Far Away Part Four

[eachdraidhean]

“So the amulet keeps you, what, hidden?” Bobby held it in his hand and rubbed his thumb over it. It still hung around Dean’s neck. He’d never liked taking it off before because Sam had given it to him, and now, it felt even more important to keep it on.

Bobby let it go and Dean sat down.

“You got me. I’m just telling you what the demon said.”

“Demons lie.” John chipped in and Dean snorted.

“Why would it lie about something like that?”

“Beth didn’t have any more answers.” Bobby had spoken to her while he’d been visiting Sam before he was discharged. “She reckons it was mixed up in a bag of beads she got at a craft fair. Came up with the same answers as me. Looks Mesopotamian, could be a protective symbol. She did tell me one other thing.”

Both Winchesters turned around to look at Bobby.

“She said after Sam found it and they cleaned it up, he held it in his hand and asked it to protect Dean.”

He was greeted with silence from John and a small “huh” from Dean.

“You think Sam worked some kind of mojo on it?” Dean realised he’d been stroking the thing and let his hand drop. “He gave it to me when he was five.”

“He does come from a family of witches.” Bobby speculated.

“He was five!” Dean repeated.

“Even back then, he was determined to protect you, son.”

“I guess.” Dean was a little freaked out by the idea that Sam might have the power to do that. Apart from the dreams and visions, he’d never seen Sam do anything that would require any level of power.

“And you two have always shared a bond.”

“What?” Dean felt himself blush, and Bobby eyed him strangely.

“Through his visions.”

“Oh yeah, course. What about the demons in the graveyard? Any luck finding them?”

“No, but I think we can assume they are who they said they were. And I think they got lucky that night, Dean. They weren’t after you but now they’ve found you once, they might try again.”

“Hey, I’ve got my cloak of invisibility. No-one can touch me.”

“Dean, don’t get cocky.”

“No sir.”
“So they were Azazel’s children?” Bobby asked John.

“Azazel?” Dean looked puzzled.

“The demon with the yellow eyes who killed your mom.”

“Oh.” Dean became subdued and saw the dark look on his father’s face.

“Far as I can tell. Now we need to track them and find out what they know.”

“How are we gonna do that? Interrogate them?”

“Yes. With a devils trap, a couple of buckets of holy water and a little imagination.”

When it came to demons, John could be more than a little single minded and Dean privately hoped he wasn’t in on that particular hunt, no matter how close it brought them to the thing that had killed his mom.

John’s cell rang and he answered it curtly and walked away from the table. When he came back, his face was grim.

“That was Caleb. He’s got a lead. Time to hit the road, Dean.”


Since Sam had a year to kill before he started college, Beth suggested he get a job. Most of his friends had already left and Sam had been feeling down that he had to wait so long. He could have started a semester later and played catch up but after discussions with the college, and long talks with Aunt Beth, he made the decision to leave it until the following fall.

Andy left, giving Sam orders to “look me up when you finally arrive, asswipe” and Sam had flipped him off with a grin. Andy was going to study pre-law at Stanford, and Sam would eventually be studying painting and drawing at the Oakland campus of the California College of the Arts. They reckoned they’d at least be able to meet up at weekends.

Sam was downright glum after Andy left and Dean wasn’t going to be able to visit for a few weeks, so Beth started asking around. Turned out that Ellen, her long time friend and the owner of the gallery that sold her work, was looking for an assistant. She also ran a small publishing house, mainly for local history publications and collections of poetry by local poets, the sort of thing that sold well in the surrounding tourist areas.

Sam agreed, and three days a week, he worked in Ellen’s small office, organizing shipments and working with local artists who, like Beth, supplied the art work for the gallery. He enjoyed it, and Ellen was pleased with his work and his easy-going manner soothed even the most awkward suppliers.

One evening, after Sam had taken Megan out for a friendly pizza after work and Beth had been to Ellen’s, Beth arranged to pick him up and they drove home together.

When they got home, Beth opened two beers and handed one to Sam.

He quirked an eyebrow at her and she shrugged and sat down at the kitchen table.

“I want to talk to you about something.”

“And it’s bad enough to need beer?” Sam sat down opposite her, wondering what was going on.

“Do you remember me talking about a friend called Jane?”

“Sure, she went to run a retreat centre in Europe, right? Greece?”

“That’s her. Well, her uncle died recently, and she inherited his house out in Maine. He ran it as a hotel for years, and closed most of it up when he retired and lived in the annex. It sits in a few acres of land, and she’s planning on turning it into a second retreat.”

Sam nodded, wondering what this had to do with them.

“She wants my help. We worked together years ago and she wants me to run art therapy courses and help manage the Maine centre so she can split her time between the two.”

“Wait … what? You’re leaving?”

Beth smiled and patted his hand.

“Not yet. The hotel will take a lot of work to get it into shape, so it’s a long-term project. She’s planning on running a handful of courses next fall, round about when you start college, and then a full program the year after. So I’d be spending some time up there between now and then and living there from the following January.”

Sam drank is beer down, slowly and steadily until it was all gone. Then he went to get another one from the fridge and she didn’t stop him.

“But the house? What would happen to this place?”

“It’ll be yours. You’ll be away at college for most of the time for a few years, but this is your home and that’s not going to change. I know you love it here, and Dean does too, so it’ll be here whenever you need to come home. We don’t know what’ll happen after college, you may decide you want to live somewhere else, but until you do, it’ll be yours.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to leave.” Sam said, unsure how he felt about the most stable parts of his life breaking apart.

“It’s not that I want to leave, Sammy. Next year, you’ll be gone, and I’d be living here on my own.” There was a soft sadness in her voice. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the place and I’ve loved living here with you but without you here? I guess I’d get lonely.”

Sam hadn’t thought of it that way. He’d planned on leaving all along, and he’d never given a second thought to what she would do when he was gone. Beth squeezed his hand again, and he smiled at her.

“Neither of us is going anywhere for the good part of a year, so we’ve both got time to get used to the idea. I do have to take a trip to Maine nest week, though, and I’ve already asked Dean if he can stay for ten days while I’m gone.”

“I can look after myself, you know.” Sam huffed.

“So … you’d rather he didn’t stay?”

“I didn’t say that …”

“Honey, did you and Dean have a fight before he left?”

“No. Haven’t heard from him much, though.”

“Hmm.”

Beth got up and fetched what was left of a deep-dish apple pie and a small jug of cream from the fridge. Sam fetched plates and spoons and Beth served them a piece each. Halfway through, she put her spoon down.

“Sam, since we’re talking about the future, I want you to promise me something. When it comes to love, always follow your heart. Put your trust in it, and make the impossible leaps of faith it might demand. Even if you’re scared of losing something precious, take the leap, Sam. Otherwise you might find yourself forever wondering what would have happened if you had. Remember your Tennyson. It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”

“Wow, that’s deep.” Sam stared at her, wondering if she could possibly know what had been running through his head since Dean left. “You didn’t take that leap?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I was too scared of losing what I had to chance it on the possibility of having more. In the end, I lost it anyway.” She shrugged and finished her pie while Sam did the same.

“Oh, I almost forgot, Sonya Mason says hi.” Sam changed the subject, steering it away from dangerous topics like love.

“She does?”

“Yep. I thought you two had some sort of blood feud going?”

“So did I.”

“Well, she was in the gallery today, and when she found out I was her nephew, she insisted I tell you hi from her. She also pinched my cheek. Which kind of hurt.”

Beth laughed at Sam’s disgruntled face and he smirked at her and told her more stories of gallery life over a second slice of pie and a last beer.


There was never any mistaking the Impala’s arrival. The car’s throaty growl distinguished it from all the other cars, trucks or vans that pulled up in the yard, and always heralded the arrival of Dean Winchester. Beth waited for the pounding of her nephew’s feet on the stairs or even the sound of the gate from the vegetable garden clanging as he dashed out to meet Dean, but neither came. It struck her as odd that Sam wasn’t already out there, haunting the porch as he always did when he knew Dean was coming to stay, waiting for his friend with all the patience of a small tornado. If Dean’s visit was a surprise, which this one wasn’t, then the sound of the Chevy was always enough to get Sam racing through the house. But there was no sign of him.

The gravel crunched under Dean’s feet as he walked towards the porch and Beth went to greet him herself, brow furrowing.

“Dean, sweetie, it’s good to see you.” He dropped his bag on the porch and hugged her tight. At twenty-two, he was starting to build up muscle on his way to growing up to be his father’s son, and Beth could feel the strength in him. She couldn’t help compare the man he was now to the scrawny kid she first met, and her heart swelled with the same pride she felt when she looked at Sam. Dean wasn’t her son, but she was proud of the way both her boys had grown up.

“Aunt Beth!” Dean gave her another squeeze before he let go and she patted his cheek. “Is that apple pie I can smell baking?”

“You always did have great timing!” She grinned at him and he followed her back into the house.

“Where’s Sammy?” Dean’s brow furrowed now as he looked around for his friend.

“I’m not sure, honey. Haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

“I’ll put this upstairs and go look for him.” Dean took his bag and dumped it beside his bed, eyeing Sam’s. He wondered how it would work now. They often both ended up in Sam’s bed, but that was before they’d kissed. Sam had been quiet lately, not sending Dean emails with stupid pictures attached, or texting him and Dean felt off balance, unsure of how they would be together now, never mind the sleeping arrangements.

He left his jacket slung over the back of a chair and wandered back down to the kitchen.

“Thanks for staying with him, Dean. I know he’s old enough to look after himself, and I’ll only be gone for a week, but I feel better knowing that the two of you are here. If he needs it, there are some icepacks in the freezer and this is the tea that helps most.”

“If he needs it?”

“If he has a vision.”

“Oh, okay.” Dean took careful note of which tea it was. He hadn’t thought of the possibility of Sam having a vision while he was there, and felt guilty that he hadn’t.

“He’ll probably be fine, but it’s best to know, just in case.”

Dean nodded.

“I’m gonna walk over to the Petersen’s, see if he lost track of time.”

Dean snagged a couple of cookies and raced out of the kitchen with a grin. His smile faded as he strode towards the field, knowing where he’d most likely find Sam.

Dean had had a lot of time to think about things since he left last time, the taste of Sam’s mouth in his. He’d always been attracted to girls, with their soft curves, smooth skin and small hands, but Sam was different. There’d been a scrape of stubble as they’d kissed and despite Sam still being all long gangly limbs, Dean had felt the strength of muscle as they held each other. He wanted to sit under the tree with Sam and make out with him for hours, but what if Sam didn’t want the same thing?

Sam was exactly where Dean had thought he would be, up on the platform, his back against the tree.

“Hey.” Dean looked at him and Sam gave him a tentative smile, but wouldn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Hey.”

Dean scrambled up and held out one of the cookies. Sam took it and nibbled at it.

“Are you mad at me or something?” Dean asked.

“Mad? No! I, well, I ...”

“Cause I don’t usually have to come and find you.” When Sam hadn’t been waiting for him, fear had coiled in Dean’s belly, getting even worse when Sam was nowhere around. “So, what’s up?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t know if things would be different now, now that, well, you know?”

“Different after you jumped me?”

“I didn’t jump you, Dean!” He blustered. “We ...” He stopped when he saw the smirk on Dean’s face. “You jerk!”

“Bitch.” Dean’s smirk grew and Sam launched himself at Dean. Dean ducked out of the way. “Woah, Sammy! Think of the cookies!!” Dean brandished his and Sam came to a stop, grinning at him.

“So, we’re still ... okay?”

“We’re still us.” Dean flopped down on the platform, his back to the tree. Sam joined him and they sat close, shoulders touching as they munched. “Still friends. Still family. Now there’s more.” Dean finished his cookie and rested his head against the thick trunk. “If you still want more.”

He gazed out over the field, wanting to give Sam time to think about it, not wanting to press him into anything but hoping that Sam hadn’t changed his mind. Sam climbed into his lap and Dean smiled up at him as Sam bent down to kiss him.


The next day they saw Beth off with hugs and waves and then turned and went back into the house. Sam eyed Dean as he shut the door and turned to face him. Dean eyeballed him back, hit by a spike of nervousness now that there was nothing to stop them continuing down the path they were on.

Their first kisses had been unplanned, lazy early morning exploration, all new and tentative. Then there’d been the kiss in the kitchen, all wrapped up in each other and wanting more. And a day ago, they’d been making out under the tree, always with the thought that Aunt Beth might catch them.

Now, they were alone, had the house to themselves for a whole week.

Dean bit his lip as his eyes roamed Sam’s body. Sam saw the look and leant back against the doorframe, stretching. His T-shirt rode up, and Dean’s eyes were drawn to the jut of his hip bones above the low-slung waistband of his jeans.

Dean smirked and shook his head. So Sammy was a tease, and as if he needed to prove it, Sam took hold of the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. It left his hair mussed, and he took his time pulling it down his arms, staring at Dean as he did so.

“Jesus.” Dean almost groaned.

Sam grinned at him, gasping as Dean closed the gap between them in two long strides and grabbed a hold of his hips, pulling him forward and grinding against him as he breathed against his mouth, moving his head back when Sam tried to close the gap and kiss him.

“Dean!” Sam whimpered and Dean ducked his head and kissed his exposed shoulder, moving further up his neck as Sam squirmed in his grasp.

Dean popped the button on Sam’s jeans and pulled down the zipper, eyes widening when he realised Sam was going commando. His fingers brushed up Sam’s hard length and Sam bucked against them.

Dean grabbed Sam’s hand and pulled him upstairs. Why fumble in the hallway when they had a perfectly good bed to lie on upstairs? And secretly, this was what Dean had been dreaming about since he’d left. Lying naked together in Sam’s bed. He peeled his clothes off as soon as they were through the door, watching as Sam fumbled with his boots and pulled down his jeans. Dean threw himself backwards onto the bed, and Sam crawled on top of him.

Dean fleetingly wondered if they were going too fast, but then Sam nuzzled Dean’s neck and Dean stopped thinking.

Sam inhaled his scent and brushed his lips against the soft skin. He put a hand on Dean’s chest and Dean hissed at the way his body reacted to the touches. Sam’s mouth moved, trailing heated, impatient kisses up his neck and across his jaw. Dean licked his lips, wanting what he knew would come next and when it did, when Sam’s lips grazed his, Dean breathed out his name.

“Sammy ...” He reached for Sam and his fingers tangled in the younger man’s longer hair, gently caressing his scalp and damned if Sam didn’t purr just like his cantankerous old cat of his had. Dean smiled and Sam kissed him again with a languid swipe of his tongue, tasting Dean.

It became hurried, necessary. Dean flipped Sam onto his back and took both of them in his hand, working them fast, kissing Sam until his body arched and his breathing became ragged. Then he was coming, his release hot over Dean’s hand, the sensation of it triggering Dean’s own orgasm, and their come mingled on Sam’s belly.

Dean opened his hand and Sam reached down for it, pulling the fingers to his mouth and licking Dean’s hand clean. Dean groaned as Sam sucked on is fingers and when he was done, Dean lowered his head to Sam’s stomach and lapped at it, moaning against Sam’s skin as he tasted them both mingled together.

Sam squirmed, smiling as Dean’s tongue lapped at his hips, almost tickling, and Dean grinned up at him as he moved lower, nuzzling at Sam’s spent cock before pushing his thighs apart and licking and nipping at the creases at the tops of his legs. Sam began to moan, softly at first as Dean moved back up. Dean took Sam’s soft cock into his mouth and suckled on it until it began to fill with blood and swell in his mouth. He groaned around it and Sam joined him, his hands tentatively digging into Dean’s short blonde hair.

Dean didn’t let Sam slip from his mouth, even as Sam became fully erect and nudged at the back of Dean’s throat. Dean pulled off just enough so that Sam wouldn’t choke him and he wondered how long he’d have to practice before he could take him all.

“Dean, oh god, Dean!” Sam’s hands grasped Dean’s hair as his body trembled. Dean’s mouth was hot and wet and tight around him and his tongue played up and down Sam’s length as he sucked him and then Sam couldn’t take it any longer, couldn’t hold back.

“Dean, gonna ...”

Dean just held him tighter and swirled his tongue over the already leaking slit, sending Sam plummeting over the edge. He drank it down and only wished he’d done it this way first so there would have been more of Sam to savor.

Dean crawled back up the bed and wrapped his arms around Sam. Sam dozed and Dean could have sworn he heard the ghost of a large tabby cat purring on the bottom of the bed.


Being alone in the house meant they didn’t see the need to wear clothes unless they planned to go out. Sam still had to work for three days that week, but they spent most of the rest of it wrapped up in each other in one way or another. Sam decided that every breakfast should be eaten naked, after discovering a new way to eat chocolate spread and getting a face full of come in the process.

Neither of them mentioned what would happen when Beth got back and Dean had to rejoin John.


Sam was pliant beneath Dean, kissing him feverishly and urging him on.

“Please, Dean!”

“You sure?” Dean knew he could spend the rest of his life wrapped up in Sam, but he had to be sure that Sam wanted what he was asking for.

“I’m sure.” Sam groaned in his ear.

It felt right, felt good, all tangled up in the sheets on Sam’s bed, familiar and new all at the same time, but something was holding him back from taking this last step.

“Not here.” He kissed Sam and pulled back.

“What?”

“Not here!” Dean was grinning as he got off the bed and reached down to pull Sam to his feet, a very confused and horny Sam.

“Dean?”

Dean was bundling the quilt on Sam’s bed up, and he grabbed a pillow and slipped his bare feet back into his boots.

“Bring the other one.” Dean instructed and kissed Sam. “C’mon.”

Dean led the way downstairs and through the kitchen into the yard. He grabbed a flashlight from behind the door and moved purposefully through the yard, past the raised herb beds and the neat rows of vegetables, past the hen house towards the gate at the bottom of the yard.

Dean looked over his shoulder and Sam grinned back at him, now knowing where their destination lay, and happily surprised that Dean was the one intent on it being there.

Dean scrambled up the tree to the higher platform and spread the quilt he was carrying out on it. Sam followed him up, and they both threw the pillows down onto it, and Sam dumped his quilt on top of the pile.

“Here.”

Sam was the first one naked, and he lay back on the pile of bedding reaching for Dean and pulling him down between his legs. He squirmed around, opening his legs wider, and Dean knew what he was offering, knew that he expected to be fucked, but Dean had other plans. He straddled Sam’s hips and bent down to kiss him. Their cocks rubbed together and Sam thrust his hips up, aching for more friction.

Dean found the lube he’d brought and pressed it into Sam’s hand.

“Put plenty of that on your fingers and touch me.”

“Touch you? You want me to …?”

“Yeah Sammy.”

Sam moaned and slicked his fingers. He reached behind Dean and touched his ass. The small ring of muscle quivered and Sam wondered how he was going to fit his dick in there.

“Slowly, push your middle finger inside.”

Sam followed Dean’s instructions and groaned at the heat that gripped him.

Dean panted, relaxing against the intrusion.

“Move your finger around. Need to get me ready for you.”

Sam did so, and Dean arched his back as Sam’s finger grazed a sensitive spot. Sam caught on fast and Dean was soon shuddering against his chest.

“Slow down, I don’t wanna come yet.” Dean pleaded and Sam backed off, adding another finger at Dean’s next command and working them inside him. Another and the sweat was dripping down Dean’s back and Sam shifted so his cock was slipping against Dean’s ass cheeks.

“Enough.” Dean’s voice was hoarse. “Want you in me.” He reached back and pressed the head against his hole. He sat back slowly, letting Sam slip inside him an inch at a time. Sam’s hands gripped Dean’s hips tight enough to leave bruises behind. His body was taut as a bowstring but his head thrashed from side to side, curses flowing from his mouth. Dean stilled. He was so full of Sam he ached with it, but he wanted more, wanted to see Sam lose it.

He bent down and kissed Sam hard as he squirmed on his lap and Sam’s hands snaked further round to grab the cheeks of his ass.

“Fuck me, Sammy, make me come.”

Sam pulled out and slammed back in without warning and Dean cried out and arched back as Sam let go. He pounded into Dean so hard, Dean could do nothing but brace his hands on Sam’s chest and let him do what he needed to do.

Dean was so hot, so tight - Sam couldn’t help himself and thrust up into Dean again and again. Dean was staring down at him, pupils blown, mouth hanging open. His nipples were hard and Sam wished he had enough control to slow down and bite at them, but he couldn’t stop his hips twitching, driving his cock deep inside. Dean’s cock bobbed between them, the head red and swollen and damp. Sam remembered how Dean’s come tasted, how he’d come himself as Dean had jerked off into his mouth, spurts of spunk landing hot on Sam’s tongue.

“Come, Dean, come, come …” Sam pleaded, demanded.

Dean shuddered, over stimulated and ready, and gave Sam what he wanted, grinding down on Sam as he shot his load between them.

It was Sam’s turn to cry out as Dean tightened around him and pulled his orgasm from him. He held Dean tight and forced him down as he pulsed inside him, back arching off the quilts as he finished. Dean slumped over him, breathing hard against his neck and Sam kissed the side of his face.

“I don’t think I can move.” Dean mumbled into Sam’s hair.

Sam eased them onto their sides before he began to pull out and Dean winced.

“Did I hurt you?” His eyes were suddenly wide with concern.

Dean snorted and gave him a weak grin.

“No, Sasquatch, but I haven’t done that before and you’re not exactly small.”

“You were a virgin?”

“As far as that goes, yeah. So were you.” Dean added and yawned. “Wanna sleep.” He pouted and pulled Sam closer. They snuggled up in the pile of quilts and fell asleep with a soft breeze playing over their naked shoulders


“Sammy!” Dean yelled.

Sam had gone to get more chips. They were halfway through the Terminator and the munchies had struck, but he must have gotten distracted, Dean thought, and went in search of his friend.

As Dean got to the kitchen, there was a crash, and he pushed the door open to find Sam lying on the floor clutching his head.

“Sam!!”

Dean was straight at his side, and grabbed his shoulder. Sam’s hands reached out blindly and grabbed a hold of Dean as if he were clinging onto life itself, and he panted through the pain as tears streaked down his face.

To Dean, the few minutes it lasted went on for an eternity. He held Sam as Sam convulsed and twisted and clawed at him, finally pitching forward as the vision gave up its grip on him. Dean sat on the floor until Sam could raise his head, and his eyes cleared and focused on Dean.

“Bed?” Dean asked and Sam nodded.

“Th … there’s a cold pack in the fridge and tea in …”

“It’s okay Sammy, Beth told me where to find them.” But he’d never thought Sam would need them, not while he was with him, safe and not in any danger.

Dean got him upstairs and undressed him. He made sure Sam was comfortable before he went to make tea. While it was brewing, he took the icepack upstairs and laid it on Sam’s forehead.

“How’s that feel?”

“Good.” Sam whispered.

Dean brought up a tray with the small pot of tea and a small cup. He let it cool for a few minutes and poured some out for Sam then helped him sit up to drink it. Sam managed two cups then slumped back against the pillows. Dean put the icepack back on his forehead and stroked his hair.

“When to you need to paint?”

“After I sleep it off.”

“Okay. What … what did you see?”

Sam’s brow furrowed.

“It wasn’t the same, didn’t see you die. It’s hunting you, Dean, the thing with yellow eyes, hunting …”

Dean paled. He sat with Sam for a while as he slept then went to call John.


Sam was up before him the next morning and already painting. Dean looked over his shoulder as he worked.

The only white in the picture this time was a tiny dot surrounded by dark swirls shot through with a baleful yellow.

“It knows you’re there, but it can’t find you.” Sam explained. “But I don’t understand. They’ve never been like that. There’s always been an identifiable place and time, I’ve always seen you … seen you die, but this? I don’t know what it means.”

“I spoke to dad last night. He’s got Ash, a friend of Bobby’s, tracking demonic activity. He’s set up some kind of computer program and it might help to find out where this thing is.

“Good.” Sam slapped another handful of paint onto the canvas and dragged it around with his fingers. “Because this thing has infinite patience.”

A chill raced down Dean’s spine and he ran his fingers through Sam’s hair more of a reassurance to himself than anything else.

“Do you want some more tea?” He offered.

“No thanks. I’m fine, really.”

“Yeah, right.” Dean left him to it and fetched a handful of guns from the Impala’s trunk to clean. But even that didn’t help him feel much better.


Beth called the next day to let them know she’d be late getting back that night. The boys stayed up, watching a movie, lying on the couch with their limbs tangled together. By the time she arrived, they were fast asleep. Sam was sprawled on top of Dean, one hand pushed under Dean’s tee, resting on his chest. Dean’s arm was around Sam’s shoulder, and he woke up at the sound of the car pulling up, but didn’t have the heart to move Sam.

She let herself into the house quietly and looked into the living room to see if they’d gone to bed and left the light on.

“Ah.” She looked down at them as Dean glanced up.

Dean had expected more, expected annoyance, horror maybe, or even worry, but that was it. She walked behind the couch and bent down to ruffle Sam’s hair and plant a kiss on Dean’s head.

“See you boys in the morning.”

Dean looked up at her and nodded as she left the room. Sam stirred in his arms.

“C’mon Sasquatch, time for bed.”

“Is Aunt Beth home yet?”

“She is.” Dean confirmed.

Sam’s eyes widened as he realised what that meant.

“She saw us?”

“She did.”

“Oh. How’d she take it?”

“Do you hear any screaming?”

“No. That’s good, right?”

“Seems that way. Bed, now.” Dean prodded Sam until he squirmed away and stood up.


There was no mention of anything other than Beth’s trip the next morning over breakfast, but Dean had a feeling something was coming, and he wasn’t wrong. After breakfast was finished, she asked Sam to dig up some onions, carrots and potatoes so she could make a stew for dinner later. Dean went to follow him, but she called him back.

“Dean?”

“Yes, Aunt Beth?”

“Can I talk to you?”

“Sure.”

He sat back down at the table opposite her.

“I’ll come straight to the point.”

Dean steeled himself for a tirade of ‘get the hell out of my house and don’t fuck my nephew’.

“You’re twenty two and Sam’s eighteen, both old enough to do whatever the hell you like, in my book, anyway. I know he’s attracted to you, I’ve seen his sketchpad and I’ve seen the way he’s been looking at you over the past couple of years, even if you’ve been oblivious.”

Dean listened to her, wide eyed.

“So one? If you hurt him, I’ll kill you. And I know of lots of unspeakably nasty ways to do that.” The smile on her face told Dean she wasn’t kidding.

“Two? When was the last time you were tested?”

“Tested? Well, only once, last year, but I always use condoms.” Dean blushed bright red. It was technically true. If they’d got to it, he would have used one with Sam, but he had let Sam fuck him without one.

“Well, it might be time to get it done again. You’re already listed on Doc Miller’s practice in town, and he’ll be discreet.”

“O ...okay.”

“How was Sam while I was gone? Any visions?”

“No, no visions.” Dean hated lying to her, but Sam had pleaded with him and made him promise because he didn’t want to worry her.

“Okay, why don’t you go and help Sam?”

Dean was almost at the door when she stopped him again.

“And Dean? No sex while I’m in the house. There are some things I really don’t want to hear.”

“Yes Aunt Beth.” Dean shot out of the door before she could think of any other ways to embarrass him.


Beth spend more and more time in Maine, and Sam got used to being at the house on his own because most of Dean’s time was taken up with trying to track down Azazel and his children. Dean still felt he had a personal score to settle with the one that had stabbed Sam.

So it was easy for him to hide the visions that only told him Dean was being hunted. There was nothing in them he could use, no time frame, nothing to indicate it was getting closer, and Sam kept in touch with Bobby and Ash who were still tracking demonic activity. He let them know each time he had one, but he didn’t let them know how much they’d begun to take out of him.

Then the vamp vision hit.

He called Dean and his cell went straight to voice mail. Sam left a whispered message to call him back, and hung up. What he’d seen was two days away, and also within driving distance. If Dean didn’t get back to him soon, at least he could go to Dean.

The vision was as bad as the others, crushing pain and debilitating headache afterwards, but the next morning, when he went to paint it out, he hesitated. The dark part of it that stayed with him squirmed and writhed, and he was appalled to feel himself getting turned on. He sat down on the couch and closed his eyes, concentrating on the feeling, and reaching out towards it. He got a flash of what he’d already seen, but not of Dean being captured by the nest and used for food, but of the leader and his mate, bodies sliding together, dark hunger pulsing through them, sharp teeth slicing into flesh and blood welling to the surface to be lapped at. It was as if he were there, between them, feeling each sensation, their hands on his skin, her hand around his cock …

Sam yelped as he came in his pants and his eyes shot open, breaking the hold the memory of the vision had on him. He was still hard, achingly so, and didn’t think that painting it out would help this time. Knowing where Dean would be and when, he threw some things in a bag and headed north. He was almost there when Dean called and Sam casually asked if he was in Seattle. Dean said he was and that he’d call in on his way past when he was done. Sam told him he’d look forward to seeing him and hung up as he pulled into a motel parking lot. Dark confidence still ran through his veins. He knew it was wrong, knew he should have stayed away and worked it out of his system another way, but he couldn’t help himself.


Dean stood at the bar in a crowded club. He was dressed in tighter jeans than he usually wore and a black vest and he could feel appreciative eyes raking over him without turning around.

“Beer! And a shot of Jack!” He yelled at the barman over the noise in the club. The longhaired guy nodded and then glanced over Dean’s shoulder and nodded again. Dean turned, wondering what the fuck, to find himself staring into kohl rimmed cats eyes.

“Hey Dean.”

“Sammy?” Dean stared at his friend for a heartbeat, confusion and delight warring on his face, but then his arms were around the taller man and he was hugging him tight. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching your back.”

Their drinks arrived and they slammed the shots down, following it with long gulps of beer. As he drank, Dean got a look at how Sam was dressed. Tight black pants and a black silk shirt, his eyes lined with black, which accentuated their shape. Sam drained his bottle and grabbed a hold of Dean’s hand, pulling him towards the dance floor.

“Sammy, wait, I can’t dance!” Dean tried to dig his heels into the wooden floor but Sam just kept pulling him forward.

Dean tried to yank his hand away, but Sam’s grip was tight and the look on his face when he glanced back over his shoulder at Dean was shockingly feral. Dean stumbled over his own feet, landing against Sam’s chest. He felt rather than heard the rumble of laughter.

Then Sam held him close with one strong arm and tilted his head up, lips closing over Dean’s in a possessive kiss. Dean moaned softly and his body moved with Sam’s in time with the heavy beat. Sam’s hands skimmed over his sides, his back, and Dean found himself dancing with him, his eyes locked on Sam’s. Sam’s fingers scraped along the waistband of his jeans and Dean had the insane urge to let Sam undress him there and then, touch him and make him come, let everyone see that he belonged so completely to his Sammy.

“Dean.” Sam growled in his ear. “Wanna fuck you.”

“Shit, Sammy, warn a guy, would you?” Dean’s hands convulsed in Sam’s hair and his hips thrust forward lewdly.

Sam dragged him off the dance floor and out of the club. As they almost tumbled into the alley, laughing and still stealing kisses, Sam turned them to the right, beginning to head back to the main street.

“No, Sam, the motel’s this way.”

“Not tonight it’s not.”

Dean looked at him, and simply nodded, walking to Sam and tangling their fingers together. Sam stared down into the darker end of the alley, almost defying the things that lay in wait for Dean to show themselves. He’d done what the vampires had planned on doing. He’d picked Dean up in the bar, danced with him until his pupils were blown and he was blinkered by lust, and led him out into the night. Only with Sam, Dean got to survive. He got fucked, hard and long. He got to scream Sam’s name out as Sam possessed him and made him whimper and beg. He got to curl up in the safety of Sam’s strong arms afterwards and sleep a dreamless sleep. If Dean had walked in the other direction, he would have been slowly bled dry over weeks, fed on and torn at until there was nothing left but a shell with not even the strength to beg for death.

Sam preferred his way and he guessed Dean did too.

It was after ten by the time Dean woke up the next day, and he groaned at the ache in his overly taxed muscles as he wandered into the bathroom for a piss. On his way back, he glanced down at Sammy, sprawled over most of the bed, limbs everywhere and tousled hair obscuring his face. He looked younger than he had last night, and there was an innocence about him that Dean could hardly match up with the feral Sam of the night before. He squatted down at the side of the bed and stroked the hair back from Sammy’s face.

“You never cease to amaze me.” He whispered.

Sammy’s eyes fluttered open.

“Dean. Come back to bed.”

This time, it was slow and gentle, big hands ghosting over his skin, making goose bumps prickle.

“Why didn’t you just call me?”

“Aren’t you pleased to see me?”

“Course I am, dork, but usually you call me.”

Sam kissed Dean’s neck.

“Because I’m tired of waiting around after I call, not knowing whether you’re okay, for days after, sometimes. I hate that.”

“I’m sorry.” Dean turned and pulled Sam closer.

“Not your fault.” Sam still sounded petulant. “And I knew it was Seattle, so I decided to come and see you in person.”

“I was gonna call in after I’d finished here.”

“You wouldn’t have.”

“Yes I would, Sammy, I ...”

“You would have been dead, Dean. Vamp chow.” Sam ran a hand through his hair and Dean saw the worn out look in his eyes. “And I came because I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

Sam hesitated, but he was tired, the visions of Azazel were beginning to wear him out and this was a way to stop the other visions, even if just for a little while.

“Come home.”

“Sammy ...” Dean was going to refuse, Sam could hear it in his voice.

“Please Dean, even if it’s just for a while. You’re safe there, and I’ll know you’re safe. Please?”

“Okay. If it means that much to you, then yeah, let’s go home.

Sam’s smile was bright enough to light up the heavens and Dean grinned back. A little R-and-R would do him some good.

Chapter Five