To The Waters And The Wild 23
6/5/09 04:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle:To The Waters And The Wild
Fandom:SpN
Author:roxy
PairingsDean/Sam
Rating: R
Word Count: 2628
A/N: okay, sweartagod, it's just this part and one more and then, we roll our tents up and put out the campfire. Are we having fun yet?
Another town, another road, another motel…Sam rocked back and forth, trying to keep warm in the raw wind whipping around the court of their latest motel. He checked his voicemail, pretty much like he'd check under a rock, waiting for something creepy to leap out.
He sighed, gnawed at his lip. So many messages, all of them along the same line: I'm coming for you.. It was just like his brother, really—hard to tell if his message was a threat or a promise. He thought about dumping them all—but losing Dean's voice felt—wrong.
Sam dropped the phone back in his pocket and kicked back and forth through drifts of leaves tumbling across the courtyard, watched them swirl up and dump into the cracked empty pool. He needed this quiet outside to do some thinking. He'd had a couple of moments where he'd almost called Raph, desperate to talk to someone who wasn't pushed against the wall by nightmares--wanting to ask his advice, but—how was he supposed to ask when he didn't know what the fuck to say? He stopped in front of the window of their room. The drapes were drawn, but he figured his Dean was asleep in there…fucking weird. He shoved his hand in his pocket and fingered the phone. Chuckled bitterly. He felt like he was contemplating being unfaithful….
When he couldn't put it off any longer, he gave in and called his brother.
The answer was immediate, and completely Dean--no fucking around with small talk.
"Sam? Tell me where you are—I'll come get you."
Oh god no—"No. No, I'm just calling to let you know we're okay. Don’t come after me, I'm serious. Leave us alone."
"Us! What the fuck is that—us? Are you *nuts*? Stupid question—*'course* you are! Listen, you tell me right now where you--"
Sam switched his phone off. Dean was definitely going to track him down—his brother was fucking good at what he did. Shit. Dean on a mission was a dangerous animal—he wouldn't give up until he found them. And unless Sam could come up with a way to cloud their trail, it wouldn't take his brother long....
Sam hefted his phone, thinking hard about throwing it into the black hole of the pool……instead he shoved it back in his pocket with a weary sigh. He opened the door to the room—it was dark inside and all he heard was Dean breathing, sleeping hard, muttering in his sleep.
Sam thought it should make him feel bad, but it didn't.
~~~~~o0o~~~~~
The crack between the drawn drapes let in the light of the dawning sun, shed a slim bar of light that edged its way across the blanket that covered them. Sam took a deep breath, tightened his fist in the worn material and began, "I'm…I'm thinking of getting in touch with Ruby--" Sam rolled his eyes when Dean growled, he expected as much. "--and before you go getting all irritable, I know what I'm doing." With any luck, he'd just go along and not argue and—one look at Dean's face let him know that wasn't going to happen. He winced when Dean started shouting--
"It's a demon. You can't *deal* with demons! Damn it, Sam, you of all people should know you can't *do* that! Look at me—look what they tried to do to you—"
"Shut up." Sam jerked his eyes away. He hated when Dean did that. Tried to remind Sam that he was…wasn't the original model. "Look—we need to be able to protect ourselves. I don't just mean from…hunters. I mean from every freakin' thing that thinks I'm their—their—messiah or something. I need to be able to control—and defeat--anything that comes our way."
"You're talking about messing with your powers! No! Nothing good's gonna come of that. I *know* it."
Dean glared at Sam across the width of the bed--yanked himself away when Sam tried to touch him, almost upsetting the lamp on the nightstand—
"Dude, hey!" Sam sat up, letting the blanket slither to the floor. He'd wakened Dean when he climbed into bed next to him, and with an incredible lack of foresight, decided since he was awake, why then, they should talk about the situation they were stuck in.
Maybe his brother was right, maybe he was kind of nuts.
Dean sat up too. He grabbed his pillow and punched it, hard enough to release clouds of ancient dust. "Look—okay--you don’t want to hear this and I don't fucking want to remind you but…I can *feel* what a bad thing that would be and that's fact and you know why. You *know* why."
"Dude--right now, I'm running around just waiting to fall into the grip of whatever thing that's gonna snatch me up and force me into doing—being—something horrible. What I want is the power to shut 'em down and keep 'em shut out—until I have that, I'm like an unexploded bomb! It's the only way to get out of this. And you know *that*!"
Dean leaped off the bed, and stalked around the room, there was a look in his eyes like he desperately wanted to rip something to shreds. "All right, I get that—but that demon's not the one to turn to. You gotta go to Bobby—" He stopped moving, laced his hands together and rubbed his face, cursed quietly. Sam could see how much this was taking out of Dean—yeah, well; it was kicking his ass, too. He got out of bed and followed Dean around the room, trying to make him stop—to look at him.
"Sam, your friend Bobby can help you with this. He knows things, knows people…that demon bitch isn’t the only one who's powerful enough to help you."
the fuck--Sam stared open-mouthed in disbelief. "Damn it—you *know* we can't go to Bobby. You know what will happen, what he'll do. Shit, my…brother's after us and…we can't okay? Promise me you understand that." He dropped back down onto the musty bed, the scratchy blanket prickling under his palms. "Fuck. Tell me you get it."
"Sam…" He slid onto the bed too, straddled Sam's legs, cupped his face. "Okay. Yes. But don't—don't call it--please. Not yet."
He could see the fear, the pain, in Dean's eyes—it hurt. Sam shook his head. "I can't lose you, okay? I just…can't lose you. You're all I have." Dean dropped his eyes and shook his head, mouth a thin tight line, and Sam felt a stab of fear. "Hey. Hey, you…you feel it too, right? You love me?"
Dean laughed—such an ugly sound. "Don’t be an idiot. It's not like I couldn't. It's scribbled over every cell, carved on my bones and across my heart and every breath I take is full of how much I love you. I'd choke to death on it if you left me, Sam, I'd die. But I'd want it, if it meant saving you."
Sam swallowed. What could he say to that? A part of him knew that it was possible that this Dean really couldn't feel any other way…but it still made him feel safe, and he still felt loved. He refused to think anything else drove...either of them.
~~~~~o0o~~~~~
They were stopped in a half-dead town, somewhere hours out from where they'd been. Sam had just gotten them into the car and taken off, no particular direction…he was pretty sure Dean was going off what he knew about Sam and not using any supernatural means of tracking him…at least he hoped he wasn't.
The Impala was parked in the cold shade of a couple of struggling trees, behind an abandoned factory. Dean was resting between Sam's legs; Sam was sitting on the hood. Dean was licking slowly at Sam's throat, long hot strokes that weren't exactly a prelude to anything, just…Dean soothing him. He ran his hands over the back of Dean's head, stroking, pushing his fingers through Dean's hair to scrape at his scalp. He liked the helpless little sounds of pleasure Dean made when he did that. He twisted his hand into the hair, long enough now for him to pull. Dean hummed and licked around his ear, biting at his earlobe, less soothing now, with more intent. Sam sighed…."I wanted to tell you, last night--I called him. He's going to keep after us, not gonna stop."
"Sam…" Dean stepped back, his eyes black, dim. "Already told you what I thought. You should go back. Safest way, man. They'll know what to do—"
"You know what? I almost—almost—miss those days when you didn't use to argue with me over every fucking thing..." Sam's grip tightened on the back of Dean's neck, pulled him back. Dean closed his eyes and Sam pressed his lips to his cheek. "No more talking like that. I'll fix it. This time, I know I will."
"I know you will, Sam," Dean murmured, and sank to his knees. He stroked Sam's thighs, asked for permission with his jade green gaze. Sam shivered, tilted his head back, closed his eyes. He ran hands down his stomach, unzipped his jeans, lifted his hips enough to push the jeans down and free his dick. Dean growled, wiped it over his mouth and cheeks, dragging gleaming trails of precome over his skin--mouthed the tip as Sam jerked and moaned and tried not to slide right off the hood.
Dean pulled Sam's knees as far apart as he could and pressed his face into his crotch, huffed…"Love the way you smell, Sam…love it…." He licked and bit at him, pushed him back until his hips were tilted up and exposing his hole and Dean was snuffling there, licking wet and messy around it, sucking at the tight whorl of muscle, loosening it, until he could stab his tongue inside, suck until Sam was almost crying, it felt so fucking good. He braced his heels against the bumper and begged, "Dean, fuck me, please—"
Dean shook his head no, opened his mouth and swallowed Sam, urged him to fuck his throat, hard, fast, and when Sam came he could feel Dean swallowing around him. Dean licked him clean, and kept on teasing him, until Sam groaned and shoved him away.
"'nuff—stop, I'm gonna fall—"
Dean rested his hands on Sam's quivering thighs, licking raw, swollen lips, smiling—radiating satisfaction. His eyes were thin jade slits. When he spoke, his voice was wrecked, raw. "Love the way you taste, Sam."
Sam slid off the hood and yanked his pants up with one hand and grabbed Dean by the collar with the other, shoved him into the back seat. Dean stared up at him, one corner of his mouth lifted, heat flaring in his eyes. "Umm, I like it when you get like this."
"Yeah?" Sam yanked Dean's boots off, ripped down his jeans, and grinned down at him. Dean was naked from the waist down. "This is a good look on you." Sam bent over him with a wicked smile and mouthed his dick, teasing, waiting for Dean to beg him. "You like this, hunh?"
"Yeah, please, I like it a lot. Please!" He groaned when Sam licked him into his mouth. "Oh, fuck yeah, I like it."
"Too bad—I've got other plans," Sam smirked, reached into Dean's jacket. From the inside pocket, he fished out a condom and a squeeze packet of lube—after first grabbing and tossing away a squeeze packet of ketchup…"Dude."
"What? They never give you enough ketchup."
Sam rolled his eyes, bit the lube open and squeezed its contents on his fingers, and pushed it inside Dean, moving his fingers inside him enough to soften the tight ring, until Dean was pushing back and cursing, "Come on, come on, don't need that—"
"Well, I do--shh—" Sam pushed inside, and Dean took over—hooked Sam with his legs and pulled him in, set up a fast hard pace. His shoulders squeaked across the vinyl, his legs tight around Sam's waist. The position was awkward, Sam had one leg on the seat and one on the floor, but it gave him the leverage he needed—besides, he thought, it wouldn't last long. Already, Sam could feel orgasm building like a wave. It was being inside of Dean, it drove him crazy—Sam loved fucking him, almost as much as getting fucked himself. He loved it when Dean fell apart, he loved feeling Dean's dick flex, throb in his hand, the way his ass tightened on him, the way he threw his head back and howled when he came….
They sat together in the back seat, an old blanket thrown over them, Dean between Sam's legs and wrapped up in his arms. "Don't worry," Sam said, "I'm going to fix this. All I want is for you to believe me, okay?"
Dean smiled and kissed Sam's jaw. "Of course I believe in you—you're my brother."
~~~o0o~~~
"Sam! Sam, damn it—stop running from me! Sam, talk to me, come on kid, just—answer me. I'm not gonna stop calling, you hear me?"
Sam closed his eyes and pressed the phone against his forehead. What the fuck was wrong with him? He spent the days riding to nowhere with his Dean, just driving and driving and then spending every moment they weren't driving wrapped around each other like pretzels… nights, he listened to his brother shout at him and curse at him and beg him to come back.
"Shit!" Sam bellowed, kicked rocks in a spray across the graveled driveway of the latest dump they'd pulled into. It sat half in the woods—an old motel court made up of creepy faux English cottages glued together and arranged in a horseshoe around a pool, or what had once been a pool. It was architectural vomit. They were staying in the farthest set of newer cottages, newer being relative. At least the thick woods behind them masked the sound of the highway behind them.
Sam tired of trying to kick the driveway to death, and flung himself onto the Impala's trunk. He rubbed the phone against his jaw, and took in a breath that was more of a sob. It wasn't fair that Dean wouldn't let him fix this, wouldn't let him call Ruby. It was the best answer. Fuck, he deserved an answer that would let him keep both of them. Why not? He was *owed* it. Everything else was taken from him.
His throat closed, and his chest ached so badly he couldn't breathe—he was having a heart attack. Cold sweat broke out over his skin as Sam slid to the ground, dropped his head between his knees and struggled for breath. His heart raced, and the pain raced down his arms and into his jaw and his vision blurred, he couldn't *breathe* …"oh god, oh god," he croaked, knowing he wasn't dying but not completely sure. His rational mind explained the mechanics of a panic attack to himself, but the reptile brain refused to cooperate and kept screaming he was dying, and he was terrified of Dean finding his body….
"Okay, okay, stop; stop now, because if Dean sees, he'll blame himself…" Sam pressed his hands over his face, managed to convince himself that he actually was breathing, and that his heart was still beating and that…he needed to pull himself together for Dean, and for his brother, too.
The problem was he couldn't help but love them both, and neither one of them was guaranteed not to kill him….
Part 24
TBC
Fandom:SpN
Author:roxy
PairingsDean/Sam
Rating: R
Word Count: 2628
A/N: okay, sweartagod, it's just this part and one more and then, we roll our tents up and put out the campfire. Are we having fun yet?
Another town, another road, another motel…Sam rocked back and forth, trying to keep warm in the raw wind whipping around the court of their latest motel. He checked his voicemail, pretty much like he'd check under a rock, waiting for something creepy to leap out.
He sighed, gnawed at his lip. So many messages, all of them along the same line: I'm coming for you.. It was just like his brother, really—hard to tell if his message was a threat or a promise. He thought about dumping them all—but losing Dean's voice felt—wrong.
Sam dropped the phone back in his pocket and kicked back and forth through drifts of leaves tumbling across the courtyard, watched them swirl up and dump into the cracked empty pool. He needed this quiet outside to do some thinking. He'd had a couple of moments where he'd almost called Raph, desperate to talk to someone who wasn't pushed against the wall by nightmares--wanting to ask his advice, but—how was he supposed to ask when he didn't know what the fuck to say? He stopped in front of the window of their room. The drapes were drawn, but he figured his Dean was asleep in there…fucking weird. He shoved his hand in his pocket and fingered the phone. Chuckled bitterly. He felt like he was contemplating being unfaithful….
When he couldn't put it off any longer, he gave in and called his brother.
The answer was immediate, and completely Dean--no fucking around with small talk.
"Sam? Tell me where you are—I'll come get you."
Oh god no—"No. No, I'm just calling to let you know we're okay. Don’t come after me, I'm serious. Leave us alone."
"Us! What the fuck is that—us? Are you *nuts*? Stupid question—*'course* you are! Listen, you tell me right now where you--"
Sam switched his phone off. Dean was definitely going to track him down—his brother was fucking good at what he did. Shit. Dean on a mission was a dangerous animal—he wouldn't give up until he found them. And unless Sam could come up with a way to cloud their trail, it wouldn't take his brother long....
Sam hefted his phone, thinking hard about throwing it into the black hole of the pool……instead he shoved it back in his pocket with a weary sigh. He opened the door to the room—it was dark inside and all he heard was Dean breathing, sleeping hard, muttering in his sleep.
Sam thought it should make him feel bad, but it didn't.
The crack between the drawn drapes let in the light of the dawning sun, shed a slim bar of light that edged its way across the blanket that covered them. Sam took a deep breath, tightened his fist in the worn material and began, "I'm…I'm thinking of getting in touch with Ruby--" Sam rolled his eyes when Dean growled, he expected as much. "--and before you go getting all irritable, I know what I'm doing." With any luck, he'd just go along and not argue and—one look at Dean's face let him know that wasn't going to happen. He winced when Dean started shouting--
"It's a demon. You can't *deal* with demons! Damn it, Sam, you of all people should know you can't *do* that! Look at me—look what they tried to do to you—"
"Shut up." Sam jerked his eyes away. He hated when Dean did that. Tried to remind Sam that he was…wasn't the original model. "Look—we need to be able to protect ourselves. I don't just mean from…hunters. I mean from every freakin' thing that thinks I'm their—their—messiah or something. I need to be able to control—and defeat--anything that comes our way."
"You're talking about messing with your powers! No! Nothing good's gonna come of that. I *know* it."
Dean glared at Sam across the width of the bed--yanked himself away when Sam tried to touch him, almost upsetting the lamp on the nightstand—
"Dude, hey!" Sam sat up, letting the blanket slither to the floor. He'd wakened Dean when he climbed into bed next to him, and with an incredible lack of foresight, decided since he was awake, why then, they should talk about the situation they were stuck in.
Maybe his brother was right, maybe he was kind of nuts.
Dean sat up too. He grabbed his pillow and punched it, hard enough to release clouds of ancient dust. "Look—okay--you don’t want to hear this and I don't fucking want to remind you but…I can *feel* what a bad thing that would be and that's fact and you know why. You *know* why."
"Dude--right now, I'm running around just waiting to fall into the grip of whatever thing that's gonna snatch me up and force me into doing—being—something horrible. What I want is the power to shut 'em down and keep 'em shut out—until I have that, I'm like an unexploded bomb! It's the only way to get out of this. And you know *that*!"
Dean leaped off the bed, and stalked around the room, there was a look in his eyes like he desperately wanted to rip something to shreds. "All right, I get that—but that demon's not the one to turn to. You gotta go to Bobby—" He stopped moving, laced his hands together and rubbed his face, cursed quietly. Sam could see how much this was taking out of Dean—yeah, well; it was kicking his ass, too. He got out of bed and followed Dean around the room, trying to make him stop—to look at him.
"Sam, your friend Bobby can help you with this. He knows things, knows people…that demon bitch isn’t the only one who's powerful enough to help you."
the fuck--Sam stared open-mouthed in disbelief. "Damn it—you *know* we can't go to Bobby. You know what will happen, what he'll do. Shit, my…brother's after us and…we can't okay? Promise me you understand that." He dropped back down onto the musty bed, the scratchy blanket prickling under his palms. "Fuck. Tell me you get it."
"Sam…" He slid onto the bed too, straddled Sam's legs, cupped his face. "Okay. Yes. But don't—don't call it--please. Not yet."
He could see the fear, the pain, in Dean's eyes—it hurt. Sam shook his head. "I can't lose you, okay? I just…can't lose you. You're all I have." Dean dropped his eyes and shook his head, mouth a thin tight line, and Sam felt a stab of fear. "Hey. Hey, you…you feel it too, right? You love me?"
Dean laughed—such an ugly sound. "Don’t be an idiot. It's not like I couldn't. It's scribbled over every cell, carved on my bones and across my heart and every breath I take is full of how much I love you. I'd choke to death on it if you left me, Sam, I'd die. But I'd want it, if it meant saving you."
Sam swallowed. What could he say to that? A part of him knew that it was possible that this Dean really couldn't feel any other way…but it still made him feel safe, and he still felt loved. He refused to think anything else drove...either of them.
They were stopped in a half-dead town, somewhere hours out from where they'd been. Sam had just gotten them into the car and taken off, no particular direction…he was pretty sure Dean was going off what he knew about Sam and not using any supernatural means of tracking him…at least he hoped he wasn't.
The Impala was parked in the cold shade of a couple of struggling trees, behind an abandoned factory. Dean was resting between Sam's legs; Sam was sitting on the hood. Dean was licking slowly at Sam's throat, long hot strokes that weren't exactly a prelude to anything, just…Dean soothing him. He ran his hands over the back of Dean's head, stroking, pushing his fingers through Dean's hair to scrape at his scalp. He liked the helpless little sounds of pleasure Dean made when he did that. He twisted his hand into the hair, long enough now for him to pull. Dean hummed and licked around his ear, biting at his earlobe, less soothing now, with more intent. Sam sighed…."I wanted to tell you, last night--I called him. He's going to keep after us, not gonna stop."
"Sam…" Dean stepped back, his eyes black, dim. "Already told you what I thought. You should go back. Safest way, man. They'll know what to do—"
"You know what? I almost—almost—miss those days when you didn't use to argue with me over every fucking thing..." Sam's grip tightened on the back of Dean's neck, pulled him back. Dean closed his eyes and Sam pressed his lips to his cheek. "No more talking like that. I'll fix it. This time, I know I will."
"I know you will, Sam," Dean murmured, and sank to his knees. He stroked Sam's thighs, asked for permission with his jade green gaze. Sam shivered, tilted his head back, closed his eyes. He ran hands down his stomach, unzipped his jeans, lifted his hips enough to push the jeans down and free his dick. Dean growled, wiped it over his mouth and cheeks, dragging gleaming trails of precome over his skin--mouthed the tip as Sam jerked and moaned and tried not to slide right off the hood.
Dean pulled Sam's knees as far apart as he could and pressed his face into his crotch, huffed…"Love the way you smell, Sam…love it…." He licked and bit at him, pushed him back until his hips were tilted up and exposing his hole and Dean was snuffling there, licking wet and messy around it, sucking at the tight whorl of muscle, loosening it, until he could stab his tongue inside, suck until Sam was almost crying, it felt so fucking good. He braced his heels against the bumper and begged, "Dean, fuck me, please—"
Dean shook his head no, opened his mouth and swallowed Sam, urged him to fuck his throat, hard, fast, and when Sam came he could feel Dean swallowing around him. Dean licked him clean, and kept on teasing him, until Sam groaned and shoved him away.
"'nuff—stop, I'm gonna fall—"
Dean rested his hands on Sam's quivering thighs, licking raw, swollen lips, smiling—radiating satisfaction. His eyes were thin jade slits. When he spoke, his voice was wrecked, raw. "Love the way you taste, Sam."
Sam slid off the hood and yanked his pants up with one hand and grabbed Dean by the collar with the other, shoved him into the back seat. Dean stared up at him, one corner of his mouth lifted, heat flaring in his eyes. "Umm, I like it when you get like this."
"Yeah?" Sam yanked Dean's boots off, ripped down his jeans, and grinned down at him. Dean was naked from the waist down. "This is a good look on you." Sam bent over him with a wicked smile and mouthed his dick, teasing, waiting for Dean to beg him. "You like this, hunh?"
"Yeah, please, I like it a lot. Please!" He groaned when Sam licked him into his mouth. "Oh, fuck yeah, I like it."
"Too bad—I've got other plans," Sam smirked, reached into Dean's jacket. From the inside pocket, he fished out a condom and a squeeze packet of lube—after first grabbing and tossing away a squeeze packet of ketchup…"Dude."
"What? They never give you enough ketchup."
Sam rolled his eyes, bit the lube open and squeezed its contents on his fingers, and pushed it inside Dean, moving his fingers inside him enough to soften the tight ring, until Dean was pushing back and cursing, "Come on, come on, don't need that—"
"Well, I do--shh—" Sam pushed inside, and Dean took over—hooked Sam with his legs and pulled him in, set up a fast hard pace. His shoulders squeaked across the vinyl, his legs tight around Sam's waist. The position was awkward, Sam had one leg on the seat and one on the floor, but it gave him the leverage he needed—besides, he thought, it wouldn't last long. Already, Sam could feel orgasm building like a wave. It was being inside of Dean, it drove him crazy—Sam loved fucking him, almost as much as getting fucked himself. He loved it when Dean fell apart, he loved feeling Dean's dick flex, throb in his hand, the way his ass tightened on him, the way he threw his head back and howled when he came….
They sat together in the back seat, an old blanket thrown over them, Dean between Sam's legs and wrapped up in his arms. "Don't worry," Sam said, "I'm going to fix this. All I want is for you to believe me, okay?"
Dean smiled and kissed Sam's jaw. "Of course I believe in you—you're my brother."
"Sam! Sam, damn it—stop running from me! Sam, talk to me, come on kid, just—answer me. I'm not gonna stop calling, you hear me?"
Sam closed his eyes and pressed the phone against his forehead. What the fuck was wrong with him? He spent the days riding to nowhere with his Dean, just driving and driving and then spending every moment they weren't driving wrapped around each other like pretzels… nights, he listened to his brother shout at him and curse at him and beg him to come back.
"Shit!" Sam bellowed, kicked rocks in a spray across the graveled driveway of the latest dump they'd pulled into. It sat half in the woods—an old motel court made up of creepy faux English cottages glued together and arranged in a horseshoe around a pool, or what had once been a pool. It was architectural vomit. They were staying in the farthest set of newer cottages, newer being relative. At least the thick woods behind them masked the sound of the highway behind them.
Sam tired of trying to kick the driveway to death, and flung himself onto the Impala's trunk. He rubbed the phone against his jaw, and took in a breath that was more of a sob. It wasn't fair that Dean wouldn't let him fix this, wouldn't let him call Ruby. It was the best answer. Fuck, he deserved an answer that would let him keep both of them. Why not? He was *owed* it. Everything else was taken from him.
His throat closed, and his chest ached so badly he couldn't breathe—he was having a heart attack. Cold sweat broke out over his skin as Sam slid to the ground, dropped his head between his knees and struggled for breath. His heart raced, and the pain raced down his arms and into his jaw and his vision blurred, he couldn't *breathe* …"oh god, oh god," he croaked, knowing he wasn't dying but not completely sure. His rational mind explained the mechanics of a panic attack to himself, but the reptile brain refused to cooperate and kept screaming he was dying, and he was terrified of Dean finding his body….
"Okay, okay, stop; stop now, because if Dean sees, he'll blame himself…" Sam pressed his hands over his face, managed to convince himself that he actually was breathing, and that his heart was still beating and that…he needed to pull himself together for Dean, and for his brother, too.
The problem was he couldn't help but love them both, and neither one of them was guaranteed not to kill him….
Part 24
TBC
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
6/5/09 11:14 pm (UTC)And of course I feel bad for real!Dean, cause what Same and fake!Dean are doing together has got to feel like a betrayal, make him feel icky.
I can hardly to wait to find out how it ends!
(no subject)
6/5/09 11:26 pm (UTC)Everyone is kind of an idiot in my fics--I don't do heroes very well. Floundering, stupid, well-meaning but not quite getting it, fucking up a lot and sometimes just plain fat-headed, I do. It's a weakness. ;)
I feel most sorry for the Deans. You know real!Dean is losing it bad. Kind of makes you wonder what's going on from his POV. Some one should write that.
At last, at last, we're getting to the end! *roxy edges stealthily towards the exits*
(no subject)
6/5/09 11:34 pm (UTC)And he *stole* Dean's *car*. That's just...
Bah.
I think if he really *thought*, he could figure out a way to go back to Bobby and not have his not!Dean instantly killed, but he's not thinking and i'm kinda....
Well, i'm really pissed at him.
*unhappy sigh*
Oh, Sam. Damnit.
*clings to you*
(no subject)
6/5/09 11:51 pm (UTC)think if he really *thought*, he could figure out a way to go back to Bobby and not have his not!Dean instantly killed, but he's not thinking
I agree--he's not thinking calmly, he's not trusting his brother as much as he should. And if he really *listened* to what fake!Dean was saying, he'd do a lot better. Once again, Sam is trying to *fix* things, his way, poor kid.
(no subject)
6/6/09 12:59 am (UTC)I know I should feel sorry for Dean but I keep thinking of Sam's!Dean and Sam. His!Dean is just as real and I don't want him to have a bad ending, though I'm dreading/expecting it. I am interested in Dean's pov, though.
Why do I sense that soon Sam is going to make one of those epically stupid life decisions he's famous for?
BTW, I LOVEd the ketchup thing. LOL
(no subject)
6/6/09 01:48 am (UTC)Sam, poor bozo--unless somebody stops him, he'll make the wrong choice for sure.
Heee! thanks for noticing the ketchup bit--I had to throw it in, it was so silly! :)
(no subject)
6/6/09 01:50 am (UTC)The ketchup was so perfectly Dean. LOL
(no subject)
6/6/09 02:07 am (UTC)*GRIN*
(no subject)
6/6/09 02:08 am (UTC)Honestly, I don't know what my version of Dean would do in that situation. Mine is so off from s4 Dean that I don't know where I'd start.
(no subject)
6/8/09 11:52 pm (UTC)HA!
No, really, I love this story and I'm gonna be sad again when it ends. But *sigh* I'll just have to content myself with thoughts of the awesomeness from you this August (nudge, nudge). :)
Ruby? Of course this Sam doesn't know how much of a VERY VERY BAD idea that is. He's going to listen to his Dean, though, right? I mean, I think that's one thing both Deans would agree on: stay away from Hell-skanks. :)
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6/9/09 04:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
6/11/09 07:08 pm (UTC)(no subject)
6/11/09 08:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
6/20/09 04:45 pm (UTC)"It was architectural vomit."
I love that line.
I also love the way this chapter ends. And it's interesting to see where people took sides. I'm all for Fake!Dean, which is probably wrong, and makes me a bad Deangirl (or does it make me an awesome Deangirl, cause I love EVERY version of Dean?). He's a creature that's supposed to be evil, and he's trying so hard to be good, to steer Sam to the right decision, no matter what that means for him.
And Real!Dean? Well, that's what you get for saying no to Wincest...
MWAH! I'm so glad you kept going on this story!