it hits him why.
"Dad."
"We did it. Shit son we did it. After all these-"
"Dad. His eyes."
Dad stops blabbering, hand lowering as he turns slowly to Dean. Stares for a long minute and then sucks in a breath. "Sammy."
They've been on the road for two days. It's too long to wait and Dean knows it. He reaches for the pouch around his neck and thinks harder than he ever has before. He half-expects it not to work but Coyote's there in seconds, all traces of good humor extinguished.
"Why the fuck are you here boy? Where's your brother?"
Dean shakes his head, can't get words past the blockage in his throat even as dad is heading for the god. Then Dean's being grabbed, and he has time to notice Coyote's hands are as cold as Vecher's before he's flying through space and landing in front of the inferno that used to be his home. The front door has been chopped into pieces, and Coyote sucks in a breath before grabbing at Dean's arm. He's too slow, Dean is already moving towards the open doorway and into the blaze. Sammy.
He runs through the burning bar, ducks past exploding bottles and heads up the stairs screaming his brother's name and choking on smoke. The apartment isn't as bad yet, but the smoke is thicker and he chokes on it as he crosses the main area and heads to the hallway. Utre is on the floor, head pressed against the black wood door and in the hellish light Dean can barely pick out which red is illumination and which is blood. He looks into the other rooms but there's no Sam, and he already knew that didn't he?
He grabs Utre up and winces when he feels how light and wet she is. "I cannot go." Her voice is thick and wet, and she coughs what Dean can only assume is more blood out onto his neck. Her breath rattles in her chest, and he wonders if her lung is collapsed. Dean calculates how many hours after nightfall it is. How much blood she's lost. All of it runs through his head as he crosses the apartment and dashes down the stairs with her. Coyote is at the doorway and he lets out a sound like a mournful howl when he sees her in Dean's arms. She struggles briefly at the doorway, but Dean crosses the threshold and carries her into the cool night air. He can hear the sirens of the town's only firetruck down the road.
"Dean I must go back. Daz said-"
"Fuck Daz and fuck that. Where are you bleeding from Utre?" He's looking as he asks, the parking lot's lights unforgiving and brutal. There are so many cuts it's a wonder she's alive, goddess or no. He looks up at Coyote and sees the indecision there. "Coyote. We gotta get her healed."
He shakes his head mournfully and looks around before reaching out and grabbing them. They end up in some big building, made of logs and half-dark. An old and wrinkled Native-American man looks up from the fire in front of him to stare at them, and then takes Utre from his arms before bowing his head in Coyote's direction. The god's voice is sad and low. "Do what you can for her."
Dean waits with him in the main chamber, hands bouncing between his knees and covered in Utre's blood. He's covered in her blood. She was asking him to stay, asking him not to leave because she must have known. Dean didn't listen. He looks up to see Vecher's face pale and swimming in front of him. She looks wet, but that can't be right, and then Dean realizes he's crying.
"My sister?"
Dean shakes his head, doesn't know, and then braces for the pain he so richly deserves. It doesn't come.
"This is vhat she vanted. To be there for you vhen you needed her. Stop feeling guilty, it vas her choice fool."
It takes him a moment to realize Vecher is comforting him. Which only makes him feel worse. When the wrinkled old medicine man comes back out he speaks with Coyote in a language Dean doesn't know, and then toddles off. Dean is standing beside Vecher, waiting, and Coyote turns to them and gives a half-smile.
"She'll live. He's put her in the back of the lodge, and he says we can go there."
Utre's propped up against a wall, wrapped in a thick blanket with her bare and bandaged legs sticking out. She's lost so much color Dean can almost see through her skin, but her eyes glow brightly as if the sun was high in the sky. She doesn't smile at him, but her lips twitch once.
"Sweetling. You are safe."
Vecher steps in front of him and all the warmth is gone from her. "You are an idiot sister."
She nods once simply and then holds out a shaky hand. Dean sees that she's missing three fingers. "I love you as well Vecher." He watches the darker goddess kneel, taking her sister's maimed hand and pressing her face against it.
Dean doesn't want to ask, shouldn't, but he has to. "Sammy?"
Vecher hisses once without turning, Coyote goes as stiff as a board.
"They took him. I could not stop it. There's still time though."
Coyote's already shaking his head, walking away before Dean can ask. Vecher looks up from Utre's hand and catches Dean's eyes. "Say no Dean. Please."
Everything is off, everything feels weird, but Dean can still grasp the basics. Sam has been taken and that's not going to fly. "How do I save him?"
Vecher begins to weep, and Utre pats her head gently with her remaining fingers before gesturing Dean closer. He leans in and she puts the hand on the back of his head. It's so hot he feels his hair singeing.
"Kiss me sweetling. Kiss me and then go save your brother. But return by the third sunrise. Do you understand?"
Dean nods once, licks his lips, and then leans in and presses chastely against Utre. She tastes like summer sunshine, like warmth and gold, and a million other things he can't identify. When it's over he stands and sees that her eyes are no longer burning bright. He nods once and then meets Vecher's wet gaze. "I'll be back."
He finds Coyote waiting for him outside. There's only silence when he reaches for the god and the world slides out from under him again.
Next Chapter
