{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:wetsammy","title":"I'm not supposed to laugh, right?","subtitle":"wetsammy","author":{"name":"wetsammy"},"link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"service.feed","type":"application\/x.atom+xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom","title":"I'm not supposed to laugh, right?"}}],"updated":"2020-03-05T17:08:10Z","entry":[{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:wetsammy:14710","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/14710.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=14710"}}],"title":"wetsammy @ 2020-03-05T11:08:00","published":"2020-03-05T17:08:10Z","updated":"2020-03-05T17:08:10Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"challenges"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"signal boost"}}],"content":"<center><a href=\"https:\/\/spn-masquerade.livejournal.com\/10671.html\" target=\"_blank\"> <img src=\"https:\/\/ic.pics.livejournal.com\/masqueradingmod\/60398762\/24452\/24452_original.png\" fetchpriority=\"high\"><\/a><br \/><span  class=\"ljuser  i-ljuser  i-ljuser-type-C     \"  data-ljuser=\"spn_masquerade\" lj:user=\"spn_masquerade\" ><a href=\"https:\/\/spn-masquerade.livejournal.com\/profile\/\"  target=\"_self\"  class=\"i-ljuser-profile\" ><img  class=\"i-ljuser-userhead\"  src=\"https:\/\/l-stat.livejournal.net\/img\/community.png?v=556&v=915\" \/><\/a><a href=\"https:\/\/spn-masquerade.livejournal.com\/\" class=\"i-ljuser-username\"   target=\"_self\"   ><b>spn_masquerade<\/b><\/a><\/span><br \/>The Waltz of the Wicked: Round Opens March 14th<\/center>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:wetsammy:14152","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/14152.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=14152"}}],"title":"WIPs for 2019","published":"2019-09-28T21:51:48Z","updated":"2019-09-29T14:35:28Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"accountability"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"my writing"}}],"content":"Man, I need to get organized this year. There&#39;s so many great events and I keep signing up, especially with it being SPN&#39;s last year - I don&#39;t want to miss out on anything. Now, there are some new fandom events that I&#39;d love to do. Here&#39;s the plan to keep me accountable for the rest of the year:<br \/><br \/>SPN Meant To Be claims - starts 10\/5<br \/>Should be fun with Harlequin romance summaries as prompts. You can write anything you want as long as it has a happy ending.<br \/><br \/>SPN Eldritch Bang - The Cabin, Wincest, explicit, around 10k, posting 10\/19<br \/>The fic is close to finished, and I&#39;m focusing my rewrites to ramp up the creepiness. My artist - m-stolz - is new to me and their previous work is amazing!<br \/><br \/>SPN Cinema - The Continental, J2 rpf, around 7k, explicit, posting 11\/14<br \/>This one is mostly written, just polishing up the John Wick-style details. An assassins-au based in the John Wick-iverse with Jared and Jensen as competiting hitmen that have an enemies with benefits relationship.<br \/><br \/>SPN Xmas Exchange - 50 Words for Snow, around 5k, Wincest, explicit, posting early December<br \/>This gift fic is on the qt until I post but it is hurt\/comfort with first time Wincest.<br \/><br \/>Sam Winchester Big Bang - posts next February<br \/>I have two WIPs that might work for this, just need to narrow it down to one idea and run with it.<br \/><br \/>Eat The Rude Big Bang - posts next spring<br \/>My first Hannibal fic! Well, it&#39;s actually a HannibalxSPN crossover. I&#39;m also a mod for the bang so if you&#39;re interested in signing up, let me know!<br \/><br \/>The Terror bingo - starts in November and runs six months<br \/>Just what I needed - another event - but I love this show and its characters so much that I have to write for it. Highly recommend season one as a binge watch.<br \/><br \/>Yes, I know this list is crazy but I missed out on writing fics at the beginning of the year and am now making up for it."},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:wetsammy:13851","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/13851.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=13851"}}],"title":"Gencest fics","published":"2019-01-22T15:09:07Z","updated":"2019-01-22T15:09:07Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"challenge"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"gencest"}}],"content":"Finished up my draft for the <a href=\"https:\/\/gencestbang.tumblr.com\/overview\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\">Gencest Big Bang<\/a> last night and was thinking about what makes a really good gencest fic. Because it's gen, it can be written so broadly but with gencest, I think of all the intense canon moments that hit me in the gut (brother hugs, saving each other no matter the cost, the face touching and hair petting that comes out of desperation) and all the juicy fanon stuff like platonic bed sharing and jealousy.<br \/><br \/>What are your favorite gencest tropes?"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:wetsammy:13676","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/13676.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=13676"}}],"title":"End of Year To-Do's","published":"2018-12-26T20:21:17Z","updated":"2018-12-26T20:21:17Z","category":{"@attributes":{"term":"challenges"}},"content":"What are you all up to for New Year's? Anyone else writing? Sam Winchester Big Bang starts in January and my posting date is February 19th and it's about 60% of the way there. Eeep. I can't tell you how excited I am to be working with quickreaver on this one!<br \/><br \/>Also signed up for the Gencest Big Bang and drafts and summaries are due on February 2nd. I want to support this challenge and it's only a 3k minimum word count. Still thinking about ideas. Obviously, canon level face touching and hair petting is a prerequisite.<br type=\"_moz\" \/>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:wetsammy:13366","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/13366.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=13366"}}],"title":"wetsammy @ 2018-12-11T09:23:00","published":"2018-12-11T15:44:11Z","updated":"2018-12-13T01:07:49Z","category":{"@attributes":{"term":"personal"}},"content":"<span style=\"color: rgb(138, 138, 138); font-family: &quot;Lucida Grande&quot;, &quot;Lucida Sans Unicode&quot;, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: justify;\">Stealing this from whiskeyanddenial&nbsp;over at DW &lt;<\/span><span style=\"color: rgb(138, 138, 138); font-family: &quot;Lucida Grande&quot;, &quot;Lucida Sans Unicode&quot;, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: justify;\">333 because this seems like the perfect format for an introduction post<\/span><br \/><ul style=\"color: rgb(138, 138, 138); font-family: &quot;Lucida Grande&quot;, &quot;Lucida Sans Unicode&quot;, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: justify;\"><br \/><li><strong>Name:<\/strong> Paula<\/li><br \/><li><strong>Age<\/strong>: forties<\/li><br \/><li><strong>Pronouns:<\/strong> She\/Her<\/li><br \/><li><strong>Role<\/strong>: Fic writer and reader, tag rambler and gif set appreciator<\/li><br \/><li><strong>Current Fandom<\/strong>: SPN and MCU are ongoing and never say die, but I also love THOHH, Hannibal, GoT, and The Expanse and a ton of others.<\/li><br \/><li><strong>Favorite Character<\/strong>s: Sam Winchester, Bucky Barnes and Amos Burton top that list (hmmm, there&#39;s a theme here of mistakes made and doing the best you can to move past that) <\/li><br \/><li><strong>Ships<\/strong>: Wincest\/J2\/Stucky *praise hands* but I do have a soft center for a lot of rare pair ships too like Sam\/Brady, Dean\/Benny, Dean\/Cain. <\/li><br \/><li><strong>Fandom History<\/strong><ul><br \/><li><strong>First-ever introduction to fandom<\/strong>: Always a fangirl for other shows growing up (Fringe, TXF, BSG, LOTR) but SPN is the one that stuck. <\/li><br \/><li><strong>Other fandoms I&#39;ve lurked in<\/strong>: MCU, Hannibal, and GoT. The Hannigram and Robb\/Jon WIPs that will never be written *sighs*<\/li><br \/><li><strong>How I got into my current fandom<\/strong>: Reintroduced and binged the show in 2014, joined tumblr in 2015 (hey, look at these pretty gifs), starting writing fics six months later.<\/li><br \/><\/ul><\/li><br \/><\/ul><ul style=\"color: rgb(138, 138, 138); font-family: &quot;Lucida Grande&quot;, &quot;Lucida Sans Unicode&quot;, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; text-align: justify;\"><br \/><li style=\"list-style-position: inside;\"><strong>Other fandom platforms<\/strong>:<ul><br \/><li style=\"list-style-position: inside;\">AO3: <a href=\"http:\/\/www.archiveofourown.org\/users\/WetSammyWinchester\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\"><b>WetSammyWinchester<\/b><\/a><\/li><br \/><li style=\"list-style-position: inside;\">tumblr: <a href=\"http:\/\/wetsammywinchester.tumblr.com\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\"><b>wetsammywinchester<\/b><\/a><\/li><br \/><li style=\"list-style-position: inside;\">twitter: <a href=\"http:\/\/twitter.com\/wetsammyw\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\"><b>wetsammyw<\/b><\/a><\/li><br \/><\/ul><\/li><br \/><\/ul>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:wetsammy:13132","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/13132.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=13132"}}],"title":"wetsammy @ 2018-12-10T23:00:00","published":"2018-12-11T05:06:04Z","updated":"2018-12-11T05:06:04Z","category":{"@attributes":{"term":"tumblr purge"}},"content":"<div style=\"text-align:center\"><a href=\"https:\/\/laughablelament.dreamwidth.org\/54972.html\" target=\"_blank\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\"><img src=\"https:\/\/laughablelament.dreamwidth.org\/file\/1714.jpg\" alt=\"Tumblr Purge friending meme.\" width=\"601\" height=\"337\" fetchpriority=\"high\" \/><\/a><\/div><br \/>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:wetsammy:12930","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/12930.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=12930"}}],"title":"wetsammy @ 2018-12-06T08:50:00","published":"2018-12-06T14:52:16Z","updated":"2018-12-06T14:52:16Z","content":"&nbsp;Guess I better dust off this account and start using it!&nbsp;"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:wetsammy:12779","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/12779.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=12779"}}],"title":"It\u2019s that time of year again ","published":"2018-11-02T20:53:59Z","updated":"2018-11-02T20:53:59Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"challenge"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"signal boost"}}],"content":"<center><a href=\"https:\/\/ohsam.livejournal.com\/942203.html\" target=\"_blank\"><img src=\"https:\/\/ic.pics.livejournal.com\/ohsam_mod\/77003009\/4659\/4659_900.png\" alt=\"OhSam November 2018 meme banner\" title=\"OhSamNovBanner2018.png\" fetchpriority=\"high\"><br \/><\/a><\/center><p><center><b>Time for the annual November 2nd OhSam meme! Bring your prompts!<\/b><\/center>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:wetsammy:11567","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/11567.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=11567"}}],"title":"wetsammy @ 2018-04-13T06:50:00","published":"2018-04-13T11:50:15Z","updated":"2018-04-13T11:50:15Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"hurt!sam"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"challenge"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"signal boost"}}],"content":"<center><a href=\"https:\/\/ohsam.livejournal.com\/938193.html\" target=\"_blank\"><img src=\"https:\/\/ic.pics.livejournal.com\/ohsam_mod\/77003009\/4563\/4563_original.jpg\" alt=\"HCbanner_birthdaybanner.jpg\" title=\"Here&apos;s to the birthday boy!\" fetchpriority=\"high\"><br \/><\/a><\/center><p><center><b>Come have a big slice of H\/C cake, on Sam!<\/b><\/center><br \/><br \/>I love the way this is set up this time!"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:wetsammy:11292","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/11292.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=11292"}}],"title":"Last day to sign up","published":"2018-03-23T10:02:46Z","updated":"2018-03-23T10:02:46Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"challenge"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"springfling"}}],"content":"<a href=\"https:\/\/spnspringfling.livejournal.com\/189798.html\" target=\"_blank\"><img src=\"https:\/\/pics.livejournal.com\/lazy_daze\/pic\/0029qeab\" fetchpriority=\"high\"><\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:wetsammy:11109","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/11109.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=11109"}}],"title":"Squeeeeee","published":"2018-01-04T13:21:48Z","updated":"2018-01-04T13:21:48Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"j2 rps"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"challenge"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"wincest"}}],"content":"<center><a href=\"https:\/\/j2-jukebox.livejournal.com\/1276.html\" target=\"_blank\"><img src=\"https:\/\/i.imgur.com\/eJIjPFP.jpg\" fetchpriority=\"high\"><br \/><\/a><\/center><br \/><br \/>I\u2019m so excited!"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:wetsammy:10947","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/10947.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=10947"}}],"title":"YES, ALL THE PIMPING","published":"2017-11-15T20:38:38Z","updated":"2017-11-15T20:38:38Z","content":"<center><a href=\"https:\/\/glovered.livejournal.com\/163344.html\" target=\"_blank\"><img src=\"https:\/\/i.imgur.com\/mxgXaBd.png\" border=\"0\" fetchpriority=\"high\"><\/a><br \/>A comment fic & art meme<\/center>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:wetsammy:10632","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/10632.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=10632"}}],"title":"A Shadow of What Should Be","published":"2017-11-04T21:27:38Z","updated":"2017-11-04T21:27:38Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"wincest big bang"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"sam\/dean"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"stanford era"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"hallucinations"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"rating: pg-13"}}],"content":"<p><em>Written for the Wincest Big Bang<\/em><\/p><br \/><p><em>Fic masterpost: <a href=\"http:\/\/archiveofourown.org\/works\/12627711\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\">AO3<\/a><\/em><\/p><br \/><p><em>Art masterpost: <a href=\"https:\/\/fridayblues.livejournal.com\/46486.html?view=1975190#t1975190\" target=\"_blank\">LJ<\/a><\/em><\/p><br \/><p><em>A\/N: Thanks to beta anotherwinchesterfangirl who always saves me! Artist <span  class=\"ljuser  i-ljuser  i-ljuser-type-P     \"  data-ljuser=\"fridayblues\" lj:user=\"fridayblues\" ><a href=\"https:\/\/fridayblues.livejournal.com\/profile\/\"  target=\"_self\"  class=\"i-ljuser-profile\" ><img  class=\"i-ljuser-userhead\"  src=\"https:\/\/l-stat.livejournal.net\/img\/userinfo_v8.png?v=17080&v=915\" \/><\/a><a href=\"https:\/\/fridayblues.livejournal.com\/\" class=\"i-ljuser-username\"   target=\"_self\"   ><b>fridayblues<\/b><\/a><\/span> was the sweetest to work with - stepping in as a pinch hitter to create the most amazing art.<\/em><\/p><br \/><p><em>Tags: Stanford era, unrequited relationship, canon divergent, hallucinations<\/em><\/p><br \/><br \/><p><em>Summary: Sam wakes up in a strange bed, a strange apartment, and living in domestic bliss with Dean and a dog named Mothra. Obviously, either he's lost his mind or all of this is a dream.<\/em><\/p><br \/><br \/><p><img src=\"https:\/\/ic.pics.livejournal.com\/fridayblues\/10901787\/33845\/33845_800.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" fetchpriority=\"high\" \/><\/p><br \/><br \/><p><em>He looked down at the blank screen of his phone. No texts. No messages. <\/em><\/p><br \/><p><em>It wasn\u2019t surprising after five months of radio silence. Sam still held out a small sliver of hope with Christmas only two days away. He frowned and flipped the phone shut, stuffing it in his hoodie pocket as he picked up his beer.<\/em><\/p><br \/><p><em>Palo Alto had plenty of bars with pricey wine lists and whiskey flights, but Sam liked the dive bars like this where there were three beers on tap and they were all Budweiser. <\/em><\/p><br \/><p><em>The bartender flipped a switch and the night lights behind the bar came up, signalling the official shift from day drinking to live music. Sam blinked at the strobe of bright blue light and ducked his head away, turning to look at the guy on the bar stool next to him. <\/em><\/p><br \/><p><em>He was blonde and young, the same age as Sam with the same type of hand-me-down clothes. No doubt he had the same kind of fake ID in his pocket. <\/em><\/p><br \/><p><em>\u201cWhat\u2019s your name?\u201d Sam asked, shouting over the band that was warming up on the little stage in the corner. Finishing up finals for the semester and seeing off his roommate for the Christmas break made him feel untethered and a little loose. All that waited for him tonight was the beer in his hand and a dark, empty dorm room.<\/em><\/p><br \/><p><img src=\"https:\/\/ic.pics.livejournal.com\/fridayblues\/10901787\/34956\/34956_300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" loading=\"lazy\" \/><\/p><br \/><br \/><p>The sun glowed orange behind his closed eyelids, as insistent and annoying as an alarm clock, and Sam blinked them open in confusion. The light was all wrong - his dorm room window faced west, not east, so morning light never bothered him. Damn, he slept in. He had been thinking about catching an early train up to San Francisco and looking around a few bookstores in North Beach before starting on his reading list for the Native American Mythology class next semester.<\/p><br \/><p>Sam turned to look for his alarm clock and realized it wasn\u2019t the sun that was wrong - it was the room. <\/p><br \/><p>The walls and bedding that surrounded him were a clean bright white - not the messy riot of their dorm room - and he bolted upright, sheets pooling around his waist. This generic kind of white was the color of old hospitals and new construction and it meant trouble. <\/p><br \/><p>Something must have happened to him last night. Maybe there was an accident, a blow hard enough to knock him out, and he was brought here - wherever here was.<\/p><br \/><p>The thing was, the sheets under his hands were nice. He spent enough time as a child with Dean or Dad lying in hospital beds to know that they didn\u2019t use high-thread count sheets, and the milk crate at the side of the bed that the lamp and clock radio sat on looked more like something snagged from behind the cafeteria at the dorm. <\/p><br \/><p>So what the fuck? Or more precisely, where the fuck was he? <\/p><br \/><p>Sam pushed back against the headboard and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to remember last night. After helping Brady pack his bags and catch the airport shuttle, he drank a few beers at a bar, some campus pick-up joint that was nothing more than a big screen tv, cheap chicken wings, and a bad Journey cover band on stage in the back.<\/p><br \/><br \/><p><img src=\"https:\/\/ic.pics.livejournal.com\/fridayblues\/10901787\/34956\/34956_300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" loading=\"lazy\" \/><\/p><br \/><br \/><p><em>\u201cWhat\u2019s your name?\u201d <\/em><\/p><br \/><p><em>\u201cJesse.\u201d The guy spun towards him on the bar stool, his lips curled up in a cocky smile. He wasn\u2019t Sam\u2019s type -- too short, too slender, and eyes that were too blue -- but Sam was always a sucker for a cocky smile. \u201cWhat\u2019s yours?\u201d<\/em><\/p><br \/><p><em>\u201cSam.\u201d He smiled back, showing dimples over his beer. \u201cSo, what are you doing for the break?\u201d<\/em><\/p><br \/><p><em>Jesse leaned in towards him and licked his lips. \u201cBreak? Oh, no, I don\u2019t go to school here.\u201d <\/em><\/p><br \/><br \/><br \/><p><img src=\"https:\/\/ic.pics.livejournal.com\/fridayblues\/10901787\/34956\/34956_300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" loading=\"lazy\" \/><\/p><br \/><br \/><p>Sam ran a hand through his hair. There was a guy last night, not anyone he knew, not anyone special, just some guy he sat next to. <\/p><br \/><p>And what the hell had they been drinking? Boilermakers, for some reason that escaped him now. Five beers and five shots of whisky later and it seemed like a good idea to head over to Sam's place. <\/p><br \/><br \/><p><img src=\"https:\/\/ic.pics.livejournal.com\/fridayblues\/10901787\/34956\/34956_300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" loading=\"lazy\" \/><\/p><br \/><br \/><p><em>As they walked into his dorm room, Sam flipped the light switch several times and nothing happened. Damn it, maintenance probably shut off one of the breakers, forgetting he was up here on the third floor.<\/em><\/p><br \/><p><em>Hands settled on his waist from behind. \u201cWe don\u2019t need lights for what I\u2019m going to do to you.\u201d<\/em><\/p><br \/><p><em>A shiver ran up Sam\u2019s spine at the touch. He turned around and looked down at the blonde and the blue, and knew it was all wrong, but it was alright for now. Their lips met in that dark room. <\/em><\/p><br \/><p><em>\u201cShow me.\u201d<\/em><\/p><br \/><br \/><p><img src=\"https:\/\/ic.pics.livejournal.com\/fridayblues\/10901787\/34956\/34956_300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" loading=\"lazy\" \/><\/p><br \/><br \/><p>How did he end up here in this apartment? Sam tamped down a nauseating wave of anxiety. He might have a few drinks now and then, but that was it. But getting blackout drunk? That was Dad\u2019s way to cope; Sam wasn\u2019t like that. He chose never to be like that.<\/p><br \/><p>He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and his foot landed on a pair of black jeans and a black concert t-shirt crumpled on the floor. Sam reached down to pick up the shirt and chuffed out a laugh. Metallica. <em>Of course<\/em> he would sleep with some random guy who had Dean\u2019s taste in music and clothes. <\/p><br \/><p>What was it they say about insanity? It's doing the same thing over and over again - <em>wanting the same thing over and over<\/em> - when there's no way to get it.<\/p><br \/><p>Sam should take this one-night stand as a lesson. If he really wanted a normal life, he should meet a nice dentistry student who drives a Subaru and takes his laundry back to his mom every weekend.<\/p><br \/><p>Standing up, he stretched his arms above his head and caught a glimpse of himself in a mirrored closet door. The reflection was an odd sight and he stumbled closer. Naked from the waist up, his chest and neck were covered in red bite marks and mouth-shaped bruises. He pushed on one of the bruises, curious, and closed his eyes against the fresh pain and the sudden throb in his cock.<\/p><br \/><p><em>This is insane. Dean does this kind of crazy stuff. Not me.<\/em><\/p><br \/><p>If his panic had sparked before, it flared bright now as his eyes dropped to the pants he was wearing. They were green flannel soft flannel and he fingered a familiar tear in the right knee.<\/p><br \/><p>Shit, these were his pajamas - the ones he wore almost every night.<\/p><br \/><p>He searched the floor for more of his clothes. Nothing - which meant he walked across campus drunk in his pajamas - <em>no, wait, shirtless and drunk in his pajamas<\/em> - to some strange guy\u2019s apartment for round two of some one-night stand that he couldn\u2019t remember. <\/p><br \/><p>If Dean heard about this, his big brother would laugh his ass off.<\/p><br \/><p><em>I need to leave.<\/em><\/p><br \/><p>Cracking open the bedroom door, Sam didn't hear any noises from the apartment below. The stairwell and carpet and layout looked familiar, reminding him of his old Chem partner\u2019s place in married housing. <\/p><br \/><p><em>Please tell me this guy isn't married.<\/em><\/p><br \/><p>He walked soundlessly down the carpeted stairs, to where a Christmas tree stood in the corner of the small living room, lit up with presents underneath. The sight of those bright lights made Sam stutter to a stop, grasping the handrail. Really, this couldn\u2019t get any worse.<em> <\/em><\/p><br \/><p><em>A family lives here<\/em>. <\/p><br \/><p>He and Dean never celebrated the holidays much growing up, not with the constant moving and lack of space. The tree in this living room wasn't fancy with its thrift shop ornaments, but put together with love and nicer than anything they ever had. <\/p><br \/><p>As he held onto the handrail and stood on the second to last riser, his bare toes hanging over the carpeted edge, Sam felt a pang and wondered where Dad and Dean were at this moment. They would probably celebrate this year by drinking a beer together at the local bar, or they might forget all about the holidays working a case.<\/p><br \/><p>The smell of brewed coffee got his attention, and he wandered into a small quiet kitchen in the back looking for clues. It was neat and empty like the rest of the house, and a coffee maker sat on the counter with a yellow sticky note stuck next to it. Sam glanced around, unsure if the note was for him or someone else, but curiosity got the better of him and he peeled it off the slick granite.<\/p><br \/><p><em>No. No. No. This wasn\u2019t right.<\/em><\/p><br \/><p>Sam recognized this handwriting. He had seen it all his life. But it made no sense. Not here. Not now.<\/p><br \/><br \/><p align=\"center\"><em>Made you coffee but I ended <\/em><\/p><br \/><p align=\"center\"><em>up drinking it all - that's what <\/em><\/p><br \/><p align=\"center\"><em>you get for sleeping in. <\/em><\/p><br \/><p align=\"center\"><em>See you after class. D<\/em><\/p><br \/><br \/><p>The front door of the apartment swung open and he threw the note back down on the counter. If he thought this was some kind of dream before, he was sure of it when his brother walked in.<\/p><br \/><p>Dean looked different. Last Sam had seen him, his face was gaunt and Dad's leather jacket hung loose around his shoulders. He had been upset, unable to face Sam after the argument with Dad ended.<\/p><br \/><p>This Dean looked good, with longer hair and tan skin that made the freckles on his face jump out, which contrasted perfectly against the dark red of the Stanford hoodie he was wearing. <em>He looks relaxed. Not like he's waiting for something bad to happen, or someone to start shouting. He looks like every dirty dream Sam had since he was fifteen, where he and Dean would swap clothes and he could smell his brother on him all day.<\/em><\/p><br \/><p>When Dean spotted Sam frozen at the kitchen counter, his eyes crinkled up and he shared one of those closed-lipped smiles, trying to be tough and not succeeding. \u201cSo, you're finally up? Always said you were a lightweight when you drank whisky.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Five months without hearing that voice, without seeing that smile, and it made his heart ache so badly that he rubbed his palm against his chest to ease the pain. <\/p><br \/><p>Dean tossed his backpack on the couch, as if he had done it a hundred times before, and walked past Sam to fill the glass carafe from the coffeemaker. He glanced out the kitchen window while the water ran from the faucet, not noticing how Sam stared with an open mouth.<em> <\/em><\/p><br \/><p><em>Don't talk. Don't wake up. <\/em>If this was a dream, then all he wanted was to hang on to this Dean for a few more minutes. <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cRemind me to kick your ass for suggesting that early Econ class. It\u2019s torture, man.\u201d Dean flipped the switch on the old Mr Coffee machine, before turning to face Sam. \u201cWhat's wrong with you this morning? You getting sick again?\u201d <\/p><br \/><p>He reached out his hand and pressed the back of it against Sam's forehead. It was too heavy and dry for a dream, and the comfort felt real, like Sam remembered from when they were kids. Whenever he was hurt or in pain, Dean would be there to find a way to make it better, and after a while Sam didn't mind sprained ankles and scraped knees because Dean's attention would be focused on him.<\/p><br \/><p>Dean stood so close to him that Sam could see the grassy green color of his eyes and smell the Ivory soap he used, a scent that had made Sam crazy during high school when they would bump up against each other in the motel bathroom. Now that same soapy smell surrounded him and Sam took a drag of it, filling his mouth and lungs with it, a sense memory to take with him when he woke up.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cWell, you feel alright. Maybe you just need some coffee. And bacon. Bacon cures anything.\u201d <\/p><br \/><p>Dean slipped his hand down to cup the back of Sam's neck and that's when the world tilted. Soft lips pressed against his, leaving the taste of coffee and toothpaste on his tongue. Unexpected and warm, Sam surprised himself by sinking into the kiss, bringing his hands up to grip the back of Dean's arms. <\/p><br \/><p>It wasn't until he had to break it off to take a breath, his lungs burning from lack of oxygen, and he pushed back against Dean, that he realized his hands were touching a breathing living body. <\/p><br \/><p>Not some misty dream, but flesh and muscle and bone, and the wall of panic from before slammed into him. <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cNo, no, no.\u201d Sam shook his head and stumbled back.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cSammy?\u201d Dean's brow was creased in concern.<\/p><br \/><p>Sam bolted through a sliding door off the kitchen onto a wooden deck. It felt like deep claws had pierced his ribcage, holding him tight across his chest, and he gulped down the morning air. He sank down on the steps, his vision whiting out around the edges, and he drop his head between his knees.<\/p><br \/><p><em>Think, Sam, think.<\/em> Could be a shifter. He remembered his dad talking about how shifters could slip into your life disguised as people you knew, but the problem with that was he didn't know this Dean and he didn\u2019t know this place. Neither had no connection to his real life, his true memories, in any way. <\/p><br \/><p>A kiss. Sam\u2019s hand snuck up to rub along his lips which were still tingling.<\/p><br \/><p>Maybe some kind of parallel universe? Sam had seen a lot of things but even that idea seemed far fetched to him, something out of C.S. Lewis or a Philip K. Dick novel. Ghosts and shifters were real; Narnia not so much. <\/p><br \/><p>Which left one thing. He was losing his mind. He was broken inside and this was all a hallucination. <\/p><br \/><p>Sam rocked back and forth on the steps, and was gulping down air that never seemed to reach his lungs, when a wet, cold nose pressed against his ear. Sam jerked his head up and a golden retriever began to lick his face and hands. <\/p><br \/><p><em>Bones<\/em>. That was his first thought - the dog he had fed leftover pizza to in the high mountains of Arizona - but this wasn\u2019t Bones. Her well-brushed red-gold coat and new leather collar said she wasn't a stray either. Sam let the dog lave at his stubbled cheeks, grounding himself in the feel of its soft fur between his fingers and the sounds of its happy panting.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cHey there.\u201d At the sound of his voice, the dog sat between Sam's legs, wagging its tail expectantly and a smile tugged at his lips. Sam nuzzled into its neck. \u201cGood girl.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cShoo, Mothra, go back to your doghouse.\u201d Sam straightened up at Dean's voice and felt his warm presence settle on the step next to him. The dog obediently ran over to a wooden dog house and laid down inside. A shoulder bumped Sam\u2019s. \u201cSeems like you\u2019re having a bad morning. What\u2019s going on?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>His brother - <em>not my brother, just a hallucination<\/em> - was holding out one of two cups of coffee. Sam could run, he could attack, but he accepted the mug, looking down at the light brown color. Double cream, just the way he started drinking it when he got to Stanford. <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cDean\u2026\u201d Sam stared into his eyes, unsure what he wanted to say. \u201cWait, Mothra?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Dean glared at the dog, who put her head on her paws, her bushy tail thumping the inside of the dog house. \u201cBig, annoying, prone to destruction? Like I said before, you pick the dog, but I pick the name.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>A large hand grabbed the back of Sam\u2019s neck once again, tugging softly at his hair, to bring his attention back around to Dean. <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cSam, it's okay. I get it. This time of year is tough for both of us. I thought getting a tree and decorating might help us make some traditions of our own.\u201d Dean glanced over his shoulder back at the apartment, corners of his mouth turned down. \u201cMaybe I was wrong. I'll take it down.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>That frown tugged at Sam. He had lived with a Dean-shaped hole inside himself for months, and in any world, any hallucination, he didn't want to see his brother  upset. \u201cNo, I like it. Don't change anything.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Dean ruffled his hair. \u201cFinish up that coffee. After being sick last week, you can't be late for McNulty\u2019s class.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sick? Maybe that was it. Some kind of fever dream. Or a case of encephalitis. Maybe selective amnesia. Sad when the idea that he was unconscious and lying in a hospital somewhere was the best case scenario in his crazy life. Whatever this was, a dream, a hallucination, he was willing to go with it for now. <\/p><br \/><p>Sam took another sip of the coffee, strong despite the milk, the way his brother brewed it on motel hot pads and cheap coffee makers when they were growing up. If he didn't give it too much thought, if he didn\u2019t push too hard, this could be the best dream Sam ever had.<\/p><br \/><br \/><p><img src=\"https:\/\/ic.pics.livejournal.com\/fridayblues\/10901787\/34956\/34956_300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" loading=\"lazy\" \/><\/p><br \/><br \/><p>Or it could be great if he didn't have to sit through McNulty\u2019s Ethics class. He wasn\u2019t sure why his dreamworld would have his least-favorite class and make it identical in every way to the one he had in real life, from the professor\u2019s tiny cramped writing on the board to his sonorous voice that made Sam want to curl up and sleep the hour away. He couldn\u2019t wait to get out of there and figure out what was going on.<\/p><br \/><p>Sam pushed through the glass door and emerged into the late morning sun, when he heard his name being called.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cHey, Winchester!\u201d His roommate, Brady, pushed through the surging crowd. \u201cLong time, no see.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam smiled. Tyson Brady had been the first person he met at orientation and his roommate for the past six months. Despite his entitled life, Brady was good people and they bonded over having your life planned out for you. <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cI just saw you yesterday.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Brady\u2019s forehead scrunched up. \u201cWhat are you talking about, man? I haven't seen you in two months. Your boyfriend won't let me come over anymore.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cBoyfriend?\u201d Sam said, recovering quickly. \u201cOh yeah. Well, Dean can be a little protective.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cTry irrationally possessive.\u201d <\/p><br \/><p>Sam shook his head and a flash of brown over Brady\u2019s shoulder caught his attention. There was Dean standing across the quad, staring at him. Only this was the Dean he remembered, with short darker hair and Dad\u2019s leather jacket. No textbooks or hoodies in sight. Their eyes met and his brother began waving his arms to get Sam\u2019s attention. His brother\u2019s eyes were wide and his lips kept moving as if to yell but no sound came out. Sam cocked his head and took two steps forward before a group of students knocked past him in their rush to get to the next class. When he looked up again, Dean was gone.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cDean?\u201d he shouted.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cAre you okay, Sam?\u201d Brady\u2019s arm rested on his arm. \u201cYou don't look so good, buddy. How about I buy you a coffee?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cNo, I need to find Dean.\u201d Sam craned his neck back and forth to catch sight of him, but Brady's grip on his arm drug his attention back to his friend.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cSam, I haven't seen you in months and now you tell me you need to run back to your boyfriend. Gotta say that doesn't sound healthy,\u201d Brady said.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cWe\u2019ll do it another time. Soon, I promise. I just need to find Dean right now.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Brady let go and stepped back, but his smile was painfully tight. \u201cSure. It's just that, ever since he showed up, you've been so wrapped up in him, you don't see anything that's right in front of you.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>That stopped Sam for a moment. This was his friend in the real world and he was right here in whatever this dream world was. In the first few days after they\u2019d met, Sam had wondered if they might become more. Brady was funny and supportive, and there was a certain type of freedom there that came without any emotional baggage. <\/p><br \/><p>Only one problem - he wasn't the one person who meant the world to Sam. The one person he would lay his life down for.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cI'm sorry. I have to go right now.\u201d Sam took off at a jog, zig zagging across the quad as he went, searching the crowd for brown leather and short, spiked hair.<\/p><br \/><br \/><p><img src=\"https:\/\/ic.pics.livejournal.com\/fridayblues\/10901787\/34956\/34956_300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" loading=\"lazy\" \/><\/p><br \/><br \/><p>An hour later, he threw open the door to the apartment. The search for the real Dean went nowhere, looking in every quad and coffee shop on campus, so it was time to go back to this dream Dean for some answers.<\/p><br \/><p>The Christmas tree lights were on, despite the afternoon sun coming in the windows. Dean was leaning over, placing a present beneath the lower branches. The box was wrapped in red-and-white wrapping paper with a large silver bow on top and it felt too much, like one of those store display presents that were empty and light. All the gifts they exchanged growing up were hidden beneath brown paper bags or newspaper, but those cheaply-wrapped candy bars and comic books, even that stolen Sapphire Barbie, meant the world to him because they came from his brother.<\/p><br \/><p>Dean straightened up when he heard the door close. \u201cDid you stick around after class? That old roommate of yours talk you into a study session? I swear to God that guy just can't let go.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cWe need to talk.\u201d He may not have wanted this dream to end, and he had Dean exactly the way he wanted him, but Sam knew that something was wrong with his brother. His real brother. And he wasn't going to leave him alone out in the real world.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cSam, what's wrong?\u201d Dean felt his forehead again while guiding him to the couch. \u201cYou're all flushed. You really are sick.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>The urgency of the situation seemed to recede as he looked into his brother\u2019s worried green eyes and felt Dean's hand on his face. Sam brought his hands up to rest on the soft cotton of what must have been he discarded Metallica shirt that he saw on the bedroom floor earlier that morning.<\/p><br \/><p>Looking in those eyes, it brought back memories of skinned knees and Dean being there for him every time he was hurt. Dean walking him back from school everyday, making sure he got his homework done, goading him into keeping in shape for hunting, teasing him about girls and reading books. <\/p><br \/><p>But Sam had wanted more. He dreamed of fingertips finding each other under the sheet in the dark. He was selfish - he wanted all of Dean's attention and his affection, not to share him with a stream of nameless girls in nameless cities, and certainly not to share him with some never-ending quest to satisfy their dad's vengeance.<\/p><br \/><p>Now, in this world, he had that. <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cWhere is Dad?\u201d That was not the first question he expected to ask.<\/p><br \/><p>The corners of Dean's mouth turned down and Sam could feel his soft exhale against his arm hairs. \u201cGeez, you really are sick, Sam. C\u2019mon, lay down.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam grabbed Dean's hand, curling into his chest. \u201cI'm serious. If you're here, where's Dad?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>The pause was significant, and Sam felt a swooping sensation in his gut. <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cSam\u2026\u201d Dean breathed out. \u201cI know this is a really tough time of year for you, for us. Maybe we should have gone back to Kansas to visit his grave, rather than trying to celebrate the holidays like this. Because, really, what do we know about all this Bing Crosby White Christmas stuff?\u201d He gestured to the tree in the corner, his arm flopping half heartedly. <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cI'm sorry.\u201d He didn't know what the apology was for, just something that needed to be said.<\/p><br \/><p>Dean fussed around him, and in his emotional exhaustion, Sam let him. Months had gone by since he last saw his brother - the real Dean - or his Dad. Sam had tucked away his pain when he came to Stanford, buried it underneath all the chaos of classes and dorm life so that he didn't have to think about the loneliness. <\/p><br \/><p>Underneath the loneliness was the constant worry. All the hunts that they went on had the potential to turn bad and bloody, and Sam wouldn't be there. <\/p><br \/><p>Settled back on a couch in this make-believe apartment with a knitted afghan wrapped around him, he wondered what would be wrong with staying here just a little while longer. In this world, Dean loved him and more importantly, he was <em>with<\/em> him.<\/p><br \/><p>Dean settled in next to him on the edge of the couch, placing a firm hand on his chest, rubbing along Sam\u2019s sternum with his thumb. \u201cThis is all my fault. I never should have let you go to class today. It's my job to take care of you.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cYou always do,\u201d Sam said with a wan smile, as his eyelids began to droop. Maybe if he got a little sleep, all of this would make more sense. <\/p><br \/><p>The last thing he felt as his eyes closed was Dean's murmur against his temple. \u201cGet some rest, little brother.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>His dream was cold, like leaving the front door open during a blizzard kind of cold. The temperature was uncomfortable and he went to reach for the afghan only to find he was unable to move. He opened his eyes and his dimly lit dorm room came into focus. It was just as he left it yesterday. Brady's side of the room is in disarray, sheets pulled down and comforter thrown on the floor, his toothbrush discarded on the milk crate that he used as a nightstand. Sam's side was stacked high with novels and textbooks, even a few books on folklore and creatures, all to keep him busy over the quiet Christmas break at school. He had special permission from the R.A. and the building manager to stay here by himself, since he had nowhere better to go for the holidays.<\/p><br \/><p>Sam tried to sit up again, but couldn't move. One glance at his wrists, bound to the wooden bed frame with leather belts, explained it. Something else was in the room with him, a shadow moving around the edges of the room, and he started to yell for Dean, the real Dean, the one who could save him. Then there was a tug on his hair and a blue hand in front of his face, and Sam felt the world go dark again.<\/p><br \/><p>And that's when he woke up in his brother's arms, with the Christmas tree lights winking merrily in the corner and Dean slapping his cheek.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cWake up! C\u2019mon, Sam, wake up!\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cNooooo\u2026\u201d He tried to scramble back but was tangled hopelessly in the blanket, instead pushing back on the thing pretending to be Dean. \u201cGet away from me!\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cSam, it's me. Nobody's gonna hurt you. It was just a nightmare.\u201d <\/p><br \/><p>Dean held him in place until the worst of his panic attack had passed. Sam pushed himself into a sitting position, and Dean ducked his head to see under the bangs that fell into his face, cupping Sam\u2019s cheek.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cYou know that, don't you? I would never let anyone hurt you.\u201d Despite the hair and the tan, Dean looked the same as he always did. That mix of strong and soft, invincible and vulnerable - the same foundation that Sam had built his life around.<\/p><br \/><p>His brother leaned in, hand still resting on Sam\u2019s cheek, and kissed him deeply. Wet and smooth like one of Sam\u2019s teenage dreams, but the lips and tongue were cool and Sam felt the ghost of those leather belts tighten around his wrists and ankles once more. He pulled back, swallowing hard against the bile that rose in his throat.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cI know that.\u201d Sam played with the fringe of the afghan between his fingers. \u201cYou know what sounds really good right now? Tomato rice soup.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Dean stood up and smiled in relief. \u201cI can do that. Why don't you stay right here, and figure out a movie or something else for us to watch. Or even better, how about opening a few presents early?\u201d <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cSure.\u201d Sam watched him leave the room, before pulling off the blanket, and listened for the clank of the sauce pot on the cooktop and Dean's humming before slipping his feet into shoes and making his way to the door.<\/p><br \/><p>He paused with his fingers wrapped around the metal doorknob, as he recognized the song fake-Dean was humming. \u201cHey Jude\u201d and tomato rice soup? Whoever or whatever this thing was, it was good. Just not good enough to keep him here.<\/p><br \/><br \/><p><img src=\"https:\/\/ic.pics.livejournal.com\/fridayblues\/10901787\/34956\/34956_300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" loading=\"lazy\" \/><\/p><br \/><br \/><p>He figured he had about a five-minute head start but Dean would probably jump in the car and catch up quickly, so he hopped on the first bike he saw that wasn't locked up.<\/p><br \/><p>Cutting across campus on the paths should have been a ten-minute ride, but there was a protest in the quad that blocked him, and he had to take a detour by the gymnasium.<\/p><br \/><p>Swerving around the pedestrians, he was almost knocked on his ass by Brady.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cHey, man, are you, okay? First, you abandon me and now, you almost run me over. Dude, what is going on with you.\u201d His roommate, or not-roommate, looked concerned again and Sam didn't have time for this, dodging away as Brady tried to grab the handlebars.<\/p><br \/><p>He pedaled as fast as he could around the law school building and skidded into the bike racks in front of his dorm. The building looked the same as it did when he left for the bar last night. <em>Or was that the night before? How long had he been stuck here?<\/em><\/p><br \/><p>Approaching the granite steps of the dorm, Sam threw the bike down next to the bike racks and ran up the stairs. Pushing the front door open, he blinked as he was plunged into darkness. Sam stumbled a few steps further then turned back towards the dorm\u2019s front doors. No brilliant sunlight, no crowds of students walking by. Only darkness and quiet sidewalks. <\/p><br \/><p>Sam turned and waited for a moment, head cocked, like a deer in the forest aware that a predator was never far. There was nothing, the silence consuming, so he continued forward, bypassing the elevator for the stairs and an easy run up two flights to his room. His foot was on the first tread when he heard it.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cSam.\u201d <\/p><br \/><p>He would always respond to that voice. As a child, as a adult, during a hunt, or inside a dream. He couldn't deny the power it had over him. Sam turned around and felt his heart clench.<\/p><br \/><p>Dean was right behind him. The Stanford hoodie was gone and Dad\u2019s old leather jacket was in its place. His hair was shorter and spiked in front, just like the night Sam left for Stanford, but his face was wrong. Tranquil and passive in a way that Dean\u2019s never was. Sam could read every line, every flicker across his brother\u2019s face. The annoyance when Sam made a mess in the car. The amusement when a prank went better than expected. The bliss from a great meal. His brother\u2019s emotions swung like a pendulum between two extremes, but it rarely rested in the middle at contentment and peace. <\/p><br \/><p>This still wasn\u2019t his Dean, just another iteration. He needed to find his way back to his real brother, and in order to do that, he needed to face whatever was waiting in his dorm room.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cDean, I need your help--\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cWait, Sammy. I need to talk to you.\u201d Dean reached for Sam\u2019s wrist, and when the hand settled, the flesh was cool to the touch. \u201cCome with me. There's so much I need to tell you. So much you need to know.\u201d This brother pulled but there was no substance behind it.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cNo.\u201d Sam backed up onto the next step.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cSammy,\u201d he sighed out, soft as a breath. \u201cIt doesn't have to be this way. You can come back and we can live out this dream. No one to judge us. No one to stop us. Why would you want to go back? A father who judges everything you do and a brother who doesn\u2019t want you, not the way you want him to. I can be everything you need.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>The precipice was there, looking into his brother\u2019s face -- the love and peace and <em>goddamn normalcy<\/em> -- all Sam needed was to let himself fall. He could walk away with this Dean now, be enveloped in white in their big soft bed, and feel Dean lying behind him, warm and real with his breath on his neck. He would never have to wake up. No more hunts, no research, and Dean no longer in danger. A life free and clear from the supernatural. <\/p><br \/><p>Except that it wasn't. Whatever was going on with this dream, the source of it was supernatural, and it was upstairs in his dorm room. <\/p><br \/><p>Sam pulled his arm away, and felt a flash of guilt at the betrayal that crossed not-Dean's face, before he turned to sprint up the stairs two at a time.<\/p><br \/><p>His room was at the far end of the third floor. Sam loved it when he moved in because of the views of the quad below. Brady bitched about how far it was from the action in the lobby and tv rooms on the first floor, but Sam appreciated the quiet. No one came looking for him in this little corner of the world. He could sleep without being disturbed by partying students or hunters returning in the middle of the night. He could read his textbooks at his desk without interruption from people passing through or fathers asking him to do research.<\/p><br \/><p>Sam stopped and listened, waiting for the sound of steps, but it was quiet. He moved silently through the dark hall, the only light being the red emergency exit sign at the far stairwell. When he signed a waiver that allowed him to stay through the holidays, the RA made sure that he understood that the cafeteria would be shut down along with the main lifts on the floor. What the guy didn\u2019t understand was that given some of the dives that the Winchesters stayed in throughout the years, this dorm room was Club Med to Sam. A building manager and some security guards might come through periodically, but if anything happened, they made it clear that Sam was on his own. <\/p><br \/><p>Nothing he wasn\u2019t used to.<\/p><br \/><p>A dim blue light glowed from under his doorway at the far end of that hall. Same blue as the light behind the bar last night (or the night before that?). It wasn\u2019t until his chest felt like it was exploding that he realized he was holding his breath. His Puma sneakers were whisper soft as he approached the door.<\/p><br \/><p>A shadow broke up the blue light and Sam froze. He had no weapon, nothing to protect himself, but if this was a dream or vision, he didn't know if any of that would matter. A hand touched his sleeve and he almost jumped out of his skin.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cYou don't need to go in there.\u201d There was that voice again that comforted him though skinned knees and nightmares. <\/p><br \/><p>Sam was always at his best when his brother was next to him. Now, he needed support, even if it was only from a dream. \u201cWhat\u2019s inside?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Fake-Dean smiled fondly. \u201cYou aren't going to like it, but then again you always were the stubborn one.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam swung the door open. It was exactly like the vision earlier that day. His dorm room was messy with Brady's bed unmade and his drawers open from where he\u2019d packed the day before, and the neat stack of textbooks on Sam\u2019s desk where he planned to get a jump on next semester\u2019s course load.<\/p><br \/><p>Only thing different was his body lying on the bed, wrists and legs tied with leather belts to the bed frame.<\/p><br \/><p>It was an odd sensation looking down at his unconscious body. Like looking in a mirror, only Sam was able to see where his wrists were bound by the belts, the skin underneath raw and bruised. He was wearing the same grey t-shirt and jeans that he wore to the bar that night. His hair was sweaty and unkempt where it was fanned out on the pillow, and the dark circles under his eyes were accentuated by how pale his skin was.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cI told you that you weren't gonna like it.\u201d <\/p><br \/><p>This time it wasn\u2019t Dean. It was the blonde guy from the bar, Jesse, standing across the room from him. <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cMost people sink right into the dream and never wake up. But you? I'm not sure how, but you just keep fighting it.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam\u2019s eyes narrowed, looking for some clue as what he was dealing with, but all he could see were dark swirling tattoos around Jessie\u2019s wrists that hadn\u2019t been there when they first met. <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cLet's just say that I have experience with things like you.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cThings like me, huh?\u201d Jesse shook his head slowly, his eyes glittering a midnight blue in the dark. \u201cYou've never met anyone like me. But it doesn't matter. I'm gonna have to dose you once more tonight, which means you probably won't last more than a few hours. It's a shame, really, because you have been one sweet meal.\u201d <\/p><br \/><p>Jessie licked his lips, his tongue crawling over them like a thick wet slug. Sam edged further into the room, getting closer to his body but circling away from the monster. <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cWhat I want to know is how you did it, how you knocked me out.\u201d <em>Keep \u2018em talking, Sam. They always love to talk.<\/em><\/p><br \/><p>\u201cAll it took was a touch.\u201d Jessie held his hand up, and the tattoo grew like a vine up his arm and into a ball of blue flame that lit the ends of his fingertips. \u201cYou were more than glad to bring me back to your room that night. Such a little slut.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam cringed, but kept his focus, angling down to touch his own body, checking out the IV drip that trailed away from his arm to a nearby rack. Smart, he thought, keeping me alive for days when there was no one around to notice. The monster made a move towards his body, and Sam stepped between, realizing too late that his dream body could do nothing to stop what was happening in the real world. <\/p><br \/><p>The reality was that his life would end and he could only watch.<\/p><br \/><p>Jesse smirked at him and started to take another step, before stuttering to a stop. The smile on his face and the blue glow in his palm faded, as the point of a dagger pushed through his chest. Blood, black in the darkness of the room, seeped from the wound and Sam stared in confusion. As the djinn sagged, Sam saw Dean behind it, holding the body up on the point of the knife. <\/p><br \/><p>Old brown leather jacket, short hair, gold amulet around his neck - the real Dean. The only one that counted. <\/p><br \/><p>The vision only lasted for a moment. As the djinn fell to the ground, Sam felt vertigo take hold, his stomach rolling over and his vision became tunneled before it narrowed down to black all together. Before he lost consciousness completely, he could hear Dean calling.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cSammy!\u201d<\/p><br \/><p><em>I'm here. I'm right here. Don't leave me, Dean.<\/em><\/p><br \/><p>His stomach flipped over once again, as his eyes fluttered up to Dean's face, tight with concern. The bone-deep pain he felt in every limb was pushed down as he looked up at his brother, who held Sam\u2019s face between his palms, slapping lightly.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cThat's my boy. C\u2019mon, Sammy, wake up.\u201d When Sam's head fell to the side, heavy and useless, Dean grabbed his chin and shook it. \u201cNo, no, you can sleep later, Sammy. Now's the time to wake up.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cIt's Sam,\u201d he croaked.<\/p><br \/><p>Dean barked out a laugh and brought their foreheads together. \u201cThought I\u2019d lost you, little brother.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Dean moved quickly to unhook the buckles, releasing Sam\u2019s arms from the headboard and then lowering them down gently. As the blood flow returned, Sam grunted as a drill of pins and needles raced along his shoulders and triceps. <\/p><br \/><p>He sat up on the mattress, as Dean squatted down between his knees and continued to rub his legs, green eyes returning again and again to Sam's face with concern. <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cWhat was that?\u201d Sam asked, his voice sounding like metal drug across gravel, as he nodded to the body on the floor, black blood pooling underneath it on the linoleum.<\/p><br \/><p>Dean sighed, not looking away from Sam's face. \u201cI wasn't sure and you wouldn't wake up, so I had to call Dad. It's a djinn.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cA genie? At Stanford?\u201d <\/p><br \/><p>The small laugh he gave almost tipped him over and Dean eased down flat again, pulling the pillow under his head. He started to close his eyes but the idea of dropping off the edge again, drowning in a dream-nightmare, away from this Dean, made him shiver awake. His brother's eyes were inches away and Sam felt his face flush, thinking about the kisses they shared in that other world.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cWhy are you here, Dean?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Dean reached out and cupped Sam\u2019s cheek. \u201cJust checking up on you. Make sure you were okay. Christmas just wasn't going to be the same without my trusty geek sidekick.\u201d His smile faded. \u201cDon\u2019t know what I would have done if--\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam\u2019s shoulders began to shake and his teeth to chatter, and he was once again plunged into a feeling of having no control over his own body as it went into shock.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cShit, Sam.\u201d Dean stood up and stripped off his dad\u2019s leather jacket, kicking off his boots at the foot of the bed. He rolled Sam upright and peeled off the grey t-shirt Sam wore that was stiff with three days worth of sweat. <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cDean, I can do it--\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>His brother ignored him and began to unbuckle Sam\u2019s jeans. It was an awkward angle but Dean was able to pull them off. Sam shivered in the open air as Dean yanked down the bed sheets. Memories of that soft king-size bed in their dream apartment crossed his mind. He followed Dean\u2019s instructions and crawled in, surprised and relieved to feel the bed dip and Dean\u2019s chest pressed against his back, as his brother crawled in right behind him.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cGoddamn it, Sam, don\u2019t make me take you to the hospital.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Dean threw his arm over Sam and hugged him tight. The two of them hadn\u2019t shared a bed in years, not since Sam was twelve years old, but he sunk into the familiarity of it\u2014the feeling of warmth and comfort, being protected against the rest of the world. Sam pressed back into Dean\u2019s chest. <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cI\u2019m fine,\u201d he whispered, unable to stop his voice and his body from shaking.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cYou better be,\u201d Dean whispered back, placing a kiss on the back of his neck.<\/p><br \/><br \/><p><img src=\"https:\/\/ic.pics.livejournal.com\/fridayblues\/10901787\/34956\/34956_300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" loading=\"lazy\" \/><\/p><br \/><br \/><p>When Sam woke, the afternoon sun was pouring in his dorm room window and he blinked against the brightness. He shot up out of the bed, remembering the attack and the restraints, the djinn\u2019s blue blood leaking all over the dorm floor. But the room looked the same as before, except for his brother, kicked back on Brady\u2019s bed, looking at Sam\u2019s laptop.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cWhere\u2019s the\u2026\u201d he said, motioning to the clean floor in front of him.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cTook care of everything while you were out, Sleeping Beauty. Bet you didn\u2019t know they had an incinerator in the basement here.\u201d Dean lowered the laptop lid to study Sam\u2019s face. \u201cHow are you feeling?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cBetter.\u201d He rubbed at his arm where the IV had been inserted. The blue-black of the bruise in the crock of his arm would take a week or so to disappear.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cGood, because Dad will be here in a few hours.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam sighed and hung his head. \u201cYou shouldn\u2019t have called him.\u201d <em>The two of us have things to talk about.<\/em><\/p><br \/><p>\u201cHad to call him about the djinn and how to kill it. You didn\u2019t think Dad was just gonna sit by, knowing you had been attacked, do ya?\u201d Dean ran a hand over the scruff on his cheeks. \u201cHe was in Oklahoma and is hauling ass to get here. Means we have time to talk.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam\u2019s head snapped back up. \u201cAbout what?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Dean kicked at the ground with the toe of his shoe. \u201cLike, maybe you should come with us when we leave.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam's mouth dropped open but nothing came out.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cC\u2019mon, Sam,\u201d Dean said, throwing his hands in the air. \u201cYou had to expect this. I\u2019m not gonna leave you on your own. I can\u2019t just walk away now, not when--\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Dean met his eyes for the briefest of moments before looking away, studying the bulletin board above Sam\u2019s desk. He fingered the edge of a photo tacked up there, that captured the two of them, so small and happy, sitting on John\u2019s lap on the hood of the Impala. It had been an impulsive grab as Sam had left the house that night.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cThat's where this went.\u201d Dean removed the pushpin and held the picture. <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cDean, I'm sorry--\u201d <em>for so many things<\/em>, he thought. Sam laid back down on the bed, exhausted.<\/p><br \/><p>His brother sat on the edge of his bed and Sam curled up around his pillow memorizing a new scar on Dean's right thumb and the way Dad's leather jacket hung loose from his shoulders.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cWhat did you dream about, Sammy?\u201d Dean asked, still stroking the corner of the photo.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cWhat?\u201d He went for surprised, but his voice cracked in the lie.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cThe djinn. You can tell me, won't be mad at you, Sammy.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>He pulled at the frayed corner of the pillowcase, caught a loose thread and started to pull, when Dean's hand wrapped around his fingers. He then drew the hand down to trace his fingers along the raw circle of skin around Sam's wrist.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cI know what it was,\u201d he said and Sam looked up. Those green eyes meant safety, family, home to him, and Dean had never been good at hiding how he felt from Sam, his heart an open wound to all of Sam's jabs growing up. When Dean tilted his head down, Sam's breath stopped in his throat. <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cA house, a dog, a white picket fence. Right? Was there a girl, Sammy?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>He shook his head. \u201cNo girl.\u201d <\/p><br \/><p>Dean pulled his hand back, a thoughtful look on his face, and Sam didn\u2019t want to see more. He was tired. The djinn drained his batteries almost to empty, and he wondered whether he would ever be able to fully recharge. But as long as Dean was here, it didn\u2019t matter. He closed his eyes, this time unafraid to drift off.<\/p><br \/><br \/><p><img src=\"https:\/\/ic.pics.livejournal.com\/fridayblues\/10901787\/34956\/34956_300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" loading=\"lazy\" \/><\/p><br \/><br \/><p>\u201c--don't care about that, Dean. He's not staying.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam listened without opening his eyes. Unfortunately, John Winchester had the senses of a hawk.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cSam, good, you're awake.\u201d The mattress dipped and his eyes opened as his dad sat down next to him. His big hand trailed through Sam's hair and smelled of gas station soap and motor oil. \u201cHow are you feeling?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>He examined John in the same way that he was sure that his dad was looking at him. The dark hair was a little greyer than Sam remembered and there's a new scar across his forearm that bore the signature of Dean's neat stitches. <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cDad,\u201d he said, sitting up and wrapping his arms around the man. John seemed uncertain for a minute before returning the hug and that put a crack in Sam's heart. He rested his cheek on his dad\u2019s canvas jacket, like a child who fell asleep in the car, and breathed him in.<\/p><br \/><p>John squeezed and Sam groaned a little under the force of it. \u201cIt'll be good to have you back.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>And Sam's heart - the one that felt like it was breaking just a moment before - shuttered up and he felt the old anger crawling back up his throat once more. \u201cBack?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>John stood up and looked over his shoulder at Dean. \u201cStart packing up your brother's stuff and I'll bring the car around.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cNo.\u201d Sam felt twelve years old all over again, like the past five months had never happened. He looked down at his bandaged wrists and felt the smart of tears. \u201cNo, absolutely not.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cIt's not safe.\u201d His dad had already turned his back to Sam, and over his shoulder, Dean's head dropped down, eyes on the floor. \u201cDean, you need to--\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cFuck that.\u201d Sam pushed the covers off and stood up, and for the first time, he realized that he was as tall as his father.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cExcuse me?\u201d John's voice dropped to the lower register, the one that put the fear of God into two little boys messing around in the back seat of the Impala.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cI'm no safer with you than I am staying here. Hell, Dad, you drag us right to where the monsters are,\u201d he said, a tumble of desperate and angry words thrown up against that broad back, and he was unable to stop. \u201cAnd then you leave us alone. You leave. How is that better?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>When he looked at Dean, his brother's eyes were wide, just like the last night he fought with John. <em>I don't want this. I don't want Dean to go.<\/em> \u201cIf you make me leave, I'll just run away again.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>The words hung in the air - childish and desperate. John stopped but didn't turn around, taking a deep breath before pulling his car keys out of his pocket. <\/p><br \/><p>He pointed a finger at Dean. \u201cTake care of this.\u201d He swept out of the room and both brothers took a deep breath.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cYou both are such idiots,\u201d Dean muttered. He held his hand out to Sam. \u201cGive me your phone.\u201d<\/p><br \/><br \/><p><img src=\"https:\/\/ic.pics.livejournal.com\/fridayblues\/10901787\/34956\/34956_300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" loading=\"lazy\" \/><\/p><br \/><br \/><p>\u201cHey, Winchester.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam looked up from his phone, and Brady jogged across the quad to join him.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cJust got back this morning and missed you in the room.\u201d Brady bumped his shoulder and gave him a shit-eating smile. \u201cYou make good use of our room, while I was gone?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>When Sam looked sheepishly back at his phone screen, Brady snorted.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cThere's gotta be a story there.\u201d His roommate adjusted the strap of his backpack over his shoulder. \u201cWhat class you heading to this morning?\u201d <\/p><br \/><p>Sam sighed. \u201cMcNulty. Ethics and Politics. I swear that guy is inescapable, even in my dreams.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cWell, at least you can catch up on your sleep in his class.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam's phone buzzed in his hand, and he looked down at the screen and smiled.<\/p><br \/><p>His roommate jostled his shoulder to see the screen. \u201cNew girlfriend?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam pushed him back but not before Brady saw the name. <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cDean, huh? New boyfriend then.\u201d Brady studied his face for a minute. \u201cWell, he better not be one of those possessive bastards. Because after classes today, I'm taking you out for a beer.\u201d He clapped Sam's shoulder before running off the other way to Econ.<\/p><br \/><p>Sam glanced back down at the small blue screen and smiled as he typed. <em>Going to class now. Roommate wants to grab a beer later.<\/em><\/p><br \/><p>His phone was quiet for a minute then a message popped up. <em>Okay, we\u2019re heading up to Portland. Don't forget to check in tonight. Promise?<\/em><\/p><br \/><p><em>Promise.<\/em><\/p><br \/><br \/><p><img src=\"https:\/\/ic.pics.livejournal.com\/fridayblues\/10901787\/34134\/34134_800.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" loading=\"lazy\" \/><\/p><br \/><br \/><a name='cutid1-end'><\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:wetsammy:10413","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/10413.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=10413"}}],"title":"Like Old Times","published":"2017-10-25T20:00:43Z","updated":"2017-10-25T20:02:35Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"cain\/ramiel"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"ramiel"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"rating: r"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"cain"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"fear play"}}],"content":"<p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;\"><br \/><br \/><br \/><i><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">Written for spnkinkbingo s<\/span><\/span><span style=\"color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;\">quare: fear kink<\/span><\/i><\/p><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;\"><i><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">Pairing: Cain\/Ramiel<br \/>Rating: Mature<\/span><\/span><\/i><\/p><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;\"><i><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">Summary: Ramiel didn&rsquo;t get many visitors. Certainly none that were his friends.<\/span><\/span><\/i><br \/><br \/><i><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">A\/N: How perfect would these two be together? Fishing and raising bees, keeping their propensity for violence in check - except with each other. (First Cain\/Ramiel fic on AO3 - how did that happen?)<\/span><\/span><\/i><\/p><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;\"><\/p><a href=\"http:\/\/archiveofourown.org\/works\/12494028\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\"><i><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">Link to AO3<\/span><\/span><\/i><\/a><br \/><br \/><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">The demon dropped his fishing basket and pole at the base of the stairs. His eyes narrowed as he scanned left and right across the empty yard. The facade of his farmhouse was dark and the wardings looked undisturbed from when he left that afternoon.<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">But the smell? There was no hiding that smell. Ramiel&rsquo;s eyes glowed yellow, matching the stink of sulfur that hung in the air. <\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">He didn&rsquo;t get many visitors. Certainly none that were his friends.<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;\"><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;\"><\/p><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">The demon spun out on his heel to circle the house, and his eyes found the cellar entrance in the dark without difficulty. The warding around the wooden doors was removed with a wave of his hand, and they fell open to each side without noise. He paused once again at the top of the steps to sniff the air below. The dank earthy smell didn&rsquo;t cover up the scent of his home invader or the fact that they were still somewhere inside the house.<\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">Could be that ambitious idiot Crowley or more of his minions coming back for more<\/span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">, Ramiel thought, although he had made it clear what would happen if they returned to disturb him. <\/span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">Could be Dagon but his sister&rsquo;s style was not this subtle<\/span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">. The lights would be on and music playing to disturb his sense of peace. No, this was someone was playing games, laying some kind of breadcrumbs out to draw him in.<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">Whoever it was, Ramiel would have a surprise for them they wouldn&rsquo;t soon forget. Because this root cellar hadn&rsquo;t held vegetables in decades, it housed the single greatest collection of angelic and demonic weapons anywhere.<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">He stepped silently down the cellar stairs and wound his way through the dim room past the hobby table. His fly-tying stand still held a half-tied Muddler Minnow, feathers and wire scattered on the tabletop, waiting for him to finish. Next to it stood his latest collectible - a choke pear. It would require some repair and a good oiling, understandably since it was over four hundred years old, but it was the original <\/span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">Palioly&#39;s Pear<\/span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\"> and Ramiel had a soft spot for historic invention. When he was finished, the Pear would join his collection. There was beauty in pain but torture-- well, torture was a messy thing, noisy too. These days he preferred to keep his hands clean in the quiet of the country.<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">Clean but not too clean as it turned out. <\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">The idea of someone crossing <\/span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">his <\/span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">threshold, hiding somewhere in <\/span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">his <\/span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">home, made Ramiel&rsquo;s palms itch with need to inflict damage and pain not seen since the good old days of Hell.<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">He stopped in front of the rack of lances against the far wall. These were the centerpiece of his collection. Their bronze heads were elegantly ornate, gleaming in the dimness of the basement. The choice was obvious. He wrapped his palm around the biggest one - the lance of Michael - and the blue sigils on its shaft lit up. As he pulled it out, he smiled at the heavy weight balanced on his palm.<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">From out of the silent darkness, he was yanked backwards off his feet and the staff dropped to the floor with a clang. He tried to fight back but was unable to move his arms or turn to see the threat behind him.<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">&ldquo;Ramiel. Were the fish biting tonight?&rdquo; <\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">That deep voice with its melodic threat was one of his first memories of Hell. There was only one demon outside of Lucifer who had the kind of power to take down one of the Princes.<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">&ldquo;Cain.&rdquo;<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">A large knife bit into his side and for the first time that night, Ramiel felt fear as the Knight&rsquo;s power wrapped around him, cocooning him like one of the Iron Maidens.<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">&ldquo;Thought you were keeping a low profile, brother.&rdquo; He eyed the fallen lance laying on the ground outside his reach, teasing him with the shine of its blade.<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">&ldquo;You are not my brother, Ramiel.&rdquo; Cain&rsquo;s knife dug deeper into his ribs, piercing his canvas jacket. &ldquo;But perhaps you&rsquo;d like a demonstration of how I ended his life.&rdquo;<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">&ldquo;That&rsquo;s not necessary&mdash;&ldquo; Ramiel started to reply before he was thrown forward to the dirt floor, landing on his hands and knees. A hand yanked the hair at the back of his head and pulled his neck back, and he could do nothing but watch as a pair of dusty leather boots walked around to his side. <\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">&ldquo;Did you send them to me?&rdquo; <\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">The blade&rsquo;s edge began to caress his neck but it wasn&rsquo;t the jagged edge Ramiel expected. He had felt the teeth of Cain&rsquo;s favorite - the First Blade - in his training. Cain had been ruthless with the Princes, molding them into the bloodthirsty generals that Lucifer wanted. Ramiel still carried a scar across his stomach from one of those sessions, an ugly pink thing that never healed thanks to the First Blade&rsquo;s power. The scar was a reminder of the demon he aspired to be. He looked up to Cain but that was before the Knight left them to keep his bees and the company of humans.<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">&ldquo;Send who?&rdquo; he asked.<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">The blade at his throat was sharp and any amount of pressure would slice through his vessel&rsquo;s neck. He thought about smoking out but then he felt a squeeze around his ribs, cracking one, increased pressure around his lungs and he knew that Cain wasn&rsquo;t going to let him go easily.<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">&ldquo;Crowley and the Winchester. Did you tell them where to find me?&rdquo; <\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">&ldquo;Crowley? I didn&rsquo;t send that git.&rdquo; The name Winchester rang a bell - some little pet project that Azazel liked to brag about. A boy who would lead a demon army and prepare the way back for Lucifer. Or something like that. <\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">Azazel was always big on talk and short on details with all of his plans. Cain, on the other hand, played things close to the vest. The Knight liked to inflict pain, losing himself in introspection. When he lost his taste for the pain, the chaos of Hell held no appeal. Ramiel came to know that feeling well, taking Cain&rsquo;s lead and disappearing into the world.<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">The whisper of a cut on his neck, paper thin but deep enough for his black soul to glow orange, brought him back to his current situation.<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">&ldquo;You Princes thought you were untouchable. That when you went out in the world, you were invisible,&rdquo; Cain continued. He leaned down so that his lips brushed against the shell of Ramiel&rsquo;s ear and his power tightening its tendrils around his throat. &ldquo;You weren&rsquo;t invisible. I could always find you - I just didn&rsquo;t want to.&rdquo;<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">At that soft voice and familiar touch, Ramiel began to fight against the bonds that held him tight, not willing to trust his survival to the Knight&rsquo;s whim. Cain flipped him over his back as easy as a roped calf. It was the first good look Ramiel had of his face. The hair was longer and the beard more grey, but the arrogant intensity in those blue eyes was the same. <\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">Cain smiled down as Ramiel squirmed below him, then ran his fingers through the Prince&rsquo;s beard, tugging at the grey hair playfully. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve gotten old, my friend.&rdquo;<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">He tried to yank his head away but he was helpless. The pink-red glow of Cain filled the room, pouring like oil into his nose and mouth. <\/span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">This is it,<\/span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\"> he thought. <\/span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">Well, at least it&rsquo;s Cain and not some miserable hunter<\/span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">. He stopped struggling and surrendered.<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">The pink-red light pulsed once more and the pressure that surrounded him was gone. It took a minute for Ramiel to realize that he wasn&rsquo;t dead and he pushed up with a grunt.<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">&ldquo;No, you&rsquo;re not dead <\/span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">yet<\/span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">, Ram.&rdquo; Cain clasped him on the shoulder and helped him to stand up. &ldquo;You should know that you were always my favorite.&rdquo;<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">Always with the games, you bastard. <\/span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">He wanted to strangle Cain with his own intestines, but it felt like old times - the Knight threatening with a knife in one hand and offering a greeting with the other.<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">&ldquo;I knew it wasn&rsquo;t you, Ram. Not your style to work with others.&rdquo; Cain pushed the long grey and white hair away from his face and yanked the other demon close to his chest. &ldquo;But I couldn&rsquo;t resist. The smell of your fear, the way you surrendered at the end? It was so pure.&rdquo;<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">Now that he could focus, Ramiel could sense a change in Cain. The Knight he knew before was tightly controlled, his anger and violence like a flamethrower. Now, he sensed a release. Not a full turn to the Light but what felt like a chemical spill of Darkness alongside hot sparks to set a raging fire. He twisted Cain&rsquo;s hand, turning the inside of his forearm to the light from the stairs. The Mark was gone.<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">Ramiel&rsquo;s mouth dropped open and he ran his fingers along the bare skin there. Few things left him speechless but this was inconceivable. Cain had borne the Mark since they first met all those centuries ago. It was a symbol of the fear and violence that all demons respected - and now it was just gone?<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">When he looked up, Cain&rsquo;s icy blue eyes had softened in amusement and Ramiel saw a flash of teeth hidden in the demon&rsquo;s beard. Took him a moment to realize it was a smile.<\/span><\/span><\/p><br \/><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;\"><span><span style=\"font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;\">&ldquo;Break out your best scotch and I&rsquo;ll tell you the story.&rdquo;<\/span><\/span><\/p><a name='cutid1-end'><\/a><p dir=\"ltr\" style=\"line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;\"><\/p>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:wetsammy:9806","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/9806.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=9806"}}],"title":"True Face","published":"2017-10-22T14:21:49Z","updated":"2017-10-28T02:10:43Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"amnesiac!dean"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"sam\/dean"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"canon divergent"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"protective!sam"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"wincest"}}],"content":"Written for spnkinkbingo and immortalwriter\u2019s Wincest AU challenge. My AU was amnesia, so I had to ask, what if Dean didn\u2019t get better from the witch\u2019s curse but he didn\u2019t get worse? A lot of angst and a desperate little brother, that\u2019s what.<br \/><br \/>A\/N: For @nisaki-chan thanks for your support! And to @soy-em for her thoughts when I got stuck in a giant pool of angst.<br \/><br \/>Tags: amnesiac!dean, protective!sam, sam pov, attempted sexual assault, mutual masturbation, angst with a happy ending <br \/><br \/>Pairing: Wincest | Rating: Explicit | Wordcount: 4,947 | <a href=\"http:\/\/archiveofourown.org\/works\/12453585\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\">Link to AO3<\/a><br \/><br \/><p>\u201cSweet ride.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam glanced away from the road to look at Dean's fingers as they caressed the top of the Impala\u2019s dash. \u201cYeah, it is.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201c<em>She<\/em> is,\u201d Dean corrected him. \u201cCars like this have a soul.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam's hand tightened on the steering wheel and he gave a small smile. \u201cSo I've been told.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Looking back at the road, he waited.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cCan I drive her?\u201d Dean asked, twisting the bracelet on his wrist. The shiny metal tag on the jewelry glinted in the late afternoon sun and Sam could see the lettering - <em>DEAN<\/em>.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cSorry, Dean, not today.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>He popped in Dad\u2019s old Led Zeppelin IV cassette tape and as the opening chords of Black Dog started, Dean nodded along, drumming his fingers on the black leather.<\/p><br \/><p>***<\/p><br \/><p>It took eight hours to get to Iowa City. Dean would have driven the full fifteen to Mackinaw Township in one shift, but Sam wasn\u2019t his brother. Plus he had Dean in the passenger seat.<\/p><br \/><p>They had to take breaks for the bathroom, stop for strawberry waffles, and pull over in Smith Center because Dean saw some kids in front of the Dollar Store with a box of kittens for sale. While his brother sat on the broken concrete curb and stroked the kitten's grey and white fur with his calloused fingertips, Sam smiled.<\/p><br \/><p>Now, sitting on the edge of the motel mattress, Sam untied his shoes, stopping in the middle of it to listen to Dean singing Metallica in the shower next door. All the worry and doubt about their future, about the best way to protect his brother, crept back in, edging out the innocent happiness of the day. <\/p><br \/><p>Sam hung his head, thinking about the guy they were meeting in Mackinaw. He didn\u2019t want to get his hopes up too much, or think about what price would need to be paid. Because there was always a price.<\/p><br \/><p>The bathroom door opened behind him and Sam realized that he was still holding one of his shoes.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cHey, I didn't realize anyone was in this room.\u201d Dean clenched at the towel wrapped around his waist, his damp skin glowing pink and his green eyes wide looking around in surprise. \u201cAm I in the wrong room?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cNope, we\u2019re sharing, c\u2019mon on in,\u201d Sam said. Dean seemed willing to accept that and skirted around the edge of the room, his eyes jumping around from the half-eaten pizza on the table to the duffels on the floor to the two queen beds. The uncertainty in Dean\u2019s eyes, that he looked ready to drop and run, hurt Sam worse than any fist fight they ever had, and exhaustion settled deep in Sam\u2019s bones. <\/p><br \/><p>Sam put his shoes under the bed and grabbed his pajama pants, careful not to look at Dean. Sam wanted to reach out and reassure him but experience said that Dean would get edgy, even try to leave the room if he did. Instead Sam brushed his teeth and watched from the bathroom door as Dean crawled into the bed nearest the door. <\/p><br \/><p>A few minutes later, Dean's breaths evened out into a steady rhythm and Sam jumped in the shower. Showers used to be a retreat for Sam. Ever since he was a kid, it was the one place he could decompress alone, to jerk off or think over the day. Now all he could think of was Dean slipping out and disappearing when he wasn't watching. <\/p><br \/><p>Coming back in the room, he was relieved that Dean hadn't moved. He picked up his brother\u2019s cell phone from the nightstand between them. When he turned it on, Sam\u2019s face lit up from the glow of the screen and he glanced over at Dean, who hadn\u2019t moved. Sam sat on the edge of the mattress once again before he flipped open the camera on the phone and pressed record.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cDean, you won't understand this - hell you probably won\u2019t find this,\u201d he said and laughed. \u201cI'm going to do whatever it takes to make things right for you. But just in case something happens tomorrow--\u201d He sighed, looking over at the quiet lump under the covers in the other bed. \u201cYou need to know that, I'm your brother Sam and I love-- no, wait, that doesn\u2019t matter.\u201d He ran a hand through his hair and shook off the tears that threatened to spill. \u201cIf anything happens to me and you find yourself alone, call Jody Mills. Her number is on your phone. She's good people and will take care of you.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>The room went dark as he shut off the phone and put it back on the night stand.<\/p><br \/><p>****<\/p><br \/><p>Moonlight was still shining through the slits in the motel blinds when Sam felt the mattress dip and Dean crawl into his bed. It was a familiar motion from when they were kids, huddled together in a new motel in a new town. Back in those days, Sam was the one seeking some kind of comfort and Dean was his protector against the unknown.<\/p><br \/><p>Dean paused and touched Sam\u2019s shoulder. \u201cIs this okay? I know we just met--\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cIt's fine.\u201d Sam lifted the covers and Dean shifted in closer, his breath hot and moist against Sam's chest. He held still as Dean settled in against his side.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cIt feels like we know each other. Have we ever, you know--\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>His heart raced every time Dean asked. Every night he waited, unable to be the first to push or seek comfort. Every night he had to be patient, balancing on a knife\u2019s edge of want and responsibility. \u201cYes, we have.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>That was all Dean needed to hear, as he pushed his nose into Sam\u2019s jaw line, and the light scrape of his scruff made Sam shiver. He hooked his leg over Sam's, and rolled them both over to put Sam on his back. Dean\u2019s kisses were a soft trail up his jaw and across his lips, exploring the inside of Sam\u2019s mouth with his tongue. Sam wrapped his arms around Dean\u2019s waist, grateful to feel his weight and warmth on top of him, smell the soap on his skin.<\/p><br \/><p>Dean stopped and stroked his thumb across Sam's cheek. \u201cYou're beautiful, you know that?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam snorted. \u201cYou don't need to sweet talk me, Dean.\u201d <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cYou know what else is beautiful?\u201d He reached between their bodies to take hold of Sam\u2019s cock, giving it a tug. <\/p><br \/><p>Sam opened his legs to let Dean settle in and could feel Dean\u2019s erection rub against his balls, before Dean pulled it up and put their cocks side by side, wrapping his fingers around both shafts. He stroked the two of them a few times and then sat up on his heels, tugging Sam\u2019s ass up on his thighs, to get a better angle. Sam grunted at the change in position and then sighed as Dean gripped them tight once more.<\/p><br \/><p>The room was filled with the noise of Sam\u2019s panting and the skin-on-skin noise of Dean jerking them off. Dean licked his lips, staring at their cocks in deep concentration, needing to make this good, and Sam was hit hard with the memory of when they were teenagers trying to muffle the sounds of what they were doing and John was next door.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cDean,\u201d Sam whined, so close, digging his fingertips into the sheets. \u201cDon't stop, just like that.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Dean paused and leaned down to kiss Sam. \u201cI won\u2019t be mad, baby, but who's Dean?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>A pained noise bubbled up out of Sam\u2019s throat and he grabbed Dean by the neck, pulling him back in, crushing their lips together to stop any more questions.<\/p><br \/><p>Dean\u2019s hand began to work them again, and Sam\u2019s balls tightened up, his orgasm building so quickly that he came all over the two of them without another word. Dean\u2019s eyes went wild and dark before he spilled over Sam\u2019s chest with a hoarse shout.<\/p><br \/><p> Dean kissed him once more. \u201cWhoever this Dean is, he\u2019s a lucky guy.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>****<\/p><br \/><p>The next morning his brother was gone.<\/p><br \/><p>Sam threw on his clothes in a panic and was grabbing the car keys off the table, when his cell phone rang. \u201cHello, Dean?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cAre you Sam?\u201d a female voice asked.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cIs he with you?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cYeah, he\u2019s here with me.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Turns out that here was the diner across the motel parking lot. The waitress had been watching Dean when he came in and recognized the signs that something wasn\u2019t right. She saw the bracelet that Dean was playing with and Sam\u2019s name and number engraved on the back side.<\/p><br \/><p>Sam hated the bracelet. His brother - the man who fought and killed monsters - shouldn\u2019t be tagged like a pet. Problem was Dean liked to wander and with no memories, of their life and of Sam, it was the best case in a terrible situation.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cYou have a matching one,\u201d she said as Sam walked in. Her eyes were kind and full of first-hand recognition. He smiled and rubbed at the leather and metal bracelet on his own wrist before taking a seat next to Dean at the counter. <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cThese waffles are to die for,\u201d Dean said, holding up a fork with the perfect mix of crispy waffle and fluffy whipped cream. \u201cBlueberries are my favorite.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cActually, strawberries are,\u201d Sam replied, and Dean crinkled his eyebrows in confusion.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cI guess they are. My name\u2019s Dean.\u201d He held up the bracelet as if that explained it. \u201cWhat\u2019s your name?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam held up his wrist to show the identical bracelet and pointed at the engraving there. <\/p><br \/><p>Dean tilted his head and read the letters out loud. \u201cSAM - nice to meet ya Sam.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>He set his elbows on the Formica counter and pinched between his eyes, taking three deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cCan I get you some coffee?\u201d the waitress said.<\/p><br \/><p>Sam looked up at her and she waggled the half-full pot of coffee while turning over his cup. He wanted to grab Dean and hit the road, find the witch in Mackinaw and end the nightmare that had gone on for the last three months.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cSure, a cup of coffee would be great.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>****<\/p><br \/><p>A broken fan belt outside Gary, Indiana, meant they need to wait six hours for a replacement part at America\u2019s Best truck stop. The place had dirty floors and graffiti in the men\u2019s room but there was free wifi, three restaurants, and enough video games to keep Dean entertained for most of that time. Sam sat in a corner researching memory spells on his laptop, finding nothing he hadn\u2019t seen in the past three months. He looked up every few minutes to check on Dean or hand him another roll of quarters.<\/p><br \/><p>He found a new article about Romani curses. Most mentions of the Romani were crap, filled with romantic stereotypes, but this one had usable details about their beliefs and culture. Sam was so deeply involved that he didn\u2019t notice the sun had set outside and the sound effects on the video games went silent.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cDean?\u201d Sam stood up and looked around. His brother wasn\u2019t at the video games or any of the nearby tables. \u201cDean!\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>He threw the laptop into his bag and ran up and down the aisles, pushing past red-eyed truckers, displays of Slim Jims, and endless shelves of car deodorizers. <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cDean!\u201d <\/p><br \/><p>Pushing out the front door, he saw Dean walking between two big rigs parked in the lot, next to a meaty-looking truck driver kneading his shoulder. The guy was massive, standing six foot seven or more with a torso like a whisky keg. The trucker glanced back over Dean\u2019s shoulder, scanning the quiet truck lot and pulling his cap low.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cDean!\u201d Of course, his brother didn\u2019t stop or turn around. As Sam ran closer, he could see the guileless smile Dean turned on this guy whose hand had dropped to Dean\u2019s lower back. His stomach dropped as the trucker opened his passenger cab door and waved for Dean to get inside.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cStop!\u201d Sam skidded up to them in the gravel of the lot and grabbed Dean\u2019s arm.<\/p><br \/><p>The trucker planted a hand the size of a basketball in the middle of Sam\u2019s chest and shoved him hard to the ground. \u201cGet your own, asshole.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cHey, I don\u2019t think that\u2019s necessary--\u201d Before Dean could finish, the trucker grabbed his arm and tried to force him in the cab. Sam launched at the guy but his panic threw him off balance, and the guy decked him with one punch.<\/p><br \/><p>Pain exploded across in Sam\u2019s temple. He could feel the grit of the gravel against his palms but his vision had blacked out and he couldn\u2019t figure which way was up. That\u2019s when he heard Dean.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cSam!\u201d Fingers tried to pull Sam upright but he fell back on his knees, nauseous and shaking. He heard Dean throwing punches and tried to crawl over to help, but the fight seemed to be over as quickly as it started. A truck door slammed nearby and Dean knelt down next to Sam, grabbing his face between his palms. Two truckers came running up, out of breath.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cWhat the hell is going on?\u201d one of the truckers asked.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cThat asshole--\u201d Dean said, pointing at the truck next to them, \u201che hurt my-- my Sam.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>The big rig started up and its hydraulic brakes squealed as it was thrown into gear and pulled away. The two other guys chased after it as Dean picked Sam up and carried him back into the truck stop.<\/p><br \/><p>****<\/p><br \/><p>Could have been worse, Sam thought. The blood vessels in his left eye had burst and a bruise covered the left side of his face with small scrapes from the gravel along his cheekbone. At least the headache from last night was gone.<\/p><br \/><p>He walked back out of the motel bathroom and Dean sat at the end of queen bed, twisting his bracelet. His brother\u2019s mouth fell open and shut several times as his eyes travelled over Sam\u2019s battered face but no words came out.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cYou called me Sam last night.\u201d His voice cracked at the end. He couldn\u2019t afford hope and the pain it might bring. Not after three months of nothing. \u201cHow do you know my name?\u201d <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cI--\u201d Dean stood up and grabbed Sam\u2019s wrist, pointing to the bracelet there. \u201cYou\u2019re Sam.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cYeah, I am.\u201d <\/p><br \/><p>Sam wrapped his hand around Dean's neck and leaned down, resting their foreheads together. <em>Breathe in, breathe out. You can do this.<\/em> Dean started to pull back and Sam held him tight for a few seconds longer before they broke apart.<\/p><br \/><p>They gathered up their duffel bags and loaded up the Impala. Climbing in the passenger door, Sam's heart was lighter despite the throbbing pain from the bruise across his cheek. He started up the car and looked over at Dean, who was running his fingers over the dashboard.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cSweet ride.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p><em>Breathe in, breathe out. <\/em>\u201cYeah, it is.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>****<\/p><br \/><p>Sam squinted out the windshield at the witch\u2019s house. A green mid-century Craftsman with brown shutters and a river rock chimney. Normal, even charming. He shouldn't be surprised - it's not like the real witches put signs in their yards declaring their practice of the dark arts.<\/p><br \/><p>The contact came through a hunter Sam talked to last month. While they waited to see if Dean\u2019s curse would wear off, he became a resource for other hunters -answering FBI inquiries, looking up lore, and directing hunters to cases. Dean would have joked about Sam becoming the new Bobby, if he had remembered who Bobby or Sam were.<\/p><br \/><p>It wasn\u2019t a bad way to live. It was quiet with Dean watching tv or listening to music or puttering around the kitchen. All the times Dean had put his life on the line for others and now Sam could keep him safe, protected from the monsters they had hunted all their lives. It was perfect. <\/p><br \/><p>Except for the part where Dean woke up every morning in his own bed, afraid and confused. <\/p><br \/><p>When Sam wasn't answering calls, he was making them. His research on memory curses had turned up the same thing again and again - kill the witch, break the curse. That hadn't worked in Dean's case. When Rowena couldn't reverse the spell, she left quickly, not wanting to take the brunt of Sam's anger and disappointment. <\/p><br \/><p>Day after day, Sam sat surrounded by the Black Grimoire and detailed lore books and online research, and still nothing helped.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cAre we going inside?\u201d Dean asked.<\/p><br \/><p>Sam sighed. \u201cYup, this is the place.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cThe place for what?\u201d Dean looked back at the house for some kind of answer.<\/p><br \/><p>As they approached the house, the witch stepped out on the covered front porch. Sam wasn't sure what he was expecting from an expert in curses but it wasn't a guy that looked like a college professor in a fisherman's sweater with salt-and-pepper hair and beard. The witch pushed a pair of round tortoiseshell glasses up his nose with his finger and licked his lips. As the two of them walked up the porch steps, he stared at the black-and-blue bruise across Sam\u2019s face.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cYou Sam and Dean?\u201d <\/p><br \/><p>Sam nodded and they followed the guy inside. <\/p><br \/><p>The house was cosy with a fire burning in the fireplace, pictures of a family on the mantel with books of English literature that lined the shelves. The man walked across the living room to a pair of sliding oak doors and pulled them open to reveal an office that rivaled Bobby\u2019s for clutter. Leather bound spellbooks, parchment scrolls and what appeared to be an antique apothecary cabinet labeled with ingredients like artemisia, lotus leaf, and betel nut alongside yarrow and sage.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cChinese herbs?\u201d Sam asked, studying each one of the labels.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cI studied abroad. China has a long history of witchcraft and shamanism.\u201d The man sat on the edge of his desk, his eyes searching Sam's face, lingering on the cuts and bruises there. \u201cMax said you needed help with a memory curse?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam looked over at Dean who was studying a framed print of the Devil's Trap from the Book of Solomon that hung on the wall. \u201cYeah, we need help. The witch is dead and my brother\u2026\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>The witch nodded at what Sam couldn\u2019t say. \u201cI might be able to help. Breaking curses is what I do.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Dean turned away from the print to give Sam a smile, and Sam had to turn away. His look was grim as he considered the witch. \u201cI'm willing to do whatever needs to be done - pay any price - just tell me what you need.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>The witch\u2019s eyes crinkled up and he chuckled. \u201cWell, let\u2019s see what I can do first. Don\u2019t think we\u2019ll need any blood sacrifices just yet.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>****<\/p><br \/><p>Four hours later and nothing had worked. Dean remained just as blissful and ignorant, and Sam's frustration continued to build. They took a break and the witch made some tea and reheated a plate of leftover lasagne for Dean, while Sam refused to eat and paced the hardwood floor of the small kitchen.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cSome curses are unbreakable,\u201d the witch said. \u201cIt doesn't happen often, but it does happen.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam went numb at the words. He could believe that, because there was always a way. That's what he and Dean said to each other when things got tough. <em>There was always a way.<\/em><\/p><br \/><p>\u201cThat\u2019s not good enough,\u201d he gritted out between his teeth. \u201cLike I said, I\u2019m willing to do anything.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>The witch put his tea cup on the counter and sighed. \u201cYou can offer me your blood or your soul or all the money in the world. It doesn\u2019t matter - I don\u2019t want it and it won\u2019t help you with this.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cMan, this is really good lasagne,\u201d Dean said, a speck of tomato sauce at the corner of his mouth.<\/p><br \/><p><em>An unbreakable curse.<\/em><\/p><br \/><p>\u201cI can't--\u201d Sam leaned back against the fridge, and the weight of the past three months dropped on his shoulders. His legs went out and he slipped down to the ground. \u201cI can't do this anymore. I need my brother back.\u201d <\/p><br \/><p>The witch dropped down in front of Sam and set a hand on his shoulder. Through the blur of tears that threatened to fall, he could almost see John Winchester in front of him.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cListen, son--\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam shoved the witch\u2019s hand off his shoulder. \u201cDon't call me that.\u201d <\/p><br \/><p>\u201cGet away from him.\u201d He could hear Dean push his chair away from the table while the witch raised his hands up to show no ill intent and backed away.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cDon't mean anything by it. I\u2019ve been where you are now, Sam, so trust me. There is nothing worse than losing your family.\u201d The witch started to leave the kitchen but then paused. \u201cThere are some other things I can do to help the two of you.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Dean was now crouched by Sam\u2019s side, drawn by his pain as unknowing as a moth to flame, and Sam wiped his eyes and gave Dean what he thought was a reassuring smile.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cLike what? What could make this better?\u201d he asked.<\/p><br \/><p>The witch chewed on his bottom lip before speaking. \u201cA binding spell. It would keep your brother close at all times, give him the feeling that he belonged with you.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Looking into Dean's eyes, Sam felt a rush of hope. A brother that would never leave him. One that would never wander off. One that Sam could always protect.<\/p><br \/><p>He shook his head. \u201cI'm not taking away his freedom. He's lost so much already. I just want--\u201d Sam patted Dean's face and got one of those smiles back that rivaled the morning sun cracking over the horizon. \u201cI want him to be safe from all the people and things that could hurt him.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>The witch looked back and forth between the brothers. \u201cI may have something else for you, but I need to check something. Can you give me a few hours?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>***<\/p><br \/><p>The sunshine was dappled through the yellow tree leaves above them. The park bench had a pretty view of Lake Michigan but all Sam could see was his brother and how the light played across his face. Dean turned to face the sun, and it showed the shadow of every eyelash, every freckles on his face, while the breeze of the lake ruffled his hair which had grown long in last few weeks.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cKnow what I could go for right now?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam turned and set his knee up on the bench next to Dean. \u201cNo, what?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cCup of coffee and a piece of apple pie.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cWhat a surprise. Maybe later.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p><em>They can do this. No matter what happened. They would find a way to come through this together.<\/em><\/p><br \/><p><em>****<\/em><\/p><br \/><p>\u201cThe spell is called True Face.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam sat down across the desk from the witch, indicating that Dean should sit too. His forehead crinkled in thought. \u201cNever heard of it. It's a cure?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cNot exactly. It\u2019s a spell that allows a person to see what's in another person\u2019s soul - love, anger, pain. Sort of like an aura.\u201d The witch played with a corner of a scroll on the desktop. \u201cHe\u2019ll see that you\u2019re no threat, and he should be able to see other people for who they really are.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cWhat about monsters and demons?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cTheoretically, those too.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Until the incident at the truck stop last night, Sam's deepest fear was that someone like Crowley or Lucifer would use Dean's condition against him. He never thought about people doing the same thing.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cSounds useful for me, too.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>The witch twisted his lips in thought. \u201cIt works best when a person is perfectly open in their mind and soul, where there is no white noise to disrupt the connection. Your brother has no white noise. No offense, Sam, but you strike me as carrying a lot of baggage.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam squirmed at the comment, because this guy had no idea how much baggage he was carrying.<\/p><br \/><p>The witch continued, \u201cI don\u2019t think there\u2019s any downside to it. Then you and I can keep looking for a cure in the meantime.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Dean tapped Sam\u2019s arm. \u201cAre we going to eat soon? I\u2019m starving.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam looked back at the witch. \u201cAlright. Let\u2019s give it a shot.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>****<\/p><br \/><p>Drinking a third cup of coffee was a mistake. Sam\u2019s stomach was sour and his nerves were raw as he waited in the living room. He was trying to read a copy of Blake\u2019s <em>A Variety of Religious Experiences<\/em> that he pulled off the shelf, but couldn\u2019t get past the first chapter before Dean walked down the stairs. <\/p><br \/><p>His smile was different this time - shy and hopeful, maybe even a little stoned - and Sam held his breath as Dean reached out his hand to touch Sam\u2019s cheek. \u201cWow. You\u2019re beautiful.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cThanks, Dean.\u201d He ducked his head and started to address the witch behind Dean when his brother grabbed his arm.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cNo, really. I can see it - you glow. And we\u2019re the same. Our souls look the same.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>The witch stepped into the room and threw himself into the desk chair. \u201cHuh, well, that\u2019s unexpected. Soulmates, huh?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam hadn\u2019t thought of shared heavens and Ash\u2019s comment in years. \u201cYeah, I guess.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cWell, good. I guess that\u2019s the best possible outcome.\u201d The witch scrubbed a hand down his tired face. \u201cListen, I need to get some rest and I\u2019m sure the two of you do, too. Go back home to Kansas. We\u2019ll talk in a few days.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>****<\/p><br \/><p>Dean waved his fork in front of Sam, the bite of apple pie hanging on the tines of the fork. \u201cC\u2019mon, it\u2019s really good. Don\u2019t you want a bite?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam opened his mouth and Dean slid the pie in. It was good, lots of cinnamon and vanilla with a homemade crust. The waitress walked up as Dean was cutting off another piece.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cMore coffee, hon?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>She poured and Dean leaned across the table to Sam. \u201cShe\u2019s a nice lady. A good mom. I can see it. But she\u2019s not as beautiful as you are.\u201d He turned his attention back to the pie and Sam scratched at his cheek as the confused waitress stared before going back behind the counter.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cDean, you gotta stop saying that in front of people.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>His brother ignored him to focus on his food and Sam checked his cell phone one more time before turning back to his burger. After five weeks of hanging out in the Bunker, they were back on the road to Mackinaw. <\/p><br \/><p>Notification for a new text message beeped and Sam wiped off his hands and picked up the phone.<\/p><br \/><p><em>Received the last ingredient this morning. When do you get to town?<\/em><\/p><br \/><p>He had exchanged emails and ideas with the witch - David - and they shared their research. David had reached out to a friend of his who was traveling to some of the small villages in the Daba Mountains in Sichuan province and gathering folktales for his dissertation. Among these rural people, there was a rumor of a cleansing ritual and a remote spring and waterfall that could wash any curse away.<\/p><br \/><p>Sam grinned from ear to ear at the text and Dean looked up.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cYou\u2019re glowing again,\u201d he said, waving his hand in front of Sam\u2019s face.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cOh, sorry.\u201d He threw a few bills down on the table and stood up. \u201cJust got some good news. We need to get on the road.\u201d <\/p><br \/><p>Dean looked down at the last few bites of pie on his plate. \u201cWait, can\u2019t I finish this?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cNo, c\u2019mon.\u201d When the corners of Dean\u2019s mouth turned down, Sam snatched his fork out of his hand and set it down on the plate. \u201cIf this works, Dean, I will buy you all the pie you can eat.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cCherry this time?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam\u2019s smile was so big it threatened to crack his face in two. \u201cSure. Anything you want. Now let\u2019s get out of here.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>****<\/p><br \/><p>The bathroom in the old Craftsman-style house was too small for three adult men. After some initial resistance and a whole lot of questions about why Dean was naked and the other two weren\u2019t, Dean was kneeling in the white porcelain bathtub. Sam stood over him holding a bucket of the spring water high over his head. His arms were starting to tremble as David read the lengthy purification ritual and rubbed ashes across Dean\u2019s forehead.<\/p><br \/><p>The witch looked up at Sam as he read the last line off the paper in his hand and nodded. <\/p><br \/><p>Dean looked up as well and all the confusion and irritation on his face was wiped clean when he saw Sam\u2019s face. That look of adoration made Sam hesitate. <em>How will you look at me when this is all done? <\/em><\/p><br \/><p>The water sluiced out of the bucket and ran over Dean\u2019s head and shoulders, splashing onto Sam\u2019s jeans. In the harsh overhead light, Sam could see every freckle on his brother\u2019s face and every drop of water that clung to Dean\u2019s dark eyelashes. Sam didn\u2019t notice that the water bucket was empty until David tapped him on the arm.<\/p><br \/><p>They waited, the only sound was the water running off Dean and circling down the drain. Finally, Dean swiped a hand over his face and opened his eyes.<\/p><br \/><p>Sam took a deep breath. \u201cWell?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cWell,\u201d Dean said, \u201cI\u2019d like a towel and to get my clothes back.\u201d He ran the hand through this hair, squeezing the water out. \u201cAnd I think someone mentioned all the pie I can eat?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam pulled Dean up and smothered him in a hug. \u201cAnything you want.\u201d <\/p><br \/><p>Dean pushed back against Sam\u2019s chest to look him in the eye. \u201cOh, and Sam, give the keys to the car. I\u2019m driving home.\u201d<\/p><br \/><a name='cutid1-end'><\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:wetsammy:9527","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/9527.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=9527"}}],"title":"Signs of Life, for annie46","published":"2017-09-07T13:22:28Z","updated":"2017-09-07T13:22:28Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"hurt!sam"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"summergen"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"sam winchester"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"hurt!dean"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"gen"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"dean winchester"}}],"content":"Here was my piece for Summergen:<br \/><br \/>Originally posted by <span  class=\"ljuser  i-ljuser  i-ljuser-type-P     \"  data-ljuser=\"summergen_mod\" lj:user=\"summergen_mod\" ><a href=\"https:\/\/summergen-mod.livejournal.com\/profile\/\"  target=\"_self\"  class=\"i-ljuser-profile\" ><img  class=\"i-ljuser-userhead\"  src=\"https:\/\/l-stat.livejournal.net\/img\/userinfo_v8.png?v=17080&v=915\" \/><\/a><a href=\"https:\/\/summergen-mod.livejournal.com\/\" class=\"i-ljuser-username\"   target=\"_self\"   ><b>summergen_mod<\/b><\/a><\/span> at <a href=\"https:\/\/spn-summergen.livejournal.com\/272095.html\" target=\"_blank\">Signs of Life, for <span  class=\"ljuser  i-ljuser  i-ljuser-type-P     \"  data-ljuser=\"annie46\" lj:user=\"annie46\" ><a href=\"https:\/\/annie46.livejournal.com\/profile\/\"  target=\"_self\"  class=\"i-ljuser-profile\" ><img  class=\"i-ljuser-userhead\"  src=\"https:\/\/l-stat.livejournal.net\/img\/userinfo_v8.png?v=17080&v=915\" \/><\/a><a href=\"https:\/\/annie46.livejournal.com\/\" class=\"i-ljuser-username\"   target=\"_self\"   ><b>annie46<\/b><\/a><\/span><\/a><div class=\"\"><b>Title:<\/b> Signs of Life<br \/><b>Recipient:<\/b> <span  class=\"ljuser  i-ljuser  i-ljuser-type-P     \"  data-ljuser=\"annie46\" lj:user=\"annie46\" ><a href=\"https:\/\/annie46.livejournal.com\/profile\/\"  target=\"_self\"  class=\"i-ljuser-profile\" ><img  class=\"i-ljuser-userhead\"  src=\"https:\/\/l-stat.livejournal.net\/img\/userinfo_v8.png?v=17080&v=915\" \/><\/a><a href=\"https:\/\/annie46.livejournal.com\/\" class=\"i-ljuser-username\"   target=\"_self\"   ><b>annie46<\/b><\/a><\/span><br \/><b>Rating:<\/b> PG-13<br \/><b>Word Count:<\/b> 2,048<br \/><b>Warnings:<\/b> none<br \/><b>Summary:<\/b> Dean can\u2019t leave, he can\u2019t sleep, because Sam could just slip away. Again.<br \/><br \/><br \/> The beer is warm and bitter but he takes another sip, grimacing as it hits his stomach. His system is still shredded raw from the pills and the doc\u2019s resuscitation efforts. Nurse Ratchet reminded him as he checked out of the clinic that he should only drink broth or bland crap for a few days. And of course, absolutely no alcohol, unless he wanted to end up back in the hospital, or worse.  <br \/><br \/> He\u2019d rolled his eyes at that, because what could be worse than being dead? Then he\u2019d hustled Sam out to the car and out of town as fast as he could. <br \/><br \/> Now that they\u2019re settled in a motel room for the night and Sam is finally asleep, there\u2019s no way Dean is leaving to make a run for chicken soup and saltines. Instead, he sits at the dinette set and drinks their remaining beers, his feet up on the green cooler. As the minutes tick by on the cheap wall clock, he can hear the big rigs roar past on nearby Highway 184, crossing through Boise without a second thought. He\u2019ll take all the late-night road noise and bad motel paraphernalia as long as he never has to set foot in a national forest again. <br \/><br \/> A snuffle from the far bed gets his attention. Sam is stretched out long on the mattress, one foot half dangling off the side, his mouth slightly open in a snore. And snoring is good. It\u2019s great, even. It means Sam is sleeping. <em>It means he is alive and breathing<\/em>.  <br \/><br \/> Dean waits, listening for that next exhale. When it happens, he can finally breathe too.  <br \/><br \/> His stomach knots up at the sight of Sam\u2019s head fallen to the side on his pillow, his face turned towards the small lamp on the nightstand. The play of light and shadow across Sam\u2019s face is a terrible reminder of what happened on that cabin floor.  <br \/><br \/> <em>I fucked up twice. Left him alone, gathering wood, when I shoulda been right beside him. Shoulda shot that bastard Corbin when he first said to leave Sam behind. Taken our chances with the werewolves. Then none of this would have happened.<\/em> <br \/><br \/> A few minutes pass as Dean sits in the dark with nothing but his beer and his guilt. He waits for the syncopated sound of Sam\u2019s snores in opposition to the ticking of that damn clock. When the sound doesn\u2019t come, when silence fills the room, he stops the bottle halfway to his lips and his eyes watch for the rise and fall of Sam\u2019s chest or the flutter of his eyelashes. Any signs of life.  <br \/><br \/> Dean lurches to his feet, head spinning unexpectedly from the beer, and stumbles across the room. <br \/><br \/> \u201cSam,\u201d he says, placing his palm flat against his brother\u2019s chest and giving it a little shake. Sam doesn\u2019t respond but under his palm, Dean can feel the shallow movements of his brother\u2019s ribcage. He doesn\u2019t trust it though\u2014<em>don\u2019t walk away this time, don\u2019t leave<\/em>\u2014and rubs his knuckles hard along Sam\u2019s sternum. An old trick Dad learned in the Marines and taught to his boys. \u201cPainful enough to wake the dead,\u201d he would say.  <br \/><br \/> His brother starts to stir, to move away from the pain, and a small moan escapes his lips, despite the oxycodone Dean had given him earlier. He swats at Dean\u2019s hand and mumbles in his half-sleep. Dean steps back, clapping a hand on the top of his head, fingers tangled in his short hair. The relief is overwhelming, threatening to bring him to his knees, and he really needs to be over this. <br \/><br \/> They\u2019d rolled into town at half past ten last night. He had wanted to stop earlier, give his brother a rest, but the dark press of the forest on both sides of the two-lane road bothered him. Each curve of the road murmured low and urgent, dark tree limbs that threatened to pull them in and hold them down, and so he just kept driving.  While Dean white-knuckled the wheel for two hundred miles, Sam struggled to get comfortable on the passenger seat, arm resting across his gut, his face going pale with every bump or twist in the road. It was four long hours before the lights of Boise appeared on the horizon. <br \/><br \/> Once he got Sam settled on the motel bed, propped up with extra pillows and doped up on meds, Dean should have stepped out. They were running low on food and supplies. But he couldn\u2019t do it. He couldn\u2019t get past the Impala in the parking lot. Just grabbing the cooler from the backseat of the car, his throat closed up and his heart pounded. Two minutes of anxiety to get a beer... he couldn\u2019t imagine driving down the street, away from Sam. <br \/><br \/> Now, bleary-eyed and mostly drunk, Dean grabs the dinette chair and drags it next to Sam\u2019s bed, undecided as to how close is close enough to hear the gentle <em>in and out, in and out<\/em> of Sam\u2019s breath.  <br \/><br \/> He rests his hand on the mattress next to his brother\u2019s hand, touching pinky to pinky, like when they were little. Sam sucked his thumb until he was two, and would make this soft gurgling noise, breathing around it in his sleep. Dean would pull the thumb out, like Dad told him to, but the stupid thing would work its way back into Sam\u2019s mouth every night. Dean would snuggle him close, close enough to smell the milk on his baby breath, afraid Sam would roll off the side of the bed. No matter how Dean slept, he would have one hand on Sam, in tune with any move or sigh or bad dream. As the kid got older and didn\u2019t want to be treated like a baby, Dean would still find some way to sneak his hand nearby, whether it was flat on the mattress to feel the vibrations or touching pinky to pinky.  <br \/><br \/> If Sam saw Dean hovering close by in the dark like this, he would tease him, call him Mom, and tell him to get some sleep. <br \/><br \/> Instead of sleeping, Dean listens and drinks. As the clock on the wall ticks past 3:30, he pulls a silver slug out of his jacket pocket. The bullet\u2019s been sitting in there the past two days, and he can\u2019t seem to get rid of it. It\u2019s small as bullets go, not much different than the ammo they use at the firing range in the Bunker. <br \/><br \/> <em>\u201cJust an inch more to the left,\u201d the ER doc said, talking in the hallway with Dean after stitching Sam up. \u201cHe\u2019s lucky to be alive. You\u2019re both lucky.\u201d<\/em> <br \/><br \/> Of all the ways to go, a gut shot was not how Sam should have gone down. Not after Azazel, not after Lucifer, not after the trials. Sam survived the worst Heaven or Hell had to offer, only to die on a dirty cabin floor while Dean was outside gathering wood. <br \/><br \/> Dean rolls the bullet back and forth between his thumb and finger, remembering a tattoo shop in Nashville. It\u2019s hunter-friendly, and one of the artists makes jewelry as well. Through the years, she\u2019s crafted a number of possession charms for Bobby, mostly necklaces or bracelets with protection charms for other hunters to carry. Dean liked jewelry well enough but figured the best protection when hunting was good training and common sense.  <br \/><br \/> But Sam loved that shop, always fascinated to hear about the sigils and spells she used, asking a ton of questions and cataloging the information in that big brain of his until Dean had to drag him out. Maybe he should take this bullet in and see what she could do. Maybe a little extra protection wasn\u2019t a bad thing. About time Sam had an amulet of his own anyway. <br \/><br \/> \u201cDean?\u201d <br \/><br \/> He startles at the voice and tucks the slug back in his pocket, picking his beer back up for something to do with his hands. <br \/><br \/> \u201cIt\u2019s okay, Sammy. Go back to sleep.\u201d <br \/><br \/> Sam struggles up onto his elbows with a hiss of pain. \u201cWhy are you still up?\u201d <br \/><br \/> \u201cCan\u2019t sleep,\u201d Dean admits. He shifts in the chair and changes the subject. \u201cI\u2019m thinking we should be able to make it back to the Bunker by late tomorrow night. We\u2019ll set you up in the backseat on the drive and you can get some rest. Pillow, blanket, the whole nine yards, just like when you were little. Maybe even get you those little apple juice boxes for the ride.\u201d <br \/><br \/> Sam raises his eyebrows, but Dean is thinking ahead and already reconsidering his idea. No way to pay attention to his brother\u2019s breathing or pain levels while he drives, and sixteen hours in the passenger seat won\u2019t do much good for Sam. <br \/><br \/> \u201cSounds good to me,\u201d Sam slowly agrees, eyeballing the position of the chair next to the bed and wrinkling his brow. \u201cYou okay?\u201d <br \/><br \/> Dean makes a noncommittal grunt. He starts to raise the bottle again, but realizes his mistake by the way Sam\u2019s eyes track it. <br \/><br \/> \u201cIs drinking such a good idea?\u201d <br \/><br \/> Dean smiles. \u201cI\u2019ve had worse ideas.\u201d <br \/><br \/> \u201cThink I still have a protein bar in my bag if you want it.\u201d Sam waves his hand at the laptop bag, his voice thick and slow from the meds. \u201cOr why don\u2019t you take a shower? That always helps you sleep.\u201d <br \/><br \/> Dean glances behind him towards the bathroom. His ribs hurt from the beating he took from Corbin, his stomach is bitter and stripped bare, and the drive out of the forest was murder on his shoulders. \u201cNah. I\u2019m fine right here.\u201d <br \/><br \/> The moment stretches out between them in the dark before Sam decides to settle back on the pillow. Dean closes his eyes and mentally calculates out various routes back to Lebanon in his head. He\u2019d normally take Highway 30 down to Green River: it\u2019s less traffic but the road has more twists and turns, so maybe 84 down to Ogden would be a smoother ride for Sam. In this part of the world, there\u2019s no avoiding some of the winding routes through the mountains. Maybe they could cut the drive short in Rock Springs, stay the night at that little motel right off the train tracks. The mattresses were clean and the diner delivered food right to the rooms\u2014 <br \/><br \/> \u201cDean, what did you do?\u201d <br \/><br \/> Dean cracks his eyes open. \u201cWhat?\u201d <br \/><br \/> It\u2019s quiet again except for the ticking of the clock as Sam second-guesses his question. \u201cWhen you thought I was dead, what did you do?\u201d <br \/><br \/> The sigh Dean gives is one of infinite patience. Sam can\u2019t let it rest, never could. Dean thought they left this topic two hundred miles behind them in Grangeville. Sam was suspicious that there was something more than the fight with Corbin and kept questioning the ER doc, who wouldn\u2019t spill the details. There was no one else around to confirm except Michelle, and she wasn\u2019t really talking to anyone.  <br \/><br \/> \u201cTold you. I knew you weren\u2019t dead.\u201d <br \/><br \/> \u201cDean, I thought we agreed no secrets\u2014\u201d <br \/><br \/> Dean holds up his hand. \u201cSam, stop. We got a long drive ahead of us tomorrow. Promise I\u2019ll share all the gory details\u2014\u201d <em>Or not. How do you tell your brother that I\u2019m sorry I left you for dead? That I almost made another bad choice that you wouldn\u2019t agree with? <\/em>\u201cJust not tonight... okay? Get some sleep.\u201d <br \/><br \/> Sam looks as if he wants to argue. But then he smiles, his face pale and resigned, his dark hair spread out on the white of the pillowcase. \u201cOkay, <em>Mom<\/em>.\u201d He rolls over on his side, curling up to face his brother\u2019s chair as he closes his eyes and murmurs, \u201cNo more secrets. Promise?\u201d <br \/><br \/> \u201cI promise, Sam.\u201d Dean shakes his head affectionately, thinking that he will stick to it. After all this, his brother deserves that much. He takes off his work boots, kicking his socked feet up on the mattress edge next to Sam. He jiggles his foot to touch Sam\u2019s arm, getting a small smile out of Sam, who is already half asleep. <br \/><br \/> Once again, he closes his eyes and listens again to the comforting roar of the big rigs, the tick of the wall clock, and his brother\u2019s slow and steady breaths. <a name='cutid1-end'><\/a><\/div>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:wetsammy:9256","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/9256.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=9256"}}],"title":"Marks","published":"2017-09-04T16:13:06Z","updated":"2017-09-05T11:57:44Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"season 8"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"spn kink bingo"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"mirror sex"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"tattoos"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"wincest"}}],"content":"<p>&nbsp;<\/p><br \/><p>Written for <a href=\"https:\/\/tmblr.co\/mg8Q38GsaUMH3AVB7DuyaaA\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\"><ins>@spnkinkbingo<\/ins><\/a> | <a href=\"http:\/\/archiveofourown.org\/works\/11996880\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\">Link to AO3<\/a><br>Pairing: Wincest (implied Dean\/Benny and Sam\/Amelia)<br>Rating: NC-17 | Wordcount: 1,856<br>Tags: early s8 angst, post-purgatory dean, jealous dean, blow jobs, mirror sex<br>Also written for @wincestwritingchallenge\u200b for the Richard Siken quote: <em>Here I am leaving you clues.<\/em><\/p><br \/><p><em>Summary: Dean's back from Purgatory and Sam is distant. Could be the girl Sam met while Dean was gone. Could be he doesn't feel the same since Dean isn't the same. Or could be something else.<\/em><\/p><br \/><br \/><p><em>So, this is it, <\/em>he thought, sipping his beer, staring out the motel room window. <em>This is what I fought to get back to.<\/em><\/p><br \/><p>The quiet sounds of the shower fill the motel room and Dean glances over his shoulder at the sliver of light from the bathroom door. The room around him is dark - each night Dean turns off the lights as soon as Sam retreats to the bathroom. After the deep darkness of Purgatory, the sixty-watt bulbs that shine overhead are too bright and leave him too exposed. He turns back to the window and scrubs a hand through his hair, and wonders about Benny down in Louisiana, whether he feels as unsettled as Dean does with nothing to fight.&nbsp;<\/p><br \/><p>He sips his beer again and rolls his shoulders to release the tension. The drive from Laramie to Sioux City was nine hours of nothing rolling by with Sam sitting mute and withdrawn at his side. His brother is different now. His hair is too long and skin too tan from the Texas sun. His hunting instincts have gone soft in the past year while Dean's have been honed razor sharp. Another thing they need to work on.<\/p><br \/><p>Each day, the two of them sit side by side in the Impala like strangers. When the sun goes down and the car rolls to a stop, they circle each other without touching, grabbing their duffels, one heading for food, one for the bathroom, before retreating to their own beds, grunting out a soft good night before they fall asleep.<\/p><br \/><p>He battled for a year to get here, and now that he's back, he's only a warm presence on the outskirts of Sam's periphery. A moon circling, held tight by gravity, unable to move closer, unable to move away.&nbsp;<\/p><br \/><p>Whoever the girl in Texas is, whatever she meant to Sam, it\u2019ll fade and they\u2019ll go back to the way things were. Dean has to believe that.<\/p><br \/><p>He studies the reflection of the bathroom light on the window pane and a flicker of shadow gets his attention. He turns and sets his beer down on the table, and steps closer to the doorway, one green eye gleaming in the dark, and feels that familiar heat in his gut from watching Sam. His brother has always been self conscious, memories of being a skinny teenager never far from the surface. He doesn\u2019t know how beautiful he is, so Dean steals glances whenever he can.&nbsp;<\/p><br \/><p>Inside the bathroom, Sam wraps a towel around his waist. His shoulders are still glistening wet from the shower, and his dark hair clings damp to his neck. Sam looks soft and clean, and Dean\u2019s eyes darken. He wants to step up behind him and lick each drop of water, to touch that fresh pink skin.<\/p><br \/><p>Unaware of the eyes on him, Sam twists in front of the steam-edged mirror and the black of his anti-possession tattoo stands out on the flat of his pec. Dean remembers the day they got the tats, the sun coming through the shop window and the hiss of Sam's breath when the needle first broke his skin.<\/p><br \/><p>The towel slips on Sam's hips and he clutches it with his fingers, and the corners of Dean's mouth turn up. Cheap motels and cheap towels and a clumsy little brother. Good to know that some things never change. His smile disappears as Dean sees another tattoo further down on Sam's abs, loops of black ink nestled inside the cut of his brother's hipbone.<\/p><br \/><p>New ink. Ink that was meant for someone else.<\/p><br \/><p>The bathroom door slams open under his palm and Sam's eyes startle wide as the small bathroom fills with Dean.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cWhat?\u201d Sam tries to push out of the room, confused by his brother\u2019s anger, but Dean pens him in and their eyes meet in the mirror.<\/p><br \/><p>The smell of shampoo and Ivory soap on Sam's skin blocks out the scent of ash and sulfur that Dean can\u2019t seem to shake. As he presses against Sam's back and tilts him towards the mirror, Sam is suddenly docile and a blush rises on his cheek and chest that causes Dean to remember the Before, back when he was able to reach out and touch whenever he wanted.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cI think you know.\u201d His fingers slide under the towel and press on the new tattoo, gripping Sam's hip. \u201cIs this because of the girl?\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Sam tries to jerks away at that last word, but Dean wraps his arm around Sam's shoulder. He grabs his jaw and pull him back so their eyes meet in the mirror. The only sound is the towel slipping to the floor between them.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Dean's eyes are drawn down to the marks that are not his. Two symbols he doesn't recognize are entwined, dark on the pale pink of Sam's hip. \u201cThen explain.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>His fingers stroke the spot and a low moan builds behind Sam\u2019s closed lips. When Sam doesn't answer, he squeezes skin against bone.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cAnswer me, Sam.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cIt's not what you think.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>The intimate proximity after so many days of frustration is intoxicating, and Dean drops his hand Sam's chest so his fingers are spread over the other tattoo - <em>their tattoo<\/em>.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cThe witch said it would help to focus my energies.\u201d Sam squirms under Dean's hand. \u201cI thought if I could just use my powers, or whatever was left of them--\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Dean's stomach twists at the thought of what Sam might have done and their eyes meet again. Sam is now the one who is raw and on edge.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cI thought that maybe I could find you.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Dean turns Sam to face him, bending him back against the counter, and kisses him rough and thoughtless, sucking his bottom lip until Sam makes a noise of pain. When Sam pulls back to explain more, Dean sinks his fingers in the long curls on his neck and yanks him back in.<\/p><br \/><p>The Sam from Before would fight him for control. This Sam simply falls into place and Dean feels anger building, at Dick Roman, at Purgatory, at this girl, but mainly at himself.<\/p><br \/><p>Once again, he was gone and Sam is broken.<\/p><br \/><p>He grabs Sam's hips and grinds against him, rough denim against naked skin. Sam's cock is full and flushed from the friction and Dean slips his hand between them to cup Sam\u2019s balls, drawing another long groan out of him.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cFuck, Dean.\u201d Sam presses his forehead into Dean's shirt, and humps back against his hand. \u201cI'm so sorry. It didn't work. God, nothing worked.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>His voice is a stream of broken apologies and Dean is afraid it might break him as well.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cDon't say that, Sammy.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Dean kisses along the wet hairline that frames Sam's face before nosing in along his neck. The clean smell of that cheap soap remind him of other showers in other motels, when he would run a slick hand over his cock before pushing inside Sam.<\/p><br \/><p>He drops to his knees so quickly that Sam stumbles forward, and Dean pushes his hips back against the counter.<\/p><br \/><p>The new ink is beautiful, and Dean thinks he can feel whatever energy the symbols have under his palm. That Sam would try to tap into his powers again, to scrape out that barrel of crap just to find him-<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cYou should know better,\u201d he growls as he places his lips against the symbol, and Sam shudders as Dean draws his tongue across the skin. Sam\u2019s cock is only half full where it lays against his naked thigh and suddenly that is unacceptable. Dean wraps his mouth around the tip as he holds him and slides the shaft along his tongue until his nose and throat are filled with nothing but Sam.<\/p><br \/><p>Sam lets his thighs fall apart, and Dean runs his hands along the smooth muscle there. He flashes back on Benny and Purgatory, but shoves those memories deep - <em>I did what I had to do to get back. Doesn't mean anything<\/em>. He tries to remember when he and Sam did this last. Was it the night before facing off with Dick? The week before?<\/p><br \/><p>He trails his thumbs up the skin on the inside of those hairless thighs as he sucks and smiles around Sam's cock at the shiver he gets in response.<\/p><br \/><p>Sam begins a quiet chant of <em>Dean <\/em>, mixed with something else that Dean can't quite understand. Sam's hands flutter around his head, touching lightly before taking off, as his cock slides in and out of Dean\u2019s wet mouth. The noises Sam makes are choked and have Dean struggling to unzip his jeans with one hand to stroke his own dick.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cDean, wait--\u201d Sam's fingers finally settle on Dean's shoulders, squeezing sharply, and Dean stands up, cupping Sam's face in his hands before kissing him.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cBeen waiting long enough.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cI couldn't make it work.\u201d Sam whispers back against his lips. \u201cI couldn't find you.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>Dean spins him around once more to face the mirror, placing Sam\u2019s palms flat against the glass. His hand follows up the long line of Sam's spine and his brother stretches out his back at the touch. Sam is beautiful when he breaks apart. The tears and the shudders speak to the part of Dean that survived Purgatory, hard as flint and ready to hunt.<\/p><br \/><p>Sam would have survived there too. The guy who beat Lucifer and lived through the last two years of hallucinating and grief has some steel inside him, even if it\u2019s hidden under layers of guilt.<\/p><br \/><p>Resting his hand on Sam's hip, Dean reaches for the lube in his kit on the counter, popping the top with one hand and drizzling it cold over Sam. There's a sharp gasp as the clear liquid runs over Sam's ass and Dean pets his flank.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cShhh, I'll take care of you.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>When the first slick finger sinks in, it is tight. Satisfaction sits warm in his chest at the thought of what that girl couldn't give Sam. He fucks it in and out slowly, listening to gasps that Sam makes. Sam widens his stance when a second finger is added and squirms against the cabinet. Dean runs his other hand through the trail of lube that has started to run down Sam's ass to dribble between his thighs, and uses it to wet his dick.<\/p><br \/><p>He knows when he's hit the right spot with his fingers when Sam goes up on his toes, muscles in his ass and thighs clenching tight.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cDean,\u201d he shouts as a third finger is added, and Dean massages the tight rim that grips and holds them inside with his thumb. Sam is bucking back against him, trying to get Dean to move as his fingers press white against the mirror. \u201cFuck, I'm close, please, please, De.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>He lays across Sam's back and twists his head for a kiss as he pushes down on his prostate. Sam's whine travels directly to Deans lips and he is greedy to swallow down the sound.<\/p><br \/><p>Slick fingers are removed and Dean lines up and pushes inside, inch by slow inch. The way Sam\u2019s hole wraps around his cock is the first thing that makes him feel normal since he's been topside. As he starts to pump his hips, he wraps his arms around Sam's chest and pulls him up off the counter and back even deeper on his cock, with Sam's weight anchoring both of them to the floor. He rubs and plucks at Sam\u2019s nipples and watches in the mirror as they tighten into small pink buds. The angle is perfect, with Dean thrusting from beneath and Sam grasping at the counter's edge, sitting heavy and impaled on Dean's dick.<\/p><br \/><p>Sam looks dazed as Dean continues to fuck him. His hair, too long and wet from the shower, is starting to dry into soft curls around his face, and Dean pushes it out of his eyes.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cI'm right here. We\u2019re right here.\u201d<\/p><br \/><p>When Dean comes, it whites out his vision at the edges and he falls forward against Sam's back. He can feel Sam working through his own orgasm and see where it shoots all over the sink.<\/p><br \/><p>Sam's head hangs down and Dean kisses the spot between his shoulder blades.<\/p><br \/><p>\u201cIt's okay, Sammy. Doesn't matter what happened. What matters is us, right now.\u201d<\/p>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:wetsammy:9007","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/9007.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=9007"}}],"title":"wetsammy @ 2017-08-01T12:59:00","published":"2017-08-01T17:59:09Z","updated":"2017-08-01T17:59:09Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"spn reverse bang"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"signal boost"}}],"content":"Can't wait!<br \/><br \/><center><br \/><a href=\"http:\/\/spn-reversebang.livejournal.com\/\" target=\"_blank\"><img src=\"https:\/\/ic.pics.livejournal.com\/spnreversemod\/39830858\/167739\/167739_original.jpg\" width=\"600\" fetchpriority=\"high\" \/><\/a><br \/><br \/><font size=\"5\"><a href=\"http:\/\/spn-reversebang.livejournal.com\/310709.html\" target=\"_blank\">Rules & FAQ<\/a><\/font><br \/><b>Sign Ups:<\/b> <a href=\"http:\/\/spn-reversebang.livejournal.com\/311054.html\" target=\"_blank\">Artist<\/a> | <a href=\"http:\/\/spn-reversebang.livejournal.com\/311546.html\" target=\"_blank\">Writer<\/a> | <a href=\"http:\/\/spn-reversebang.livejournal.com\/310866.html\" target=\"_blank\">Beta<\/a><\/center>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:wetsammy:8854","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/8854.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=8854"}}],"title":"Pimping - Fic It!","published":"2017-07-21T17:55:27Z","updated":"2017-07-21T17:58:43Z","content":"Looking for a summertime fic meme? SPN and other fandoms. Would love to try my hand at GoT fic.<br \/><br \/><a href=\"http:\/\/bratfarrar.livejournal.com\/#\" target=\"_blank\"><img src=\"https:\/\/ic.pics.livejournal.com\/bratfarrar\/10520030\/144262\/144262_original.jpg\" fetchpriority=\"high\"><\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:wetsammy:8541","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/8541.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=8541"}}],"title":"Wonderland","published":"2017-07-06T13:44:50Z","updated":"2017-07-06T13:44:50Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"s3"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"kinkbingo"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"angst"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"rimming"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"wincest"}}],"content":"<i><i>Pairing: Wincest<br \/>Wordcount: 1,762<br \/>Warnings: mildly dub con<br \/>Tags: established relationship, late s3, somnophilia, rimming, hotdogging<br \/>A\/N:&nbsp;<i>Written for&nbsp;<a target=\"_blank\">spnkinkbingo<\/a>\u200b,&nbsp;<\/i>thanks to beta&nbsp;<a href=\"http:\/\/archiveofourown.org\/users\/nigeltde\/pseuds\/nigeltde\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\">nigeltde<\/a>&nbsp;for her support and for sharing my love of angsty s3 brothers<br \/><a href=\"http:\/\/archiveofourown.org\/works\/11418714\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\">Link to AO3<\/a>&nbsp;<\/i><br \/><\/i><blockquote><p><i>When Sam slept, his walls were down -- he couldn't overthink or fight, just breathe and dream -- and Dean got hard just thinking about that.<\/i><\/p><\/blockquote><div class=\"\" contenteditable=\"false\" draggable=\"true\"><hr \/><div class=\"\">&nbsp;<\/div><\/div><p>The cold medicine left a tacky blue ring on the bathroom counter. Dean hated the taste -- like cherries dipped in kerosene -- but his brother liked it, said it was one of the few things that helped him sleep.<span><br \/><\/span><\/p><p>It was a miserable ride that day. For two hundred miles, Sam was unable to sit still, a headache building behind his eyes. Dean reached out across the back of the seat and tangled his fingers in the curls along Sam's neck, rubbing the tight muscles underneath. Sam leaned into the touch but soon his eyes were pinched and squinting against the sun, and he pulled away when it became too much.<\/p><p>When they checked into the motel, Sam shuffled into the bathroom for a quick shower and to shoot back twice the normal dose of Nyquil.<\/p><p>As his brother slept, Dean watched. He sat on the second bed, cleaning their guns in the darkened room, soaking in the quiet. No tv, no police radio, just the rattle of the ancient air conditioner in the corner and the sound of Sam's steady breaths from the other bed.<\/p><div class=\"\" contenteditable=\"false\" draggable=\"true\"><hr data-label=\"Keep reading\" class=\"\" \/><div class=\"\">&nbsp;<\/div><\/div><p>They didn't get much quiet in their lives, and Dean's deal had the two of them on edge, itching to fight, to hunt, to argue. They fed off that uneasy undercurrent as much as the spark that jumps from wire to wire when they hotwire a stolen car. It was easy to throw themselves at cases or crash their bodies together just inside the motel room door. Nights were filled with the push of hard muscles and sharp tongues, where the frustrations of the day were worked out through a sweaty fight for dominance, and a quick sticky release.<\/p><p>But tonight? Dean wanted something different, something soft, to ease the ache inside him. As his days ticked by toward the inevitable and Sam was wearing himself down with worry, Dean wanted to take his time.<\/p><p>He wiped the remaining gun oil off Sam's Taurus and set it aside, shifting to stand between the two queen beds. Dean&rsquo;s eyes traveled over his brother&rsquo;s long body stretched out under the covers; a tuft of his dark hair curled against the white pillowcase, and a long pale foot peeked out under the blanket wrapped around his legs.<\/p><p>With one hand, Dean dragged the sheet down Sam's chest, and his lips twitched in a smile as Sam's nipples contracted in the suddenly cool air. The slow reveal of his brother&rsquo;s muscular body, golden against the white sheets and still damp from the shower, was like unwrapping a present that was made just for him.<\/p><p>A stray lock of hair of Sam's hair rested on his cheek and Dean brushed it back, like he did when Sam was young enough to still follow Dean around Bobby&rsquo;s salvage yard.<\/p><p>Looking down at the flushed cheeks and shiny lips, Dean couldn&rsquo;t resist and leaned down to take a kiss. He sucked Sam's bottom lip into his mouth, and sure enough, a coating of cherry cough medicine was still there. He licked it off gently, before pressing his tongue inside Sam's mouth. Sam&rsquo;s eyelashes fluttered at the intrusion and he shifted slightly before settling back against the pillow once again.<\/p><p>When Sam slept, his walls were down -- he couldn't overthink or fight, just breathe and dream -- and Dean got hard just thinking about that.<\/p><p>Slipping off his t-shirt and jeans, Dean stepped away from the wrinkled pile of clothes between the two beds. His cock throbbed in the open air and he stroked it a few times, groaning at the light pressure of his fingers. But it wasn&rsquo;t what he was looking for, it wasn't enough for how he was feeling tonight.<\/p><p>Sinking one knee down on the edge of the mattress, Dean skimmed his hand along Sam's naked skin. He loved how Sam was filling in, the muscles growing broader and thick across his shoulders and chest. He rubbed his thumb over one of his exposed nipple, hard and brown, until the skin around it pebbled over in goosebumps.<\/p><p>The soft catch of breath from his brother&rsquo;s mouth was perfect, and he wanted to capture more of those small sounds. Dean lean down to suck the nipple into his mouth, teasing it with teeth and tongue until Sam's small gasp become a low whine in the back of his throat. Dean soothed the abused nub with his tongue and blew on it until Sam squirmed beneath him, arching his back slightly as if chasing Dean&rsquo;s mouth, before falling soft and pliant into the mattress once more.<\/p><p>His little brother was starting to wake up and Dean should feel bad about that, and let Sam get his sleep, but there would be plenty of time to sleep after.<\/p><p>Dean ran his hands down both side of Sam's ribcage to rest them on his waist, marveling that he could almost touch his thumbs together. The trail of fingerprints he left across Sam&rsquo;s skin was soon followed by Dean&rsquo;s lips. There were still small pink and red marks across his torso, the remains of two nights before when Dean had yanked Sam out of a bar and they hadn't made it past the back seat of the Impala.<\/p><p>Despite the cool of the air conditioning, Sam was throwing off waves of heat, and Dean nuzzled his cheek against the warmth. He nudged his nose at the dark cotton briefs, taking in the smell of Ivory soap and Sam, then used his fingers to pull at them, revealing the ridge of hipbones below. If Dean had to name a favorite part of Sam's body, it was this, where the soft skin of abdomen met the sharpness of hips.<\/p><p>No one saw this part, not anymore, just Dean. It was his alone. For two more months.<\/p><p>Another whine came from Sam as Dean peeled the black briefs down his legs, throwing them on the floor next to Dean's clothes.<\/p><p>Sam's cock lay half full against his thigh, and Dean couldn&rsquo;t resist lifting it and taking the tip in his mouth. His mouth watered at the taste as he slid the length along his tongue, wrapping his lips around it.<\/p><p>&ldquo;De?&rdquo; Sam's thick, sleepy voice called down from the top of the bed and his fingers searched blindly for the top of Dean's head.<\/p><p>&ldquo;Shhh, Sam.&rdquo; He gave another kiss to the tip before he looked up and smiled. &ldquo;It's okay. I got you, little brother.&rdquo;<\/p><p>With those words, Sam gave a satisfied sigh and relaxed under Dean's touch. He swung Sam&rsquo;s leg in front of him and rolled him onto his stomach. His brother muttered at the change of position, and grabbed a pillow with both hands, rubbing his face into it.<\/p><p>Looking at Sam from this angle, Dean knew he was wrong - the hipbones weren't his favorite body part. Sammy's ass was a work of art.<\/p><p>He smoothed his hands over his cheeks, impossibly round and high. Sam could try to hide it beneath his baggy jeans or the wool of their cheap suits, but Dean had seen the looks his brother got from men and women at gas stations or dive bars. And the miracle was that Sam was unaware of the eyes on him as they moved through these small towns and backroads.<\/p><p>But Dean? Dean was aware of all those eyes and stared them down until they walked away.<\/p><p>He pulled Sam&rsquo;s cheeks apart with his thumbs, looking at the skin that ran along his crease. No matter how much older or bigger Sam got, or how hard they went at it the night before, Sam was tight and pink like some virginal schoolgirl, which only made Dean want to go another round the next day, to claim it again. He ran a thumbpad across the puckered skin, and then leaned down to dragged his tongue rough and wet across it.<\/p><p>Sam let out a surprised yelp, no longer doped up and drowsy, and he pushed out his ass as Dean continued to lick. Dean dipped the tip of his tongue in and out of the hole and sucked along the pink rim, causing Sam to keen and squirm. But Dean wasn't going to let him go anywhere, and wrapped his arms around Sam&rsquo;s thighs and hauling him up off the mattress and onto his knees. He continued to lick sloppy passes over the already shiny hole and Sam had no choice but to take it.<\/p><p>&ldquo;Fuck, Dean, fuck yeah, just like that.&rdquo; Sam&rsquo;s fingers clenched and released at the bed sheets like they were a lifeline.<\/p><p>Dean reached between Sam's legs with one hand, to pull down on his balls, while he paused nose-deep to nibble along his rim, pulling the most desperate noises from his brother's throat.<\/p><p>&ldquo;You like that?&rdquo; His lips smiled against Sam&rsquo;s sensitive skin. &ldquo;Or do you want more?&rdquo;<\/p><p>Some of the saliva dripped down and Dean ran his fingers through it, ghosting past Sam&rsquo;s balls to where his cock hung hard, swaying as Sam&rsquo;s body kept rocking in pleasure. Dean wrapped his wet fingers around it and began to strip his brother&rsquo;s cock. It wasn't long before Sam stopped squirming and began to tremble, his words becoming incoherent as he spilled over the bedsheets below.<\/p><p>&ldquo;So beautiful for me, Sammy.&rdquo;<\/p><p>Dean straightened up, setting the heavy weight of his cock between Sam's cheeks. Saliva slicked his way, and Dean held the round flesh tightly together, watching his cock head slide in and out from between Sam&rsquo;s flesh.<\/p><p>When one of Dean's thrusts caught his rim, Sam moaned and pushed himself up on his elbows, turning his head to search for Dean like a flower following the sun.<\/p><p>&ldquo;Kiss me. Now.&rdquo; Sam's face was flushed pink, whether from orgasm or sickness Dean didn't know, but it was one of the most gorgeous things he had ever seen.<\/p><p>The feeling of his cock against Sam, wet and sloppy and warm, felt good. He squeezed the skin tighter, and pumped himself a few more times before coming all over Sam's back.<\/p><p>Sam collapsed on the mattress. Dean reached down and grabbed his t-shirt off the floor to clean his brother off carefully. He rolled Sam on his side and snuggled up like a big spoon.<\/p><p>&ldquo;How&rsquo;s your headache?&rdquo; Dean asked, placing a kiss on the back of his neck.<\/p><p>Sam let out a tired snort. &ldquo;What headache?&rdquo; He pulled Dean's arm around him and settled quickly into sleep.<\/p><p>Dean pulled him in even closer and took comfort in the quiet.<\/p><a name='cutid1-end'><\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:wetsammy:8319","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/8319.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=8319"}}],"title":"Quick The Summer Night","published":"2017-06-24T14:45:13Z","updated":"2017-06-24T14:45:13Z","category":{"@attributes":{"term":"hurt!sam"}},"content":"<p style=\"box-sizing: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 10px; padding-top: 0px; color: rgb(190, 187, 187); font-family: Lato, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; text-align: justify; background-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);\"><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\"><br \/><\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">Written for&nbsp;<\/span><a href=\"http:\/\/wincestwritingchallenge.tumblr.com\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\"><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">Wincest Writing Challenge<\/span><\/a><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">&nbsp;prompt: fireflies<br \/>Link to&nbsp;<\/span><a href=\"http:\/\/t.umblr.com\/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F11289066&amp;t=OTEwOTJiY2Q5NjRlNjc2Nzg4ZGFmMWJjN2U5NzIwMmU0OTE1Y2M3ZSxYczIzeEFmUQ%3D%3D&amp;b=t%3AqwDit6SY66g5TYVE2d_Fig&amp;p=http%3A%2F%2Fwetsammywinchester.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F162198621598%2Fquick-the-summer-night&amp;m=1\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\"><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">AO3<\/span><\/a><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">&nbsp;| Rating: PG | Wordcount: 1,200 | Warnings: none&nbsp;<br \/>Tags: hurt!sam, protective!dean, limited POV<br \/>A\/N: Thanks to&nbsp;<\/span><a href=\"https:\/\/tmblr.co\/mQOmNJMkknKNy6lKAQh41aA\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\"><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">@anotherwinchesterfangirl<\/span><\/a><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">&nbsp;for the beta and being an amazing friend. This is really more of a gen piece than specific Wincest.<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\"><i>Summary: Nothing could be better than lying in the tall grass on a summer night. Unless you&rsquo;re Sam Winchester. Then it becomes a matter of life and death.&nbsp;<\/i><\/span><\/p><p>&nbsp;<\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">At first, he wonders if they&rsquo;re real.<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">Flashes of gold keep drifting in and out of the edge of his vision, sparks that weave through the crown of tall grass surrounding him.<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">Could be the effects of a concussion. Or maybe the start of a migraine. More likely, it's the fairies coming back to finish him off. The wind blows and the grass shivers, but yet no threat emerges, and the simple answer dawns on him - fireflies.<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">When Sam was a kid, they spent a summer at a Tennessee cabin. It was a rundown place with field mice in the cabinets and raccoons under the front porch, and it belonged to a friend of a friend of their dad&rsquo;s.<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">Sam loved it. Probably because Dean loved it.<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">There was a stream out back of the property, with a little wooden bridge to cross, and every day Dean would try to fish off that bridge with a rod and reel older than he was, and every night the two of them would walk the rocky creek bed to catch fireflies. Sam would chase them with a net while Dean would flicker the flashlight up into the sky, drawing them near.<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">Dean cleaned out old peanut butter jars and poked holes in the top with his Swiss Army knife. &ldquo;Gotta remember the holes, Sammy,&rdquo; he said, showing Sam the lids. &ldquo;Otherwise they can't breathe.&rdquo;<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">This spot in the Appalachian Mountains on the Virginia border reminds him of that time. It didn't take much to convince Dean to take this case of disappearing hikers and get out of the Bunker for a while, even if he grumbled the entire three-mile hike from the trailhead. The trip was worth it when they emerged from the pines and saw the sun setting pink and orange over the still waters of the lake.<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">From where he lies in the grass now, Sam can still smell the tang of the nearby pines in the air and hear the water lapping at the lakeshore with the occasional fish breaking the surface. As the sky darkens from indigo to black, an army of frogs take up their chorus nearby.<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">But Sam doesn&rsquo;t hear the one sound he&rsquo;s been waiting for since he opened his eyes&mdash;the sound of Dean.<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">Hours pass and the temperature by the lake drops. Early summer is warm and humid in Virginia, but in the mountains, the nights can get cool. They packed sleeping bags and a small pop-up tent, but dropped the equipment at their campsite, which does him no good now. As long as the temperature doesn't fall any lower tonight, he should be okay, he thinks and wonders idly if Dean is wearing flannel.<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">The fireflies float back into his line of vision and Sam watches them as they bob about on the breeze above his head. Their movements seem less random now and studying them for a possible pattern gives his mind a curiosity to consider rather than his current reality. His dad said once that fireflies light up when looking for a mate, but Sam wonders if it's something more. Maybe it's just a signal to the others -&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: oblique;\">I'm here and I'm okay<\/span>.<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">He should be more concerned with his situation - he knows that. His legs and arms are unresponsive and lay sprawled at odd angles from when he was thrown to the ground. His thoughts are slow and a bit jumbled, but he is calm and there is no headache. His only concern is how he&rsquo;ll get water if he's unable to move or if Dean doesn't find him in the coming hours or days.<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">The long grass off to his right side rustles loudly, and the noise gives him a first true moment of panic since waking up. If it's a black bear or a red wolf, there is nothing he can do to protect himself.<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">&ldquo;Sam!&rdquo;<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">Dean's rusty voice calls out and Sam struggles against his paralysis to sit up, but his arms and legs refuse to cooperate. He tries to answer, but his voice is locked up tight as well. All he can do is to move his eyes to track the area around him.<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">The top of Dean's head appears in the moonlight, over the top of the grass, and Sam watches as his brother cups his hands and shouts Sam's name again. Sam realizes that Dean can't see his body where it lays like a broken doll by the tree line. His previously calm thoughts begin to break up into a warm stream of panic as he watches his brother walk in the other direction. They are surrounded by miles of wilderness and it will be hours before sunrise. Sam centers himself away from the panic, looking at the stars above.<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">He can hear Dean criss-cross the field, thrashing the grass and bushes, shouting his name out over and over, the sound bouncing off the dark sky to fall on Sam like rain. His eyes begin to leak tears and he focuses on his breathing and notices that the fireflies&rsquo; flashing lights are more agitated than before, as if they are in sync with the beat of Sam's heart.<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">Dean's voice comes back around, moving closer, and suddenly, he is on his knees beside Sam. Dean's eyes take in the lax arms and legs before his hands hold the sides of Sam's face. They make eye contact as Dean's thumbs briefly rub along Sam&rsquo;s cheekbones, offering small comfort before he begins to triage other injuries, finding the pulse in Sam's neck and feeling down his torso for breaks or wounds.<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">When satisfied his brother isn&rsquo;t bleeding out on the grass, Dean pulls him up onto his lap, cradling Sam&rsquo;s head with a warm palm splayed across his chest.<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">&ldquo;Can you move at all?&rdquo; Dean asks and Sam blinks once, and Dean growls up at the surrounding trees. &ldquo;Goddamn water spirits! I'll kill every last one of &lsquo;em!&rdquo;<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">Sam would laugh if he could. Witches and fairies everywhere seem to have it out for his brother.<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">Dean is scanning the field and wood, and Sam knows that he is calculating the ways to get them out of there. Sam can do nothing more than look up at his brother&rsquo;s face, beautiful and fierce in the moonlight, and he thinks,&nbsp;<span style=\"font-style: oblique;\">well, it could be worse<\/span>.<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">The fireflies are back now and seem to be circling Dean's head. He thinks there is a pattern to their movements, but can't quite it figure out. As he watches, a tingle begins in his right arm. At first he thinks it&rsquo;s Dean&rsquo;s tight grip on him, but soon it spreads to his other arm and down his spine to both legs. He wiggles the fingers on his left hand and taps Dean on the arm.<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">His brother looks down in surprise at where Sam's hand rests on his sleeve, and then squeezes his brother's body tight against his chest until Sam makes noises for air.<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">&ldquo;Shit, Sammy, thought I was gonna have to haul your dead weight back to the car.&rdquo;<\/span><\/p><p><span style=\"font-size: x-small;\">Sam laughs and burrows his head back into the warmth of Dean's chest. &ldquo;Not getting rid of me that easy.&rdquo;<\/span><\/p><a name='cutid1-end'><\/a>"},{"id":"urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:wetsammy:7770","link":[{"@attributes":{"rel":"alternate","type":"text\/html","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/7770.html"}},{"@attributes":{"rel":"self","type":"text\/xml","href":"https:\/\/wetsammy.livejournal.com\/data\/atom\/?itemid=7770"}}],"title":"See the Red","published":"2017-06-12T17:42:12Z","updated":"2017-06-12T17:42:12Z","category":[{"@attributes":{"term":"deanxcain"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"caning"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"dom\/sub"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"dom!cain"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"wincest"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"sub!dean"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"restraints"}},{"@attributes":{"term":"kink bingo"}}],"content":"Written\/created for <a href=\"http:\/\/spnkinkbingo.tumblr.com\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\">spnkinkbingo<br \/><\/a><br \/>Square filled: caning <br \/>Pairing: deanxcain (background wincest)<br \/>Rating: NC-17<br \/>Word count: 2,179<br \/>Beta by the beautiful silver9mm<br \/><br \/>Tags: MoC!dean, sub!dean, dom!cain, caning, restraints, s9 canon divergent, angst with a side of porn <br \/><br \/>Summary: Putting himself at the mercy of a Knight of Hell was probably not the best idea Dean ever had, but it was better than the alternative. <br \/><br \/><a href=\"http:\/\/archiveofourown.org\/works\/11175657\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\">Link to AO3<\/a>"}]}