Chapter Text
TIMELINE: SAM IS SEVENTEEN & DEAN IS TWENTY-ONE.
It all started in a rundown motel, like how most things start for the Winchester boys, but this was the start for Dean’s entire world to crash down onto him.
The start of a very long, overdrawn mistake.
John had sent both of his boys out on a hunt for a ghost, another salt and burn, on the edge between Illinois and Wisconsin. Honestly, considering how easy it was, John must have just wanted to get rid of them considering the fact that the brothers had been getting into a lot of spats lately.
It wouldn’t be so bad if Sam would just grow a fuckin’ pair and understand that this? The hunting? The monsters? The never-ending chase of that goddamn demon? This is their life. This is the family business.
On the other hand, it’s understandable why Sam wouldn’t want to. He’s different. Not like them. Sammy has always been like that. It’s dangerous for him out there… Dean’s little brother is too empathetic towards monsters, always turning misty-eyed whenever they gank a monster, and sometimes Dean feels bad, too, but that’s the fucking job. What Sam wants isn’t something he can ever have — an apple-fucking-pie life.
You didn’t get to pick your family. You’re stuck with ‘em. That’s just how it is. Dean had to learn that the hard way, too.
The thing is, Sam used to just be happy, now he’s sad all the damn time. Talking ‘bout school and going to College and having friends… God fucking dammit, it makes Dean feel so angry just thinking about it. His brother relying on anyone else but Dean, the only person who can protect him?! It drives him mad just to think about.
And College is the reason why they’ve been having so many spats.
Dean found Sam’s books. All about getting ready for College, what to be prepared for, and yada-yada, he didn’t fucking care beyond the fact that Sam was thinking about leaving him. Alone. With John. God, how could he be so selfish?!
Slamming a fist down on his knee in anger, Dean takes a swig out of the whiskey bottle, and doesn’t notice the door opening behind him.
“De?”
A familiar voice calls out to him, cutting through his spiral, and Dean slowly turns around.
Sammy.
Even though he was so angry before, it vanished in a heartbeat at the sight of his teary-eyed Sammy. Oh no, did his brother get hurt? Heart pounding, Dean scrambles to his feet and reaches out for his boy to search for wounds. His brother is quiet as Dean checks every nook and cranny, but there’s no wound for Sam to be crying about.
So that leaves…
“What’s wrong,” Dean demands, holding Sam’s shoulders, looking directly up into those green-hazel eyes, “why are you crying?”
His lanky, just recently tall brother stares down (he’s still getting used to that) at him with watery eyes, tears not yet shed, and he just repeats “De.”
Eyebrows furrowing in concern, Dean questions, “Sammy?”
“I’m sorry I’ve been bad, De,” Sam sniffles, sounding possibly younger than Dean has heard him in a long time, wobbly in his hold, and it clicks together what happened.
“Sam, have you been drinking?” He nearly shouts, but quickly cools it when it results in a whimper from his little brother. Oh no, he leaves Sam for a few (several) hours, and he gets drunk. Fucking great.
Dean watches as Sam’s bottom lip starts to wobble, and he’s caught in a trance when tears start to spill down his brother’s cheeks. He hadn’t seen a sight like this since Sam was extremely young, wondering if Dad even loved them anymore, leaving and going all the time, and Dean having to tell him to never doubt John’s love. That this was the way he showed love. Sam never understood it.
And honestly?
Dean’s love was all Sam ever needed to understand anyway.
It’s too bad that Sam will never learn how deep that love ran.
It’s also too bad that Dean didn’t know that his world was going to fall apart in a matter of seconds.
“De, I’m dirty,” Sam whispers, teetering on a low whine, “I’m a filthy person.”
“Why would you think that?” He demanded to know what made his little brother feel that way.
“Because I love you.”
…
“Oh, gee, thanks, Sam, that really makes me feel great, you’re supposed to love me ‘cause we’re brothers, Sam, oh my fucking god—”
“No, you don’t understand! I love you! I’m in love with you!”
Agitation gives way to dread. His heart drops to his stomach. No. God, no. Has he truly corrupted his brother? This badly? No. It’s not possible. Sam has to be fucking with him right now.
Dean forces a laugh, “tell me you’re joking, Sam, that’s not funny.”
Despite the circumstances, Sam has the nerve to pout brattily at him, giving him a bitch-face, and he makes it real, “no, Dean, I’m not joking.”
Then his world starts to crumble.
God.
Sam has ended up a freak.
Just like him.
Impure.
Unclean.
“That’s not okay, Sam,” Dean barks out a humorless laugh, “do you understand how bad that is? How disgusting it is? How are you so stupid to think it's okay to say something like that to me? Why would you tell me that?”
“Dean, please—”
“No! Shut up! I don’t want to fucking hear it, Sam! Do you fucking understand what you’ve done now? We can’t ever be the same again, Sam, ever! All because you had to open your damn mouth, spouting insane shit, and not lock it away in a fucking box like I do!” His voice cracks on the last two words, drowned out by his brother’s relentless sniffling, having started to cry earnestly since Dean started yelling.
It doesn’t matter right now how much Dean may actually want to comfort him. He needs to get it across that something like this can never be said, never be touched upon, never be explored.
“If Dad heard that, he would’ve thought you a monster and burned you,” Dean blazes, burning his brother with his words, and he delivers the final blow, “and you would’ve deserved it!”
Shamefully and cowardly, Sam turns tail and runs out of the room.
And Dean? He is left behind with the shattered remains of his world.
_ _ _
Sam won’t talk to him anymore.
They’ve been back with their Dad for a week now and besides doing the bare minimum just so John wasn’t suspicious of them, Sam no longer talked to him. At first, Dean was more than happy to return the favor, head still reeling from the forbidden confession, but now? He misses his little brother.
How they used to be.
It’s too bad that Sam fucked it up for them. He just had to open his big fuckin’ mouth and Dean? Dean had to keep his shut. Knowing now how Sam feels about him, if Sam even finds out, he’ll try to tell Dean that it’s okay when it’s not. Dean had to worm these disgusting feelings down inside of the pit of himself ever since Sam was thirteen. He was a creep. A fucking degenerate creep that thinks about bedding and wedding his baby brother.
Disgust coils in his stomach, god, why did Sam have to end up like him? Why couldn’t he just be normal? Why couldn’t they be normal?
Digging his jagged fingernails inside of his palm, tightening his fist, Dean has to grit his teeth in order to not start screaming. He wants to break shit, but that will alarm John, and he doesn’t think he can keep it all in if John pries (demands) for information.
Damn him, Dean seethes, damn that boy for fuckin’ me up.
Speaking of the devil, Sam walks into the motel room that they all share. It has been hours since Sam had gone for his ‘walk’ which Dean thinks is utter bullshit. Sam passes him and Dean gets a whiff.
Oh, no fuckin’ way.
“Sam,” Dean hissed, “smokin’ weed, seriously? Where did you even get it?”
“Fuck off, Dean,” the airy voice of Sam responds, eyes flickering everywhere but on his big brother. Dean is so flabbergasted by the audacity that he has to stare and blink at the fuckin’ mess that his little brother has became in order to not blow.
Then cold calm settles in his bones.
“Fine,” he says, cold, “just clean up before Dad gets here or he’ll beat your ass for being intoxicated on the job.”
“Like alcohol isn’t intoxicating?” Sam snorts, pretty eyes glittering with malice, “like you weren’t the one to introduce it to me to begin with?”
“Sam—”
“Dad could burn me for all I care, Dean,” his little brother cuts him off, throwing twisted cruel words back at him, and Dean flinches back enough that Sam makes his escape into the bathroom. Presumably to clean up.
Well shit.
How is Dean supposed to fix this?
It doesn’t matter, he thinks, we can’t talk about it.
It should never be mentioned again.
_ _ _
It takes several months, but they eventually find middle ground. Sam still can’t look him in the eye, though, and honestly? Dean can’t blame him.
Sam must hate him for corrupting him.
Even so, Dean still can’t help but look at his little brother and admire. He’s still overwhelmed with love and fondness whenever he sees his joy. Even though it’s more tainted now because he thinks about what if’s. What if he just didn’t care and took Sam far away from here so they could live that sappy white picket fence life?
In another world, he wasn’t a coward. In another world, he didn’t let taboos stop him from claiming what was his. But in this world? He’s so fuckin’ scared. He’s scared of what John would think. He’s scared that Sam doesn’t actually want him. He’s scared of himself and how far he would go to keep Sam to himself.
Isolate him so nobody else can ever take him away.
Break him down so Dean can be the only one that matters.
Insane shit that makes Dean disgusted with himself.
But he just can’t help it.
He loves Sam too much.
They’re sparring when Dean gets too close again.
Sam had gotten better at training over the years but not with less complaints. If anything, it seemed that John pushing Sam had only spurred him on to be brattier and more disrespectful. God, Dean really wants to kiss that filthy mouth and shut him the fuck up.
They’re mid-spar when Sam suddenly stops and tells John that he’s not doing this anymore.
“Excuse me?” John stills, staring at Sam as if he were waiting for the end of a really bad joke. Dean knows that Sam isn’t joking, though.
Sam puts upon a sigh, “I’m not doing this anymore. It’s stupid. I should be getting ready for College, not… not getting ready to kill a demon for the rest of my life! That’s no life!”
“That’s too damn fuckin’ bad, boy!” John yells, having lost his very short patience, “this is your life. No matter how much you fight against it, Samuel, you don’t get to choose what you do with your life. I do. And I say this is more important than what you want.”
“Really, John?”
“That’s sir to you, boy,” their father seethes, “you will stop that useless talk of school and only focus on training. Do you understand me? This is more important than school.”
Dean really hopes his little brother shuts the fuck up. He can see John’s fists tightening.
“More important than me, you mean?” Sam spits out, “admit it, sir, you don’t care about us. You only care about yourself. You care more about avenging the death of a woman that I don’t even know! That I never got to know! Instead of trying to fill that hole like a normal, good fuckin’ parent, you’re ruining us!”
But why would he do that when he could just make it worse?
Before John could start swinging, Dean shuts his brother up the only way he knew how.
He gets in between them.
Because no matter what, Sam is his baby brother and his life. Even John doesn’t stand in the way of that.
It’s clear by the surprise on Sam’s face that he wasn’t expecting that. Which makes Dean slightly angry because why would he not expect Dean to get in the middle of it? Protecting Sam like he always does? That’s his job.
“I’ll take care of him, sir,” Dean says, grabbing the ear of his brother to emphasize what he means by take care of him.
John narrows his eyes at them. It takes a moment but John eventually relaxes and nods at Dean, “you better fix his attitude or I’ll fix it myself.”
“Yes, sir,” Dean nods back.
Dragging his little brother by the ear, Dean walks them both towards the cabin that they were now residing in for the time being. He doesn’t say a word and neither does Sam. His brother doesn’t put up a fight and for that, Dean is grateful.
Once they get behind doors, Dean pushes Sam up against the door, grabbing his chin, and he forces eye contact as he seethes, “what the fuck were you thinking?”
Sam doesn’t fight him, but he does glare down at him stubbornly, “it’s not fair, Dean. You know it’s not.” His hazel eyes are hazing over with tears and Dean feels his walls start to falter.
“I know,” Dean gives, sighing, “I know it’s not, Sam.”
“Then why do you go along with it?”
“Because he’s family, Sam, because I love him and he’s our Dad,” Dean tries to reason but that has stopped working on Sam a long time ago.
“More than you love me?”
Dean pauses.
And because he’s weak, he says, “no, Sam, not more than I love you.”
It feels like a confession.
By the way Sam relaxes in his grip, it reads as a confession, too.
“Then why?” His little brother asks, soft and sad, a voice that makes Dean want to shrivel up and get down on his knees and make it better.
Dean looks up into those teary eyes, hardening his resolve, and he keeps the tight grip on Sam’s chin as he readies himself for what he’s about to say.
“Because it can never happen, Sam,” Dean rejects his brother once more.
The heartbreak shines brightly in Sam’s eyes, “Dee—”
“We’re meant to be brothers so let’s be brothers.” Nevermind that, Dean has to make his point without breaking them both.
…
“Okay, Dean.”
Dean blinks in surprise but is not comforted by the detached but fond smile on his brother’s face.
“Let’s be brothers, Dean.”
A pit grows in Dean’s stomach.
Oh, this is going to bite him in the ass, isn’t it?