As Certain Dark Things Are To Be Loved
Aug. 7th, 2013 12:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dime_lioraTitle: As Certain Dark Things Are To Be Loved
Author: dimeliora
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 3,455
Warnings: Highlight for spoilers Underage sex, violence, character death
Summary: Dean's always known there was something wrong with Sam. The only question was what was he willing to do about it? Written for the Evil!Sam summer challenge. Prompt Song was Brand New's "Degausser". Title stolen from Pablo Neruda.
Beta: The illustrious![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sammichgirl, who swore this was the best thing I've ever written if that's any consolation for the warnings.
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. -Pablo Neruda "Sonnet XVII"
It wasn’t that Dean didn’t know the truth. He understood the signs early on, he got the warnings, but the difference between looking for those things in the monsters they hunted and seeing them in his little brother was night and day. In the end Dean let them slip. The strange looks Sam gave, the way he sometimes seemed to have no expression in his eyes when his face was emoting perfectly, and most importantly the long spans of time that Sam would be gone with no real explanation or excuse.
His dad thought Sam was going through a phase. That this was Sam’s version of teenage rebellion, and Dean watched Sam pick up on that and play it. Dad was too distracted, too far gone to notice the difference between what you saw on after school specials and what Sam was doing. It was Dean that noticed it, because it was Dean that raised Sam.
So maybe he thought it was a little bit his fault. After all he was the primary influence on Sam’s life. He was the one that held Sam’s little hands and showed him how to aim a gun and fire it, the one who told Sam the quickest and most efficient ways to take down a larger target, and ultimately Dean was the one that taught Sam that to survive you sometimes had to kill. Maybe if he’d pushed harder to preserve Sam’s innocence, maybe if he’d pointed out to Dad that Sam was made of something different from them than Sam would be someone else. Someone that didn’t scare Dean sometimes late at night.
All of that aside, when Dean found Sam standing still and quiet over the dead body of the boy Dean knew had been picking on his little brother he wasn’t quite as prepared as he had hoped to be. There hadn’t been a trail of dead animals, no fires, no wetting the bed, but here it was. Sam had killed someone.
Tilted hazel eyes turned and landed on him, and Sam didn’t bother to fake it. No puppy-dog expression, no tears, and no begging. Instead his little brother turned the gun around in his hand and offered it to Dean grip first. Dean accepted the gun, and then Sam turned back to the body and stood as tall as he could. The perfect target.
“Why?” It was choked, swollen and thick in his throat, and Dean didn’t want to ask it even as he did. That was his life. Doing the things he never really wanted but had to.
“You know what bullying is right Dean? You’re a smart guy.” Sam’s voice held nothing. Not anger or misery, and Dean was certain not even apathy. His brother was blank and empty. There was nothing.
The gun trembled in his hand and he thumbed the safety off. “He’s been picking on you for a while Sammy, but he stopped. I made sure he stopped.”
Dean had used fists for that one, and the quarterback had been skittish of the two Winchesters ever since.
“Today he told me that you were a slut. That you liked it in the ass from older men, and that you did it for money. That he saw you and he was going to tell everyone.”
For a moment Dean lost his grip on the gun, and he almost fumbled it back into his hold. It wasn’t impossible that Jesse would have seen him at a bar. The town didn’t have enough of them that never running into familiar faces was possible. That being said Dean’s interest in men was something he’d never really wanted Sam to know. He’d gone really far out of his way to hide it from his little brother, to make it the best kept secret in their little family unit, and most importantly to never let it get Sam in trouble.
The guilt that Jesse the quarterback had not only seen him but was going to use the knowledge against Sam was enough that he almost forgot the reason they’d first started talking. Almost forgotten the corpse lying on the floor in front of Sam.
“Sammy I need you to listen to me. I don’t-whatever it was he was saying that didn’t give you the right to do this Sam. To kill him. We don’t kill humans.”
Sam turned his way again and studied him for a long moment before gesturing to the gun.
“Then do it, because I guarantee Dean the next time someone says something about you I’ll do the same thing. They can hurt me, but they won’t hurt you.”
There’s a world of things he needs to say. Things that should be asserted or argued. It’s Dean’s job to protect Sammy not the other way around, and the need for protection from slander in a town they won’t stay in longer than a few more weeks is ridiculous. Sure, Dean didn’t want Sam to know and he didn’t want Sam to be affected, but he goddamn didn’t need Sam to murder the kid over it. Who gave a fuck what these hicks thought about him?
“Sammy I don’t-one it’s not for money and two I don’t care. You can’t kill people because they call me a whore.”
“Dean, listen, we’ve been dancing around this for years. I know that you see more of me than anybody else. You-“
He stepped forward, gun hanging uselessly from his right hand as the left swept the hair out of Sam’s eyes and tucked the lock behind his baby brother’s ear. “I see all of you. You can be better than this Sam. You don’t have to be a monster.”
In all honesty Dean had expected one of three reactions. Either Sam would hurt him, Sam would feign innocence and regret, or Sam would run. What he hadn’t been prepared for was his little brother stepping fully into his space and kissing him. His lips were soft, slick, and they pressed against Dean’s mouth urgently.
Too long. It took too long to break it, and when Dean stepped back he saw honest emotion in Sam’s eyes for the first time. It wasn’t the way he’d recognized love before. It was dark and hot, thick and twisted, violence with a purpose and a target.
“You didn’t see that.”
With that little bomb dropped Sam turned his back on Dean and started the process of cleaning up his mess.
---
After that it was a waiting game. Which brother would break first, and the winner got all the madness.
Sam behaved just a little bit better for a while. He expressed grief over Jesse’s death and concern for the family. Dad, in a rare moment of tenderness, ruffled Sam’s hair and told him he was a good kid.
On the surface everything was the same. They rolled out of Wooten, Alabama and headed for Michigan. Set up there with Sam finishing his senior year and Dean watching him. Watching him very carefully.
There was never an odd look, nothing Dean caught, and Sam never tried anything. Instead his brother simply kept his head down and did his work. Except the first time Dean picks a guy up at the bar he thinks there’s a sound at the head of the alley. Something just a little off about the shadows. Dean puts it away because this isn’t a hunt and the town is as safe as it can be. He finishes what he came for and heads back to the motel to find Sam asleep in his bed.
The next day the news runs a piece on the murder, and how it was suspected to be a robbery. Sam meets his eyes over his bowl of Lucky Charms, and there’s a smile there that Dean’s never seen before. It chills him to no end.
---
Sam is seventeen the first time Dean gives in. He can’t take the pressure anymore. The constant knowing that if he slips up just the littlest bit then Sam will take the problem into his own hands. If Sam perceives that Dean is in danger than he will kill and if Sam thinks Dean is stepping out on whatever he believes is in between them he will do the same.
He expects it to be hard and cold, expects Sam to just take what he wants, but Sam shakes his head when Dean walks out of the shower broken and defeated and slips his own fingers into his hole. His brother’s eyes are shadowed, glinting in the light of the TV and giving away nothing. Instead it’s Sam’s voice that clarifies what he really wants.
“That’s what you give them. You play that for them. I want what you’ve been keeping for me.”
Dean crosses the room and launches himself onto the bed. He pours all his anger and despair into the kiss, and their lips smash together hard as his hands land on Sam’s wiry frame. His brother won’t stop growing, is already almost Dean’s height, and he can feel the knobs of Sam’s hipbones under his hands and the heat of Sam’s flesh.
His brother is cold most of the time, so precise, but under Dean’s hands he becomes something else. Wanton and hot, burning for Dean’s touch, and there’s a sick thrill there that he can’t shake or ward off. A need to make Sam something alive and honest instead of the actor that has taken up residence. He doesn’t want to see the innocent little boy he corrupted, or the monster that stalks him in the alleys. He wants this.
It only takes a nudge for Sam to lift his hips, and Dean slides his tongue into Sam’s mouth as he pulls the loose flannel sleep pants down far enough Sam can kick them off. He breaks contact then, and his forehead presses heavily against Sam’s as he breathes deep and thick.
“Dean. Dean please.” How can he resist that? How can he argue against what Sam obviously needs? It’s Dean that made him this way, that didn’t protect his humanity, and they both know it. He failed Sam when he was little by not keeping him from the life, and he failed him again when he refused to end it. Sam gave him the gun. He gave him the choice.
Their foreheads stay pressed together as Dean reaches for the lube, and he slicks his fingers expertly and then slides them along Sam’s concave stomach, down his bony hips, and over his thighs before circling back around to his groin. He brushes Sam’s rock hard cock once, fumbles Sam’s heavy sac, and then slides both fingers underneath and down until he finds his entrance.
Still sharing breath Dean finds words. “Sammy you done this before?”
His brother shakes his head, skin rasping on skin, and gasps as Dean’s finger breaches him. He hesitates for all of a second, and Sam bites his lower lip hard. “Do it Dean. I don’t care.”
As if he’s lost all control Dean starts talking. His hand doesn’t falter though, and once the first finger has breached Sam’s tight rim the second circles it and draws out gasps and moans as he works up to adding it too.
“Of all the goddamn things. You gotta promise me Sammy. Promise me that if we do this it ain’t gonna be the same. No more killing. No more pain. You be honest with me, and we can keep this up. I’ll give you what you want Sam.”
Two fingers now and Sam’s hips are rolling desperately as he licks the words off of Dean’s lips, sucks bruises into his neck, and breaks the skin on his biceps with his short blunt nails. “We want Dean. We both want it.”
He indulges in Sam’s violence for a second, twists his fingers brutally as he adds a third with no warning and Sam lets out a cry against his mouth and jerks helplessly on his fingers. “Promise me bitch.”
Sam nods helplessly, eyes opening and showing Dean vulnerability and need he thought had burned out of his brother. Something he thought was long dead and buried.
“Anything. Anything Dean just don’t turn me away.” And Dean gives in. He pulls his fingers out and flips Sam over. It’s brutal, violent, and animalistic as he thrusts in past the tight rings of muscle and deep into Sam. His brother jerks, back arching and fingers ripping at the sheets and Dean gives him just long enough to pull in a lungful of air before he punches it out of him with a thrust of his dick.
“This is what you wanted right?” He pulls out until it’s just the head rubbing against Sam’s hole and uses his hand to rub his cock against Sam. “Wanted me to take you hard? Make you mine?”
“Always been-“ Sam’s words cut off as Dean slams back in and he lets out a wail. Dean wants to hurt him, mark him, and he sets off on a journey to do just that. He bites Sam’s shoulder blades, his neck, grips bruises into Sam’s skin that will last for weeks.
“Yeah. Yeah you have.” Dean’s creation. Dean’s monster. He made this and now he has to take responsibility.
He finally grabs Sam’s neglected and weeping cock and twists it hard. Jerks fast and raw and feels the friction burn against his palm without caring how much it must hurt. A little precome slicks his fist but it’s not enough to give Sam release. He can hear his little brother sobbing underneath him, twisting and turning, and he pulls harder and harder until he can tell Sam is right on the edge.
“Come for me Sammy.” That’s all it takes. A harshly worded command and Sam is jerking on his dick like it’s a lightning rod as he pulls the sheets down around him and presses his face into the mattress screaming. Dean comes a second later, Sam’s no longer virgin ass milking it out of him, and he slumps down over his brother’s sweaty back and pants into the damp curly hairs at the base of his neck.
Afterwards, as the euphoria fades, Dean lies in bed with Sam curled around him and considers what just happened. How utterly fucked he is.
They can’t take it back. Can’t go to anything else after this. Dean knows without a shadow of a doubt that denying Sam this now will only result in more killing. More pain and death. There’s only one way to control Sam.
It’s not even that that scares him the most though. It’s how much he liked it. How in the moment he was totally absorbed by the darkness inside his little brother. How he wanted to claim, to make Sam cry and bleed, just so that he could feel like Sam was a person again. A person under his thumb instead of a wild animal held in check by a barely there psyche.
Dean buries the part of himself that is screaming for his little brother and himself. For their lost innocence and humanity. He buries it deep.
---
It’s a vicious cycle. For a while afterwards Sam is almost normal, almost human, and if Dad notices he says nothing. Instead he seems to revel in Sam’s sudden interest in the family business. Dean knows that it’s just Sam’s way of getting closer to him, deeper under his skin, but he says nothing.
Sam is an excellent hunter. Dad praises Dean for training him so well, and whenever he does Sam shoots him dark and knowing looks, a smile playing at the corner of those beautiful eyes. Only after the whole thing has gotten out of control does Dean start to see Sam in a sexual way. After he’s already been inside him, after he’s tasted all that Sam’s flesh has to offer, does he notice the way his brother’s cheekbones arch high and beautiful under his skin, or how the long lines of his body scream for being stroked and licked.
Lust seems to evolve naturally out of need. They move around each other in perfect synch, and Dean likes it. He likes that they don’t fight much anymore, and he likes that he can understand the parts of Sam he didn’t before. Sam’s disappearances are finally understandable as Dean follows his brother out one night and Sam lets him. They end up in a field on the edge of town, and Dean watches his brother crouch down in the dirt and stare up at the sky.
It calls to mind the image of an animal waiting for a scent. Dean doesn’t care for it, and he finds himself crossing the dirt and pushing Sam into it before pulling his pants off and rimming his ass right there. Sam tastes musky, and the smell of the field around them rises and mixes so that the earth scent and the Sam scent are one and the same. He may end up getting hard every time he walks onto a farm from now on.
He ends up buried in Sam and staring into his eyes. The moonlight illuminates his face and makes it heartbreakingly beautiful. He starts talking again. Sam in normal life is so closed off, so cold, but this Sam is so open. So his. Something about it makes Dean talk uncontrollably.
“I love you. I love you, but… Jesus Christ Sam are you even capable of loving me?”
An answer is the furthest thing from what he expected. Sam grabs the sides of his face and holds his eyes, and Dean knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Sam is telling the truth when he speaks.
“You’re the only thing I’m capable of loving.”
He comes first that time and gets Sam off by sucking him to the root.
---
It goes on for a year before Dad figures it out. Once he does everything goes to shit so fast it’s too much for Dean to take in. He’s buried in Sam, pressed against the wall, and they’re gasping into each other as Dean holds Sam up on his dick. His brother is so big now it’s super hard to keep him up like this but he does.
Dad busts in like an avenging angel, grabbing Dean and pulling him backwards so quickly Dean loses his footing and rips out of Sam with a cry. His brother is on the floor staring in surprise as Dad spins him around, and then pain introduces itself into Dean’s face.
He thinks his jaw might be cracked. He can hear Dad screaming at him, something about raping Sam and ruining him, and he can feel the sharp bite of Dad’s boots in his ribs. Dad’s right though. It is his fault, he did do this, and he needs to pay. He’s been enjoying it, sinking into the darkness Sam introduced him to, and this is the first burst of light he’s seen in all this time. The first bit of sanity.
Dean relishes in the pain, and then Dad is gone. The boots have stopped and the room is oddly quiet except for a gurgling noise he vaguely recognizes. Sam’s hands grip him softly and his voice is low and strangely soothing.
“It’s alright. I got you. I got you big brother and it’s alright.” He’s picked up, helped to limp out of the room, and they end up at the Impala. Sam slides him into the backseat and covers him with a blanket before disappearing. Dean gives up, sinks into the pain, and tries to remember a time when everything was right. When he wasn’t dark overcoming light.
A part of him knows what just happened. That the only way Dad would stop is if he was dead. Sam said he’d do anything, kill anyone, and Dean believed him. Knew he was telling the truth.
The trunk whooshes open, Dean hears Sam grunt and the car shudders and leans backwards, and then the lid slams closed and Sam is a dark shadow moving past the window and blocking out the light.
Dad is dead. Dad is dead and Dean is left with Sam. He has to decide what he’s going to do. Has to decide whether he loves this version of his brother enough to forgive him this. To ignore that this won’t be a one-time thing. It will happen again. Dean is a magnet for trouble and Sam will always respond to that danger this way.
He feels for the gun taped to the base of the seat and waits for Sam to come back.
Waits to make a decision.
Author: dimeliora
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 3,455
Warnings: Highlight for spoilers Underage sex, violence, character death
Summary: Dean's always known there was something wrong with Sam. The only question was what was he willing to do about it? Written for the Evil!Sam summer challenge. Prompt Song was Brand New's "Degausser". Title stolen from Pablo Neruda.
Beta: The illustrious
sammichgirl, who swore this was the best thing I've ever written if that's any consolation for the warnings.I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. -Pablo Neruda "Sonnet XVII"
It wasn’t that Dean didn’t know the truth. He understood the signs early on, he got the warnings, but the difference between looking for those things in the monsters they hunted and seeing them in his little brother was night and day. In the end Dean let them slip. The strange looks Sam gave, the way he sometimes seemed to have no expression in his eyes when his face was emoting perfectly, and most importantly the long spans of time that Sam would be gone with no real explanation or excuse.
His dad thought Sam was going through a phase. That this was Sam’s version of teenage rebellion, and Dean watched Sam pick up on that and play it. Dad was too distracted, too far gone to notice the difference between what you saw on after school specials and what Sam was doing. It was Dean that noticed it, because it was Dean that raised Sam.
So maybe he thought it was a little bit his fault. After all he was the primary influence on Sam’s life. He was the one that held Sam’s little hands and showed him how to aim a gun and fire it, the one who told Sam the quickest and most efficient ways to take down a larger target, and ultimately Dean was the one that taught Sam that to survive you sometimes had to kill. Maybe if he’d pushed harder to preserve Sam’s innocence, maybe if he’d pointed out to Dad that Sam was made of something different from them than Sam would be someone else. Someone that didn’t scare Dean sometimes late at night.
All of that aside, when Dean found Sam standing still and quiet over the dead body of the boy Dean knew had been picking on his little brother he wasn’t quite as prepared as he had hoped to be. There hadn’t been a trail of dead animals, no fires, no wetting the bed, but here it was. Sam had killed someone.
Tilted hazel eyes turned and landed on him, and Sam didn’t bother to fake it. No puppy-dog expression, no tears, and no begging. Instead his little brother turned the gun around in his hand and offered it to Dean grip first. Dean accepted the gun, and then Sam turned back to the body and stood as tall as he could. The perfect target.
“Why?” It was choked, swollen and thick in his throat, and Dean didn’t want to ask it even as he did. That was his life. Doing the things he never really wanted but had to.
“You know what bullying is right Dean? You’re a smart guy.” Sam’s voice held nothing. Not anger or misery, and Dean was certain not even apathy. His brother was blank and empty. There was nothing.
The gun trembled in his hand and he thumbed the safety off. “He’s been picking on you for a while Sammy, but he stopped. I made sure he stopped.”
Dean had used fists for that one, and the quarterback had been skittish of the two Winchesters ever since.
“Today he told me that you were a slut. That you liked it in the ass from older men, and that you did it for money. That he saw you and he was going to tell everyone.”
For a moment Dean lost his grip on the gun, and he almost fumbled it back into his hold. It wasn’t impossible that Jesse would have seen him at a bar. The town didn’t have enough of them that never running into familiar faces was possible. That being said Dean’s interest in men was something he’d never really wanted Sam to know. He’d gone really far out of his way to hide it from his little brother, to make it the best kept secret in their little family unit, and most importantly to never let it get Sam in trouble.
The guilt that Jesse the quarterback had not only seen him but was going to use the knowledge against Sam was enough that he almost forgot the reason they’d first started talking. Almost forgotten the corpse lying on the floor in front of Sam.
“Sammy I need you to listen to me. I don’t-whatever it was he was saying that didn’t give you the right to do this Sam. To kill him. We don’t kill humans.”
Sam turned his way again and studied him for a long moment before gesturing to the gun.
“Then do it, because I guarantee Dean the next time someone says something about you I’ll do the same thing. They can hurt me, but they won’t hurt you.”
There’s a world of things he needs to say. Things that should be asserted or argued. It’s Dean’s job to protect Sammy not the other way around, and the need for protection from slander in a town they won’t stay in longer than a few more weeks is ridiculous. Sure, Dean didn’t want Sam to know and he didn’t want Sam to be affected, but he goddamn didn’t need Sam to murder the kid over it. Who gave a fuck what these hicks thought about him?
“Sammy I don’t-one it’s not for money and two I don’t care. You can’t kill people because they call me a whore.”
“Dean, listen, we’ve been dancing around this for years. I know that you see more of me than anybody else. You-“
He stepped forward, gun hanging uselessly from his right hand as the left swept the hair out of Sam’s eyes and tucked the lock behind his baby brother’s ear. “I see all of you. You can be better than this Sam. You don’t have to be a monster.”
In all honesty Dean had expected one of three reactions. Either Sam would hurt him, Sam would feign innocence and regret, or Sam would run. What he hadn’t been prepared for was his little brother stepping fully into his space and kissing him. His lips were soft, slick, and they pressed against Dean’s mouth urgently.
Too long. It took too long to break it, and when Dean stepped back he saw honest emotion in Sam’s eyes for the first time. It wasn’t the way he’d recognized love before. It was dark and hot, thick and twisted, violence with a purpose and a target.
“You didn’t see that.”
With that little bomb dropped Sam turned his back on Dean and started the process of cleaning up his mess.
---
After that it was a waiting game. Which brother would break first, and the winner got all the madness.
Sam behaved just a little bit better for a while. He expressed grief over Jesse’s death and concern for the family. Dad, in a rare moment of tenderness, ruffled Sam’s hair and told him he was a good kid.
On the surface everything was the same. They rolled out of Wooten, Alabama and headed for Michigan. Set up there with Sam finishing his senior year and Dean watching him. Watching him very carefully.
There was never an odd look, nothing Dean caught, and Sam never tried anything. Instead his brother simply kept his head down and did his work. Except the first time Dean picks a guy up at the bar he thinks there’s a sound at the head of the alley. Something just a little off about the shadows. Dean puts it away because this isn’t a hunt and the town is as safe as it can be. He finishes what he came for and heads back to the motel to find Sam asleep in his bed.
The next day the news runs a piece on the murder, and how it was suspected to be a robbery. Sam meets his eyes over his bowl of Lucky Charms, and there’s a smile there that Dean’s never seen before. It chills him to no end.
---
Sam is seventeen the first time Dean gives in. He can’t take the pressure anymore. The constant knowing that if he slips up just the littlest bit then Sam will take the problem into his own hands. If Sam perceives that Dean is in danger than he will kill and if Sam thinks Dean is stepping out on whatever he believes is in between them he will do the same.
He expects it to be hard and cold, expects Sam to just take what he wants, but Sam shakes his head when Dean walks out of the shower broken and defeated and slips his own fingers into his hole. His brother’s eyes are shadowed, glinting in the light of the TV and giving away nothing. Instead it’s Sam’s voice that clarifies what he really wants.
“That’s what you give them. You play that for them. I want what you’ve been keeping for me.”
Dean crosses the room and launches himself onto the bed. He pours all his anger and despair into the kiss, and their lips smash together hard as his hands land on Sam’s wiry frame. His brother won’t stop growing, is already almost Dean’s height, and he can feel the knobs of Sam’s hipbones under his hands and the heat of Sam’s flesh.
His brother is cold most of the time, so precise, but under Dean’s hands he becomes something else. Wanton and hot, burning for Dean’s touch, and there’s a sick thrill there that he can’t shake or ward off. A need to make Sam something alive and honest instead of the actor that has taken up residence. He doesn’t want to see the innocent little boy he corrupted, or the monster that stalks him in the alleys. He wants this.
It only takes a nudge for Sam to lift his hips, and Dean slides his tongue into Sam’s mouth as he pulls the loose flannel sleep pants down far enough Sam can kick them off. He breaks contact then, and his forehead presses heavily against Sam’s as he breathes deep and thick.
“Dean. Dean please.” How can he resist that? How can he argue against what Sam obviously needs? It’s Dean that made him this way, that didn’t protect his humanity, and they both know it. He failed Sam when he was little by not keeping him from the life, and he failed him again when he refused to end it. Sam gave him the gun. He gave him the choice.
Their foreheads stay pressed together as Dean reaches for the lube, and he slicks his fingers expertly and then slides them along Sam’s concave stomach, down his bony hips, and over his thighs before circling back around to his groin. He brushes Sam’s rock hard cock once, fumbles Sam’s heavy sac, and then slides both fingers underneath and down until he finds his entrance.
Still sharing breath Dean finds words. “Sammy you done this before?”
His brother shakes his head, skin rasping on skin, and gasps as Dean’s finger breaches him. He hesitates for all of a second, and Sam bites his lower lip hard. “Do it Dean. I don’t care.”
As if he’s lost all control Dean starts talking. His hand doesn’t falter though, and once the first finger has breached Sam’s tight rim the second circles it and draws out gasps and moans as he works up to adding it too.
“Of all the goddamn things. You gotta promise me Sammy. Promise me that if we do this it ain’t gonna be the same. No more killing. No more pain. You be honest with me, and we can keep this up. I’ll give you what you want Sam.”
Two fingers now and Sam’s hips are rolling desperately as he licks the words off of Dean’s lips, sucks bruises into his neck, and breaks the skin on his biceps with his short blunt nails. “We want Dean. We both want it.”
He indulges in Sam’s violence for a second, twists his fingers brutally as he adds a third with no warning and Sam lets out a cry against his mouth and jerks helplessly on his fingers. “Promise me bitch.”
Sam nods helplessly, eyes opening and showing Dean vulnerability and need he thought had burned out of his brother. Something he thought was long dead and buried.
“Anything. Anything Dean just don’t turn me away.” And Dean gives in. He pulls his fingers out and flips Sam over. It’s brutal, violent, and animalistic as he thrusts in past the tight rings of muscle and deep into Sam. His brother jerks, back arching and fingers ripping at the sheets and Dean gives him just long enough to pull in a lungful of air before he punches it out of him with a thrust of his dick.
“This is what you wanted right?” He pulls out until it’s just the head rubbing against Sam’s hole and uses his hand to rub his cock against Sam. “Wanted me to take you hard? Make you mine?”
“Always been-“ Sam’s words cut off as Dean slams back in and he lets out a wail. Dean wants to hurt him, mark him, and he sets off on a journey to do just that. He bites Sam’s shoulder blades, his neck, grips bruises into Sam’s skin that will last for weeks.
“Yeah. Yeah you have.” Dean’s creation. Dean’s monster. He made this and now he has to take responsibility.
He finally grabs Sam’s neglected and weeping cock and twists it hard. Jerks fast and raw and feels the friction burn against his palm without caring how much it must hurt. A little precome slicks his fist but it’s not enough to give Sam release. He can hear his little brother sobbing underneath him, twisting and turning, and he pulls harder and harder until he can tell Sam is right on the edge.
“Come for me Sammy.” That’s all it takes. A harshly worded command and Sam is jerking on his dick like it’s a lightning rod as he pulls the sheets down around him and presses his face into the mattress screaming. Dean comes a second later, Sam’s no longer virgin ass milking it out of him, and he slumps down over his brother’s sweaty back and pants into the damp curly hairs at the base of his neck.
Afterwards, as the euphoria fades, Dean lies in bed with Sam curled around him and considers what just happened. How utterly fucked he is.
They can’t take it back. Can’t go to anything else after this. Dean knows without a shadow of a doubt that denying Sam this now will only result in more killing. More pain and death. There’s only one way to control Sam.
It’s not even that that scares him the most though. It’s how much he liked it. How in the moment he was totally absorbed by the darkness inside his little brother. How he wanted to claim, to make Sam cry and bleed, just so that he could feel like Sam was a person again. A person under his thumb instead of a wild animal held in check by a barely there psyche.
Dean buries the part of himself that is screaming for his little brother and himself. For their lost innocence and humanity. He buries it deep.
---
It’s a vicious cycle. For a while afterwards Sam is almost normal, almost human, and if Dad notices he says nothing. Instead he seems to revel in Sam’s sudden interest in the family business. Dean knows that it’s just Sam’s way of getting closer to him, deeper under his skin, but he says nothing.
Sam is an excellent hunter. Dad praises Dean for training him so well, and whenever he does Sam shoots him dark and knowing looks, a smile playing at the corner of those beautiful eyes. Only after the whole thing has gotten out of control does Dean start to see Sam in a sexual way. After he’s already been inside him, after he’s tasted all that Sam’s flesh has to offer, does he notice the way his brother’s cheekbones arch high and beautiful under his skin, or how the long lines of his body scream for being stroked and licked.
Lust seems to evolve naturally out of need. They move around each other in perfect synch, and Dean likes it. He likes that they don’t fight much anymore, and he likes that he can understand the parts of Sam he didn’t before. Sam’s disappearances are finally understandable as Dean follows his brother out one night and Sam lets him. They end up in a field on the edge of town, and Dean watches his brother crouch down in the dirt and stare up at the sky.
It calls to mind the image of an animal waiting for a scent. Dean doesn’t care for it, and he finds himself crossing the dirt and pushing Sam into it before pulling his pants off and rimming his ass right there. Sam tastes musky, and the smell of the field around them rises and mixes so that the earth scent and the Sam scent are one and the same. He may end up getting hard every time he walks onto a farm from now on.
He ends up buried in Sam and staring into his eyes. The moonlight illuminates his face and makes it heartbreakingly beautiful. He starts talking again. Sam in normal life is so closed off, so cold, but this Sam is so open. So his. Something about it makes Dean talk uncontrollably.
“I love you. I love you, but… Jesus Christ Sam are you even capable of loving me?”
An answer is the furthest thing from what he expected. Sam grabs the sides of his face and holds his eyes, and Dean knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Sam is telling the truth when he speaks.
“You’re the only thing I’m capable of loving.”
He comes first that time and gets Sam off by sucking him to the root.
---
It goes on for a year before Dad figures it out. Once he does everything goes to shit so fast it’s too much for Dean to take in. He’s buried in Sam, pressed against the wall, and they’re gasping into each other as Dean holds Sam up on his dick. His brother is so big now it’s super hard to keep him up like this but he does.
Dad busts in like an avenging angel, grabbing Dean and pulling him backwards so quickly Dean loses his footing and rips out of Sam with a cry. His brother is on the floor staring in surprise as Dad spins him around, and then pain introduces itself into Dean’s face.
He thinks his jaw might be cracked. He can hear Dad screaming at him, something about raping Sam and ruining him, and he can feel the sharp bite of Dad’s boots in his ribs. Dad’s right though. It is his fault, he did do this, and he needs to pay. He’s been enjoying it, sinking into the darkness Sam introduced him to, and this is the first burst of light he’s seen in all this time. The first bit of sanity.
Dean relishes in the pain, and then Dad is gone. The boots have stopped and the room is oddly quiet except for a gurgling noise he vaguely recognizes. Sam’s hands grip him softly and his voice is low and strangely soothing.
“It’s alright. I got you. I got you big brother and it’s alright.” He’s picked up, helped to limp out of the room, and they end up at the Impala. Sam slides him into the backseat and covers him with a blanket before disappearing. Dean gives up, sinks into the pain, and tries to remember a time when everything was right. When he wasn’t dark overcoming light.
A part of him knows what just happened. That the only way Dad would stop is if he was dead. Sam said he’d do anything, kill anyone, and Dean believed him. Knew he was telling the truth.
The trunk whooshes open, Dean hears Sam grunt and the car shudders and leans backwards, and then the lid slams closed and Sam is a dark shadow moving past the window and blocking out the light.
Dad is dead. Dad is dead and Dean is left with Sam. He has to decide what he’s going to do. Has to decide whether he loves this version of his brother enough to forgive him this. To ignore that this won’t be a one-time thing. It will happen again. Dean is a magnet for trouble and Sam will always respond to that danger this way.
He feels for the gun taped to the base of the seat and waits for Sam to come back.
Waits to make a decision.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2013-08-07 04:23 am (UTC)In my mind, Dean just shoulders it all, and the gun stays put.
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Date: 2013-08-07 05:18 pm (UTC)To be honest, I'm pretty sure Dean does the same in my mind...
Thanks for reading and commenting, and so glad you liked it!
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Date: 2013-08-07 09:50 am (UTC)This Sam? This Sam scared the hell out of me. Perfect.
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Date: 2013-08-07 05:16 pm (UTC)I'm so very glad you liked it, and glad that you like my Sam. Also, I'm kind of glad he scared you. ;)
Thanks so much for reading and commenting!
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Date: 2013-08-07 12:08 pm (UTC)OK, it's true I flailed round alittle, I mean I completely WORSHIP Brand New, so there's that. But I also just love me some CODEPENDENT OBSESSIVE FUCKED UP FIC!!! I will beg you to write more of this, BEG YOU!! This is just one of my favorite things ever. EVER!
I'm in coherent...I will try again later.:P
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Date: 2013-08-07 03:38 pm (UTC)I respond well to begging you know. :D
But seriously, so glad you liked it and thanks for commenting!
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Date: 2013-08-07 12:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-07 03:36 pm (UTC)Who loves dark Sammy? I do! I do!
Date: 2013-08-07 02:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-07 07:53 pm (UTC)I agree wholeheartedly with nomercles - that's exactly it. I love me some Sam, and while I love the puppy loving sweet and gentle boy and man he can be...there within lies a darkness that borders a deep fury. We've seen that in canon, and happy to see it here taken to the level you have.
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Date: 2013-08-08 01:41 pm (UTC)But for serious, every time I stretch my boundaries it's only because you're holding my hand and saying, "It doesn't suck shut up." Thank you Shoe. :D
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Date: 2013-08-08 01:43 pm (UTC)Edition 2.634
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Date: 2013-08-13 05:21 am (UTC)As to your second comment? I'm fairly certain there isn't. In fact, we may find that out.
But yes, I'm very glad this not only went over well, but that it turned out stronger than I thought it would when I was framing it.
Thanks so much for your comment and for reading!
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Date: 2013-08-08 11:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-13 05:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 05:00 am (UTC)But I just finished the last word, and you have capsized me.
Possibly it's rude of me to mention other writers in this comment, but only maybe four days ago I discovered a new to me author, homo_pink, whose excellence and perception and oddness just knock me down. And then Friday night I discovered another new to me author, interflora, who posted this fantastic Big Bang story set at a boarding school, and although it is completely, completely different from both your story and homo_pink's writing, she (so I assume) also writes characters of such stunning complexity and rough edges.
And now you, who have blown me away, too. This story was awesome, in the original sense of the word. All that barely leashed violence and contempt I've always seen simmering in Sam from the very beginning, all that... wrongness which Show warned was on its way to the forefront in the early years, but then claimed had all been washed away clean -- even though it clearly had not.
I love so much of what you did here, but at the top of that list is my love for this version of Sam who is not even a half step away from the one Show has shown us. I know this Sam, but from a distance, from clues infrequently dropped. But you have shredded the veil, laid Sam bare. Where canon has always trumpeted Sam's prodigious IQ (told but only ever poorly shown), here I can actually feel Sam's brain ticking away, as straightforward and impersonal and unstoppable as a clock, biding his time when it suits him and proves convenient, but then exploding into cold fury in an instant, that bullet forever chambered, no transition between the puppy he pretends to be and the rabid dog not even a centimeter beneath the surface, always so hungry for blood.
And you include all that, somehow, in a story that only ever settles its gaze on Sam glancingly, Dean's pointless struggles center stage. Because you allow us to see what Dean cannot: that it is Sam who determines the path that they take, Sam who instructs Dean in how to raise him, Sam who decides on the range of choices Dean can play at, all the while coolly assured of the outcome Sam's already chosen in advance.
Sam is the uncanny child who allows the adults their illusion of agency, and he can do all this graciously because his control is absolute. Dean struggles befuddled in illusions, while Sam has none at all.
I am so, so impressed by this, by your writing, by your concept, by the fact that you have the skill to pull such a difficult feat off with no apparent effort. I will of course now obsessively hunt down everything you've ever written. I can't wait! :)
Are you on AO3? I ask because I am rarely able to check in with LJ, and never able to keep up with it. But AO3 automatically emails me when people post things! And then there's the omnipresent PDF option. If you're on there, please show me where.
Anyway, yes, I wish I felt more awake right now, enough to go into more depth about this steel web you've wound into such a welcoming noose.
But yeah, I'm exhausted. But I LOVED this! I am so, so happy to have found your writing. Thank you so much for sharing it with us. :)
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Date: 2013-08-13 05:28 am (UTC)Neruda!!! The man mastered emotional poetry like no one's business. "Tonight I Can Write", oh man, every time it kills me.
It's not rude of you at all. It's actually quite nice because it gives me places to go for new fics. You're being considerate and sharing! :D
There's a lot to Sam that they never really get into. I agree wholeheartedly that they really dropped the ball when it came to how smart they set Sam up to be.
The "uncanny child". Oh dear, you're excellent. Just excellent. I clapped my hands at that and I'm still smiling.
I am on AO3, but things get put up there slower than on here. Just as a warning. The link is http://archiveofourown.org/users/dimeliora/works , and it's the same user name. :)
Thank you so much for reading, and especially for commenting to this level and with this much enthusiasm. I really hope you like the other stuff, although I have to say that for the most part this is a different kind. I love that you love this Sam so much. Really.
Thank you. I'm so impressed and touched with your response.
OTP Weekly Recap: 08/13/2013: Edition #104
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Date: 2013-08-14 03:40 pm (UTC)So glad you liked it, and thanks for reading and reviewing!
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Date: 2013-08-14 06:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-14 03:40 pm (UTC)Thank you! So glad you liked it, and thanks for reading and reviewing!
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Date: 2013-08-19 08:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-20 09:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-11-06 12:56 am (UTC)And I love Dean's stark realization of what Sam is, and how he tries to cope. The cliffhanger at the end was just right.
Wonderful job!
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Date: 2020-12-04 08:25 pm (UTC)