Homecoming (Sam/Dean), NC17, Part 3 of 3
Jun. 12th, 2019 03:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runedgirlTitle: Homecoming
Author:
Artist:
Genre: Wincest
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 29,150
Sam’s fingers stroked the insides of Dean’s thighs, rubbing slow circles there. Dean unconsciously spread his legs, inviting. “Okay,” he whispered, and let his head fall back.
Sam crawled up between his legs and bent to kiss the swell of his dick behind his zipper, and Dean’s hips jumped.
“Mmmm” Sam said, and licked him there, through the denim.
“Jesuschrist,” Dean swore, and his hands tangled in Sam’s hair, pulled and tugged the long strands as he combed his fingers through it.
“Sam is fine,” Sam joked, and felt Dean’s answering laugh as his stomach quivered. Sam pushed his tee shirt up and kissed him there, on the tight muscles and the thin trail of hair that ran down into his jeans. He licked over his navel and Dean giggled.
“Tickles, cut it,” he ordered, so Sam did it again.
“You’re not very good at blow jobs,” Dean teased, and Sam bit his stomach in retaliation.
“Ouch,” Dean complained, but Sam could see his dick twitch in his pants. He popped the snap and tugged down the zipper, and Dean lifted his hips so Sam could pull his pants off all the way.
“So fucking hot that you never wear underwear,” Sam said, kissing up Dean’s bare legs and then running his tongue over the groove of Dean’s hip and down to the join of his thigh. It left goose flesh behind, and Dean shifted restlessly, hips pumping.
Dean smelled like heaven, and Sam buried his nose in the thick curls around his dick, drinking in the scent of him. Dean’s thighs parted wider when he felt it, like he couldn’t help it, like he was a puppet and Sam was pulling the strings. Sam growled in spite of himself, and Dean moaned in answer, legs spread wide and it was Sam who couldn’t help himself then, grabbed Dean’s cheeks and lifted him up enough to plunge his tongue between them.
“Fuck!” Dean cried out, but he didn’t try to push Sam away, just held his legs up and wide while Sam worked his tongue in as far as he could. He could taste the beginnings of that bitter and sweet slick that would make it easier for Sam to get whatever he wanted up in there, and it drove him to be rougher, sliding a finger in alongside his tongue, then two.
“Ohgod Sam, yes – no, god, please,” Dean babbled, the smell of him making Sam’s head spin, making his dick swell all over again.
He forced himself to stop before he did what his body was screaming for him to do, because they’d agreed that they wouldn’t and Sam was not going to fuck everything up by forgetting that, but Dean whimpered like Sam was killing him when he pulled his finger out and took Dean’s dick in his mouth instead. Dean was hard as steel, on the verge of orgasm already, and Sam worked him over mercilessly, trying to get to an end point before he lost all control.
Dean grabbed for Sam’s hand and thrust it back to his ass, forcing Sam’s fingers back inside him, and as soon as Sam pushed in he climaxed with a shout, filling Sam’s mouth so quickly that Sam was the one who choked this time. He took as much as he could, ignoring the tears that were slicking his face, pumping his fingers in and out until Dean collapsed on the floor, utterly spent.
Still, Dean whimpered again when he pulled them out, covered with slick that smelled like the most irresistible temptation Sam had ever experienced.
Sam fisted himself desperately, plunging his fingers into his own mouth to taste Dean, and wrung another climax out of himself. It wasn’t the knotting his body craved, but it took enough of the edge off that he could see straight again.
Dean rolled over and got to his hands and knees, giving Sam a view of his glistening backside that came close to making Sam cry, and went to the bathroom to clean up. When he came out, he had his jeans on again.
Sam pulled his own pants back up self-consciously.
“Thanks,” Dean said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “For not – for not losing it.”
“I wouldn’t do that, you asked me not to.”
Dean sat down on the end of the bed they’d never managed to use. “I know, but – I know it’s not easy. Hell, it wasn’t easy for me. I wanted to. I really wanted to.”
Sam grinned. “Me too. God, did I ever. You smell so fucking good. Taste so fucking good.”
Dean gave him a half smile back. “Are you staying for a while?”
Sam didn’t even have to think.
“Yeah,” he said, wanting to keep that smile on Dean’s face forever. “I am.”
He stayed three days.
It was a mistake.
Not at first, though.
Sam booked a room in the hotel by the day instead of by the hour (which was interestingly a lot cheaper) so he could buy some time with Dean every night. Not for the first time, Sam wished he had more money to spend, so he could just buy the entire next couple of days with Dean. Not that Dean would have agreed with that, probably, but Sam could dream. It didn’t matter, because what little money he did have he had to parcel out an hour at a time.
The second night was less frantic than the first, Dean taking the extra suppressants he seemed to need when Sam was around and both of them feeling like they could think more clearly even when their arms and legs were wrapped tightly around each other. That didn’t mean the sex was any less mindblowing.
Sam chanced a question he knew Dean was probably not going to like before his hour was up.
“So I, uh, have this room through tomorrow night.”
Dean was pulling up his jeans, his face still flushed pink from exertion.
“Sucks for you,” Dean teased, but his smile told Sam that he knew where this was going.
“It’s actually nicer than a lot of the places my Dad and I stay. You think you’ll – that you might – I mean, if you have any time free during the day tomorrow, I could like, buy you lunch or something? Or dinner? I don’t know if you do that kinda thing…”
“Yeah you do. You know I don’t do that kinda thing, not with clients.”
Sam’s stomach dropped. He blushed, embarrassed. Nothing like giving himself away to Dean that he wished he wasn’t a client at all.
“But I guess I could make an exception just this once.”
Sam looked up, scanning Dean’s face to see if he was joking.
“Really? Great great, so do you want to do lunch, or dinner? Do you have someplace that’s your favorite? What kinda food do you like?”
Sam forced himself to stop, because Dean was laughing at him.
“Whoa tiger, take it easy. It’s not a date, okay? It’s just a meal. I’ve got some stuff to do during the day, so let’s do dinner.”
“Great, yeah. Should I just meet you at your place, since I know where it is?”
Dean hesitated for a second, and Sam thought for sure he’d overstepped and messed the whole thing up. Then Dean shrugged. “Yeah, okay. 7 pm. See you tomorrow.”
Sam was literally too happy to sleep. He didn’t recall ever feeling that before a day in his life.
John started calling in the morning, and Sam kept hitting Ignore on his phone, telling himself that he’d call back later and then getting distracted by thinking about what he was going to wear like he was a teenager going out on his first date. It’s not a date, he reminded himself. But then, what was it? He wasn’t paying for it, and maybe it wouldn’t even end in sex (Sam laughed at that because of course it would, but he’d pay for that part). Dean had said yes to a sort of date.
The phone buzzed again, and Sam hit Ignore, annoyed at the interruption of a day of happiness.
Later he’d think that he probably wasn’t thinking all that clearly after all.
He was at Dean’s door at 6:40 because he couldn’t wait any longer. No one answered when he knocked, which made his stomach turn with anxiety. What if Dean had changed his mind? What if he’d never meant it in the first place? What if this – Sam – was so unimportant to him that he’d simply forgotten?
The sound of voices coming up the stairs knocked Sam out of his panic attack in progress. Around the corner came Dean, along with three other men. They all looked like Alphas, tall and strong and muscular. Sam could smell them, sweat and then the tang of fresh blood. One of them had a scrape on his cheek that was still bleeding; another had a swollen left eye that would definitely be a shiner tomorrow. Sam frowned in confusion. Their clothes were slightly disheveled too, but more than that, Sam could smell adrenaline on them. Exertion. These men had been fighting. Dean included.
All Sam’s protective instincts kicked in at once, and he clenched his fists at his sides, ready to defend Dean if need be.
The four men stopped short when they saw him – and they all did the same.
Except Dean. He threw out an arm and stopped the man next to him as the guy moved forward towards Sam, clearly threatening.
Sam’s hackles rose; he practically bared his teeth.
“Alpha,” the other guy snarled, and he looked every bit as ready to fight as Sam felt.
“It’s okay,” Dean assured him, then shook his head at the other two. “I know him. He’s a….a client.”
A tall blonde haired man scowled at Sam even as they all paused. “He’s a fucking alpha and he’s standing at your fucking door.”
“Yeah, I know, I invited him,” Dean said, and gave the guy a shove. “So lay off. Just wait here and I’ll get the stuff.”
Dean turned around and took stock of his three companions. He waited for them to lower their fists before he moved toward his door – and Sam.
“Put your fucking fists down too, Sam,” he said, low, as he got closer.
Sam swallowed hard, but he did as Dean asked. He kept all three men in his eyesight though, ready to change his mind at any second.
Dean disappeared inside and then returned with a bag of something. He gave it to the blonde guy and then shoved at his chest to get him to back away.
“Get outta here, it’s fine, I told you. I can handle it.”
They all glared at Sam as they backed away, one of them casting a final threatening glance over his shoulder as they went around the corner and down the stairs.
“Jesuschrist, I said 7:00,” Dean snapped when they were gone. “Can you not tell time?”
“I was just – I was looking forward to it, and I guess I lost track of time,” Sam said defensively.
Dean locked the door once they'd stepped inside. Now that they were alone and close together, Sam could smell the same scent of blood and sweat and adrenaline on Dean. There were fresh bruises coming up on his throat, like someone had had their fingers dug in there. Sam bristled again.
“Who were those guys? Who were you fighting?”
Sam reached out to touch Dean’s neck and Dean flinched away.
“I gotta take a shower. I’m gonna leave the door open and trust you to not mess with anything while I do. Can you do that?”
“I’m not a thief,” Sam protested, watching as Dean stripped his tee shirt over his head and started unzipping his jeans. He peered into the bathroom and got a quick glimpse of Dean’s rounded ass and strong back and thighs, and then the shower curtain cut off his view.
Sam sat on the couch and waited as patiently as he could, eyes on the door. Every twenty seconds or so, Dean would stick his head out and make sure Sam was sitting there as instructed and not snooping around.
“Wow, you really trust me,” Sam yelled into the bathroom after the fifth time.
“Why would I trust you, I don’t even know you?” Dean yelled back. Sam didn’t protest after that.
He stepped out of the shower naked and unashamed, and Sam’s breath caught as he raked his eyes over Dean’s body, tracing the musculature and noting for the first time the faded scars that covered him. Dean toweled off his hair and slipped on a clean pair of jeans and a Henley. It was a conservative look for him; Sam liked it.
“Okay, let’s go,” he said and led the way.
“Thai okay?”
Sam honestly wouldn’t have cared if they were eating slime, but he just nodded. “Fine, whatever you want.”
Once they’d ordered, Sam couldn’t resist asking more questions. It was the hunter in him, maybe.
“So who were those guys and what kind of trouble did you all get into? They all looked like alphas but they didn’t smell like it.”
Sam considered, then went on.
“A lot like you, now that I think about it. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were an alpha too.”
Dean raised an eyebrow, amused. “Thanks, I guess. It’s not only alphas who can be strong, you know. It’s just that this society tells us that omegas need to be soft and weak to be nurturers. But it hasn’t always been that way – and it’s not that way with all of us. How weak do you think omegas really are if they go through the physical trauma of birth, anyway? Males or females?”
Sam hadn’t ever really thought about it that way.
“I guess you’re right. I wasn’t trying to insult you. I just – they surprised me, that’s all. Were they all omegas too?”
Dean didn’t answer for a minute. He played with his noodles, biting his bottom lip. Finally he turned to Sam and looked him straight in the eye.
“Yeah. They were.”
Sam stared back. “Like you. Omegas like you.”
Dean nodded.
“And you were fighting…. Dean, were you training? Are you – I’ve heard stories, that there are omegas who want things to be different, who are willing to fight to make things different.”
Dean sat upright suddenly, his eyes darting around the room. “Fucksake Sam, you can’t just say things like that!”
It was enough of an answer. The pieces snapped into place. The secrecy, the lack of trust. The injuries.
“That wasn’t a client, that time you were so beat up.”
Dean sighed. “Sam, leave it.”
Sam put down his chopsticks, his head spinning. Maybe Dean had a secret life, fighting for what he believed in. Just like Sam.
“It’s okay,” he assured, “I get it. I won’t say anything, I would never. I don’t care if it’s illegal or whatever, if you think it’s important, then I believe you. Hell, if you’re trying to take down the dominance of alphas, I could even get behind that! Most of us are assholes.”
Dean snorted. “You’re a piece of work, Sam. You’re not like any alpha I’ve ever met.”
“Well you’re not like any omega I’ve ever met either, so that makes us even.”
A smile slowly made its way across Dean’s handsome face. “Guess so,” he said, “But if I was that – what you said – you need to keep quiet about it.”
Sam nodded, and under the table, Dean’s hand landed on Sam’s knee and slid slowly up his thigh.
“Are we having dessert?” Sam asked, feeling his blood rush south.
“Not here,” Dean grinned, Cheshire cat smile.
When they were naked back at the hotel, Sam took his time running his hands all over Dean’s body, understanding the raised scars and faded bruises in a new way.
“Resistance fighter,” he said as he ran a finger across the long scar that ran from Dean’s left nipple to his belly button. “No wonder you’re so fucking strong.”
Mmmm, Dean encouraged, lifting his hips lazily so that his erection brushed against Sam’s stomach.
“Come on, baby,” he urged, trying to get Sam to do more than tease.
“Can we do something different tonight?”
Dean nodded, pushing Sam’s hand down to where his cock was hard and needy. “Like what?”
Sam drew in a breath, ran the tip of his finger around the tip of Dean’s erection until he was shuddering with the intense pleasure. “Want you to do the fucking this time.”
Dean eyes snapped open in surprise. “Seriously? You want me to fuck you?”
As soon as Dean said it, Sam realized just how much he really did want it. His own cock leapt, throbbing between his thighs. “I do. Fuck, I really do. Is that against the rules too?”
Dean’s eyes widened, and then he bit his lip and reached for his own dick to wrap his fingers around the base and squeeze.
“Jesuschrist, Sam, you – no, that’s not against the rules. Condoms in my jeans – the right pocket, not the left.”
Sam fished one out and crawled back up onto the bed where Dean was sprawled out on his back. “Can I?”
Dean nodded. “Yeah Sam, put it on me, Christ.”
Sam rolled it on slowly, watching the expression on Dean’s face as he did. He felt close to blowing up himself just from thinking about what they were going to do.
“You ever done it this way before?” Dean asked once it was on.
Sam shook his head, and Dean bit his lip, groaning. “You fuckin’ want me to pop your cherry? You sure?”
Sam nodded. He’d never been so sure of anything in his entire life. “Please.”
“Hands and knees”, Dean ordered. “Gonna try to make it good for you.”
Instead of fingers and lube, Sam felt Dean’s hands spreading him wide, and then the wet prod of Dean’s tongue against him. He was so startled, his elbows went out from under him and he had to scramble to get back up. Dean chuckled darkly behind him, then plunged his tongue in again. It wasn’t something Sam had ever really thought about wanting, but Dean did what he’d promised – he made it good. Little by little, Sam relaxed, pushing into it and rocking his hips, thinking about doing it to Dean, how fucking amazing he tasted, all that sweet slick, how Sam’s face would be so wet with it.
“Christ, you really like this,” Dean said, working a finger in beside his tongue. Sam thought about that too, what it felt like to be inside of Dean, how hot and wet and slippery he got inside.
He was so turned on now his knot was swelling. Dean slid a second finger inside him, anchored Sam by one hip and drove both fingers down deep and hard, and pleasure sparked so hot through Sam he thought for a second that he was going to come just like that.
“Yeah,” Dean crooned, voice rough with excitement, “Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it?”
“Again,” Sam pleaded, and Dean obliged, fingers of his other hand digging into one of Sam’s thighs to hold him still so he could get some leverage.
He thrust as deep as his fingers would go and it was just on the edge of deep enough, brushing that spot but not enough. Sam wriggled his hips, tried to push back for more.
“Think you’re ready?” Dean asked, and Sam wanted to punch him.
“Do it, for godsakes,” he ordered, and Dean laughed that husky laugh and kneed up behind him.
Dean’s dick was alpha big even without a knot, and it hurt like hell when he pushed inside. Sam squeezed his eyes shut and breathed through it, trying not to tense up so much that Dean couldn’t keep going and concentrating on thinking about what it would feel like when it was Dean’s cock against that spot instead of his finger.
“Easy, easy,” Dean murmured, going infuriatingly slow, hands stroking Sam’s flanks like he was a racehorse ready to go off on a false start. “Let me in, Sammy.”
The endearment brought such a wave of emotion that Sam moaned and went lax all at once, and Dean slid all the way in, both of them gasping with the sensation.
“Fuck yeah, feel so good around me,” Dean praised, pulling out and then pushing in again. Sam didn’t have to tell him to go harder, it just happened, both of them caught up in the primal rhythm of it. Sam let his hips roll back to meet Dean, relaxing just that much more, and the fat head of Dean’s cock nudged against him just right on every push in, and Sam felt owned in a way he’d never imagined, Dean’s hands on his hips moving him where he wanted, Dean’s lips on the back of his neck, breath hot and fast against his skin.
“Dean,” Sam panted, rocking back and forth and not fighting any of it, just letting go and allowing the waves of pleasure to coarse through him again and again. He didn’t even want to come, wanted this to go on forever, the feeling of being Dean’s, listening to Dean’s grunts of pleasure, the smack of his hips against Sam’s ass. Sam caught the slightest scent of omega, nostrils flaring to drink it in, and knew that Dean must be close.
“God, Sam,” Dean said, and then his hand was wrapped around Sam’s swollen dick, stripping him up and down in time to his snapping hips.
Sam cried out, overwhelmed, and climaxed, Dean’s fingers massaging his knot to make it even better while his cock kept rubbing over that spot inside that made the orgasm feel like it was in every part of Sam’s body. His arms and legs both went out from under him and Dean rode him down to the mattress, still pumping into him desperately while Sam humped the mattress with each new pulse of pleasure.
He felt Dean tense, felt the twitch and swell of his cock stuffed deep inside, and then Dean groaned against his shoulder and came.
“Jesus,” Dean said when he was done, rolling off and pulling Sam onto his side. Dean curled up behind him, wrapped his fingers around Sam’s knot and massaged him there, milking glob after glob of come out of him expertly.
It went on for a few minutes – not as long as it would if they were knotted, but long enough to make Sam’s toes curl and leave him utterly exhausted.
“Good?” Dean whispered in his ear, brushing his lips along the shell until Sam shivered.
“So good,” Sam answered, sleepy and sated.
“You want me to stay?”
Sam’s heart stuttered, flip flop of hope. “God yes.”
Dean snuffled against the back of his neck, planted a kiss there. “Okay.”
Neither of them got up to clean up. Sam tried to stay awake, wanted to feel the puff of Dean’s breath against his shoulder as long as he could. He didn’t care about the stickiness between his thighs or the soreness that was beginning to throb between his cheeks. Tomorrow he’d have to call his Dad back and drive away, and he didn’t know how it was going to be possible.
Dean’s soft snores were the last thing he heard before he fell asleep.
The buzzing of his phone woke them both at a little before nine.
“Shit,” Sam swore, grabbing it from the night stand. He didn’t pick it up, but a text came a moment later.
TRACKED YOU TO BRIGANTINE. YOU BETTER BE HELD CAPTIVE. BE THERE SOON.
Dean propped himself on one elbow, barely awake. His hair stood up in all directions, spiky and adorable. “You gotta go?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry. It’s my dad, he’s – I guess he’s here. I kinda took off without telling him.”
Dean cocked an eyebrow. “Guess he’s gonna be pissed then.”
Sam pulled on his shorts and jeans, searched for his shirt. “Yeah. He’s got a … a bad temper.”
“Let me guess. Alpha.”
Sam nodded. Dean went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. He too pulled on his clothes.
“Oh here,” Sam said as he went to slip his wallet in his pocket. “Sorry, I almost forgot.” He put the $200 on the nightstand.
“Sam,” Dean said, but Sam didn’t have time to argue.
“I don’t know when I’ll be back,” Sam said awkwardly, because suddenly his heart was breaking and he felt on the verge of a panic attack at the thought of walking away from Dean. “But I’ll come as soon as I can. Just – take care of yourself, okay?”
He turned and practically ran out of the room, down the hall and down the stairs.
“Sam!” Dean called after him, but Sam didn’t look back. He started down the block toward his truck, but only got a hundred yards before he heard the telltale rumble of the Impala coming toward him.
He stopped short, and Dean caught up to him.
“Fuck sake, Sam, wait up,” Dean said irritably, and then he too stopped short.
They both watched as the big black car screeched to a stop and John Winchester got out. He looked pissed as hell.
“You better have an explanation for this, Sam,” he said, getting out and slamming the door.
“What the –“ Dean said from beside him, and then Sam saw him stumble. He reached out on instinct to steady him, but Dean shook him off. “You – you’re – “ he stammered, and when Sam looked over, Dean was staring at him like he was seeing a ghost. He looked from Sam to John to the car and back, and then he turned on his heel and ran.
“Who the fuck is that?” John demanded. Sam stared after Dean, watching him disappear around the corner. He had never known Dean to be afraid of anything, let alone his father. John was imposing, and he was pissed, sure, but…
“Why haven’t you been returning my calls?” John asked, and shook Sam by the arm.
“Sorry Dad, I just needed some down time, that’s all. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“Well you did! Jesus Sam, I thought the demon had got a hold of you. I drove all the way down here not knowing if I’d find you dead or alive!”
Sam did feel bad then. He followed his father’s car across the state line into Pennsylvania, trying to focus on the next hunt that Dad had already found, and able to think only about Dean.
He counted his blessings that at least Dad hadn’t realized that Dean was an omega.
* * *
And a resistance fighter.
Now that he knew the truth, Sam wanted to know everything about the resistance. It was like knowing more about Dean, and that’s all Sam could think about.
Sam had been doing research since before he was ten years old and Pastor Jim bought him his first laptop.
“It’ll be useful for you too,” Jim had argued when John grumbled that Sam didn’t need an excuse to sit around on his butt all day. “You need to be connected, to know what’s happening where and when. You think there’s a better way to stay on top of these monsters? And I know you won’t do it – but Sam will. He’s smart, John. Let him use those smarts.”
There were strict rules around when he used the laptop and for what reasons, but Dad wasn’t always there, and Sam’s knowledge of the world was vastly different than his father’s because of it. Still, he’d never gone looking to find out who omegas really were and how they felt about the shitty way their society treated them. Not until now.
It didn’t take long to navigate his way to that information, despite the pains the clandestine organizations had clearly taken to keep their activities under the radar. Like any group, there were subgroups that disagreed on how to fight the status quo, some promoting violence as the only way to get anything done and others wholeheartedly against it. There were long threads that took Sam days to unravel but yielded a deeper understanding of the incredibly influential propaganda machine that had been in place for decades – more – that had convinced so much of the world that omegas were almost less than human, and thus could be mistreated. It was all sickeningly familiar – claims of intellectual and physical weakness, deliberately conflating control with protection, thinly veiled misogynistic mistrust of the reproductive capacity of omegas.
There was also plenty of evidence of the various outcomes of all that stigma and prejudice, legally and socially and in every sphere of life, from marriage to employment to every sort of human right violated.
The more Sam read, the more he admired Dean. And the more he loathed the alphas who had used every means possible to stay in control. What did it mean for him, that he was part of that same group? At first, he was certain that there must be other alphas who weren’t afraid to speak up and say that this was wrong, but despite weeks of research, very little evidence of that showed up. There were isolated instances, alphas who refused to subjugate their own partners, who demanded fair and equal treatment for their omega children, but no organized resistance seemed to exist for alphas to join.
After three weeks of research, broken up by two separate hunts with John, Sam stumbled upon information he wasn’t even looking for. Deep in a thread about the early resistance efforts in the Northeast, Sam saw something that stopped his reading cold. His mother’s name. Mary Winchester.
He swallowed hard, checked to be sure that Dad’s car wasn’t back, and then read on. It was a small notation, but there was no ambiguity. Mary Winchester – his mother – had been part of an early omega resistance effort. She had been on a run to sabotage a corrupt political campaign that was pushing for stricter omega controls and brutal penalties when she was killed. It didn’t say how; it didn’t say by who.
Sam’s mouth hung open as he read and re-read the passage. John had never said anything else about his mother’s death except that she was killed by a monster. Never that her death happened while she was working with the resistance.
His mother – Mary Winchester – was a resistance fighter. Just like Dean.
A burst of pride swept over Sam, closely followed by a stab of grief. His few memories of his mother were fragmented. He remembered the softness of her hair, how it felt to be snuggled into her breast with her arms around him. He remembered – or thought he did – the sound of her voice when she sang him to sleep. Those were the memories John had encouraged, the picture of his mother that had been reinforced for Sam all his life.
His mother, the fighter.
Sam couldn’t wait to tell Dean.
He told John first, the moment he walked in the door.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Were you ashamed that Mom was a resistance fighter? Is that why you didn’t want me to know?”
John Winchester looked shocked. He wavered on his feet, and Sam thought for a minute that he must be injured.
“Dad, you okay? Are you hurt?”
John collapsed into the nearest chair. “No, I -- What did you say? Where did you get that idea?”
“It’s on the internet. I just – I found it by accident. Why didn’t you tell me?”
John scrubbed a hand over his chin, fingers scratching against his heavy beard.
“Why would I want you to know that?” he countered, and he looked angry as well as sad. “I don’t even like to think about it – what they did to her.”
“The monsters?”
“The omegas!” John shouted, and his fists were clenched now. “They killed her – them and their fruitless illegal schemes to try to overturn everything! They dragged her into it and look what happened, they got her killed! She was fine with us, everything was fine – until they came along and corrupted her!”
“What the hell are you talking about, Dad? Nothing was fine – not for omegas. It hasn’t been fine a helluva long time, maybe not ever.”
John shook his head, face red with rage. “Don’t you say that to me, Sam, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. For Mary, everything was fine. She had me, she had you kids, we had a family! And they came along and pulled her away from us and it got her killed – it left us all alone!”
The pieces clicked into place as Sam stared at his father like he was seeing him for the first time.
“It’s why you hate them so much,” Sam said finally. “Omegas. It’s why you treat them like shit even though you wanna fuck them. It’s why you’re as bad as all the other alphas who do whatever it takes to keep them down.”
John stood up, fists raised like he was intending to strike his son. “They’re dangerous, Sam! Ruthless and stupid and dangerous – look what happened to your mother!”
Sam backed up, closed the laptop. “What killed her, Dad? Was it really a monster?”
As quickly as his rage had spiraled up, John seemed to deflate as Sam didn’t confront him. He sat back down, scrubbed his hand over his face again.
“I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “They told me – I found out about demons and vampires and werewolves that night. That’s what they told me killed her.”
“They,” Sam said, and he too sat down. He felt sick, like his whole life had been based on a lie somehow. “They, the men – the alphas -- who stopped the raid. Who killed those omegas. That's what they told you."
“It was a monster, Sam. A monster.”
Sam didn’t try to argue. He threw the laptop in his duffel and tossed in his favorite gun and knife and a change of clothes. “I’ll be back in a few days. Don’t come after me this time.”
John didn’t answer.
* * *
Sam drove for twenty-seven hours, straight to the familiar block in Brigantine. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Dean on the corner right away. It was chilly, almost November, but Dean lounged against the wall in just tight jeans and a denim jacket over a stretched thin tee shirt. He had his favorite boots on, one leg bent against the wall, hips jutting provocatively. Sam didn’t know how anyone could resist him.
He leapt from the truck and sprinted down the block before any of the cars slowly cruising by Dean and the others could stop.
“Dean!”
Dean turned quickly, his eyes widening when he saw Sam.
“Hey, god, it’s good to see you, I have so much to tell you…” Sam babbled, barely able to keep his hands to himself.
Dean put both feet on the ground and moved away from Sam. “Sam,” he said, “I didn’t – I didn’t think you’d be back.”
“Why wouldn’t I be back? I told you I’d be back. Look, I know my Dad was angry, but I understand all of that better now. And he didn’t even figure out that you were an omega, so it’s fine, he won’t come after me again. I told him he’d better not.”
“Sam,” Dean said again, and took another step farther away.
“What’s the matter?” Sam’s stomach flipped anxiously. Why did Dean seem almost afraid of him?
Dean shook his head. “Fuck, I didn’t – I don’t know whether to be happy to see you or sick to my stomach.”
The insult felt like someone had punched Sam in the gut. “Wh—but, I didn’t think – you didn’t seem repulsed by me before, I don’t understand…”
The expression on Dean’s face was off – not repulsed, but almost sad. Sam had no idea what was happening, only knew he was desperate to fix it.
“Please, if I did something, can you tell me? I can fix it maybe – is there something I did wrong?”
“Sam,” Dean said again, and it sounded like there was affection in his tone, but he still kept his distance. “Look, I don’t think we should see each other.”
Sam swallowed hard, the pain in his chest making it hard to breathe.
“You can’t mean that,” he said, pleading. “Dean, please, you can’t mean that.”
Dean shook his head, and Sam could see emotion there, yet still Dean backed away. “Sam, don’t make this harder than it already is. Fuck, you don’t know how much I wanna just hug you right now, but this is too fucked up. Believe me, it’s better this way.”
Sam advanced another step then forced himself to stop. “Why? Why is it better? It’s not better for me, Dean!”
Dean just shook his head. He looked anguished, refusing to meet Sam’s eyes.
“Is it because I’m an alpha? Is that it? I swear, Dean, I’m not like those other alphas. Or maybe I am, but I don’t wanna be – I can change! Please, teach me? I’ll do anything.”
Sam heard the desperation in his own voice, but he couldn’t stop himself. Just the thought of walking away from Dean forever made him feel panicked, like he couldn’t go on without Dean in his life. “Please,” he said again, and he thought about falling to his knees right there on the street corner.
Dean finally looked at him, and Sam was astonished to see that there were tears in his eyes. “Stop, Sammy, don’t,” he said, voice raw. “I don’t want to walk away from you – God, it’s the last thing I want. But I don’t think we can put this in reverse, it’s too late for that. I’m so fucking sorry, I just – It never occurred to me.”
“What didn’t? Dean, you’re not making sense – please, just talk to me. Please?”
Sam did fall then, got down on his knees on the pavement and looked up at Dean. “I’m willing to beg,” he said, and Dean cursed and reached down, pulled Sam back up.
“Sammy, fuck, I never could resist those puppy eyes.”
It made no sense, but Dean was touching him now, and Sam didn’t care.
“Look, let’s go somewhere quieter,” Dean said, and the rush of relief that came over Sam made him unsteady on his feet, made Dean grip his arm tighter to steady him.
“I have money,” Sam said, but Dean shook his head.
“Just to talk.”
Sam still didn’t understand, but at least Dean wasn’t telling him to leave. Not right now anyway.
“Okay, whatever you want,” he agreed, and followed as Dean led the way. They walked back to Dean’s apartment building, and Sam’s heart started beating faster. Maybe this was a good thing – surely this was a good thing?
“Have a seat,” Dean said after he closed the door. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and offered one to Sam.
Sam took it and sat down. His stomach dropped again as he had a terrible thought.
“Are you – are you pregnant? With some other guy’s baby?”
Dean huffed a laugh that had absolutely no humor in it. “No,” he said, and took a swig of his beer. He looked Sam straight in the eye when he went on.
“There’s no easy way to say this, Sam. I’m your brother.”
The world started spinning, everything seeming unanchored. Sam felt dizzy, shaking his head because no, that couldn’t be right.
“My – what?”
“Your brother,” Dean repeated patiently. “Your brother – Dean. You don’t remember, do you, Sammy?”
Sam shook his head again. His brother? The blonde haired green-eyed little boy with the freckles sprinkled across his nose whose chubby hand was always holding Sam’s. Who fed him Spaghetti-O’s and told him bedtime stories and dumped water over his head in the bathtub to clean off the remains of his dinner while Sam tried to escape? His brother who had been kidnapped by the same monsters who took their mother and never found – who Dad had assured him was dead. Dead, Sam. Just like your mother. That’s what monsters do. That’s why we kill them.
"Dean?” Sam asked, and the beer slid out of his grip and landed on the floor, its contents spilling on the linoleum.
“Yeah Sammy.”
“But – but you were dead. The monsters killed you, the ones who killed Mom.”
“Not so much,” Dean said, ignoring the beer puddling at his feet.
“But why?” Sam asked, and it felt like his heart was breaking and he didn’t know if it was because his big brother had abandoned him or because the man he’d fallen in love with was actually his brother. “Who took you? Why didn’t you come back for me?”
Dean looked as heartbroken as Sam was feeling.
“He told me if I ever came back, he’d kill us both. I believed him. I still do.”
“Dad? Dad told you…”
Sam couldn’t hear any more. He held his hands over his ears, his head dropping to his knees. “No, that’s not possible, it can’t be, that doesn’t make any sense… I can’t – why are you telling me this?”
“Because it’s the truth!” Dean said, raising his voice for the first time. “And because I owe you an explanation – for then and for now. Even if you don’t wanna hear it.”
Dean got up and went up and went to the kitchen, pulled out two more beers and planted one on the end table with a thud.
“I know you don’t wanna believe it, and maybe you won’t, that’s your prerogative. But what I’m telling you is true. I didn’t know when I – it never occurred to me that I’d ever run into you, Sam. Ever. I didn’t know why I felt such a crazy strong attraction to you, but that explanation never crossed my mind. And then I heard that car, and I saw him, and I knew. That Sam. My Sam.”
Sam sat silently. To Dean’s credit, he didn’t try to interrupt, just sipped his beer and waited. Sam’s brain churned frantically, searching for a way to make this all not true. He couldn’t find one.
His eyes caught on Dean’s bare leg, on the tattoo on his ankle.
“That S,” he started, and Dean nodded. He brushed his fingers over it and met Sam’s eyes.
Sam’s throat felt tight. Dean had carried that – carried him – with him, all this time.
“I didn’t remember your name,” Sam said finally. “How could I forget something like that? I didn’t remember my own brother’s name. He would never let me say it. Not once. Not ever.”
“You were a little kid, Sam. Nothing about this is on you.”
“I forgot my own brother. I should have looked for you, should have – should have realized. Ohmygod, it was....’
Sam sat up, feeling like he really was on the verge of vomiting. Dean waited, eyebrows lifted in question.
“It was because you were an omega. He threw you away because you were… you were like her. Like Mom. Oh Jesus, I think I’m gonna be sick.”
He ran then, got to his knees in front of the toilet just in time to lose all the beer he’d drank and all the gas station snacks he’d consumed on his way there.
Dean stood in the doorway while he retched, then wet a washcloth and handed it to Sam.
“That all of it?”
Sam leaned on his arm, the room spinning. “Think so.”
Dean leaned down and took the washcloth from him, ran it over Sam’s mouth, then handed him a glass of water to rinse.
“Thanks,” Sam said. He felt like crying now that his stomach was empty – it felt like his life was the same.
“Come on,” Dean urged, and took Sam’s arm to help him up. They’d been physical in every way possible over the past six months, but that touch felt like the most intimate of all of them. There was nothing sexual about it; it was comfort, affection. Brotherly. Sam stumbled as they walked, sobbed out loud because he couldn’t keep it in.
“Shhh,” Dean said, and sat Sam back on the couch. “I know this is – a lot. Just try to relax, okay?”
“Relax? How am I supposed to relax? I just found out that my father threw my brother out and then I found him by mistake and fell in love with him!”
It came out before Sam could think better of it; his brain was barely working.
Dean’s eyes widened for a second, then he looked down and tried to cover it up. “It’s a lot, I know. I’m sorry. I thought it was the right thing to tell you. If you want to just leave and never talk to me again, I’ll understand.”
It was Sam’s turn to stare. “Never talk to you again, are you kidding? You’re my fucking brother, Dean – my big brother!”
Dean smiled a little, though it looked reluctant.
“Even if you are an idiot,” Sam continued, and then Dean did smile for real.
“Hey,” he protested, and Sam thought about how beautiful he was when he smiled. And then about how he probably shouldn’t still be thinking that.
“I came here today to tell you that I found out something about my Mom. I mean, I guess -- our mom.”
Dean waited expectantly. Sam thought that Dean must remember a lot more about Mary than he did.
“She was a resistance fighter too. Just like you. She was on a raid when she was killed.”
Dean’s eyes widened. “I wondered,” he said, “But I never knew for sure. I remember they would argue, she would go out at night and he would drink and be pissed and then they’d yell a lot when she came home. I tried to keep you from waking up, closed the doors and put a fan on and hoped you wouldn’t hear it.”
“I came to tell you that I wanted to help, that I wanted to carry on her legacy. That I wanted to fight alongside you.”
“Sammy,” Dean said softly, and his eyes were wet. He wiped over them impatiently, then huffed an almost laugh. “You’re the dumbest alpha I’ve ever met.”
Sam smiled for the first time since he’d walked through Dean’s door. “Thanks,” he said, and managed a sip of his beer.
A knock at the door interrupted the moment, and Sam startled. A woman Sam hadn’t seen before came in, sniffed the air and wrinkled her nose. “Who the hell is this?”
Dean glanced at Sam and then back to the woman. “It’s – he’s my – friend.”
Sam nodded. “I’m Sam.”
“He’s – he’s okay,” Dean explained lamely.
“If you say so. What time you off tonight? We’ve got a – a thing.”
“He knows,” Dean said, gesturing at Sam. “I’ll be off by one.”
He glanced at his phone and then at Sam. “In fact, I need to get back to work.”
Sam was hit with a stab of disappointment that he quickly swallowed down. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Okay.”
The woman went the other way, and Sam walked the couple of blocks to the corner with Dean, wishing desperately that he could just pay Dean for the rest of the night and not have to know he was out here fucking god knows who.
“I hate this,” Sam said, but Dean turned away from him, leaned up against the brick wall.
“You’re allowed,” he said, then sighed again. “Look, I know this is weird – it’s weird for me too, I’ve just had a few weeks to start dealing with it. If you wanna leave, I do get it. But if you wanna stay, I’d – I’d like to get to know you, Sam. I kinda missed you a lot.”
Sam felt his face turn red. It was the nicest thing Dean had ever said to him, even if it wasn’t the kind of emotion he still couldn’t stop himself from craving from Dean.
“I can’t go back,” he said abruptly. “To my – to Dad. I can’t. Not when I know what he did. I’m gonna need some time to figure this out.”
Dean nodded. A Volvo pulled up to the curb and slowed to a stop, and Dean looked over, then back at Sam.
“You can stay with me, if you want.”
The window rolled down and an old guy who looked like a total asshole (in Sam’s opinion) peered out, his eyes raking over Dean from head to toe. He grinned wolfishly and waved a handful of $50 bills. “Got some time for me, pretty?”
Sam’s hackles rose, and he kept quiet with effort.
Dean nodded at the man and sauntered over, making a show of it. Sam wanted to tear the man’s throat out with his teeth.
“Come by tomorrow morning,” he said to Sam, not looking back. “About noon. If you want.”
He opened the door and climbed into the car, tinted windows obscuring Sam’s view. They drove off with a screech of tires, an alpha to alpha show of who was the victor.
“Fucking asshole,” Sam swore, and made his way to the bar. He had way too much to drink before stumbling back to the old hotel and falling onto the bed. He was exhausted from the long drive and the emotional shock of everything he’d found out, but sleep was a long time coming. At 4 a.m. he texted his father.
NOT COMING BACK FOR A WHILE. DON’T COME LOOKING FOR ME. I NEED SOME TIME.
He wanted to say a lot worse, but knew that would only goad John into doing something stupid that would kick Sam in the ass eventually. John didn’t know he’d found Dean, and Sam wanted to keep it that way. If their father was capable of kicking his own son out – giving him over to those men who Sam saw dragging him away – then he was capable of hurting Dean again, and Sam would not let that happen. Not ever.
He finally fell asleep as the sun was streaming through the cheap curtains. When he woke it was nearly check out time. His head was pounding and his eyes were crusted shut, still red from the tears he’d given into some time in the night. Despite that, Sam’s head felt clearer than it had in a long time as he climbed into the shower and tried to make himself presentable. He stopped on the way to Dean’s apartment for two cups of coffee and two Egg McMuffins, feeling unaccountably lighter than he had in years. Forever maybe.
Dean answered the door looking sleepy and grumpy and so sexy that Sam almost dropped the coffees.
“Damn it,” he swore, and juggled them back into position.
Dean smirked before he remembered he shouldn’t, then motioned Sam in. He moaned when Sam handed him one of the coffees and that did nothing to stop Sam’s appraisal.
“I love you,” Dean said, sipping his coffee and closing his eyes in bliss.
“I love you too,” Sam answered, and Dean shook his head.
“Not like that.”
“Exactly like that,” Sam argued.
Dean sat down at the little pull out table in his kitchen and Sam took a seat across from him.
“Exactly like that,” Sam repeated. “I didn’t know you were my brother – I didn’t even really remember my brother. It’s been almost twenty years, Dean, you were a stranger to me. And I’ve never been so into anyone in my entire life. I can’t just turn that off. I don’t want to turn that off.”
Dean frowned at him, sipping his coffee again. “Are you out of your mind, Sam?”
“No, I’m not out of my mind. At least I don’t think I am. I’m just telling you how I feel about you. Knowing you’re my brother doesn’t change the fact that I wanna jump you right now and fuck your brains out – or have you fuck mine out, I don’t really care. I just – I just want you.”
“Sam!” Dean exclaimed, and he sounded as scandalized as an old lady.
Sam couldn’t help but smile a little. It was endearing.
“Sorry.”
“You aren’t though.”
Sam shrugged.
“I asked if you wanted to stay here with me because you’re my brother.”
“I know. And thank you. I want to. I don’t have anywhere else to go, and I can’t think of anything worse than leaving you when I’ve just found you.”
Dean unwrapped his breakfast and took a bite, closing his eyes again as he savored the taste. Then he looked at Sam again, still frowning a little.
“But you still wanna jump my bones.”
“I do. God, do I ever. And if you’re really upset about that and don’t want me around, okay, I get it. I’ll try to find another place, somewhere close by so we can spend time together. As brothers. But I’d rather stay here. And I’d rather be more.”
Dean shook his head and took another bite. “You really are a piece of work, Sam. As stubborn as our old man in some ways probably.”
Sam bristled. “Don’t compare me to him – I’m nothing like him!”
Dean considered. “You’ve got his temper sometimes.”
Sam glared.
“Sam, it’s okay to be an alpha, you know? It’s what you are. Doesn’t mean you have to be an asshole.”
Sam impulsively reached across the table and pinned Dean’s hand. Dean looked up, startled, but didn’t pull away.
“Nobody knows we’re brothers. Nobody ever has to know we’re brothers.”
The same electricity that had crackled between them since the first second they met made Sam tingle all over, made him squeeze Dean’s fingers a little harder.
“You’re serious,” Dean said. He looked incredulous.
“You can tell me to get the hell out of here if you want. You can call me a sicko or a fool or whatever you think I am. I won’t even deny it. But I am, I’m serious.”
“Sam,” Dean said, and looked down. He let his fingers twine with Sam’s though, the simple movement sending shivers down Sam’s spine.
“I’m probably even more of a fool,” Sam continued, because he had nothing to lose now, may as well lay it all on the table. “I want to join you, Dean. I want to fight against all the shitty ways the system is set up against you – against all omegas. I didn’t know, but now I know – I know what Mom was fighting for, I know what you’re fighting for. And I want to help. I can fight, Dean. I’m a hunter, just like Dad is. I can kill monsters – whatever kind they are.”
Dean looked up and met Sam’s eyes, searching to see if Sam could possibly mean the insane thing he’d just said.
“You really are serious,” he said finally.
Sam nodded.
“And you really are an idiot,” Dean added, and the corner of his mouth turned up just so.
“The biggest,” Sam agreed.
“And you really don’t care about – about what we are to each other.”
Sam shook his head. “I know what we are to each other. I think I knew the first second I laid eyes on you that there was something between us, that this was meant to be. I think you knew it too. I didn’t know why then, and now? It doesn’t matter. You felt – you feel -- like home.”
Dean sighed, but he didn’t let go of Sam’s hand. “I almost told you not to come back, I was so thrown when you turned me on so much. Even the highest dose of suppressants didn’t work. You put your hands on me and I fucking melted all over. It scared the hell outta me, how much I wanted you.”
“Maybe now we know why – or maybe that has nothing to do with it,” Sam said softly. “All I know now is that you feel like mine and I want to be yours.”
Dean stayed silent for a long time, and Sam held his breath, not daring to hope. Finally Dean let go of Sam’s hand and got up from the table, and Sam’s heart felt cracked down the middle.
“Dean,” he said, and it came out like a plea.
“Being an idiot must run in the family,” Dean said, and he held out his hand.
FIN
Author:
Artist:
Genre: Wincest
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 29,150
Sam’s fingers stroked the insides of Dean’s thighs, rubbing slow circles there. Dean unconsciously spread his legs, inviting. “Okay,” he whispered, and let his head fall back.
Sam crawled up between his legs and bent to kiss the swell of his dick behind his zipper, and Dean’s hips jumped.
“Mmmm” Sam said, and licked him there, through the denim.
“Jesuschrist,” Dean swore, and his hands tangled in Sam’s hair, pulled and tugged the long strands as he combed his fingers through it.
“Sam is fine,” Sam joked, and felt Dean’s answering laugh as his stomach quivered. Sam pushed his tee shirt up and kissed him there, on the tight muscles and the thin trail of hair that ran down into his jeans. He licked over his navel and Dean giggled.
“Tickles, cut it,” he ordered, so Sam did it again.
“You’re not very good at blow jobs,” Dean teased, and Sam bit his stomach in retaliation.
“Ouch,” Dean complained, but Sam could see his dick twitch in his pants. He popped the snap and tugged down the zipper, and Dean lifted his hips so Sam could pull his pants off all the way.
“So fucking hot that you never wear underwear,” Sam said, kissing up Dean’s bare legs and then running his tongue over the groove of Dean’s hip and down to the join of his thigh. It left goose flesh behind, and Dean shifted restlessly, hips pumping.
Dean smelled like heaven, and Sam buried his nose in the thick curls around his dick, drinking in the scent of him. Dean’s thighs parted wider when he felt it, like he couldn’t help it, like he was a puppet and Sam was pulling the strings. Sam growled in spite of himself, and Dean moaned in answer, legs spread wide and it was Sam who couldn’t help himself then, grabbed Dean’s cheeks and lifted him up enough to plunge his tongue between them.
“Fuck!” Dean cried out, but he didn’t try to push Sam away, just held his legs up and wide while Sam worked his tongue in as far as he could. He could taste the beginnings of that bitter and sweet slick that would make it easier for Sam to get whatever he wanted up in there, and it drove him to be rougher, sliding a finger in alongside his tongue, then two.
“Ohgod Sam, yes – no, god, please,” Dean babbled, the smell of him making Sam’s head spin, making his dick swell all over again.
He forced himself to stop before he did what his body was screaming for him to do, because they’d agreed that they wouldn’t and Sam was not going to fuck everything up by forgetting that, but Dean whimpered like Sam was killing him when he pulled his finger out and took Dean’s dick in his mouth instead. Dean was hard as steel, on the verge of orgasm already, and Sam worked him over mercilessly, trying to get to an end point before he lost all control.
Dean grabbed for Sam’s hand and thrust it back to his ass, forcing Sam’s fingers back inside him, and as soon as Sam pushed in he climaxed with a shout, filling Sam’s mouth so quickly that Sam was the one who choked this time. He took as much as he could, ignoring the tears that were slicking his face, pumping his fingers in and out until Dean collapsed on the floor, utterly spent.
Still, Dean whimpered again when he pulled them out, covered with slick that smelled like the most irresistible temptation Sam had ever experienced.
Sam fisted himself desperately, plunging his fingers into his own mouth to taste Dean, and wrung another climax out of himself. It wasn’t the knotting his body craved, but it took enough of the edge off that he could see straight again.
Dean rolled over and got to his hands and knees, giving Sam a view of his glistening backside that came close to making Sam cry, and went to the bathroom to clean up. When he came out, he had his jeans on again.
Sam pulled his own pants back up self-consciously.
“Thanks,” Dean said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “For not – for not losing it.”
“I wouldn’t do that, you asked me not to.”
Dean sat down on the end of the bed they’d never managed to use. “I know, but – I know it’s not easy. Hell, it wasn’t easy for me. I wanted to. I really wanted to.”
Sam grinned. “Me too. God, did I ever. You smell so fucking good. Taste so fucking good.”
Dean gave him a half smile back. “Are you staying for a while?”
Sam didn’t even have to think.
“Yeah,” he said, wanting to keep that smile on Dean’s face forever. “I am.”
He stayed three days.
It was a mistake.
Not at first, though.
Sam booked a room in the hotel by the day instead of by the hour (which was interestingly a lot cheaper) so he could buy some time with Dean every night. Not for the first time, Sam wished he had more money to spend, so he could just buy the entire next couple of days with Dean. Not that Dean would have agreed with that, probably, but Sam could dream. It didn’t matter, because what little money he did have he had to parcel out an hour at a time.
The second night was less frantic than the first, Dean taking the extra suppressants he seemed to need when Sam was around and both of them feeling like they could think more clearly even when their arms and legs were wrapped tightly around each other. That didn’t mean the sex was any less mindblowing.
Sam chanced a question he knew Dean was probably not going to like before his hour was up.
“So I, uh, have this room through tomorrow night.”
Dean was pulling up his jeans, his face still flushed pink from exertion.
“Sucks for you,” Dean teased, but his smile told Sam that he knew where this was going.
“It’s actually nicer than a lot of the places my Dad and I stay. You think you’ll – that you might – I mean, if you have any time free during the day tomorrow, I could like, buy you lunch or something? Or dinner? I don’t know if you do that kinda thing…”
“Yeah you do. You know I don’t do that kinda thing, not with clients.”
Sam’s stomach dropped. He blushed, embarrassed. Nothing like giving himself away to Dean that he wished he wasn’t a client at all.
“But I guess I could make an exception just this once.”
Sam looked up, scanning Dean’s face to see if he was joking.
“Really? Great great, so do you want to do lunch, or dinner? Do you have someplace that’s your favorite? What kinda food do you like?”
Sam forced himself to stop, because Dean was laughing at him.
“Whoa tiger, take it easy. It’s not a date, okay? It’s just a meal. I’ve got some stuff to do during the day, so let’s do dinner.”
“Great, yeah. Should I just meet you at your place, since I know where it is?”
Dean hesitated for a second, and Sam thought for sure he’d overstepped and messed the whole thing up. Then Dean shrugged. “Yeah, okay. 7 pm. See you tomorrow.”
Sam was literally too happy to sleep. He didn’t recall ever feeling that before a day in his life.
John started calling in the morning, and Sam kept hitting Ignore on his phone, telling himself that he’d call back later and then getting distracted by thinking about what he was going to wear like he was a teenager going out on his first date. It’s not a date, he reminded himself. But then, what was it? He wasn’t paying for it, and maybe it wouldn’t even end in sex (Sam laughed at that because of course it would, but he’d pay for that part). Dean had said yes to a sort of date.
The phone buzzed again, and Sam hit Ignore, annoyed at the interruption of a day of happiness.
Later he’d think that he probably wasn’t thinking all that clearly after all.
He was at Dean’s door at 6:40 because he couldn’t wait any longer. No one answered when he knocked, which made his stomach turn with anxiety. What if Dean had changed his mind? What if he’d never meant it in the first place? What if this – Sam – was so unimportant to him that he’d simply forgotten?
The sound of voices coming up the stairs knocked Sam out of his panic attack in progress. Around the corner came Dean, along with three other men. They all looked like Alphas, tall and strong and muscular. Sam could smell them, sweat and then the tang of fresh blood. One of them had a scrape on his cheek that was still bleeding; another had a swollen left eye that would definitely be a shiner tomorrow. Sam frowned in confusion. Their clothes were slightly disheveled too, but more than that, Sam could smell adrenaline on them. Exertion. These men had been fighting. Dean included.
All Sam’s protective instincts kicked in at once, and he clenched his fists at his sides, ready to defend Dean if need be.
The four men stopped short when they saw him – and they all did the same.
Except Dean. He threw out an arm and stopped the man next to him as the guy moved forward towards Sam, clearly threatening.
Sam’s hackles rose; he practically bared his teeth.
“Alpha,” the other guy snarled, and he looked every bit as ready to fight as Sam felt.
“It’s okay,” Dean assured him, then shook his head at the other two. “I know him. He’s a….a client.”
A tall blonde haired man scowled at Sam even as they all paused. “He’s a fucking alpha and he’s standing at your fucking door.”
“Yeah, I know, I invited him,” Dean said, and gave the guy a shove. “So lay off. Just wait here and I’ll get the stuff.”
Dean turned around and took stock of his three companions. He waited for them to lower their fists before he moved toward his door – and Sam.
“Put your fucking fists down too, Sam,” he said, low, as he got closer.
Sam swallowed hard, but he did as Dean asked. He kept all three men in his eyesight though, ready to change his mind at any second.
Dean disappeared inside and then returned with a bag of something. He gave it to the blonde guy and then shoved at his chest to get him to back away.
“Get outta here, it’s fine, I told you. I can handle it.”
They all glared at Sam as they backed away, one of them casting a final threatening glance over his shoulder as they went around the corner and down the stairs.
“Jesuschrist, I said 7:00,” Dean snapped when they were gone. “Can you not tell time?”
“I was just – I was looking forward to it, and I guess I lost track of time,” Sam said defensively.
Dean locked the door once they'd stepped inside. Now that they were alone and close together, Sam could smell the same scent of blood and sweat and adrenaline on Dean. There were fresh bruises coming up on his throat, like someone had had their fingers dug in there. Sam bristled again.
“Who were those guys? Who were you fighting?”
Sam reached out to touch Dean’s neck and Dean flinched away.
“I gotta take a shower. I’m gonna leave the door open and trust you to not mess with anything while I do. Can you do that?”
“I’m not a thief,” Sam protested, watching as Dean stripped his tee shirt over his head and started unzipping his jeans. He peered into the bathroom and got a quick glimpse of Dean’s rounded ass and strong back and thighs, and then the shower curtain cut off his view.
Sam sat on the couch and waited as patiently as he could, eyes on the door. Every twenty seconds or so, Dean would stick his head out and make sure Sam was sitting there as instructed and not snooping around.
“Wow, you really trust me,” Sam yelled into the bathroom after the fifth time.
“Why would I trust you, I don’t even know you?” Dean yelled back. Sam didn’t protest after that.
He stepped out of the shower naked and unashamed, and Sam’s breath caught as he raked his eyes over Dean’s body, tracing the musculature and noting for the first time the faded scars that covered him. Dean toweled off his hair and slipped on a clean pair of jeans and a Henley. It was a conservative look for him; Sam liked it.
“Okay, let’s go,” he said and led the way.
“Thai okay?”
Sam honestly wouldn’t have cared if they were eating slime, but he just nodded. “Fine, whatever you want.”
Once they’d ordered, Sam couldn’t resist asking more questions. It was the hunter in him, maybe.
“So who were those guys and what kind of trouble did you all get into? They all looked like alphas but they didn’t smell like it.”
Sam considered, then went on.
“A lot like you, now that I think about it. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were an alpha too.”
Dean raised an eyebrow, amused. “Thanks, I guess. It’s not only alphas who can be strong, you know. It’s just that this society tells us that omegas need to be soft and weak to be nurturers. But it hasn’t always been that way – and it’s not that way with all of us. How weak do you think omegas really are if they go through the physical trauma of birth, anyway? Males or females?”
Sam hadn’t ever really thought about it that way.
“I guess you’re right. I wasn’t trying to insult you. I just – they surprised me, that’s all. Were they all omegas too?”
Dean didn’t answer for a minute. He played with his noodles, biting his bottom lip. Finally he turned to Sam and looked him straight in the eye.
“Yeah. They were.”
Sam stared back. “Like you. Omegas like you.”
Dean nodded.
“And you were fighting…. Dean, were you training? Are you – I’ve heard stories, that there are omegas who want things to be different, who are willing to fight to make things different.”
Dean sat upright suddenly, his eyes darting around the room. “Fucksake Sam, you can’t just say things like that!”
It was enough of an answer. The pieces snapped into place. The secrecy, the lack of trust. The injuries.
“That wasn’t a client, that time you were so beat up.”
Dean sighed. “Sam, leave it.”
Sam put down his chopsticks, his head spinning. Maybe Dean had a secret life, fighting for what he believed in. Just like Sam.
“It’s okay,” he assured, “I get it. I won’t say anything, I would never. I don’t care if it’s illegal or whatever, if you think it’s important, then I believe you. Hell, if you’re trying to take down the dominance of alphas, I could even get behind that! Most of us are assholes.”
Dean snorted. “You’re a piece of work, Sam. You’re not like any alpha I’ve ever met.”
“Well you’re not like any omega I’ve ever met either, so that makes us even.”
A smile slowly made its way across Dean’s handsome face. “Guess so,” he said, “But if I was that – what you said – you need to keep quiet about it.”
Sam nodded, and under the table, Dean’s hand landed on Sam’s knee and slid slowly up his thigh.
“Are we having dessert?” Sam asked, feeling his blood rush south.
“Not here,” Dean grinned, Cheshire cat smile.
When they were naked back at the hotel, Sam took his time running his hands all over Dean’s body, understanding the raised scars and faded bruises in a new way.
“Resistance fighter,” he said as he ran a finger across the long scar that ran from Dean’s left nipple to his belly button. “No wonder you’re so fucking strong.”
Mmmm, Dean encouraged, lifting his hips lazily so that his erection brushed against Sam’s stomach.
“Come on, baby,” he urged, trying to get Sam to do more than tease.
“Can we do something different tonight?”
Dean nodded, pushing Sam’s hand down to where his cock was hard and needy. “Like what?”
Sam drew in a breath, ran the tip of his finger around the tip of Dean’s erection until he was shuddering with the intense pleasure. “Want you to do the fucking this time.”
Dean eyes snapped open in surprise. “Seriously? You want me to fuck you?”
As soon as Dean said it, Sam realized just how much he really did want it. His own cock leapt, throbbing between his thighs. “I do. Fuck, I really do. Is that against the rules too?”
Dean’s eyes widened, and then he bit his lip and reached for his own dick to wrap his fingers around the base and squeeze.
“Jesuschrist, Sam, you – no, that’s not against the rules. Condoms in my jeans – the right pocket, not the left.”
Sam fished one out and crawled back up onto the bed where Dean was sprawled out on his back. “Can I?”
Dean nodded. “Yeah Sam, put it on me, Christ.”
Sam rolled it on slowly, watching the expression on Dean’s face as he did. He felt close to blowing up himself just from thinking about what they were going to do.
“You ever done it this way before?” Dean asked once it was on.
Sam shook his head, and Dean bit his lip, groaning. “You fuckin’ want me to pop your cherry? You sure?”
Sam nodded. He’d never been so sure of anything in his entire life. “Please.”
“Hands and knees”, Dean ordered. “Gonna try to make it good for you.”
Instead of fingers and lube, Sam felt Dean’s hands spreading him wide, and then the wet prod of Dean’s tongue against him. He was so startled, his elbows went out from under him and he had to scramble to get back up. Dean chuckled darkly behind him, then plunged his tongue in again. It wasn’t something Sam had ever really thought about wanting, but Dean did what he’d promised – he made it good. Little by little, Sam relaxed, pushing into it and rocking his hips, thinking about doing it to Dean, how fucking amazing he tasted, all that sweet slick, how Sam’s face would be so wet with it.
“Christ, you really like this,” Dean said, working a finger in beside his tongue. Sam thought about that too, what it felt like to be inside of Dean, how hot and wet and slippery he got inside.
He was so turned on now his knot was swelling. Dean slid a second finger inside him, anchored Sam by one hip and drove both fingers down deep and hard, and pleasure sparked so hot through Sam he thought for a second that he was going to come just like that.
“Yeah,” Dean crooned, voice rough with excitement, “Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it?”
“Again,” Sam pleaded, and Dean obliged, fingers of his other hand digging into one of Sam’s thighs to hold him still so he could get some leverage.
He thrust as deep as his fingers would go and it was just on the edge of deep enough, brushing that spot but not enough. Sam wriggled his hips, tried to push back for more.
“Think you’re ready?” Dean asked, and Sam wanted to punch him.
“Do it, for godsakes,” he ordered, and Dean laughed that husky laugh and kneed up behind him.
Dean’s dick was alpha big even without a knot, and it hurt like hell when he pushed inside. Sam squeezed his eyes shut and breathed through it, trying not to tense up so much that Dean couldn’t keep going and concentrating on thinking about what it would feel like when it was Dean’s cock against that spot instead of his finger.
“Easy, easy,” Dean murmured, going infuriatingly slow, hands stroking Sam’s flanks like he was a racehorse ready to go off on a false start. “Let me in, Sammy.”
The endearment brought such a wave of emotion that Sam moaned and went lax all at once, and Dean slid all the way in, both of them gasping with the sensation.
“Fuck yeah, feel so good around me,” Dean praised, pulling out and then pushing in again. Sam didn’t have to tell him to go harder, it just happened, both of them caught up in the primal rhythm of it. Sam let his hips roll back to meet Dean, relaxing just that much more, and the fat head of Dean’s cock nudged against him just right on every push in, and Sam felt owned in a way he’d never imagined, Dean’s hands on his hips moving him where he wanted, Dean’s lips on the back of his neck, breath hot and fast against his skin.
“Dean,” Sam panted, rocking back and forth and not fighting any of it, just letting go and allowing the waves of pleasure to coarse through him again and again. He didn’t even want to come, wanted this to go on forever, the feeling of being Dean’s, listening to Dean’s grunts of pleasure, the smack of his hips against Sam’s ass. Sam caught the slightest scent of omega, nostrils flaring to drink it in, and knew that Dean must be close.
“God, Sam,” Dean said, and then his hand was wrapped around Sam’s swollen dick, stripping him up and down in time to his snapping hips.
Sam cried out, overwhelmed, and climaxed, Dean’s fingers massaging his knot to make it even better while his cock kept rubbing over that spot inside that made the orgasm feel like it was in every part of Sam’s body. His arms and legs both went out from under him and Dean rode him down to the mattress, still pumping into him desperately while Sam humped the mattress with each new pulse of pleasure.
He felt Dean tense, felt the twitch and swell of his cock stuffed deep inside, and then Dean groaned against his shoulder and came.
“Jesus,” Dean said when he was done, rolling off and pulling Sam onto his side. Dean curled up behind him, wrapped his fingers around Sam’s knot and massaged him there, milking glob after glob of come out of him expertly.
It went on for a few minutes – not as long as it would if they were knotted, but long enough to make Sam’s toes curl and leave him utterly exhausted.
“Good?” Dean whispered in his ear, brushing his lips along the shell until Sam shivered.
“So good,” Sam answered, sleepy and sated.
“You want me to stay?”
Sam’s heart stuttered, flip flop of hope. “God yes.”
Dean snuffled against the back of his neck, planted a kiss there. “Okay.”
Neither of them got up to clean up. Sam tried to stay awake, wanted to feel the puff of Dean’s breath against his shoulder as long as he could. He didn’t care about the stickiness between his thighs or the soreness that was beginning to throb between his cheeks. Tomorrow he’d have to call his Dad back and drive away, and he didn’t know how it was going to be possible.
Dean’s soft snores were the last thing he heard before he fell asleep.
The buzzing of his phone woke them both at a little before nine.
“Shit,” Sam swore, grabbing it from the night stand. He didn’t pick it up, but a text came a moment later.
TRACKED YOU TO BRIGANTINE. YOU BETTER BE HELD CAPTIVE. BE THERE SOON.
Dean propped himself on one elbow, barely awake. His hair stood up in all directions, spiky and adorable. “You gotta go?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry. It’s my dad, he’s – I guess he’s here. I kinda took off without telling him.”
Dean cocked an eyebrow. “Guess he’s gonna be pissed then.”
Sam pulled on his shorts and jeans, searched for his shirt. “Yeah. He’s got a … a bad temper.”
“Let me guess. Alpha.”
Sam nodded. Dean went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. He too pulled on his clothes.
“Oh here,” Sam said as he went to slip his wallet in his pocket. “Sorry, I almost forgot.” He put the $200 on the nightstand.
“Sam,” Dean said, but Sam didn’t have time to argue.
“I don’t know when I’ll be back,” Sam said awkwardly, because suddenly his heart was breaking and he felt on the verge of a panic attack at the thought of walking away from Dean. “But I’ll come as soon as I can. Just – take care of yourself, okay?”
He turned and practically ran out of the room, down the hall and down the stairs.
“Sam!” Dean called after him, but Sam didn’t look back. He started down the block toward his truck, but only got a hundred yards before he heard the telltale rumble of the Impala coming toward him.
He stopped short, and Dean caught up to him.
“Fuck sake, Sam, wait up,” Dean said irritably, and then he too stopped short.
They both watched as the big black car screeched to a stop and John Winchester got out. He looked pissed as hell.
“You better have an explanation for this, Sam,” he said, getting out and slamming the door.
“What the –“ Dean said from beside him, and then Sam saw him stumble. He reached out on instinct to steady him, but Dean shook him off. “You – you’re – “ he stammered, and when Sam looked over, Dean was staring at him like he was seeing a ghost. He looked from Sam to John to the car and back, and then he turned on his heel and ran.
“Who the fuck is that?” John demanded. Sam stared after Dean, watching him disappear around the corner. He had never known Dean to be afraid of anything, let alone his father. John was imposing, and he was pissed, sure, but…
“Why haven’t you been returning my calls?” John asked, and shook Sam by the arm.
“Sorry Dad, I just needed some down time, that’s all. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“Well you did! Jesus Sam, I thought the demon had got a hold of you. I drove all the way down here not knowing if I’d find you dead or alive!”
Sam did feel bad then. He followed his father’s car across the state line into Pennsylvania, trying to focus on the next hunt that Dad had already found, and able to think only about Dean.
He counted his blessings that at least Dad hadn’t realized that Dean was an omega.
* * *
And a resistance fighter.
Now that he knew the truth, Sam wanted to know everything about the resistance. It was like knowing more about Dean, and that’s all Sam could think about.
Sam had been doing research since before he was ten years old and Pastor Jim bought him his first laptop.
“It’ll be useful for you too,” Jim had argued when John grumbled that Sam didn’t need an excuse to sit around on his butt all day. “You need to be connected, to know what’s happening where and when. You think there’s a better way to stay on top of these monsters? And I know you won’t do it – but Sam will. He’s smart, John. Let him use those smarts.”
There were strict rules around when he used the laptop and for what reasons, but Dad wasn’t always there, and Sam’s knowledge of the world was vastly different than his father’s because of it. Still, he’d never gone looking to find out who omegas really were and how they felt about the shitty way their society treated them. Not until now.
It didn’t take long to navigate his way to that information, despite the pains the clandestine organizations had clearly taken to keep their activities under the radar. Like any group, there were subgroups that disagreed on how to fight the status quo, some promoting violence as the only way to get anything done and others wholeheartedly against it. There were long threads that took Sam days to unravel but yielded a deeper understanding of the incredibly influential propaganda machine that had been in place for decades – more – that had convinced so much of the world that omegas were almost less than human, and thus could be mistreated. It was all sickeningly familiar – claims of intellectual and physical weakness, deliberately conflating control with protection, thinly veiled misogynistic mistrust of the reproductive capacity of omegas.
There was also plenty of evidence of the various outcomes of all that stigma and prejudice, legally and socially and in every sphere of life, from marriage to employment to every sort of human right violated.
The more Sam read, the more he admired Dean. And the more he loathed the alphas who had used every means possible to stay in control. What did it mean for him, that he was part of that same group? At first, he was certain that there must be other alphas who weren’t afraid to speak up and say that this was wrong, but despite weeks of research, very little evidence of that showed up. There were isolated instances, alphas who refused to subjugate their own partners, who demanded fair and equal treatment for their omega children, but no organized resistance seemed to exist for alphas to join.
After three weeks of research, broken up by two separate hunts with John, Sam stumbled upon information he wasn’t even looking for. Deep in a thread about the early resistance efforts in the Northeast, Sam saw something that stopped his reading cold. His mother’s name. Mary Winchester.
He swallowed hard, checked to be sure that Dad’s car wasn’t back, and then read on. It was a small notation, but there was no ambiguity. Mary Winchester – his mother – had been part of an early omega resistance effort. She had been on a run to sabotage a corrupt political campaign that was pushing for stricter omega controls and brutal penalties when she was killed. It didn’t say how; it didn’t say by who.
Sam’s mouth hung open as he read and re-read the passage. John had never said anything else about his mother’s death except that she was killed by a monster. Never that her death happened while she was working with the resistance.
His mother – Mary Winchester – was a resistance fighter. Just like Dean.
A burst of pride swept over Sam, closely followed by a stab of grief. His few memories of his mother were fragmented. He remembered the softness of her hair, how it felt to be snuggled into her breast with her arms around him. He remembered – or thought he did – the sound of her voice when she sang him to sleep. Those were the memories John had encouraged, the picture of his mother that had been reinforced for Sam all his life.
His mother, the fighter.
Sam couldn’t wait to tell Dean.
He told John first, the moment he walked in the door.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Were you ashamed that Mom was a resistance fighter? Is that why you didn’t want me to know?”
John Winchester looked shocked. He wavered on his feet, and Sam thought for a minute that he must be injured.
“Dad, you okay? Are you hurt?”
John collapsed into the nearest chair. “No, I -- What did you say? Where did you get that idea?”
“It’s on the internet. I just – I found it by accident. Why didn’t you tell me?”
John scrubbed a hand over his chin, fingers scratching against his heavy beard.
“Why would I want you to know that?” he countered, and he looked angry as well as sad. “I don’t even like to think about it – what they did to her.”
“The monsters?”
“The omegas!” John shouted, and his fists were clenched now. “They killed her – them and their fruitless illegal schemes to try to overturn everything! They dragged her into it and look what happened, they got her killed! She was fine with us, everything was fine – until they came along and corrupted her!”
“What the hell are you talking about, Dad? Nothing was fine – not for omegas. It hasn’t been fine a helluva long time, maybe not ever.”
John shook his head, face red with rage. “Don’t you say that to me, Sam, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. For Mary, everything was fine. She had me, she had you kids, we had a family! And they came along and pulled her away from us and it got her killed – it left us all alone!”
The pieces clicked into place as Sam stared at his father like he was seeing him for the first time.
“It’s why you hate them so much,” Sam said finally. “Omegas. It’s why you treat them like shit even though you wanna fuck them. It’s why you’re as bad as all the other alphas who do whatever it takes to keep them down.”
John stood up, fists raised like he was intending to strike his son. “They’re dangerous, Sam! Ruthless and stupid and dangerous – look what happened to your mother!”
Sam backed up, closed the laptop. “What killed her, Dad? Was it really a monster?”
As quickly as his rage had spiraled up, John seemed to deflate as Sam didn’t confront him. He sat back down, scrubbed his hand over his face again.
“I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “They told me – I found out about demons and vampires and werewolves that night. That’s what they told me killed her.”
“They,” Sam said, and he too sat down. He felt sick, like his whole life had been based on a lie somehow. “They, the men – the alphas -- who stopped the raid. Who killed those omegas. That's what they told you."
“It was a monster, Sam. A monster.”
Sam didn’t try to argue. He threw the laptop in his duffel and tossed in his favorite gun and knife and a change of clothes. “I’ll be back in a few days. Don’t come after me this time.”
John didn’t answer.
* * *
Sam drove for twenty-seven hours, straight to the familiar block in Brigantine. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Dean on the corner right away. It was chilly, almost November, but Dean lounged against the wall in just tight jeans and a denim jacket over a stretched thin tee shirt. He had his favorite boots on, one leg bent against the wall, hips jutting provocatively. Sam didn’t know how anyone could resist him.
He leapt from the truck and sprinted down the block before any of the cars slowly cruising by Dean and the others could stop.
“Dean!”
Dean turned quickly, his eyes widening when he saw Sam.
“Hey, god, it’s good to see you, I have so much to tell you…” Sam babbled, barely able to keep his hands to himself.
Dean put both feet on the ground and moved away from Sam. “Sam,” he said, “I didn’t – I didn’t think you’d be back.”
“Why wouldn’t I be back? I told you I’d be back. Look, I know my Dad was angry, but I understand all of that better now. And he didn’t even figure out that you were an omega, so it’s fine, he won’t come after me again. I told him he’d better not.”
“Sam,” Dean said again, and took another step farther away.
“What’s the matter?” Sam’s stomach flipped anxiously. Why did Dean seem almost afraid of him?
Dean shook his head. “Fuck, I didn’t – I don’t know whether to be happy to see you or sick to my stomach.”
The insult felt like someone had punched Sam in the gut. “Wh—but, I didn’t think – you didn’t seem repulsed by me before, I don’t understand…”
The expression on Dean’s face was off – not repulsed, but almost sad. Sam had no idea what was happening, only knew he was desperate to fix it.
“Please, if I did something, can you tell me? I can fix it maybe – is there something I did wrong?”
“Sam,” Dean said again, and it sounded like there was affection in his tone, but he still kept his distance. “Look, I don’t think we should see each other.”
Sam swallowed hard, the pain in his chest making it hard to breathe.
“You can’t mean that,” he said, pleading. “Dean, please, you can’t mean that.”
Dean shook his head, and Sam could see emotion there, yet still Dean backed away. “Sam, don’t make this harder than it already is. Fuck, you don’t know how much I wanna just hug you right now, but this is too fucked up. Believe me, it’s better this way.”
Sam advanced another step then forced himself to stop. “Why? Why is it better? It’s not better for me, Dean!”
Dean just shook his head. He looked anguished, refusing to meet Sam’s eyes.
“Is it because I’m an alpha? Is that it? I swear, Dean, I’m not like those other alphas. Or maybe I am, but I don’t wanna be – I can change! Please, teach me? I’ll do anything.”
Sam heard the desperation in his own voice, but he couldn’t stop himself. Just the thought of walking away from Dean forever made him feel panicked, like he couldn’t go on without Dean in his life. “Please,” he said again, and he thought about falling to his knees right there on the street corner.
Dean finally looked at him, and Sam was astonished to see that there were tears in his eyes. “Stop, Sammy, don’t,” he said, voice raw. “I don’t want to walk away from you – God, it’s the last thing I want. But I don’t think we can put this in reverse, it’s too late for that. I’m so fucking sorry, I just – It never occurred to me.”
“What didn’t? Dean, you’re not making sense – please, just talk to me. Please?”
Sam did fall then, got down on his knees on the pavement and looked up at Dean. “I’m willing to beg,” he said, and Dean cursed and reached down, pulled Sam back up.
“Sammy, fuck, I never could resist those puppy eyes.”
It made no sense, but Dean was touching him now, and Sam didn’t care.
“Look, let’s go somewhere quieter,” Dean said, and the rush of relief that came over Sam made him unsteady on his feet, made Dean grip his arm tighter to steady him.
“I have money,” Sam said, but Dean shook his head.
“Just to talk.”
Sam still didn’t understand, but at least Dean wasn’t telling him to leave. Not right now anyway.
“Okay, whatever you want,” he agreed, and followed as Dean led the way. They walked back to Dean’s apartment building, and Sam’s heart started beating faster. Maybe this was a good thing – surely this was a good thing?
“Have a seat,” Dean said after he closed the door. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and offered one to Sam.
Sam took it and sat down. His stomach dropped again as he had a terrible thought.
“Are you – are you pregnant? With some other guy’s baby?”
Dean huffed a laugh that had absolutely no humor in it. “No,” he said, and took a swig of his beer. He looked Sam straight in the eye when he went on.
“There’s no easy way to say this, Sam. I’m your brother.”
The world started spinning, everything seeming unanchored. Sam felt dizzy, shaking his head because no, that couldn’t be right.
“My – what?”
“Your brother,” Dean repeated patiently. “Your brother – Dean. You don’t remember, do you, Sammy?”
Sam shook his head again. His brother? The blonde haired green-eyed little boy with the freckles sprinkled across his nose whose chubby hand was always holding Sam’s. Who fed him Spaghetti-O’s and told him bedtime stories and dumped water over his head in the bathtub to clean off the remains of his dinner while Sam tried to escape? His brother who had been kidnapped by the same monsters who took their mother and never found – who Dad had assured him was dead. Dead, Sam. Just like your mother. That’s what monsters do. That’s why we kill them.
"Dean?” Sam asked, and the beer slid out of his grip and landed on the floor, its contents spilling on the linoleum.
“Yeah Sammy.”
“But – but you were dead. The monsters killed you, the ones who killed Mom.”
“Not so much,” Dean said, ignoring the beer puddling at his feet.
“But why?” Sam asked, and it felt like his heart was breaking and he didn’t know if it was because his big brother had abandoned him or because the man he’d fallen in love with was actually his brother. “Who took you? Why didn’t you come back for me?”
Dean looked as heartbroken as Sam was feeling.
“He told me if I ever came back, he’d kill us both. I believed him. I still do.”
“Dad? Dad told you…”
Sam couldn’t hear any more. He held his hands over his ears, his head dropping to his knees. “No, that’s not possible, it can’t be, that doesn’t make any sense… I can’t – why are you telling me this?”
“Because it’s the truth!” Dean said, raising his voice for the first time. “And because I owe you an explanation – for then and for now. Even if you don’t wanna hear it.”
Dean got up and went up and went to the kitchen, pulled out two more beers and planted one on the end table with a thud.
“I know you don’t wanna believe it, and maybe you won’t, that’s your prerogative. But what I’m telling you is true. I didn’t know when I – it never occurred to me that I’d ever run into you, Sam. Ever. I didn’t know why I felt such a crazy strong attraction to you, but that explanation never crossed my mind. And then I heard that car, and I saw him, and I knew. That Sam. My Sam.”
Sam sat silently. To Dean’s credit, he didn’t try to interrupt, just sipped his beer and waited. Sam’s brain churned frantically, searching for a way to make this all not true. He couldn’t find one.
His eyes caught on Dean’s bare leg, on the tattoo on his ankle.
“That S,” he started, and Dean nodded. He brushed his fingers over it and met Sam’s eyes.
Sam’s throat felt tight. Dean had carried that – carried him – with him, all this time.
“I didn’t remember your name,” Sam said finally. “How could I forget something like that? I didn’t remember my own brother’s name. He would never let me say it. Not once. Not ever.”
“You were a little kid, Sam. Nothing about this is on you.”
“I forgot my own brother. I should have looked for you, should have – should have realized. Ohmygod, it was....’
Sam sat up, feeling like he really was on the verge of vomiting. Dean waited, eyebrows lifted in question.
“It was because you were an omega. He threw you away because you were… you were like her. Like Mom. Oh Jesus, I think I’m gonna be sick.”
He ran then, got to his knees in front of the toilet just in time to lose all the beer he’d drank and all the gas station snacks he’d consumed on his way there.
Dean stood in the doorway while he retched, then wet a washcloth and handed it to Sam.
“That all of it?”
Sam leaned on his arm, the room spinning. “Think so.”
Dean leaned down and took the washcloth from him, ran it over Sam’s mouth, then handed him a glass of water to rinse.
“Thanks,” Sam said. He felt like crying now that his stomach was empty – it felt like his life was the same.
“Come on,” Dean urged, and took Sam’s arm to help him up. They’d been physical in every way possible over the past six months, but that touch felt like the most intimate of all of them. There was nothing sexual about it; it was comfort, affection. Brotherly. Sam stumbled as they walked, sobbed out loud because he couldn’t keep it in.
“Shhh,” Dean said, and sat Sam back on the couch. “I know this is – a lot. Just try to relax, okay?”
“Relax? How am I supposed to relax? I just found out that my father threw my brother out and then I found him by mistake and fell in love with him!”
It came out before Sam could think better of it; his brain was barely working.
Dean’s eyes widened for a second, then he looked down and tried to cover it up. “It’s a lot, I know. I’m sorry. I thought it was the right thing to tell you. If you want to just leave and never talk to me again, I’ll understand.”
It was Sam’s turn to stare. “Never talk to you again, are you kidding? You’re my fucking brother, Dean – my big brother!”
Dean smiled a little, though it looked reluctant.
“Even if you are an idiot,” Sam continued, and then Dean did smile for real.
“Hey,” he protested, and Sam thought about how beautiful he was when he smiled. And then about how he probably shouldn’t still be thinking that.
“I came here today to tell you that I found out something about my Mom. I mean, I guess -- our mom.”
Dean waited expectantly. Sam thought that Dean must remember a lot more about Mary than he did.
“She was a resistance fighter too. Just like you. She was on a raid when she was killed.”
Dean’s eyes widened. “I wondered,” he said, “But I never knew for sure. I remember they would argue, she would go out at night and he would drink and be pissed and then they’d yell a lot when she came home. I tried to keep you from waking up, closed the doors and put a fan on and hoped you wouldn’t hear it.”
“I came to tell you that I wanted to help, that I wanted to carry on her legacy. That I wanted to fight alongside you.”
“Sammy,” Dean said softly, and his eyes were wet. He wiped over them impatiently, then huffed an almost laugh. “You’re the dumbest alpha I’ve ever met.”
Sam smiled for the first time since he’d walked through Dean’s door. “Thanks,” he said, and managed a sip of his beer.
A knock at the door interrupted the moment, and Sam startled. A woman Sam hadn’t seen before came in, sniffed the air and wrinkled her nose. “Who the hell is this?”
Dean glanced at Sam and then back to the woman. “It’s – he’s my – friend.”
Sam nodded. “I’m Sam.”
“He’s – he’s okay,” Dean explained lamely.
“If you say so. What time you off tonight? We’ve got a – a thing.”
“He knows,” Dean said, gesturing at Sam. “I’ll be off by one.”
He glanced at his phone and then at Sam. “In fact, I need to get back to work.”
Sam was hit with a stab of disappointment that he quickly swallowed down. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Okay.”
The woman went the other way, and Sam walked the couple of blocks to the corner with Dean, wishing desperately that he could just pay Dean for the rest of the night and not have to know he was out here fucking god knows who.
“I hate this,” Sam said, but Dean turned away from him, leaned up against the brick wall.
“You’re allowed,” he said, then sighed again. “Look, I know this is weird – it’s weird for me too, I’ve just had a few weeks to start dealing with it. If you wanna leave, I do get it. But if you wanna stay, I’d – I’d like to get to know you, Sam. I kinda missed you a lot.”
Sam felt his face turn red. It was the nicest thing Dean had ever said to him, even if it wasn’t the kind of emotion he still couldn’t stop himself from craving from Dean.
“I can’t go back,” he said abruptly. “To my – to Dad. I can’t. Not when I know what he did. I’m gonna need some time to figure this out.”
Dean nodded. A Volvo pulled up to the curb and slowed to a stop, and Dean looked over, then back at Sam.
“You can stay with me, if you want.”
The window rolled down and an old guy who looked like a total asshole (in Sam’s opinion) peered out, his eyes raking over Dean from head to toe. He grinned wolfishly and waved a handful of $50 bills. “Got some time for me, pretty?”
Sam’s hackles rose, and he kept quiet with effort.
Dean nodded at the man and sauntered over, making a show of it. Sam wanted to tear the man’s throat out with his teeth.
“Come by tomorrow morning,” he said to Sam, not looking back. “About noon. If you want.”
He opened the door and climbed into the car, tinted windows obscuring Sam’s view. They drove off with a screech of tires, an alpha to alpha show of who was the victor.
“Fucking asshole,” Sam swore, and made his way to the bar. He had way too much to drink before stumbling back to the old hotel and falling onto the bed. He was exhausted from the long drive and the emotional shock of everything he’d found out, but sleep was a long time coming. At 4 a.m. he texted his father.
NOT COMING BACK FOR A WHILE. DON’T COME LOOKING FOR ME. I NEED SOME TIME.
He wanted to say a lot worse, but knew that would only goad John into doing something stupid that would kick Sam in the ass eventually. John didn’t know he’d found Dean, and Sam wanted to keep it that way. If their father was capable of kicking his own son out – giving him over to those men who Sam saw dragging him away – then he was capable of hurting Dean again, and Sam would not let that happen. Not ever.
He finally fell asleep as the sun was streaming through the cheap curtains. When he woke it was nearly check out time. His head was pounding and his eyes were crusted shut, still red from the tears he’d given into some time in the night. Despite that, Sam’s head felt clearer than it had in a long time as he climbed into the shower and tried to make himself presentable. He stopped on the way to Dean’s apartment for two cups of coffee and two Egg McMuffins, feeling unaccountably lighter than he had in years. Forever maybe.
Dean answered the door looking sleepy and grumpy and so sexy that Sam almost dropped the coffees.
“Damn it,” he swore, and juggled them back into position.
Dean smirked before he remembered he shouldn’t, then motioned Sam in. He moaned when Sam handed him one of the coffees and that did nothing to stop Sam’s appraisal.
“I love you,” Dean said, sipping his coffee and closing his eyes in bliss.
“I love you too,” Sam answered, and Dean shook his head.
“Not like that.”
“Exactly like that,” Sam argued.
Dean sat down at the little pull out table in his kitchen and Sam took a seat across from him.
“Exactly like that,” Sam repeated. “I didn’t know you were my brother – I didn’t even really remember my brother. It’s been almost twenty years, Dean, you were a stranger to me. And I’ve never been so into anyone in my entire life. I can’t just turn that off. I don’t want to turn that off.”
Dean frowned at him, sipping his coffee again. “Are you out of your mind, Sam?”
“No, I’m not out of my mind. At least I don’t think I am. I’m just telling you how I feel about you. Knowing you’re my brother doesn’t change the fact that I wanna jump you right now and fuck your brains out – or have you fuck mine out, I don’t really care. I just – I just want you.”
“Sam!” Dean exclaimed, and he sounded as scandalized as an old lady.
Sam couldn’t help but smile a little. It was endearing.
“Sorry.”
“You aren’t though.”
Sam shrugged.
“I asked if you wanted to stay here with me because you’re my brother.”
“I know. And thank you. I want to. I don’t have anywhere else to go, and I can’t think of anything worse than leaving you when I’ve just found you.”
Dean unwrapped his breakfast and took a bite, closing his eyes again as he savored the taste. Then he looked at Sam again, still frowning a little.
“But you still wanna jump my bones.”
“I do. God, do I ever. And if you’re really upset about that and don’t want me around, okay, I get it. I’ll try to find another place, somewhere close by so we can spend time together. As brothers. But I’d rather stay here. And I’d rather be more.”
Dean shook his head and took another bite. “You really are a piece of work, Sam. As stubborn as our old man in some ways probably.”
Sam bristled. “Don’t compare me to him – I’m nothing like him!”
Dean considered. “You’ve got his temper sometimes.”
Sam glared.
“Sam, it’s okay to be an alpha, you know? It’s what you are. Doesn’t mean you have to be an asshole.”
Sam impulsively reached across the table and pinned Dean’s hand. Dean looked up, startled, but didn’t pull away.
“Nobody knows we’re brothers. Nobody ever has to know we’re brothers.”
The same electricity that had crackled between them since the first second they met made Sam tingle all over, made him squeeze Dean’s fingers a little harder.
“You’re serious,” Dean said. He looked incredulous.
“You can tell me to get the hell out of here if you want. You can call me a sicko or a fool or whatever you think I am. I won’t even deny it. But I am, I’m serious.”
“Sam,” Dean said, and looked down. He let his fingers twine with Sam’s though, the simple movement sending shivers down Sam’s spine.
“I’m probably even more of a fool,” Sam continued, because he had nothing to lose now, may as well lay it all on the table. “I want to join you, Dean. I want to fight against all the shitty ways the system is set up against you – against all omegas. I didn’t know, but now I know – I know what Mom was fighting for, I know what you’re fighting for. And I want to help. I can fight, Dean. I’m a hunter, just like Dad is. I can kill monsters – whatever kind they are.”
Dean looked up and met Sam’s eyes, searching to see if Sam could possibly mean the insane thing he’d just said.
“You really are serious,” he said finally.
Sam nodded.
“And you really are an idiot,” Dean added, and the corner of his mouth turned up just so.
“The biggest,” Sam agreed.
“And you really don’t care about – about what we are to each other.”
Sam shook his head. “I know what we are to each other. I think I knew the first second I laid eyes on you that there was something between us, that this was meant to be. I think you knew it too. I didn’t know why then, and now? It doesn’t matter. You felt – you feel -- like home.”
Dean sighed, but he didn’t let go of Sam’s hand. “I almost told you not to come back, I was so thrown when you turned me on so much. Even the highest dose of suppressants didn’t work. You put your hands on me and I fucking melted all over. It scared the hell outta me, how much I wanted you.”
“Maybe now we know why – or maybe that has nothing to do with it,” Sam said softly. “All I know now is that you feel like mine and I want to be yours.”
Dean stayed silent for a long time, and Sam held his breath, not daring to hope. Finally Dean let go of Sam’s hand and got up from the table, and Sam’s heart felt cracked down the middle.
“Dean,” he said, and it came out like a plea.
“Being an idiot must run in the family,” Dean said, and he held out his hand.
FIN
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