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“Come on in, Sammy.”
The muffled voice echoed eerily through the closed door. “You just can't let go, can you? Not even when I say you're the one who should have been roasting on that pyre instead of Charlie.”
Sam took a deep breath, strengthening his mental shields to deflect the pain of the insults Dean would surely throw at him, gathering his courage to face whatever he'd find on the other side of the door.
He'd tracked Dean using the GPS on his phone. His brother hadn't bothered to trash it. But then why should he?
If a fully graced-up angel such as Castiel hadn't been able to hold him, then he'd nothing to fear from any human, and certainly not from Sam. The last thing he wanted was to harm Dean.
No, he wanted his brother alive. And to do that he had to come up with a way of getting the Mark off Dean's arm.
Sam wasn't giving up on his brother, not now, not ever.
He slowly pushed open the door.
Dean had his back to him, so supremely confident that he didn't feel the need to be careful around his visitor.
“Dean...”
“So what have you come up with this time, Sam? Found some weird hex to fix your big brother? Some voodoo queen in New Orleans to strip me of the Mark? Or something even more exotic?”
“Please, Dean,“ Sam practically pleaded. “It's not important what you think of me, just let me help you. We still have the Book of the Damned and I know there's a spell inside that can take the Mark away. You just need to stay strong a while longer. Just until I get the spell decoded.”
Dean turned slowly, his eyes two chips of hard emerald.
“Not this time, Sam. I told you I wasn't going to fight this anymore, and I'm not. I should never have taken on the Mark in the first place, but I thought I could handle it. I was wrong. Now I'll pay the price. Whatever that may be.”
As had happened so often in his life, Sam found himself repeating his sibling's name as if it were a mantra. A magical word that would halt his big brother in his tracks and force him to listen to reason. However, this time Sam was afraid the magic might have worn off.
But he had to try anyway. “Dean...”
The bearer of that name gave an incredulous snort.
“Ah, Sammy! Sometimes I wonder if you being my brother is more of a curse than the Mark itself, stubborn little shit that you are.
You can't save me, because I don't WANT to be saved. Why can't you accept it and move on? Go back to school. Have kids. It's what you wanted once. Forget about me. Turn around and go out that door.
If you do, I promise I won't give you any hassle. Not now, not in the future.”
“I can't do that Dean. This isn't what you really want. This isn't you....”
But Dean was through listening.
Before a surprised Sam could draw back, Dean was in his personal space, his face an inch from his little brother's.
“Just what am I supposed to do with you, Sammy? Huh? I tell you to stay away and you don't. I throw shit at you and you come back for more. Why can't you just leave me to my fate?
Do you want me to kill you? Is that it? Send you off to heaven so you can do research in a pretend library for all eternity?”
The green eyes raked his sibling's features, studying Sam as if he were some exotic lab animal.
But Sam had exhausted his repertoire. There was nothing more to add. He couldn't bring himself to give up on his big brother. Dean was all he had.
Was it a death wish? Was it co-dependency? Was he so wrapped up in his elder sibling that the thought of never seeing him again left him hollow inside, an emptiness that only Dean could fill?
Sam wasn't sure of anything anymore and when Dean pulled his head down and crushed his mouth to his, he wasn't even surprised.
While this new sensation of his brother's lips on his own was being assimilated by his body, Sam's mind was whispering that perhaps this is what it was all about.
Had they been circling each other all these years without realizing that being brothers wasn't enough? That the Winchesters were fucked up in this just as in all the rest?
Like a dying man, Sam's life flashed before his eyes, and he studied it with the eyes of a lover instead of a brother. Had everything they'd done for each other been the fruit of a truth they'd never wanted to see or admit?
But then all logic paled in comparison to the arousal that whipped through his body, a searing heat fuelled by the taste of Dean's lips on his own.
When his big brother drew away, Sam was so dazed by what had just happened that when the handcuffs closed around his wrists imprisoning him in the nearby chair, he didn't have the lucidity to offer any opposition.
He gazed up at Dean in confusion, waiting for him to say something, to acknowledge what had just happened, but Dean merely tugged at the handcuffs to test their hold and turned away, giving Sam his back.
“I gave you your chance, Sam. I warned you away. Now you're going to have to play by my rules. Back in the barn, before I killed him, Cain and I had an interesting little chat. He said the Mark would force me to kill a demon, a friend, and last of all a brother, imitating his own experiences in reverse.
But you know what, Sammy, you fit the bill for all three. A little bit of demon, more than a friend, and a brother that I might or might not kill.”
Dean finished fidgeting with whatever he was doing on the table and came towards his wide-eyed sibling.
He stretched out a hand and lifted Sam's chin. “I kissed you just to throw you off balance, but I wasn't expecting to enjoy it so much.”
He smirked down at his brother. “This could be the beginning of a new 'relationship' little brother. One where I call the shots.”
Before Sam could get a word out, Dean's lips were on his. This time they were softer, more persuasive, almost hypnotic and Sam found himself responding, allowing Dean to savor his mouth, his brother's tongue taking control of the kiss.
“I've got things to do,” Dean said huskily, pulling away. “But I'll be back and we'll see just how far you're willing to go to redeem me, Sammy. Cain kept it together while Colette, his wife, kept him reined in. Maybe that's your role, dude. My very own Colette.”
“Dean,” Sam gulped. “ Dean. It doesn't have to be like this. I know the Book has a cure for you.”
“See you soon, dude,” the elder Winchester said, ignoring Sam's plea. “And then we'll continue our 'conversation'. Don't bother bruising your wrists trying to get out of the handcuffs. They're proofed against evasion.”
Sam could only look on, straining at his cuffs as Dean disappeared out the door.
Sam thought about what had just happened and found himself trembling in trepid anticipation of Dean's return and the continuation of their 'conversation'.
The end