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Dean swore that Sam would never know any of this. Could never know. For years, he kept his behavior perfect, never slipping, never crossing the red line he’d drawn for himself. Only in dreams did his hands go wandering beyond what Sam did to him, only in dreams did he kiss his brother or go beyond. Sam suspected nothing.
Sam knew Dean was torn up about their dad’s death, and he got that Dad had sacrificed himself for Dean and how that ate at him. What Sam didn’t know was their dad’s final words. Save Sam, or you’re gonna have to kill him. Dean hadn’t just lost his father with John’s death. He’d always had a blind faith in the man, one that Sam didn’t understand and often ridiculed, but John had finally found a way to go too far. Dean could not accept this one, and he couldn’t talk to Sam about it. It was bad enough that Dad had put this shit on him, he didn’t need to dump it on Sam to make himself feel better. Sam was grieving their dad, too, possibly even more than Dean, given that he’d lost any chance at making their tentative reconciliation stick.
Dean hated truth spells. In part, it’s because they were a professional hazard – hunters relied on lies to get access to bodies, to convince victims and witnesses to talk, to get money. Truth spells were also bad for him personally because of the secrets he was trying to keep. This was going to be an annoying hunt, because the whole town was under the spell. Just entering the town meant that he and Sam were affected. If he’d known that, he’d have pushed harder for those unexplained lights out in Louisiana.
As it turned out, Sam figured out how to solve the problem easily enough. It was a spell, spells could be broken. Find the witch, end the spell – and since no one could lie, witchy behavior couldn’t be covered up or blown off by people trying to convince themselves they hadn’t seen what they thought they saw. Dean was skeptical, it never worked out that easily, but he was wrong. The hunt was perfectly simple. They only had to question two people before they had a suspect, the suspect panned out, and Dean got to shoot a witch. Sam destroyed the altar, and all that was left to do was wait for the spell to wear off.
Between the truth spell and the celebratory alcohol, Dean got himself into trouble. Sam didn’t mean to, but he said something about wishing Dad was there to see a hunt go so smoothly for once. Dean shook his head. “No, Sam, Dad’s gone and you’re better off without him.”
Sam snorted. “Well, I see the truth spell’s wearing off.”
“No it isn’t.” Dean bit his tongue, but it was too late.
“Come on, man, Dad was your hero. You don’t really think I’m better off without him.”
“Yeah, well, then Dad said I had to save you from something, and if I couldn’t, I’d have to kill you. The hell kind of father tells one of his sons to kill the other, after raising us to be as close as we are?” Dean took a long swig of beer. “One the sons are better off without, that’s what kind.”
Sam made a dismissive face. “Save me? From what?”
“Hell if I know! That’s all he said. Save you or kill you. Damn well hope I can save you, because I can’t kill you.”
“Dad thought… what, that I’d go dark side? Become one of the things we hunt?”
Dean threw up his hands, forgetting that he was holding a beer, which sent precious liquid sloshing onto his bed. Whoops. “I don’t know, man! That’s what it sounds like, but you? Dark side? Come on.” Dean rolled his eyes. “If he were here, I’d be kicking his ass until he explained properly. How’m I supposed to save you if I don’t know what I’m saving you from?”
Sam set his beer down and shifted so he could see Dean’s face better. “Dean, if I do go dark side – if I become a threat to innocent people – someone’s gonna have to put me down. I know you can’t think about it, but if it happens…”
“Then I’m gonna save you or go down with you, Sam. I can’t kill you. Can’t do it.”
“Yes you can! You have to, because I know you’d know how to do it and do it right!”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re my brother and I’m in love with you.” And there it was. Goddamn spell. Goddamn alcohol. Goddamn inquisitive brothers and dumbass fathers who give their kids impossible orders.
Sam started to reply, shut his mouth, tried and failed again. Finally, he asked, “Truth spell?”
“Not gone yet.” Or Dean would be lying his ass off to cover this back up.
“Wow.” Sam stared at him, mouth hanging open.
“Why aren’t you affected?”
Sam startled. “Who says I’m not?”
“Did you break my Zeppelin IV tape on purpose when you were fifteen?”
Sam shot him a bitch face, but the test worked. “Yes, I did. Sort of. I thought it was Dad’s.”
Okay. Sam was affected. So… “How’d you resist telling me to fuck off just now, then?”
“Why would I want or need to? I want you right here beside me, same as always.”
“Even if I’m a freak?”
Sam scooted a little closer. “I am too.”
Dean flinched. He could have picked a different word. Sam hated being called a freak. “Sammy…”
Sam’s smile was blinding. “Same kind, I mean. That was one reason I left for Stanford, to try to get over my abnormal desire for you. It worked, temporarily, but it all came right back in Jericho.”
Now it was Dean’s turn to have to try a few times to answer. He’d never even considered that Sam might be just as fucked up as he was. “Huh.”
“So what now? I’m okay with saying forget what everyone else is gonna say, but if you aren’t, I’m not going to force the issue. Ever.”
“I love you. That’s all that’s ever mattered or ever will matter.” Dean reached up, pulling Sam into a long kiss. “Does this mean you won’t leave me again, once we’ve found this thing?”
“Never again. You and me against the world, no matter what.”