eachdraidhean (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
eachdraidhean) wrote2009-09-13 09:13 pm
eachdraidhean) wrote2009-09-13 09:13 pm
Entry tags:
Open Your Eyes
Title: Open Your Eyes
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2489
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
seleneheart
Disclaimer: Sadly, they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them for a while.
Notes: Picks up as Sam exorcises Sahmain in 4.07 It's The Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester. Heavily influenced by the lyrics of Snow Patrol. Open Your Eyes, Chasing Cars, and especially Makes This Go On Forever, which influences a lot of my fic and will always, for me, be associated with Sam and Dean.
Summary:After Sam exorcises Samhain, he's in bad shape, and Dean takes care of him.
Please don't let this turn into something it's not
I can only give you everything I've got
I can't be as sorry as you think I should
But I still love you more than anyone else could
Power crackled in the air and Dean came to an abrupt halt as he rounded the corner and saw Sam keeping Samhain at bay. His brother's concentration was intense, focused, and Dean stayed still, not wanting to break it and give the demon the chance to strike back. Dean watched, horrified but transfixed, as Sam held the demon at bay, the powerful, centuries old demon, with the force of his will alone. Just when Dean thought it was too much for him, as the blood tricked from Sam's nose down over his lips, and his brow furrowed with what Dean knew was pain, oily black smoke poured from the demon, pooling on the floor and sizzling it's way back to hell.
As Samhain slumped to the ground, Dean's eyes snapped back up to Sam's which were glazed and on the verge of closing. A split second later and Dean dropped the bag and raced forward as Sam swayed and his knees began to buckle.
"Sammy!"
Dean fell to his knees just before Sam did, and caught him before he hit the floor. He was hit by a heavy sense of déjà vu and in his mind he was back in Cold Oak, kneeling in mud, holding Sam's lifeless body in his arms and screaming to the heavens.
Dean pushed Sam back by his shoulders and searched his face for signs of consciousness. Sam was pale. The blood that stained his lips and ran down his chin was a stark contrast to his bone white skin.
Dean shook him, terror gripping his heart.
"Sammy, c'mon man, look at me."
Dean's fingers worked over Sam, checking for unseen injuries, feeling for a pulse and letting out a whimper of relief when he found one. Not as strong as it should have been, but it was there.
"Open your eyes. Sammy, please, open your eyes."
Sam's head lolled to one side and despite the pulse beneath his fingers, Dean began to panic. He had no idea how this worked, how Sam did what he did, so he had no idea what could go wrong. Inwardly, he cursed himself for wanting to pretend that Sam could just switch it off, stop using the power he had just because he was told to. There would be more times like this, more demons, more situations that Sam would be placed in that he couldn't ignore, wouldn't have a choice but to use his power.
And Dean couldn't help if he didn't understand the weapon Sam used.
"Sammy, please," Dean begged, "Open your eyes. Look at me, bro, I need you to look at me."
"S ...sorry ..." Sam slurred out the word and his eye lids fluttered as if the effort to open them was just too great.
"It's okay, he's gone. You sent the motherfucker back to hell." Dean cupped Sam's face with his hand and rubbed his thumb soothingly over Sam's cheekbone. "Just open your eyes, Sammy, look at me."
Slowly, Sam's eyes opened and he tried to look at Dean but his brother kept swimming out of focus.
"I couldn't ... the knife ..."
"I know, Sammy, It's okay."
"I had to but he was so strong. I thought ... I thought he was gonna kill me ..."
"He wouldn't have had a chance." If Sam had faltered, Dean would have thrown himself at the knife, done his utmost to take the sucker down before it had the chance to hurt Sam any further. "Let’s get you out of here."
"Okay." Sam agreed with a wince as Dean helped him to his feet.
"You look like shit, by the way." Dean informed his brother as he slung an arm around his shoulders.
"Thanks." Sam grumped.
Dean picked up his bag on the way out, and slung it over his shoulder.
Sam reached up and touched his lips where the blood was drying.
Dean took his hand away and laced their fingers together, putting their linked hands on Sam's chest to steady them.
He hauled Sam back to the Impala and bundled him onto the passenger seat. Unable to sit up straight by himself, Sam curled up beside Dean, his head resting on Dean's thigh, and Dean rested his hand on the sweat damp hair, continually checking Sam's pulse. Sam shivered. His skin was still colder than it should have been, but wasn't as chilled as it had been back in the mausoleum. As soon as they parked, Dean pushed Sam upright in his seat and maneuvered him out of the car and into the motel room.
In the state he was in, Dean knew it wouldn't be possible to warm Sam up in the shower, and hauling his almost unconscious ass in and out of the tub wasn't going to work either, so he settled for a quick clean up job. He lay Sam down on the bed farthest from the door, and busied himself getting the supplies he needed. As he dug through his pack and dampened a washcloth in the small bathroom, he continually glanced in Sam's direction, checking for the slight movement that meant he was still breathing. As he approached the bed, Sam whimpered and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Dean sat down on the bed beside him. He gently pulled the hands away from Sam's face, grimacing as the way it was scrunched up with pain.
"Will these help?" Dean held out a couple of strong Tylenol, and Sam nodded ever so slightly and took them from Dean with a shaky hand.
Dean helped him sit up and held the glass of water to Sam's mouth to let him drink and wash the pills down. Sam didn't object, didn't insist on doing it himself, and as soon as he was done, Dean pushed him back down to lie on the bed. He took the washcloth and wiped it over Sam's face and Sam moaned at the sliver of comfort it provided in his world of pain. Dean wiped it over the blood, gradually taking away the visible reminder of Sam's battle with Samhain, turning the cloth in his hands as a particular spot became pink.
"I need to know how this works. It gives you headaches, right? I get that part. Loud and clear. And nosebleeds." Dean faltered, his hand trembling. "Jesus, Sammy, it makes you bleed."
Dean looked at his hands, one laid against Sam's cheek, the other holding the cloth to his face. Last time, they'd been slicked with blood, Sam's blood. So much of it, that it had run through his fingers, staining the backs of his hands and the cuffs of his jacket. He wrenched himself out of the memory. Sam was alive. Hurt but alive, and that was what mattered now. Not some fucked up trip down memory lane to a time when Dean had been minutes too late to stop them heading down a path that had led straight to this moment, straight to Sam pushing himself so hard it made him bleed.
"Not always." Sam whispered, his voice hoarse. "I thought I'd got past the headaches. But he was so strong ..." Sam put a shaky hand on Dean's chest, his eyes full of concern.
Dean looked down at the hand pressed against his heart in a gesture so similar to the way Sam had held it when he took the demon down. Now, it channeled a different kind of power, the power that Sam had always held over Dean.
"You're hurt." Sam's brow furrowed.
"Scratches, that's all." The bruise blooming over his ribs, the heavily scratched scuff on his shoulder both went unnoticed. Nothing mattered now but Sam, not bruises, not demonic powers, and definitely not fucking angels. Sam was his, to look after, to take care of, and he was Sam's. Always had been, always would be. "What else? Does it hurt you anywhere else? I need to know, Sammy. For next time."
He didn't like it, couldn't approve, and not because Castiel had told him they wanted to stop Sam, but because he was Dean's brother, his family, his life, and he'd rather Sam never needed to use his power again. He couldn't rubber stamp it "okay", but he wasn't stupid enough to think it wouldn't happen again.
"Nothing else." Sam paused, looking at Dean with a spark of hope in his eyes for the first time since Dean found out he was using his powers. "That I know of."
Dean looked grave and unbuttoned Sam's shirt and helped him out of his layers. He ran his hands over Sam's rapidly goosebumping skin, figuring that if there was something internal torn up or damaged, it would hopefully be sore enough for Sam to let him know.
Again, Sam lay there and let Dean do what he wanted. Dean's examination was hastened by Sam's shivering, and he pulled off his brother's boots and jeans and helped him get under the covers. He pulled the quilt off the second bed and stripped down too, slipping in beside Sam and pulling him close.
Their legs tangled and Dean made sure the blankets were tucked around them so no cold air could get to Sam. Sam curled against his chest and Dean stroked his back.
"'m sorry, Dean, but it was the only way."
"Don't be sorry. If you hadn't, we'd both be dead and Samhain would've taken over the town and raised an army. Or there wouldn't be a town left." The angel's threat had shocked Dean. He threaded his fingers into Sam's hair. "You did good, Sammy."
Exhausted, Sam quickly fell asleep and Dean lay awake until Sam's body warmed, until his pulse felt stronger under Dean's fingertips.
When Dean woke, Sam was still sleeping soundly. Sam's face had softened from the pained, pinched look he'd fallen asleep with. Face to face, Dean studied his brother.
At one time, it had been the two of them against the world, closer than brothers ever should be. How had so much distance come between them, Dean wondered. He'd trusted Sam with everything, anything, but now? He needed that back and if that meant accepting this thing, this power, was part of Sam, then that's what he'd try to do.
Dean watched Sam sleep. Watched the way deep, even breaths huffed out from his mouth, his chest moving as they did so. He watched Sam's eyes moving behind his eyelids, and wondered what he was dreaming about. He hoped whatever it was, it didn't resemble his own twisted nightmares. Those were things Sam never needed to know about.
Dean wished they could stay right where they were. He wanted to lie there, forget the world. Forget demons and angels and destinies. Be just the two of them again.
"I need my brother." Dean whispered.
"I need you too." Sam's cat like eyes flickered open and stared at Dean.
Dean stared back. There was so much he needed to say, so much he didn't know how to put into words. He closed his eyes, unable to stare into Sam's way too perceptive ones.
Sam shifted closer, until Dean could feel his breath on his lips.
"Open your eyes." Sam's voice was hoarse and needy. "Look at me, Dean. Please."
Dean hesitated. He could feel unshed tears gathering behind his eyes and he swallowed, reining in the urge to let them loose. If he let go now, he didn't think he'd be able to stop, and he wasn't ready, not even for Sam, not yet.
"Please?" Sam pleaded.
Dean blinked his eyes open and stared back at Sam.
"I don't know what ..." His voice was hoarse and he trailed off, lost for words.
"Doesn't matter. You saw and you're still here. That's all that matters."
Dean nodded, grateful that Sam understood him, understood them, and for once didn't need words to back that up.
"I can't lose you again." Sam's voice cracked.
"You won't Sammy, you're stuck with me." Dean reached out and pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around his little brother.
Sam curled against him with a shaky breath feeling safer than he had in a long time, feeling like he was home again.
He slept again and Dean held him, keeping watch over him.
The next morning, after he was sure Sam was okay, and at Sam's huffy insistence that he was fine, Dean went to get breakfast, leaving Sam to shower and pack.
On his way to the diner, he sat down on a park bench, watching the kids play. If Sam hadn't done what he'd done, chances were that there wouldn't be any kids left to play in the town. It hit him then. Saving people, hunting things, all they did, they did for the good of others, most of who would never know how close they'd come to losing everything. Their destiny, a legacy passed down through generations, and no fucking angel was going to tell him that Sam shouldn't have done what he did. No fucking angel was going to condemn his brother.
Dean glanced to one side and Castiel was there, looking at him with a hint of concern in his usually inscrutable eyes. Dean didn't care about tests and what that meant, he only cared about one thing.
"If it wasn't for my brother and me," Dean's emphasis was on brother, leaving Castiel in no doubt what he was getting at. "None of this would be here."
Later, when he got back to the motel, Sam looked at him as if he were going to ask something, but he didn't.
In another hotel room in another town, Dean lay Sam down on the bed and mapped out his body with his fingers and mouth with a tenderness and reverence that Sam had sorely missed.
By the time Dean's fingers slipped into him, making him ready, Sam's skin was on fire, every nerve taut and on edge.
Sam's back arched when Dean pushed inside him and his eyes closed as Dean began to fuck him. Dean took Sam's hands in his and held them down to the pillow, lacing their fingers together.
"Dean." Sam groaned, his body tightening.
"Open your eyes, Sammy." Dean coaxed.
Sam looked into Dean's eyes and what he saw there tipped him over the edge, his eyes glazing but never leaving Dean's as his body spasmed and bucked.
Dean followed soon after.
Hours later, in the near darkness, Dean curled protectively around Sam, stroking his hair and staring up at a silent Castiel, defiance in his eyes.
Castiel stared back at them for the longest time, then inclined his head towards Dean and with a rush of wings, was gone.
Please don't let this turn into something it's not
I can only give you everything I've got
I can't be as sorry as you think I should
But I still love you more than anyone else could
All that I keep thinking throughout this whole flight
Is it could take my whole damn life to make this right
This splintered mast I'm holding on won't save me long
Because I know fine well that what I did was wrong
The last guy and the last reason to make this last for as long as I could
First kiss and the first time that I felt connected to anything
The weight of water, the way you told me to look past everything I had ever learned
The final word in the final sentence you ever uttered to me was love
We have got through so much worse than this before
What's so different this time that you can't ignore
You say it is much more than just my last mistake
And we should spend some time apart for both our sakes
The last guy and the last reason to make this last for as long as I could
First kiss and the first time that I felt connected to anything
The weight of water, the way you told me to look past everything I had ever learned
The final word in the final sentence you ever uttered to me was love
And I don't know where to look
My words just break and melt
Please just save me from this darkness ...
Please just save me from this darkness ...
Lyrics: Make This Go On Forever by Snow Patrol
Start A Business
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2489
Beta:
seleneheartDisclaimer: Sadly, they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them for a while.
Notes: Picks up as Sam exorcises Sahmain in 4.07 It's The Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester. Heavily influenced by the lyrics of Snow Patrol. Open Your Eyes, Chasing Cars, and especially Makes This Go On Forever, which influences a lot of my fic and will always, for me, be associated with Sam and Dean.
Summary:After Sam exorcises Samhain, he's in bad shape, and Dean takes care of him.
Please don't let this turn into something it's not
I can only give you everything I've got
I can't be as sorry as you think I should
But I still love you more than anyone else could
Power crackled in the air and Dean came to an abrupt halt as he rounded the corner and saw Sam keeping Samhain at bay. His brother's concentration was intense, focused, and Dean stayed still, not wanting to break it and give the demon the chance to strike back. Dean watched, horrified but transfixed, as Sam held the demon at bay, the powerful, centuries old demon, with the force of his will alone. Just when Dean thought it was too much for him, as the blood tricked from Sam's nose down over his lips, and his brow furrowed with what Dean knew was pain, oily black smoke poured from the demon, pooling on the floor and sizzling it's way back to hell.
As Samhain slumped to the ground, Dean's eyes snapped back up to Sam's which were glazed and on the verge of closing. A split second later and Dean dropped the bag and raced forward as Sam swayed and his knees began to buckle.
"Sammy!"
Dean fell to his knees just before Sam did, and caught him before he hit the floor. He was hit by a heavy sense of déjà vu and in his mind he was back in Cold Oak, kneeling in mud, holding Sam's lifeless body in his arms and screaming to the heavens.
Dean pushed Sam back by his shoulders and searched his face for signs of consciousness. Sam was pale. The blood that stained his lips and ran down his chin was a stark contrast to his bone white skin.
Dean shook him, terror gripping his heart.
"Sammy, c'mon man, look at me."
Dean's fingers worked over Sam, checking for unseen injuries, feeling for a pulse and letting out a whimper of relief when he found one. Not as strong as it should have been, but it was there.
"Open your eyes. Sammy, please, open your eyes."
Sam's head lolled to one side and despite the pulse beneath his fingers, Dean began to panic. He had no idea how this worked, how Sam did what he did, so he had no idea what could go wrong. Inwardly, he cursed himself for wanting to pretend that Sam could just switch it off, stop using the power he had just because he was told to. There would be more times like this, more demons, more situations that Sam would be placed in that he couldn't ignore, wouldn't have a choice but to use his power.
And Dean couldn't help if he didn't understand the weapon Sam used.
"Sammy, please," Dean begged, "Open your eyes. Look at me, bro, I need you to look at me."
"S ...sorry ..." Sam slurred out the word and his eye lids fluttered as if the effort to open them was just too great.
"It's okay, he's gone. You sent the motherfucker back to hell." Dean cupped Sam's face with his hand and rubbed his thumb soothingly over Sam's cheekbone. "Just open your eyes, Sammy, look at me."
Slowly, Sam's eyes opened and he tried to look at Dean but his brother kept swimming out of focus.
"I couldn't ... the knife ..."
"I know, Sammy, It's okay."
"I had to but he was so strong. I thought ... I thought he was gonna kill me ..."
"He wouldn't have had a chance." If Sam had faltered, Dean would have thrown himself at the knife, done his utmost to take the sucker down before it had the chance to hurt Sam any further. "Let’s get you out of here."
"Okay." Sam agreed with a wince as Dean helped him to his feet.
"You look like shit, by the way." Dean informed his brother as he slung an arm around his shoulders.
"Thanks." Sam grumped.
Dean picked up his bag on the way out, and slung it over his shoulder.
Sam reached up and touched his lips where the blood was drying.
Dean took his hand away and laced their fingers together, putting their linked hands on Sam's chest to steady them.
He hauled Sam back to the Impala and bundled him onto the passenger seat. Unable to sit up straight by himself, Sam curled up beside Dean, his head resting on Dean's thigh, and Dean rested his hand on the sweat damp hair, continually checking Sam's pulse. Sam shivered. His skin was still colder than it should have been, but wasn't as chilled as it had been back in the mausoleum. As soon as they parked, Dean pushed Sam upright in his seat and maneuvered him out of the car and into the motel room.
In the state he was in, Dean knew it wouldn't be possible to warm Sam up in the shower, and hauling his almost unconscious ass in and out of the tub wasn't going to work either, so he settled for a quick clean up job. He lay Sam down on the bed farthest from the door, and busied himself getting the supplies he needed. As he dug through his pack and dampened a washcloth in the small bathroom, he continually glanced in Sam's direction, checking for the slight movement that meant he was still breathing. As he approached the bed, Sam whimpered and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Dean sat down on the bed beside him. He gently pulled the hands away from Sam's face, grimacing as the way it was scrunched up with pain.
"Will these help?" Dean held out a couple of strong Tylenol, and Sam nodded ever so slightly and took them from Dean with a shaky hand.
Dean helped him sit up and held the glass of water to Sam's mouth to let him drink and wash the pills down. Sam didn't object, didn't insist on doing it himself, and as soon as he was done, Dean pushed him back down to lie on the bed. He took the washcloth and wiped it over Sam's face and Sam moaned at the sliver of comfort it provided in his world of pain. Dean wiped it over the blood, gradually taking away the visible reminder of Sam's battle with Samhain, turning the cloth in his hands as a particular spot became pink.
"I need to know how this works. It gives you headaches, right? I get that part. Loud and clear. And nosebleeds." Dean faltered, his hand trembling. "Jesus, Sammy, it makes you bleed."
Dean looked at his hands, one laid against Sam's cheek, the other holding the cloth to his face. Last time, they'd been slicked with blood, Sam's blood. So much of it, that it had run through his fingers, staining the backs of his hands and the cuffs of his jacket. He wrenched himself out of the memory. Sam was alive. Hurt but alive, and that was what mattered now. Not some fucked up trip down memory lane to a time when Dean had been minutes too late to stop them heading down a path that had led straight to this moment, straight to Sam pushing himself so hard it made him bleed.
"Not always." Sam whispered, his voice hoarse. "I thought I'd got past the headaches. But he was so strong ..." Sam put a shaky hand on Dean's chest, his eyes full of concern.
Dean looked down at the hand pressed against his heart in a gesture so similar to the way Sam had held it when he took the demon down. Now, it channeled a different kind of power, the power that Sam had always held over Dean.
"You're hurt." Sam's brow furrowed.
"Scratches, that's all." The bruise blooming over his ribs, the heavily scratched scuff on his shoulder both went unnoticed. Nothing mattered now but Sam, not bruises, not demonic powers, and definitely not fucking angels. Sam was his, to look after, to take care of, and he was Sam's. Always had been, always would be. "What else? Does it hurt you anywhere else? I need to know, Sammy. For next time."
He didn't like it, couldn't approve, and not because Castiel had told him they wanted to stop Sam, but because he was Dean's brother, his family, his life, and he'd rather Sam never needed to use his power again. He couldn't rubber stamp it "okay", but he wasn't stupid enough to think it wouldn't happen again.
"Nothing else." Sam paused, looking at Dean with a spark of hope in his eyes for the first time since Dean found out he was using his powers. "That I know of."
Dean looked grave and unbuttoned Sam's shirt and helped him out of his layers. He ran his hands over Sam's rapidly goosebumping skin, figuring that if there was something internal torn up or damaged, it would hopefully be sore enough for Sam to let him know.
Again, Sam lay there and let Dean do what he wanted. Dean's examination was hastened by Sam's shivering, and he pulled off his brother's boots and jeans and helped him get under the covers. He pulled the quilt off the second bed and stripped down too, slipping in beside Sam and pulling him close.
Their legs tangled and Dean made sure the blankets were tucked around them so no cold air could get to Sam. Sam curled against his chest and Dean stroked his back.
"'m sorry, Dean, but it was the only way."
"Don't be sorry. If you hadn't, we'd both be dead and Samhain would've taken over the town and raised an army. Or there wouldn't be a town left." The angel's threat had shocked Dean. He threaded his fingers into Sam's hair. "You did good, Sammy."
Exhausted, Sam quickly fell asleep and Dean lay awake until Sam's body warmed, until his pulse felt stronger under Dean's fingertips.
When Dean woke, Sam was still sleeping soundly. Sam's face had softened from the pained, pinched look he'd fallen asleep with. Face to face, Dean studied his brother.
At one time, it had been the two of them against the world, closer than brothers ever should be. How had so much distance come between them, Dean wondered. He'd trusted Sam with everything, anything, but now? He needed that back and if that meant accepting this thing, this power, was part of Sam, then that's what he'd try to do.
Dean watched Sam sleep. Watched the way deep, even breaths huffed out from his mouth, his chest moving as they did so. He watched Sam's eyes moving behind his eyelids, and wondered what he was dreaming about. He hoped whatever it was, it didn't resemble his own twisted nightmares. Those were things Sam never needed to know about.
Dean wished they could stay right where they were. He wanted to lie there, forget the world. Forget demons and angels and destinies. Be just the two of them again.
"I need my brother." Dean whispered.
"I need you too." Sam's cat like eyes flickered open and stared at Dean.
Dean stared back. There was so much he needed to say, so much he didn't know how to put into words. He closed his eyes, unable to stare into Sam's way too perceptive ones.
Sam shifted closer, until Dean could feel his breath on his lips.
"Open your eyes." Sam's voice was hoarse and needy. "Look at me, Dean. Please."
Dean hesitated. He could feel unshed tears gathering behind his eyes and he swallowed, reining in the urge to let them loose. If he let go now, he didn't think he'd be able to stop, and he wasn't ready, not even for Sam, not yet.
"Please?" Sam pleaded.
Dean blinked his eyes open and stared back at Sam.
"I don't know what ..." His voice was hoarse and he trailed off, lost for words.
"Doesn't matter. You saw and you're still here. That's all that matters."
Dean nodded, grateful that Sam understood him, understood them, and for once didn't need words to back that up.
"I can't lose you again." Sam's voice cracked.
"You won't Sammy, you're stuck with me." Dean reached out and pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around his little brother.
Sam curled against him with a shaky breath feeling safer than he had in a long time, feeling like he was home again.
He slept again and Dean held him, keeping watch over him.
The next morning, after he was sure Sam was okay, and at Sam's huffy insistence that he was fine, Dean went to get breakfast, leaving Sam to shower and pack.
On his way to the diner, he sat down on a park bench, watching the kids play. If Sam hadn't done what he'd done, chances were that there wouldn't be any kids left to play in the town. It hit him then. Saving people, hunting things, all they did, they did for the good of others, most of who would never know how close they'd come to losing everything. Their destiny, a legacy passed down through generations, and no fucking angel was going to tell him that Sam shouldn't have done what he did. No fucking angel was going to condemn his brother.
Dean glanced to one side and Castiel was there, looking at him with a hint of concern in his usually inscrutable eyes. Dean didn't care about tests and what that meant, he only cared about one thing.
"If it wasn't for my brother and me," Dean's emphasis was on brother, leaving Castiel in no doubt what he was getting at. "None of this would be here."
Later, when he got back to the motel, Sam looked at him as if he were going to ask something, but he didn't.
In another hotel room in another town, Dean lay Sam down on the bed and mapped out his body with his fingers and mouth with a tenderness and reverence that Sam had sorely missed.
By the time Dean's fingers slipped into him, making him ready, Sam's skin was on fire, every nerve taut and on edge.
Sam's back arched when Dean pushed inside him and his eyes closed as Dean began to fuck him. Dean took Sam's hands in his and held them down to the pillow, lacing their fingers together.
"Dean." Sam groaned, his body tightening.
"Open your eyes, Sammy." Dean coaxed.
Sam looked into Dean's eyes and what he saw there tipped him over the edge, his eyes glazing but never leaving Dean's as his body spasmed and bucked.
Dean followed soon after.
Hours later, in the near darkness, Dean curled protectively around Sam, stroking his hair and staring up at a silent Castiel, defiance in his eyes.
Castiel stared back at them for the longest time, then inclined his head towards Dean and with a rush of wings, was gone.
Please don't let this turn into something it's not
I can only give you everything I've got
I can't be as sorry as you think I should
But I still love you more than anyone else could
All that I keep thinking throughout this whole flight
Is it could take my whole damn life to make this right
This splintered mast I'm holding on won't save me long
Because I know fine well that what I did was wrong
The last guy and the last reason to make this last for as long as I could
First kiss and the first time that I felt connected to anything
The weight of water, the way you told me to look past everything I had ever learned
The final word in the final sentence you ever uttered to me was love
We have got through so much worse than this before
What's so different this time that you can't ignore
You say it is much more than just my last mistake
And we should spend some time apart for both our sakes
The last guy and the last reason to make this last for as long as I could
First kiss and the first time that I felt connected to anything
The weight of water, the way you told me to look past everything I had ever learned
The final word in the final sentence you ever uttered to me was love
And I don't know where to look
My words just break and melt
Please just save me from this darkness ...
Please just save me from this darkness ...
Lyrics: Make This Go On Forever by Snow Patrol
Start A Business
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I adore that song so much, especially in relation to the boys. If I had any vidding skills, I'd have put one together ages ago.
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Awesome fic love *two thumbs up*
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Fixing the boys seems to be a theme in most of my fics these days. Can't think why ... :)
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He needs to have his Sammy back
He certainly does!
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Thanks for reading :)
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I would love to have seen Dean being a little more accepting of Sam's powers in season four.
Glad to hear you enjoyed it :)
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