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*******
The sun isn’t as hot as they had planned for, but the terrain is rougher going than Sam’s used to hiking through. The red dirt and the distinctively craggy Badlands peaks roll on as far as he can see into the vague distance. The crunch of his boots on the barely visible trail is the only sound when he times his steps perfectly with Dean’s. He concentrates on doing that for a long time, matching his steps and his breaths with his big brother’s. In and out, Dean’s back expands and contracts.
Sam can see the sweat soaking into the collar of Dean’s over shirt making the edge a darker blue. The skin on the back of Dean’s neck looks much too red for just exertion and now Sam wishes that he’d insisted on putting on sunscreen before they’d started hiking. Now he’s going to have to hear Dean bitching about the painful sunburn for the next few days. But back there at the car, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to insist on doing the sunscreen thing, because that would have meant having his hand’s on Dean’s skin. Right there, where he knew it was the very softest, right there, behind Dean’s perfectly formed ears.
He mentally slaps himself, he can’t possibly feel more like an emo teen like Dean had taken to calling him lately, because it’s true. Sam is always feeling too emotional and on-edge, between all the raging hormones, and the constant effort to hide his excruciating pining over Dean, it’s a lot, no, it’s too much. When they’d started hiking today it had almost felt like a possible vacation from all that angst, since they were here working on a case together, without Dad. Usually that made things easier between them, like Dean didn’t feel like he had to play the freaking peacemaker all the time.
Things don’t feel easier, not now that Sam's following Dean up the trail, all of his thoughts are of course, as usual, completely focused on Dean to the exclusion of everything else. Sam can’t help it, his eyes are constantly roving over his brother’s body as he moves along the rough terrain in front of him. Just there, right out of his reach, always ahead of him on the trail, but still unattainable. Sam knows for sure that this is no vacation, it’s the same as usual.
Sam sighs, and accepts his fate. He follows and tries his hardest not to think at all, about anything instead. Certainly not about all the times that he’s almost let his brother know how he feels. And then there’s the acceptance letter that’s hidden in the bottom of the pack Sam carries on his back. He still hasn’t told Dean anything about it or his plans for the future, he tells himself that he’s still working up the courage. Sam knows that when he finally does, it isn’t going to go over well with his brother. Dean idolizes their dad, and would never consider coming along to Stanford with Sam even if Sam asked him to.
That’s something that keeps stopping him from telling Dean anything about his plans. Sam’s still not sure whether he should even ask Dean or not. Is it better to give Dean the chance to say no, make a clean break of it for both of them? Or would it be better for Dean for Sam to just leave without ever offering Dean the option? Even though Dean coming along with him is the only outcome Sam really truly wants.
That’s what Sam’s mind is filled with, all the want that’s always there, the base need, the carnal lust that’s so hard to control day in day out, and the existential dread of losing any contact with Dean if he knew how Sam felt. He knows it’ll kill him if it happens, it’s his worst case scenario because he’d be the one making it happen to the both of them.
He has to stop himself from going down that road, making that choice, especially way out here in the middle of nowhere, because that would leave neither of them the option to leave. Especially, since they’re in the middle of a hunt when they have no real clue on what they’re really hunting. That means changing the internal conversation he’s having with himself by making actual conversation with Dean, here in the real world, where little brothers aren’t meant to be pining over their big brothers like this.
“Hey, Dean, can we stop for a sec?” Sam asks, surprising himself with how out of breath he sounds. It’s not the exertion of the hike, it’s the worry of it all. The question hangs there in the air between them as Dean takes several more steps up the hill away from him.
Then Dean is pausing and turning in response to his question, he’s now way up above him on the cliffside, his face filled with so much affection as he looks down at Sam, so open and warm. Sam can see that he’s about to get teased for asking to stop, and then everything changes in a moment. Dean’s face goes white with surprise and fear and he’s yelling Sam’s nickname so loud in the space between them. He’s looking over Sam’s shoulder, not at Sam, wait—he’s not yelling at Sam for doing something wrong, he’s…Dean’s leaping off the cliff, crashing into Sam, bringing him down to the rocky ground, cradling his head and rolling them down the hill, away from whatever it was that scared Dean.
They hit the bottom of the hill, Sam feels dazed from the whole thing, it all happened so fast. They’re both covered in dirt and scraped up with bleeding cuts on their arms and faces.
“You okay, Sammy?” Dean asks, hands roaming over Sam’s body and face.
“What the hell, Dean?” Sam protests, slapping Dean’s hands away, it’s too much, too close to what he wants.
“It…there was something behind you,” Dean says, eyes wide with a fear he can’t seem to hide.
“What are you talking about, dude? I didn’t see anything,” Sam says.
“It was behind you, doofus, you couldn’t have seen it, unless you’ve grown eyes on the back of your head that can see through this mop of hair,” Dean’s hands tug on Sam’s hair. “Trust me, there was definitely something there.”
Sam is proud of himself from hiding the groan at having his hair pulled like that. There’s something about Dean’s fear and worry that makes it easy to stuff that idea away where he usually puts such things. Down in that deep pit where it can’t hurt either of them. “What did this something look like exactly?”
“It was kind of person shaped, but not exactly. It wasn’t see-through like a ghost, it was kind of absorbing the light. It’s hard to explain, it’s like it was an absence, a shape of nothingness. The only thing was the eyes, I could see through them into…”
“Into what, Dean?” Sam asks, when Dean doesn’t finish his sentence.
“Into somewhere else, that’s the only way to describe it,” Dean asks.
“Do you see it anywhere now?” Sam asks, sitting up from where their bodies are still tangled together.
Dean groans as he stands, his hands going to his lower back and coming away bloody. He scans the horizon several times and shakes his head. “I think we’re okay for now.”
“Think this is what Dad sent us out here to find?” Sam asks.
“Maybe? There wasn’t a lot to go on in the stuff he left us,” Dean says.
“Yeah, I know, I read it to you in the car, remember?” Sam asks.
“I’m thinking we should stay out here tonight, see if it comes back,” Dean says.
“Dean, we don’t know what it is, or how to fight it,” Sam says.
“It was a whole lot of nothing, Sammy. It’s not like a vampire or something,” Dean says.
“For the millionth time, it’s Sam and there’s no such thing as vampires, you know that as well as I do. This could be something we don’t want to tangle with completely unprepared like we are right now,” Sam says.
“C’mon, it’ll be fun, you need to challenge yourself on hunts sometimes,” Dean says.
“Yeah, sure, says the guy who’s bleeding. C’mon, turn around, let me check you,” Sam says, trying to manhandle Dean into position so he can see what’s wrong with his back.
Sam kneels behind Dean and examine the scrapes on Dean’s lower back. He gently touches the reddened skin around the bloody cuts. “It’s pretty scraped up and you’re bleeding. It definitely needs cleaning up. Where’s the med kit?”
“Second biggest pocket,” Dean says, pointing a thumb at his own backpack.
Sam stands up and tugs at the zipper on Dean’s pack, letting himself recover from having his hands on Dean’s skin. It had been so smooth and soft, and the freckles, that beautiful dusting of them just below the waistline of Dean’s jeans. He readjusts himself so it’s not so obvious how he’s responded and concentrates on getting the antiseptic wipe unfolded from the foil packet. “Here it comes,” Sam warns, gently wiping the thing across the worst injuries.
Dean hisses and pulls away, Sam stops him with a hand on the bare skin of his waist. He squeezes gently and feels his brother vibrate with the stinging pain. “Almost done, don’t be a big baby.”
“It stings like a motherfucker,” Dean hisses.
“Definitely not something you’d hear a baby say,” Sam says with a laugh.
Dean turns around in his grip, so he’s facing Sam. He’s so close, and Sam’s hand is still on the warm skin of Dean’s waist. “How about you, got any booboos for me to check out?”
Sam looks at him and wonders for a crazy second if this thing is mutual, could that be possible in any conceivable way? Could he be that lucky in any known or theoretical universe?
“Sam?”
Sam ducks his head, thankful for the cover of his bangs, he can feel the hot blush on his cheeks. “I’m fine, turn around and I’ll stick this back in your pack,” Sam says in a mumble, fumbling the med kit closed and tucking the used antiseptic wipe into his pocket.
“Saving that for later?” Dean asks.
“What?”
“If you really want to carry around my blood in your pocket, then have at it, I guess,” Dean says.
“It’s not…that wasn’t what I…never mind,” Sam says as Dean steps away from him, heading back up the hill they’d tumbled down.
“Just keep your eyes peeled for that thing,” Dean calls over his shoulder.
“Sure, I’ll be watching out for nothing, got it,” Sam scoffs.
Dean stops and turns around, above him on the hill so he’s blocking out the sun. “It was coming for us. Well, no, it was coming for you, Sammy. I saw the thing, and whatever it was, it was ready to…I don’t know, eat you up or something. So just be careful, that’s all,” Dean says.
They hike for several hours, the sun starting to sink lower in the sky. The trail markings are getting harder to see clearly. Sam’s about to suggest turning around and heading back for the car when Dean stops abruptly. Sam puts his arms out to avoid head butting the back of Dean’s head, and his hands land on Dean’s waist. Dean stumbles back a few steps, slamming into Sam and nearly knocking him over. Sam’s feet scrabble on the rocky hillside, finally catching on a solid rock. Dean’s body is thrumming with something, Sam can feel it seeping through his fingers.
“What’s going on?” Sam whispers, because Dean is so silent.
Dean turns around, ending up in Sam’s arms and everything in Sam’s world changes in the next moment. Dean’s lips are on his, warm and soft and all the feelings he’s been hiding surge through him. He holds Dean close to his body, and he can feel that the thrumming is still happening, going on and on, like Dean’s fighting himself. He tilts his head to fit their mouths together better, slipping his tongue through and into the warmth of Dean’s mouth. Dean responds instantly, kissing him back, over and over. It’s the best surprise Sam’s ever gotten to experience.
*****
“Sam! C’mon, Sam, you gotta—Sammy!” Dean is yelling, and how can he be yelling when Dean is also kissing the life out of him, it doesn’t make sense.
Sam comes back to the real world when Dean slaps him hard across the face. “Damn it, Sam, come on!”
Sam manages to get his hands up in front of his face to fend off the next slap. “Ssstoppit, stop hittin’ me,” Sam slurs. Wait, why is he slurring? He was just kissing Dean, and now he’s getting slapped in the face, did he do it wrong or something? Did Dean not like it?
“You little shit, scared the crap outta me!” Dean yells, shaking Sam’s shoulders hard against the rocky ground.
Dean’s still yelling at him, but why isn’t the kissing happening any more? Sam wants to go back to the kissing part. That was better. A lot better.
“I love you, I really really do,” Sam says, only in his mind he hopes, when Dean scoops him up in arms.
“God, you weigh a ton, how can you weigh so damn much when you’re so skinny. Must have iron for bones, huh, Sammy?” Dean asks, as he stumbles his way down the trail.
The sun is coming up, and it’s glaring and bright, too bright in Sam’s eyes. It had just been getting dark, how can it be so sunny? “What time’s it?” Sam slurs against Dean’s chest where his face ended up, pressed into the soft flannel of Dean’s blue over shirt.
“Just before dawn, I’ve been looking for you all night,” Dean says, sounding grim and determined as he marches them along the trail.
Hopefully heading back to the car, back to home. “We going home?”
“Yeah, Sammy, we’re going home, I gotcha, don’t worry,” Dean says, hoisting Sam up a little higher in his arms. Sam’s face ends up plastered against Dean’s bare neck. His lips find the cord that the amulet hangs on and he can’t help latching on to keep himself from saying anything. He’s so cold, and Dean’s so warm, and he wishes more than anything that this made one bit of sense. He shivers so hard that his teeth rattle against the metal of Dean’s amulet.
Dean stops and lays Sam down on a sandy part of the trail. He shrugs his over shirt off and threads Sam’s uncooperative noodle arms through the sleeves. Dean looks him over closely, finally making eye contact, and now it’s bright enough in the early morning sky so that Sam can see him. His eyes in this light are even greener than the grassy mossy green they usually are. How can he possibly be this beautiful after all this?
“Aww that’s nice of you to say, can you walk the rest of the way?” Dean asks, a slight blush to his cheeks.
Sam is stunned for a moment, he actually just said those words out loud. Right to Dean’s face. What the hell else has he said out loud? Shit.
“Sounds like that’s a no, okay, let’s keep goin’, big guy,” Dean says, making an oof sound as he scoops Sam up again, this time slinging him around to ride on his back. Sam tries to cooperate and wrap his legs around Dean’s middle, but they are noodle legs and slip several times. Dean holds onto them, like they’re a belt or something, and he starts walking at a very fast clip.
“Is something after us?” Sam asks, feeling scared all of a sudden. There was a thing, yesterday, that Dean had seen, the something that was nothing, right?
“I’d call it a whole lot of nothing, but yeah, I’m pretty sure that it’s catching up with us. Hold on to me, Sammy, best that you can. I’m gonna make a run for it, okay?” Dean asks.
“I’ll tr—“ Sam starts, but is cut off when Dean starts running down the trail, faster and faster, gaining speed as it gets steeper. Thank goodness the trail is downhill to where they parked.
The black glint of the Impala’s roof shines and twinkles at Sam. “I see her, she’s just up ahead.”
“Hell of a time for you to finally call her the right thing, Sammy,” Dean huffs between harsh breaths.
“What’s the plan, get in the car and gun it?” Sam asks, feeling his limbs a little more now, they’re less noodle and more stale breadsticks. He tightens his hold as Dean pushes his speed up now that they’re within sight of the finish line.
“Yeah, I’m unlocking my door, throwing you across the seat, and we’re gone,” Dean says.
“Should I look behind us? See if it’s close?” Sam asks.
“No! Don’t look, don’t look back, whatever you do,” Dean yells, somehow still picking up the pace.
The Impala is there, and Dean’s unlocking her door, throwing Sam across the front seat just as promised. Sam watches as Dean struggles with something briefly, finally gaining enough control to slam the door, crank the key and hit the gas pedal. They fishtail it out of the sandy pullout, jumping the dip back up onto the two-lane road. Sam can hear something on the driver’s side passenger window, a scratching like they’re continually rubbing up against tree branches.
“Something’s back there, Dean! Behind you on the window, I hear it!” Sam yells, struggling to get his seat belt on.
“Don’t look god damnit! Please, Sammy, don’t look at it again!” Dean yells, the car leaps forward as he mashes the accelerator pedal to the floor.
The scratching sound on the window stops and Sam hears something hit the road behind them. Dean slows down to a more reasonable ten miles an hour over the speed limit and gets his seat belt on. He finally glances over at Sam.
“What was that, Dean? What happened?” Sam asks.
“Long story short, it was some kind of monster, like a thing out of a fairytale. It told me it only needed your wants, that it was making you happy like I couldn’t. But all it was doing was tricking you into thinking you were living a life where you got everything you ever wanted,” Dean says.
“I don’t get it, you mean it was something like a djinn or a genie?” Sam asks, mentally thumbing through Dad’s journal where he had listed all the monsters he’s run into so far during his hunting career.
“Something like that, but it didn’t respond at all to silver,” Dean says.
“So the thing…it was feeding on me, all night?” Sam asks.
“Yeah, in between when it was following me around while I searched for you,” Dean says.
“Why didn’t it get you?” Sam asks.
“It can only do it to one person at a time, it said there was a limit to what it could absorb all at once,” Dean says.
“I don’t feel so great,” Sam says, stomach turning over at the thought of something feeding at him like some giant tick while he was romping around through his stupid fantasies.
Dean pulls over into another sandy pullout. Sam rolls out the door and hits the ground on his knees, there’s nothing in his stomach to bring up so he dry heaves for a while until he feels Dean’s cool hand on his neck, tangling in his hair. Sam moans at the feeling, hoping it’s disguised enough with the other sounds he’s making. It’s shameful feeling like this, when his brother was just so terrified. “I’m sorry,” Sam says, staring at the red sandy dirt between his hands.
Dean’s hand squeezes the back of Sam’s neck gentle as anything. “Nothing to be sorry about, Sammy. We’re good, we got away,” Dean says.
“What about…all of that—what I said?” Sam asks.
“We can chalk it up to monster-induced-logorrhea,” Dean says, withdrawing his hand and tousling Sam’s hair like he always does.
Sam stares up at him, outlined by the bright morning sun, he’s brilliant, this brother of his. He always tries to hide it, but Sam sees him anyway. He always has, he always will. “You need to come with me, Dean.”
“Come with you where? What are you talking about?” Dean asks with a concerned frown.
“Where’s my backpack?” Sam asks, changing the subject to save himself from having to explain. Dean’s going to say no, he knows this, he knows for sure. But he has to try.
“It’s—the thing must still have it,” Dean says.
“Wait, how does it have my backpack? What the hell happened back there, Dean?”
“If you’re worried about the letter from Stanford, I have that here,” Dean says, pulling a folded up envelope from his back pocket. “The thing literally threw it in my face.”
“I’m—“ Sam starts, not even sure what the hell he’s going to say here that would help.
“Don’t say you’re sorry, Sam. You shouldn’t be, not about something like this. I’m not happy you didn’t bother telling me, but I can guess why you didn’t,” Dean says, hiding his unhappiness behind the act of thrusting the letter in Sam’s face.
Sam takes the letter and stuffs it in his own back pocket, he buries his face in his arms and pulls his legs in, curling up on himself. He’s never going to hear the end of this. It’s all blowing up, right here, right now.
“You’ve got nothing to say to me here? Really, Sam? You’re unbelievable,” Dean says, stomping his way around the car to get back in on the driver’s side. Dean slams the door hard, like he only does when he’s incredibly angry.
Sam hugs his arms around his knees and holds back the tears that are threatening to spill. He stuffs all the emotion back inside deep down where he always keeps it hidden. Where it can’t hurt anyone, especially Dean. The Impala starts up again with a low rumble, and Sam stands up, brushing off his knees and butt. The cloud of red dirt blows away in the breeze. It’s cold, and he’s wearing Dean’s over shirt, and he might have just lost the most important person in the world.
Dean revs the engine, and Sam knows that’s the cue to get in if he doesn’t want to get left behind. He slips into the passenger seat and is putting on his seatbelt when Dean hands him a water bottle.
“Thought you might need to rinse your mouth out,” Dean says.
Sam swishes some water and spits out the window, making a dark spot on that red dirt. It’s not blood, but it might as well be blood or ashes for all that it matters now.
“We’re gonna talk about this at some point, like it or not. The stuff it showed me, Sammy, it’s not something I can ignore,” Dean says, his voice wavering on the last word.
Sam looks over at him, keyed in on that minor inflection in Dean’s voice. What did the thing show him? How much damage control does he have to do here? “Wait…what do you mean, what did it show you?”
“So, this thing survives by pulling wants out of people, tricking them into thinking they’re living the life where their wants have been fulfilled, right? But meanwhile they’re lying on the cold rocky ground having their life force sucked out. To keep the victim occupied, it shows you a kind of movie,” Dean says.
“But I thought, it was—it seemed so real,” Sam says.
“That’s the idea, that’s why you’ll lay down and die, basically,” Dean says.
“So that’s what I was seeing, but what did you see, Dean?”
“When I was fighting it, to get it off of you, it showed me your movie, that’s when it shoved that damn letter in my face,” Dean says with a grimace, “like it was trying to get me to fuck off from trying to save you, just because you wanted a different life.”
“But you didn’t,” Sam says, heart swelling with gratitude, his big-damn-hero brother, doing the usual self-sacrificing thing. “Thank you.”
“What do you think, I’m gonna leave you there on the ground to die, Sam? Just because you have some freaky happily ever-after fantasy of the two of us? And a real-world plan to make sure that never happens?”
“That’s what I was just asking you before. I want you to come with me,” Sam says.
“Come with you where?” Dean asks.
“To Palo Alto,” Sam says.
“What…you think I’m gonna live in your dorm room, carry your books for you to class? Give me a break, Sam, that ain’t me, you know that,” Dean says with so much sarcasm it feels like a thousand paper cuts.
Sam flinches away from him, and doesn’t want to say anything else. What else is there to say after that? But then he thinks about what Dean’s objecting to here, not the them being together part, just the college part. “We can live together off campus, I looked up a few places that we could rent that my scholarship would mostly cover. You don’t have to have anything to do with the college. There’s lots of jobs around that area, you could do anything, Dean. Fix all the rich people’s cars or something. But we could stay together, that’s all I want,” Sam admits.
“Sounds like a real nice daydream, Sammy. But I’m not going to abandon Dad and stop hunting, this is it for me, this is my life. And you’re going to have your life, where you go to college and do whatever the hell afterwards without us, and that’s fine.”
“You don’t want to even try, to stay together?”
“I don’t think it’d be right,” Dean says. “You’re my brother.”
“Yeah, I know that, thanks for the reminder. Listen, you saw the movie that the thing showed you, and I’ll own up to it, that’s what I want, but if you don’t, just come live with me. We can stay just brothers, and I’ll at least know you’re safe.”
“Sam, hunters aren’t ever safe, you’re old enough to realize that by now. And that’s why I can’t just leave Dad to do it by himself,” Dean says.
“Where is he right now, Dean? He’s sure as hell not here, he’s not making sure you’re safe, or me. He sent us out here on a case when he had no clear information and I almost just died. He’s out doing god knows what, god knows where. How would he even notice if you took off with me? He’d catch up when he needed something, sure, but c’mon, how is that a life for you, waiting around for him?”
“It’s not that simple, and you know it. Dad’s hunting the demon,” Dean says.
“He has been almost my whole life, and he’s left us out of it the whole time, even you. How is that being a partner or a team? It sure as fuck is not being a family!” Sam yells.
“Well, we are, you and me, we’re a family,” Dean says.
“Yeah, exactly, that’s why I want you to come with me,” Sam says.
“I…I’ll think about it. Let’s leave it at that,” Dean says.
“And all the other stuff?” Sam asks, even though he knows he should push it.
“I’ll think about that too. You’ve had a long time to come up with all the stuff that was in that thing’s movie, Sammy. You gotta give me a little time here,” Dean asks. He fumbles in the glovebox and grabs his sunglasses, putting them on so he can hide from Sam’s inspection.
“Okay, yeah, take the time, I get it, Dean,” Sam says, feeling a thrill of potential victory. He has no real idea where Dean will end up on upending his entire life, but at least he’s put it all out there. He leans against the window and closes his eyes against the bright sun. For a thing made of nothing, it sure changed everything for them.
The End