notrighteous | things we try to hide

He told Sam to let him go. He told Sam to get on with his life and just get the hell away from him. But he just couldn't do that, could he? No. Not Sammy. Kid spent is whole damn life insisting he wanted out, wanted normal... But Dean had always known what he was really running away from.

Part of it anyway.

It wasn't just monsters under the bed... because not all monsters were tangible things. Some liked to lurk inside you. Some liked to remind you what a freak you really are and how you're never going to be normal.

Well, Sammy wasn't going to get normal. He wasn't letting Dean get away that easy either.

So maybe he could get some fun out of this at least. Sammy brought him 'home' and crammed him in thedungeon for safe-keeping... until he figured this out. Well, that wasn't gonna do.

Dean managed to pick the lock on the restraints after a while and then it was just a matter of slipping out. "Sammy," he called out, scanning the halls to see if he was alone, if he'd run into Sam or get to explore a bit.

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"I know, Sammy." He sighs as he starts to draw back, low and satisfied. He stretches his arms out above his head before he shifts to lie next to Sam. He could bring up all the times Sam said the opposite, made Dean feel like shit...

But later. Why ruin the afterglow

Dean won't have to ruin it. That little voice in Sam's head eventually wakes up again, reminding him that when he gets Dean back, his brother is going to despise him for this. Recoil in utter horror.

Slowly Sam pulls himself up, fumbling with his clothes.

Dressed. He needs to get his clothes back on and right now.

"What, no cuddling, Sammy?" He laughs as he watches Sam fumble with his clothes and stretches out absently, with a contented groan.

"I thought you'd be that type."

He should hide his wince, stuff everything down so he didn't get another reaction out of him but it's too late. Sam slides his shirt on, reaching for his sling and hooking it over his body. His shoulder feels like ground glass and if that doesn't kill him, the shame and guilt might.

"Shut up," he rasps absently. "Just.. don't talk."

"Rude, Sammy." He shook his head, lips quirking up briefly. "After what we just did and you won't even allow a little pillow talk?"

"I'm not giving up on you," he grimaces as he slides his arm into the sling across his body. "I can't."

He also knows that this, what they did, will kill him. To love his brother and see nothing but cold mockery in his eyes. The sex had been what he wanted, but it wasn't enough. Sam needed emotion, he wanted to show his brother how he felt.

"I'm here, Sam... still me, just a little bit different. I have all of Dean's memories, everything that makes him him." Even the desire to kill, to fight and maim, weren't entirely foreign to Dean Winchester as a human.

"Stop acting like I'm not him."

"You're not. You're a demon, Dean. That's not exactly something you shake off. I didn't have a soul when Cas pulled me out, remember? It was me, but not exactly."

A point in his life he still doesn't like to think about.

"So you tell me how that's any different."

"Because my soul is still in here, Sammy..." He pushes himself up and takes a step towards Sam.

"And I don't wanna shake it off. I'm free like this... I don't feel like shit anymore. No guilt eating at me. Hell, I finally got to fuck you without wondering if I was damning my stupid kid brother along with me. That's worth something, right?"

Oh God. The admission takes the legs right out from underneath Sam and he slumps into a chair, head falling forward into his hand. Because maybe Dean had loved him too and they hadn't said anything. Neither one of them had said anything.

"I don't know what to do now," he whispers, tears pricking hot behind his closed eyes. "Dean I don't know what to do."

"You go to bed and sleep," Dean says after a moment, thoughtful and concerned and everything Sam is used to hearing from him -- it benefits him at the moment to slip back into that big brother role after all.

"You're tired, Sammy. When was the last time you rested?"

The concern melts the last of his reservation and Sam scrubs wearily at his face. "I don't know. Couple of days I think."

Sleep. He needs to rest, and Sam knows better than to ask his brother to lay with him. "You'll stay? You won't leave?"

"I'm not goin' anywhere, Sam... except maybe to the TV to catch up a little. Like I said, still me. Just a few extra quirks." And vegging out in front of the TV and thinking up a few plans sounded great right now.

"Just get some sleep."

things we try to hide

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