Part III

Dean slowly takes the knife away from Meg’s throat and half turns to meet his brother’s eyes.

“Forgot to fill me in on some details, huh?” Dean’s voice is balanced and calm.

Sometimes Dean is like the unseen weather that gets eerily quiet right before the storm, gathering his strength before attacking.

Now, Sam looks through his brother’s carefully constructed walls and finds anger and fear, a hint of betrayal that lays hidden from everyone but Sam to see.

And Sam has to make sure that Dean is not a vessel to contain these feelings. Sam blinks and comes closer to Dean, not tearing his eyes away from him. Sam puts his palm flat against Dean’s tattoo, feeling the heat of Dean’s skin through the layers, the loud pounding of his heart combined with the racing beat of the tattoo.

For a moment, Sam thinks he can feel the blood pumping through Dean’s veins, red and thick.

Dean slowly, ever so slowly, exhales, and his breath hitches. He looks at Sam and closes his eyes, and Sam follows him into the dark, closing his eyes as well.

It’s a comforting darkness with the sensation of Dean surrounding him. Even through the layers, Dean’s skin under Sam’s palm feels smooth, familiar and so Dean.

Sam presses his palm harder, trying to smooth the waves of anger and discontent that comes from Dean. He shuts his eyes tighter, trying to concentrate on Dean’s feelings, to let him know, make him understand what Sam feels.

Sam’s negotiating skills and his ability to convince people to listen to him was always his strong suit. It has helped him to get through his school years while bouncing from one place to another, through Stanford. Unfortunately, it has never worked on Dean. Words are never enough for Dean.

Ironically, now Dean is the only reason for Sam to use his skills.

Sam focuses on calming his own breathing, coaxing Dean to follow his lead. Then, Sam takes notice of every move of Dean’s skin against his palm, anticipating any change.

After a few moments, Dean’s heartbeat is getting quieter, and Sam can’t wait any longer. He opens his eyes, anxious to see the proof of the changes with his own eyes. Dean opens his eyes at the same time, and Sam watches as the anger in his eyes fades away, replaced by warmth and love, so much love that, all of the sudden, Sam wants to close his eyes again, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions.

The fear passes within a second, and Sam looks back, letting Dean see and take everything Sam has to offer.

Dean studies him, eyes bright, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and it feels right. That is the only way Dean should look. Happy and stupidly in love, and so beautiful that Sam can lose himself in his brother.

The thought is burning fiercely in the back of Sam’s mind, smugly reminding him that he can give Dean everything, much more than just the world on a platter. In answer, Sam notices, absentmindedly, that it’s not what his Dean needs.

Unexpectedly, Sam hears a gasp coming from his right side, and he turns in confusion to find Meg. The recognition in her eyes mixes with understanding, and Sam watches her, unkindly, his eyes turning into the slits.

He takes a step toward her, his movements smooth and fast. What she saw, it was only for the two of them to have, and he’s not willing to share them with anyone else.

Sam tries to stand one step closer to her than Dean, but not in front of his brother. He knows better than to act like he’s shielding Dean; truth to be told, he is, but Dean won’t be happy accepting the fact.

Sam feels Dean’s tension without looking back. At the moment, his hunter’s habits must be screaming to kill a demon without asking any questions, and there’s only one obstacle between Dean and Meg. It’s Sam, and Dean won’t make a move until Sam is out of harm’s way.

Sam keeps looking at Meg. The tension doesn’t do anything but help to deepen his scowl, and he just wants her gone.

Meg tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and glares at Sam. “A deal is a deal. You will help me to bring my brother back”. As she states her demand, Sam looks at her. A frown crosses his forehead as he catches a glimpse of despair and something else that he can’t identify in her eyes, and it’s pretty damn unnerving until he gets why.

She reminds him of someone. His mind recalls the flashing images with the same look in the eyes, the ones he saw each time he took a look in the mirror: Sam-four months earlier, Sam-two months earlier, Sam-yesterday, the same dead to the world Sam – Sam-without-Dean.

He takes a long, hard look at her, watching as the understanding sinks in, the despair in her eyes changes to hope with a side of suspiciousness.

She knows he’ll help. At the moment, it’s good enough for her.

Meg leaves without looking back.

Dean doesn’t look at Sam. He hasn’t said a word since Meg left, and Sam accepts it, knowing he deserves it.

Unfortunately, the part of him that beats loudly in his chest doesn’t get it; his silly, uncomprehending heart is torn up, feeling unsure and rejected.

Sam sits on the edge of the bed, intently watching as Dean flips through the channels on the opposite bed. The heavy silence is starting to get to Sam, but he waits for Dean to make a first move.

Abruptly, Dean turns the TV off, stands up to put his leather jacket on, and turns to face Sam.

Sam’s stomach drops, and he fails at keeping the panic out of his voice. “You’re going somewhere?” It’s stupid. Of course he is. But this can’t be happening. Sam’s heart can’t quiet down.

“I need to take a walk,” Dean shoves his hands deep in his jacket pockets and looks away.

Sam’s heart falters. No, you don’t, NO.

He tries to catch Dean’s eyes. Gotta know what’s on his mind. But Dean is studiously avoiding his stare.

“Where?” Sam asks hollowly, feeling miserable and stupid. He tries to get his heartbeat under control and to balance his fears and trust in Dean like a house of cards, but he’s afraid it will come tumbling down the moment Dean steps out the door. It’s too soon.

Sam’s eyes cast down, folding his hands in his lap. He doesn’t want to hear a needless answer; he wants Dean to be here, to stop leaving him.

“Sam,” Dean offers gently taking a step closer to his brother. Sam glances up to meet Dean’s confident and firm look. Sam would believe it if not for Dean’s hand jingling the keys in his pocket.

“I was going for more booze and a local newspaper. Have to catch up with the news, Sammy.” Dean says half smiling, eyes serious.

The words fail to keep some resemblance of truth. They fall between them, odd and out of place, and they both notice it, eyes locking.

But it’s just Dean shielding himself, not lying to his brother, and Sam is not gonna call him on it.

Sam sighs, carrying the need to set words free as the burning inside becomes almost unbearable, “Stay - just stay.”

He manages to not choke on the words and to restrain himself from clutching at Dean and not letting go. 

Not taking his eyes away from Sam, Dean comes even closer, nudges Sam’s knees with his own until Sam spreads his legs allowing Dean to stand between them.

Sam has to tilt his head back to look at his brother. Dean’s hazel eyes are so close, inspecting him, searching for some answer.

Dean seems satisfied with what he finds as he reaches out to squeeze Sam’s shoulder reassuringly.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You almost did.” Sam’s answer is covered up by a small sigh he breathes out.

“Hey, you have to let me go sometimes, y’know, like to get drunk or to take a piss after.”  Dean hides behind the cocky smile. I can take care of myself hangs heavy in the air between them, and Sam can’t hold the pressure anymore. He looks down, eyes closed, trying to get a grip of himself.

He clenches his teeth in attempt to prevent himself from spilling his heart out loud, they sent you to hell, Dean, and I had to live without you, and I can’t bare it anymore.

Instead, he settles with a simple “Not without me,” and he hopes that Dean will take the suffocating words out of his throat and hear him.

Dean is silent, moving to cradle Sam’s face with his hands, forcing Sam to tilt his head and look into Dean’s eyes.

“Yeah, ‘kay. Got it, Sammy.” Dean says in hoarse voice, without any hint of smile, and bends down to kiss Sam.

The hours are passing by as they both lay in bed in complete silence with Sam’s back to Dean’s front, Dean’s hand possessively tight on Sam’s stomach, Dean’s soft breathing against Sam’s neck.

The blanket fails to cover them completely, but the heat of their bodies is enough to make their temples glisten with beads of sweat.

Sam lays with eyes open, arm covering Dean’s hand on his stomach, intently listening to Dean’s heartbeat after losing count somewhere around two thousand and four thumps. 

Dean is asleep, his quiet breathing a safe leader for Sam’s breath to follow. 

Dean’s heartbeat starts lulling Sam back to sleep when the familiar voice speaks to him. “Time to fulfill your promise, Sam.”

Sam shuts his eyes tight, trying to shield himself from the intruding voice by mentally voicing his displeasure towards the source of the voice.

“I find your behavior unacceptable. We expect you to follow through with our arrangement.” Castiel’s voice is flat, but Sam is not deluded by the tone of it. When it comes to angels, the words are what he needs to concentrate on, not the emotions. He would give it more thought if his mind wasn’t fixed only on one creature of a God.

Sam answers without opening his mouth, careful not to disturb Dean, “I’ll give you what you want, no need to force me into it-” He pauses for a second and continued dryly, “considering how unsuccessful the try would be.”

Castiel’s voice is stronger, “You are forgetting one thing, Sam. I was the one who dragged your brother out of hell, and I can easily-”

Sam doesn’t let him finish, the instantaneous fury inside him lets out a loud scream towards the voice, towards the darkness the voice came from, and his body begins to shake lightly under the pressure of the violent force he passes through himself.

The blow he receives in answer is powerful and unexpected. The pain shoots through him, and Sam curls in on himself for a moment, gasping. The dark oblivion threatens to swallow him, and Sam fights back against his own body, his shell, for not blacking out while meeting another attack from Castiel.

“Sammy, what is it? Sammy!” Dean comes into his view, and Sam is immediately grasping Dean’s shoulder for support.

“We just need you to be reasonable, Sam.” Inside his head Castiel states as if he’s not trying to slaughter Sam like a wild animal.

Sam concentrates on fighting back, collecting his strength, but, startlingly, Dean is the one to answer, “Leave him the fuck alone”. Dean screams into emptiness of the room, watching Sam, eyes wide in panic.

Sam’s senses sharpen, and suddenly, there’s need and desire for Dean coming from every cell of his blood. He looks at Dean and finds the same wild urge in his eyes.

Dean covers Sam’s body with his own, leaving no inch between. For a moment, there’s only the sensation of blood pumping and tattoos beating out the same rhythm. And then, they share the same breath, mouths finding each other. 

And it happens. The unnatural, primal strength from the depth of their bodies comes to the surface, hanging in the air above them, then flashing for seconds, lighting up the room, and disappearing into the air, destroying all the sounds around them.

They break the kiss to look at each other, eyes wide open; their hard breathing is the only companion of the silence.

TBC