fragmentedwhole: (For the End of My Broken Heart)
[personal profile] fragmentedwhole
Title: For the End of my Broken Heart
Chapter: Seven
Author: [ profile] bloodkisses
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17/Adult
Warnings: Angst. The usual drill. Slash
Spoilers: Devil's Trap (seriously, is there *anyone* who would be spoiled by this?)
Summary: Dad's disappeared and Sam's left to pick up the pieces of his broken brother.
Disclaimer: They're not mine, sadly, no matter how much I pleaded.
A/N: My first plot!fic. I have sweated blood and tears on this thing. I need to thank *everyone* who supported, cajoled, bullied, hand-held and babied me through this. I especially need to thank my betas, [ profile] sosoru and [ profile] wenchpixie. Special thanks and much love go to [ profile] sosoru, because without her belief in me and her endless patience, this thing would never have got this far. Love you darling.

He doesn't like Dean's attitude, but he knows that now is not the time to call his son on it. Sam's pale and sweating, leaning heavily on his arm. Dean leads the way, alert and cautious. Sam stumbles, despite John's help, but he doesn't let John stop.

They need to stay focused, but he needs to know what Sam’s vision was.

"What did you see?"

The shudder that runs through his son's body makes John nervous, despite himself. Whatever it was it clearly wasn't good, and from the way Sam doesn't take his eyes off Dean, John reckons it must have been about Dean.

"It was...I..." Another shudder, and Sam swallows hard, as if he's fighting back the urge to puke. "I'll explain later. I just want to get out of here." The way he says it, John's suddenly not so sure he wants to know what the vision was after all.

They head down the stairs, Dean still leading, gun sweeping the wide hallway. He's halfway to the door when he slows and looks back over his shoulder, eyes looking for Sam. His eyes are concerned, though his expression is grim and determined. He meets Sam's gaze, and some of the tension seems to leave Sam. He stands a little straighter, leans on John a little less.

Dean looks back towards the door as he takes another step. He doesn't get to take a second step, because there's a sound like the building is being torn apart and a hole somehow opens up in the floor right beneath Dean's feet. John watches in shocked horror as his eldest son drops like a stone, dimly aware of Sam screaming for his brother.

Sam pulls away, and lunges for the rip, but even as he reaches it, the hole closes, leaving Sam scrambling desperately at the floorboards, nearly sobbing in frustration. John can't move, he's literally frozen in place, shocked to the core.

He finally manages to pull himself together and heads for Sam, who's slamming his fist into the unyielding floor, his vocabulary reduced to 'Dean' and 'no'.

"Sam. SAM. We need to get out of here and figure out what to do."

"No. We can't leave Dean here. We have to find him."

"We will. But we need to figure out what we're dealing with here. We're no good to him if we go stumbling blindly about."

Sam takes a gulp of air, then another. John watches as he stands and turns to face John. His eyes are red and he's still far too pale, but he has that stubborn set to his face that John remembers all too well.

"No. I'm not leaving without Dean."

"Sam, don't be stupid. We're not leaving Dean, we just need to regroup."

"I am not leaving. I won't abandon him in this place. I... the vision, it was about this place. About what it'll do to him if we don't find him."

"What do you mean? What will it do to him?" John has a terrible sense of foreboding.

"The vision, we were looking for Dean, here, in the house. And I, we found him...but..." Sam looks as he's going to be sick and this time John is quite certain he doesn't want to know, but Sam carries on anyway. "He was dead. Decaying. There were...maggots, everywhere. God, his face..." Sam's voice is trembling and John can't blame him. Just hearing Sam describe it is horrible enough. He can't imagine what it must have been like for Sam to actually see it.

He takes a breath, trying to think past the paralyzing fear that they might already be too late. He rubs a hand over his face. Whatever he might feel about what's been going on between his sons, he's damned if he's going to lose his eldest son to whatever the fuck has taken him.

"Ok. We need to search the house. We'll start in the basement."

"No. We need to go up."

"Sam, he fell through the floor."

"I know, but he's upstairs, I know it, I can feel him."

"You can what? What the hell are you talking about?"

"We… I had a feeling that something might happen to Dean. We got tattoos..."

"Runes." Sam looks surprised. "I saw them. I know what runes look like Sam."

"Yeah. We, well, we used them to create a bond. So I could find Dean if anything... if anything happened."

He's shocked. What they've done is permanent. He knows just how powerful those kinds of spell can be, and to have them as tattoos... dear God. He's damned well taught them enough that they must have known that. What they've done is deadly serious and John doesn't know whether that makes it better, or worse.

"Alright, well, we'll talk about that later. Right now we need to find your brother. You fit to go hunting?"


John takes a long, hard look at Sam. It's clear that Sam isn't anywhere near fit to be backing anyone up, but John knows how stubborn his son is and that any order to go wait in the car would be ignored. As much as he hates the thought, there's no way Sam is going to sit this one out. He can't condone what they've done, but, even though he can barely stand to admit it, even to himself, he understands. Bad enough that it's Sam's brother, worse still that he's his... He can't. He can't even think of the word in the context of his sons. He pushes everything else to the back of his mind and puts all his energy into concentrating on finding Dean.

"I'll lead, you cover our asses."

"But I know where we need to go."

"You're in no state to be leading, not when we haven't got a clue what we're dealing with." For a second he thinks Sam is going to argue, but he watches as his son bites back the words and simply nods. "Lets go."

He starts up the stairs, trying to fight the urge to rush. He's never been so scared. The thought of losing Dean is terrifying and he's honestly scared about the effect that loss would have on Sammy. He could lose both of them tonight. And if he did, what point would there be then? What reason would he have to carry on. Revenge against the demon that took Mary would be meaningless, if his sons were dead, or worse.

He transfers his gun to his other hand, and wipes the sweat away. He can't afford to let the fear get a hold, or they might as well give up now. He's never given up on a hunt and he's damned if he's going to start now.


Dean opens his eyes to complete black and a pounding headache. He remains still, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Five minutes later he can still barely see his own hand an inch or two in front of his face. He's relieved that the knock to the head hasn't left him blind, but the almost total darkness is unnerving, and it's going to make finding his way out of wherever the hell he is that much harder. He sits up and gropes around on the floor, trying to figure out if his gun is nearby. After turning in a complete circle, he gives up. The damned thing could be within half a foot of him, but unless he got lucky, he'd never find it.

He tries to remember how he ended up here, but although he can recall finding Sam and Dad arguing again and the awful, sinking, realization that they were arguing because Dad had found out about Sam and him, and Sam's vision, everything after that is a bit of a haze. He rubs the back of his head gingerly, wincing when he finds a sore spot.

He's presumably still in the house somewhere, in a room of some description he assumes, but beyond that, he's not prepared to make any further guesses. There's no sound at all, though he strains to catch something. He has no idea how big the room he's in is, where the walls are, what shape the room is or anything. He reaches into his pocket for his cell phone. He flips it open, and curses loudly when there is no response. No amount of button pressing and shaking and banging it on the floor seems to work. He pockets the phone and stands cautiously, hands held out in front of him. He shuffles forward, carefully. The last thing he needs is to fall over some random piece of furniture that he can't see and sprain or break something.

It's very unnerving and he's not sure whether he feels claustrophobic, or agoraphobic. It feels simultaneously as though walls he can't see are closing in on him and that he's all alone in a huge empty void. He wipes sweaty palms down his jeans and wishes he still had his gun.

It's nothing concrete, no sound in the unnatural silence, no movement in the stillness, nothing moving in the impenetrable blackness, but he knows, with a sudden certainty that raises the hair on the back of his neck, that there's a presence in the room. His skin breaks out in goose bumps as that sense of something seems to creep closer. The smell hits him next, the sickly sweet stench of death and decay that he's all too familiar with. The reek is so strong that it makes him gag. Swallowing back the bitter bite of bile, he backs slowly away from the direction he thinks the thing, whatever it is, is, one hand reaching out behind his back, one in front of him, wanting to find a wall; to get his back against something.

His foot catches on something and before he can steady himself, he overbalances and lands heavily on his ass. The smell is stronger, and he has a horrible thought that he knows exactly what it is he's tripped over. Nevertheless, he gets to his knees, and reaches blindly out until his hand connects with the object on the floor. It takes a couple of seconds before he realizes that the movement under is fingertips is a mass of writhing, wriggling maggots.

"Oh fuck."

He yanks his hand away and scrambles backwards as quickly as he can across the floor until his back finally hits a wall. He can still feel the fat, squirming maggots against his skin and it makes him shudder with revulsion. The darkness is oppressive and for the first time, he's just a little afraid. He's never been scared of the night, even when he learnt what evil dwelt in it, but right now, he's prepared to admit that he's seriously freaked out.

There must be a way out of this place, away from the rotting, maggot-ridden corpse. He takes a shallow breath. Then another. Finally he pushes himself to his feet, back still braced against the wall. He puts his hands flat against the wall and begins to edge slowly around the room, feeling for a door, a window, any way out of the room. He counts the corners, and when he reaches five with no sign of anything but bare walls, he stops, sliding down the wall. He draws his knees up, wrapping his arms around them and resting his forehead on his knees. Sammy'll be looking for him. All he has to do is stay calm and stay alive until Sam finds him. He just hopes that Sam hurries the hell up.


When the wave of emotion from Dean overwhelms him, he and Dad have just finished searching the last room on the first floor. They've gone over every inch, torn the place apart, damn near, but there's just no sign of Dean anywhere. He's already slightly panicky when the sensation hits. He gets revulsion, loneliness, unease and the faintest hint of fear. He sees nothing but darkness, although he can sense the other presence in the room. It's this other presence that scares Sam most, because he can feel its malevolence, even through the bond, although he doesn't think that Dean is aware of it. He tries to reach through the bond, to send Dean some reassurance. For a second, he's not sure whether he succeeds or not, but then he gets something back. The emotions are so jumbled he can't identify them all. What he does recognize is relief and trust.

As quickly as it came, the vision and the connection are lost, as if someone slammed a door between him and Dean shut. The suddenness leaves him shocked and gasping. He blinks and instead of darkness, he finds Dad in front of him, hands wrapped around Sam's biceps. He recognises the look on Dad's face as worry, but he still feels a little distracted.

"Sam. What the hell happened? Sam? Talk to me, damnit."

"I felt Dean. I saw what he's seeing."

"What? What the...? How can you see what he's seeing?"

"The bond."

Dad just looks at him for a second and Sam wishes circumstances were anything other than what they are, because he'd really like the opportunity to appreciate the look of almost stupid incomprehension on Dad's face before it melts into fear and anger.

"How... My God, what have you done?"

"I needed to know I could find him. I, we, wanted something permanent."

"Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"Yes. I know exactly what we've done. Now can we argue about this later. I want to find Dean and get him the hell out of this house."

Dad looks as though he's going to argue and Sam spares a thought for the fact that Dean was right; he and Dad really can't spend five minutes in the same room without arguing. But Dad visibly swallows down whatever he was going to say, for at least the second time tonight.

"Ok. Then we keep looking." The look on Dad's face indicates that he's not done talking about the relationship between Sam and Dean. It's a conversation Sam isn't looking forward to, but all he wants now is to find Dean as quickly as possible. He tries to feel for him through the bond, but what he gets is vague and indistinct. He fights back the panic, pushes off the wall and lets Dad lead the way out of the room as they head for the top floor of the building.


They've been searching for hours. They've been through every room in the house at least once, from top to bottom and they've found nothing but dust and cobwebs. There's no sign anyone else has been here for years. It's as if Dean has just vanished. Sam's visibly shaken and panicky, and frankly, John's not much better, though he's had more practice at hiding it. Living the life they've lead, he's always dreaded the day one of his boys was seriously hurt. But not knowing what's happened to his eldest son, that's a whole new level of torture that he's never considered. He'd never realized anything could be worse than the gut wrenching twist of fear whenever his sons had been hurt.

Sam's sitting on the stairs, head in his hands, looking as though his whole world has ended. John has no idea what to say to him. Anything he might once have said about getting Dean back seems inadequate now, somehow. He can't understand, let alone excuse what they've done, but he can understand Sam's despair. His heart aches for the fact that his youngest child has had to go through this pain not once, but twice. He's determined that Sam won't have to suffer the loss of a loved one for a third time. They are going to get Dean back, no matter what it takes. John'll sacrifice damn near anything to save his sons. He doesn't care how long it takes, he'll find Dean. Everything else is irrelevant until Dean's safe.


Sam doesn't move, doesn't acknowledge John in anyway. He reigns in his automatic irritation and walks over, crouching down in front of his son. He hesitates for a moment, then reaches out, and catches one of Sam's hands in his.

"Sam. I swear we're going to get Dean back. I promise. But we need to figure out what the hell we're dealing with here." He can feel Sam tense and when he attempts to pull his hand out of John's and stand, John just tightens his grip and pulls him back down. "I know you don't want to leave until we find him, but we need to do some research. We... I must have missed something. Once we understand this thing, we'll come back and we'll find him, Sam. We're not helping him by exhausting ourselves stumbling around blindly."

"Ok. But I'm coming back at dusk, no matter what." Sam's voice sounds small, but defiant.

"We'll both come back. I'm not leaving him here either. I want him back too, Sam." He can't help the way his voice cracks just a little. He realizes now that he never really understood just how much it's Dean's presence that keeps them together, keeps them sane and whole.

Sam looks up at the catch in John's voice and his eyes are filled with unshed tears and grief. It's pure instinct that has John pulling his son into his arms, letting Sam clutch at him with desperate hands and bury his face in John's shoulder. He holds his son tightly, gently stroking his back, trying not to let his own tears fall.

"Oh God, Dad. I want him back. I want him back so much."

John knows that he bears the blame for the shift in his sons’ relationship. He forced them to grow up too fast, forced them to rely on no-one but each other. He taught them that the normal rules didn't apply to them. He hates the thought of what they've done, but in the face of Sam's honest and open misery, he can't condemn them.

"I know, Sammy, I know."

He has no idea how long he kneels there, trying to offer what solace he can, trying not to transmit his own fears, but by the time Sam pulls away, rubbing his hand over his face, John's knees are screaming and his back is aching. Sam hasn't needed, or wanted, John's comfort for a long time and it makes John realize how much he misses his sons.

"Come on, let's get back to the hotel and find out what's going on."

Sam nods, and they both stand and walk to the front door. John walks through, going a few steps before he realizes that Sam's not with him. He turns back to find that Sam's on the threshold, looking back into the house. John can't see his face, but he can tell from the body language that it's killing Sam to have to leave, knowing that Dean's in there somewhere, alone. John's never had much time for gods, but he whispers a quiet prayer for both his sons, because if they don't get Dean back alive, he doesn't think Sam's going to survive.

He doesn't know if he will, either.


It's already afternoon and although Sam hasn't slept in over twenty-four hours, it's the last thing on his mind. He's living on coffee and fear. He's also ready to throw the laptop across the room because despite spending so long in front of it his eyes are gritty and his neck is killing him, he hasn't found one damned thing that is going to help them get Dean back.

Dad's been to the library, spoken to half the town, searched through his journal and rung people Sam hasn't even heard of. Nothing so far has told them anything they didn't already know. They've got about an hour before dusk, and Sam can feel the despair clawing at his guts.

It's that desperation that makes him click on the last link on his search page. At first glance, it's the usual run-of-the-mill, poorly designed ghost web page. He's about to close the browser and start getting his stuff together for tonight when he sees in the index a page about the house that's taken Dean. He clicks and what he reads finally gives him some hope.


"You're kidding me? A secret room?"

There are times when Dad and Dean sound so alike and right now, that hurts more than Sam would have thought possible.

"It looks as though when the house was originally built, there was a room that wasn't on the plans. A room that shouldn't exist. The doorway is apparently in an outside wall, but the room can't be seen from the outside of the house. Some people thought it was a gateway."

"To where?"

Sam shrugs. "To Hell, I guess."


"Anyway, no-one knew about this room until one day the owner and builder was found dead, half in and half out of the room. There wasn't a mark on him and no-one could figure out why he died. The local people decided to ward the room, so that no-one could accidentally stumble into it and then they built another wall in front of it, to make doubly sure."

"So how is this linked to... people disappearing? We didn't find that room." Sam knows that Dad was going to say 'Dean' rather than 'people' and he has to swallow down his own panic again.

"I think that if that room was a doorway to somewhere else, maybe something came through. Something that killed the original owner and has now found another way to take people who venture into the house."

"But what does it want them for?"

"No idea and to be honest, I don't care. I just want to find that room and get Dean out."

"You know where to look?"


"You know how to break the wards and open the door?"

"I think... Yeah."

"Good." Dad accelerates and Sam goes back to praying that they're in time.


Dean's been sitting in the same spot for hours. He has no idea exactly how long it's been as his watch appears to have stopped, probably around the time he ended up here. He knows he's been here a long time.

Several times he's felt that same presence and more than once, something cold and clammy has brushed against his face. The touch makes him shudder with revulsion and brings with it the stench of decay, so strong it makes him gag and reminds him of the corpse, somewhere in the room. Not that he's forgotten it, as such. It's kinda hard to forget something like that, but most of the time he can push it to the back of his mind.

He's hummed his way through every song he can remember, at least twice over. Then he's sung them until his throat is dry and sore. This is worse than flying; at least on a plane he can see. Here he feels helpless, alone and vulnerable and he hates it. It's that hate, that anger that he clings most fiercely to, using it to dampen the fear that gnaws constantly at him. He has to get through this, has to survive, because he can't leave Sam, not now. Not after everything they've been through, not now that he's finally allowed himself to start believing that Sam's his, that this time Sam'll stay; not for revenge, but because he wants Dean. He’s just too damned selfish to give that up, and no damned spirit is going to take it away. Not without a fight.

Nevertheless, he hopes Sam finds him soon, because despite shifting positions several times, his legs are starting to cramp from sitting on the floor all day, he's tired and hungry and he just wants out of here, damnit. He tries taking deep breaths, beating down the panic, but then the lingering reek of rot and desolation seems to coat the back of his throat until he's choking on it.

Oh God, let Sam find him soon.


Sam's out of the car before it's even stopped moving. By the time John leaves the car, Sam's at the door, forcing John to break into a jog to catch up with him. He hopes that they aren't too late and just the thought leaves him sick with fear.

They both race up the stairs, Sam's longer legs keeping him ahead of his father. John doesn't ever remember this combination of dread and anticipation running through his veins before, leaving him cold one minute and sweating the next. He's never been on a hunt where the stakes have meant so much to him, not even when he though they had the demon in their grasp at last.

Sam races down a corridor, only to stop so suddenly, half way down, that John nearly crashes into him.

"What the fuck, Sam?"

When Sam doesn't answer, he looks at his son, only to find he's trembling and his face is deathly pale.

"Sam. What the hell is wrong?"

"My vision. This is the hallway from my vision."

Fuck. John would give anything to never hear that raw desperation in his son's voice again.

"We're not going to lose him Sam, you hear me. We're not."

Sam still looks shaken but he nods and hefts the sledgehammer he's brought with him. John reaches out and grips Sam's shoulder, trying to offer what comfort he can. After a second's pause, Sam copies the gesture and John has one of those rare, treasured moments when he feels a deep connection to his son.

It only lasts a moment, then Sam's pulling away, walking to the end of the corridor. He takes a deep breath and then draws the sledgehammer back. The first blow drags John out of his reverie and he follow Sam, lifting his own sledgehammer, timing his first blow to hit on Sam's upswing.

It feels like forever before the wall finally gives way and starts crumbling beneath their blows. Whoever built it was serious about keeping people out. It worries John that despite the precautions, whatever is in that room has found a way to reach out into the rest of the house. He tries not to think about it, concentrating instead on maintaining a steady rhythm with the hammer, letting the physical activity bring him some measure of calm.

He's so caught up that it takes him a second to realize that Sam's stopped. He pauses, mid swing and Sam darts forward, scrabbling at the crumbling brickwork, pulling bricks from the wall with his bare hands. John drops the hammer and grabs a crowbar from his bag.

"Sam, move."

Sam gives no indication that he's heard John, still pulling at the masonry like a man possessed. John grabs one of his wrists, and hauls him out of the way, dodging his other arm as it flails at him.

"Damnit Sam. You're going to tear your fingers to shreds. Now move. Get the other crowbar and help me."

He doesn't wait to see what Sam does, turning his attention to the wall. He hears Sam take a shaky breath behind him and then his son is beside him again, helping him pry loose the bricks.

It takes them a while, but eventually they've cleared a slightly larger than door sized hole in the wall. A couple of feet behind which is nothing but another blank wall. John has to restrain himself from smashing the crowbar into it in frustration and fear.


"No, no. The door was warded, they must have used one of those wards to hide it."

"You know how to find it?"

"Yeah. I think so. Hang on."

Sam dives back to his bag, digging around for a second before moving back to the wall with a scrap of paper and a stick of chalk in his hand. John raises an eyebrow; he can't help it. Sam ignores him steps up to the wall. John can see how his hand is shaking when he raises the chalk, but before it touches the wall, the shaking stops, and Sam's hand is steady as he begins to draw a rectangle, all the while reciting something under his breath, a little too quietly for John to make out what language he's speaking, let alone what he's saying.

It's not until Sam finishes the rectangle that John realizes what he's drawn. A door. Despite himself, John can't help but shiver. A gateway to hell. These things always seem faintly ridiculous, until you're standing in front of them. If that really is a gateway, God knows what's in there. God knows what state Dean's going to be in. John offers another silent prayer to any benevolent deity that might be listening that his eldest son is as strong as John has always tried to make him.

Sam finishes speaking and the silence that follows is so absolute that the hairs on the back of John's neck stand up. Sam steps back, away from the wall, eyes fixed on the chalk outline. Just as John's about to ask what went wrong, there's a rush of something, like the touch of an icy cold hand down his spine that raises goose bumps on every inch of skin. For a brief instant he feels something like the crackle of static electricity across his body, before the sensation is gone, so fleeting he can't be entirely sure he didn't imagine it, except for the way that Sam's shuddering as well.

He looks back over and discovers that there is now a heavy wooden door where before there was unobtrusive wall and chalk. Every instinct he has is telling him that opening the door is a spectacularly bad idea. But Dean's behind that door please God, let him be behind that door; let him be alive and well and he promised Sam they wouldn't leave without his brother.

He can see Sam swallow hard. He's about to ask, when the answer becomes all to obvious. If the corridor was in Sam's vision, then the door must have been as well. "The vision, we were looking for Dean, here, in the house. And I, we found him...but... He was dead. Decaying. There were...maggots, everywhere. God, his face..." If Dean isn't alive and well, he swears that he will not stop until the thing in this house, in that room is dead. Even if he has to take the house apart, brick by brick to find it.

Sam steps forward and pushes the door, which swings open silently. Beyond is pitch black. Sam's about to step through when John stops him with a hand on his arm. He grabs a gun and a flashlight from his bag and presses them into Sam's hands. He wants to say something reassuring, something comforting, but the words elude him. Instead he squeezes Sam's hands, quickly, astonished and suddenly choked when Sam's eyes shine wetly. Sam looks down, blinks very hard and then nods. He gently pulls his hands back, adjusting his grip on the gun and bringing the flashlight up, then takes a step forward. John grabs another flashlight and gun and follows him to the doorway.


Sam steps through the doorway, to find the room on the other side is utterly dark, no hint of light from the outside world filtering thorough. The scent of decay has him swallowing back bile. He holds on to the thought that the only other time he's had a vision involving Dean dying, he managed to save him then.

The flashlight doesn't penetrate the darkness more than a couple of feet and his skin crawls. He can sense the malevolence in the air, an almost tangible presence. He tries hard not to think about the fact that Dean's been trapped here for almost twenty-four hours, alone.

He hears something behind him, and turns. He can just see the glimmer of Dad's flashlight and he realizes that the noise is Dad, trying to talk to him. He edges back to the door.

"...Sam, are you listening to me?"

"It's the room."


"The room, it muffles sound, just like it seems to swallow light."

"Damn. Ok, you start at one side, I'll start at the other."

"No. One of us needs to stay by the door, make sure it doesn't close."

"Then you stay, you know how to open it."

"No. I need to do this. I need to find him Dad. I can't stand here and wait."

"And you think I can?"

"Please Dad, I need to."

Dad glares at him, then he nods once, and moves to stand in the doorway, shoulder braced against the open door.

"Then go. Go find him. Bring him back."

Sam nods back and heads back into the room, trying to use what little light that the room doesn't soak up to see where he's going. He reaches out to Dean through the bond, but there's nothing there and that terrifies him. He tries to cross the room slowly, watching and listening for whatever the thing that's take Dean is, but the knowledge that his brother's in here somewhere has him moving more quickly than he should and it's his haste that causes him to fall over a lump on the floor that he just never sees.

He lands heavily on his hands and knees, cursing, but managing to hold on to both the gun and the flashlight. The impact sends pain shooting up his arms. He ignores it, turning around to see what he's fallen over, although he already knows what he's going to see.
The flashlight outlines the body Sam tripped over, and he barely needs the dim light to see that the face is obscured by fat, squirming maggots. The sense of despair is overwhelming and he's choking on his tears and trying not to puke. He wants to scream, to howl and cry, to find something, anything to shot, to kill, to hurt. The sense of loss is like nothing he's felt before; not growing up knowing what happened to Mom, not even losing Jess. Dean's been everything to him and the thought of living without him is unbearable. He'd rather die alone in this room, next to his brother's decaying body than carry on alone.

A sudden touch on his shoulder sends him jerking backwards, hand brushing the maggot-ridden corpse, helpless to stop the shout of revulsion and shock that escapes him. He brings the flashlight and gun up, hands shaking.

"You scream like a girl, Sam." Dean's voice is hoarse and rough but he's alive and that's all Sam cares about.

The flashlight plays across Dean's face, highlighting his cheekbones, making him squint despite the dim light. Sam drops his gun and reaches out a hand, almost afraid to touch, in case it's all an illusion. Then his fingertips brush across Dean's cheek and the relief of having found Dean makes him sob. Dean wraps a hand around his neck and pulls him close, resting his forehead against Sam's. They sit like that for a minute, then Dean pulls back a little and tips Sam's face up.

"Oh, Sammy." He brushes his thumb over what Sam is sure are tear tracks.

"Dean." He leans forwards as Dean moves and then they're kissing with frantic haste and Sam wonders if Dean can taste his despair.

It takes a massive effort to pull away from Dean, but he knows they need to get out of this room, before whatever the hell is in here makes another attempt. He picks up his gun.

"Are you ok? Can you stand?"

"Just about. My legs have gone to sleep and my ass is numb, but I'll live. Give me a hand up."

Sam stands and pulls his brother up with him. Dean leans on him and Sam wraps Dean's arm around his shoulders, and his own arm around Dean's waist. He hands Dean the flashlight and they make their way across the room, avoiding the corpse.

It's a relief to see the faint shine of Dad's flashlight as they approach the doorway. As they get closer, he realizes that Dad isn't looking at them, that he's shouting, trying to make himself heard. Sam senses the presence behind them at the same time Dean curses under his breath.

They speed up, but as they get closer to Dad and the doorway, Sam finally makes out what Dad's shouting.

"Get down. For God's sake, get down."

Sam drops to his knees and pulls Dean down with him. As they hit the floor he hears the muffled roar of Dad's shotgun. He ignores the ache in his knees, and half drags Dean towards the door, bent double to avoid getting in Dad's line of fire. He hears Dad fire at least twice more, then he's stumbling across the threshold, damn near sending both he and Dean sprawling onto the floor in his haste to get out of the room. He turns back, catching sight of something moving in the room. He can't make out anything distinct, it's vague and ill defined, just a slightly different shade of black to the rest of the room, but he can feel a sense of anger and menace emanating from it, nonetheless.

The shotgun fires, one last time, and then Dad steps back and slams the door shut.

"Dean..." Dad's voice cracks and then he's on his knees beside Dean.


Dad suddenly throws his arms around Dean and fists his hands in Dean's jacket, holding him so tightly, as if he's afraid to let go. Sam understands the need to touch, to reassure himself that Dean's really here. Dean holds onto him almost as tightly and it's long moments before they pull back.

"Good to see you, son."

"You too Dad."

"Lets get out of here." Between them, he and Sam get Dean back on his feet. Sam again wraps Dean's arm around his shoulders and his own around Dean's waist and they follow Dad.

They're halfway down the stairs when the house starts creaking and groaning around them. Cracks appear, running down the walls and across floors and ceilings.

"Fuck. Come on, we need to get the hell out of here." Dad wraps Dean's other arm around his own shoulders, and they rush down the stairs as quickly as they dare.

By the time they reach the entrance hall, the house is falling apart around them, huge chunks of plaster and masonry breaking off of the walls and ceilings. A huge rift appears, right in front of the door, around the same place that Dean disappeared last night. John looks at Sam as Dean shudders between them. Sam lets go of Dean and jumps across the gap. He holds out his hand and Dean takes it. With Sam pulling and John pushing, Dean makes it across the hole and into Sam's arms. John follows and taking his place at Dean's side, they cross the porch and stumble across the overgrown driveway.

"Stop. Stop." Dean pulls back.

"What? Dean, lets just get out of here." What the hell does Dean want to stop for.

"No. I want to make sure. I want to see that place burning."

"Damn it Dean, now is not the time to indulge your bizarre fascination with fire."

"I need to make sure." Sam recognizes the tone of voice. Dean is as stubborn as hell and when he gets that tone, there's no arguing and no reasoning with him until he's got his own way.

"Dean's right. We should make sure. We'll need to come back tomorrow and salt the land, but burning the place until then is the best way." Dad unwraps his arm from Dean's waist, and leaves him leaning on Sam. He heads for the car and pulls a can of gas from the trunk.

They head back to the house, Dean still leaning on Sam. The house no longer seems to be collapsing, but Sam can still hear sounds of creaking and groaning, as if the house is screaming in rage about their escape. He shivers.

Dad uncaps the gas can, and throws it through the still open door. Dean takes his arm from round Sam's shoulders, although Sam doesn't take his arm from Dean's waist, despite Dad's sideways glare. Dean takes his lighter and flicks it open, spinning the wheel until the flame catches.

He throws it into the house, and Sam watches it tumbling, then landing right in the puddle of gas spilling from the can.

"Fuck you, bitch."

The back draft as the gas ignites into a fireball blows the door shut, but he can see flames leaping behind the glass in the door.

"Do you know who the body in the room belonged to?" Dean's voice is hoarse and he never takes his eyes off the house.

"Not really. I'd guess it was the last person who went missing in the area, but there's no way of knowing for sure."

Dean nods and keeps his attention firmly on the burning house.

They watch the fire burn through the building until the roof finally collapses just as dawn breaks over the smoldering ruins of the house. Only then will Dean allow himself to be lead to the car. Sam helps him into the backseat, and then slides in after him. Dean is barely awake, and Sam can feel the worry and the lack of sleep catching up with him. Dean rests his head on Sam's shoulder and as Dad climbs into the driver’s seat, Sam can see his disapproving glare in the rear view mirror. He just can't bring himself to care. He has Dean back, safe and well and nothing else matters at the moment.

Sam's nearly asleep himself by the time they get back to the hotel. It takes him several attempts to wake Dean, and even then his brother is only half awake. Dean stumbles as they head for their room and nearly pulls Sam down with him.

Dad takes the keys from Sam and unlocks the door to his and Dean's room. Sam lets Dean tumble onto the bed. He turns to Dad, expecting and dreading the resumption of their previous argument. But Dad surprises him again.

"Take care of your brother. We'll talk in the morning."


"He needs someone to take look after him right now. You take good care of him Sam." He drops Sam's keys onto the table and walks to the door. "Make sure you salt the doorway and I'll see you boys in the morning."


The door clicks closed behind Dad and Sam turns to his brother. Dean is stretched out on the bed, fully clothed. Sam sighs. He begins unlacing Dean's boots and then he undoes Dean's jeans, trying to pull them down his brother's legs without waking him. He's just dragged them and Dean's socks off when Dean speaks.

"Sam. Get up here." Dean's voice is still husky and sleepy, and Sam could no more disobey than he could stop breathing. He crawls up to lie beside his brother and Dean rolls onto his side to face Sam.

"I knew you'd come. I knew I just had to wait."

"I'm sorry it took so long. I'm so sorry Dean."

"Shhhh. It's ok. I'm here. We're ok."

"What about Dad?"

Dean sighs. "Dad'll have to make his decision Sam. There's nothing we can do. I'm not giving this up and if Dad can't accept that, well, that's his choice."

Sam simply doesn't have the words to express how he feels and instead he leans forward and kisses Dean, slow and gentle. He pulls away eventually and despite his need to be close to Dean, he can tell that his brother is fighting just to stay awake.

"Go to sleep Dean, I'll be here."

Dean just nods and he's asleep mere seconds later, snoring softly. Sam cups his cheek and drops a quick kiss on his forehead, then gets off the bed to strip. He pulls the blankets out from under Dean, then slides carefully into bed behind him, covers them both with the blankets, wraps his arm around his brother and thanks every God and Goddess he can think of that Dean's safe.


He wakes slowly the next morning, still pressed up against Dean. After the horror of the day before, the simple pleasure of having Dean in his arms is the most precious thing he can imagine. He slips quietly out of bed, leaving Dean to sleep while he showers, intending to dress and get coffee.

When he leaves the bathroom though, Dean's awake already. They share a quick kiss, then Dean's heading for the shower. They've still got Dad to face, but that no longer worries Sam. He knows that somehow they'll make it through this.

Dean's dressed, apart from his boots when the knock at the door comes. Sam looks at his brother. Dean takes a breath, crooks a half smile at Sam and nods. Sam manages a weak smile in return, then opens the door.

Dad's there, holding three coffees. Sam can't tell if that's a good sign or a bad one, because he's never known Dad bring them coffee before.

"Sam." Dad hands him a cup.


Dad walks into the room and passes a second cup to Dean.



There's an awkward pause, and Sam looks at Dean. Dean looks back and it's obvious he has no more idea of what to say than Sam does. Dad looks around the room and Sam inwardly flinches when his gaze lingers on the beds. It's obvious that only one has been slept in.

In the end, it's Dad who broaches the subject first.

"I can't condone this. I sure as hell don't understand it. But I can see that nothing I say or do is going to make any difference."

Dean shifts uncomfortably and Sam holds his breath, hopeful and terrified in equal measure.

"I don't know if I'm ever going to be able to accept that you're...what you're doing. But you boys are all I have and I don't want to lose you. I just… I need time to deal with this."

"You'll be back?" Dean's voice is quiet, neutral, though it's obvious how much the answer means to him.

"I... Yes. You're still my sons. Nothing will ever change that."

Dean nods, outwardly calm, but Sam can feel through the bond the same relief flow through both of them.

Dad nods back. Then he reaches out and pulls Dean into a hug no less heartfelt than the one he gave him last night. Sam watches and he can see the emotion flow across Dean's face. Dad eventually releases Dean and turns to Sam. He steps into Dad's arms and clings to his father as he once did when he was a child.

Dad turns to leave, but as he opens the door, Dean calls out to him.

"Make sure you leave your cell phone switched on this time."

Dad turns back, shocked at first, then after a second or two he grins and nods. The soft snick of the door closing behind him sounds loud in the quiet room.

Sam moves over to his brother, who's turned away. It doesn't hurt like it used to, that even now Dean won't, can't show his emotions, even around Sam. Sam knows now that he has time to earn Dean's total trust.

He wraps his arms around his brother, and rests his head on Dean's shoulder, pressing his lips against Dean's neck. Dean is tense at first, then he relaxes, leaning back into Sam, trusting him to support him.

This isn't the life Sam wanted. It isn't normal and it isn't safe. But now he has it, he wouldn't change it for any other.

Follow the link to the sequel, Moon on Fire.

Page 1 of 2 << [1] [2] >>

Date: 2007-01-18 12:50 am (UTC)
wenchpixie: (Mine sam dean)
From: [personal profile] wenchpixie

I'm going to go back over and re-read it all properly at a more reasonable hour of day, but I just wanted to tell you for prosterity quite how much I love this fic. When I finished reading it I was sad it had ended, and I was cross every time my reading was interupted.

This isn't the life Sam wanted. It isn't normal and it isn't safe. But now he has it, he wouldn't change it for any other. just makes me all kinds of happy, having been on their journey with them. mmmmmmh.

Date: 2007-01-21 02:51 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Thanks darling! *mwha*

Date: 2007-01-18 02:52 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Good, but there's no chapter two and a bad link to chapter seven which is a damn shame.

Date: 2007-01-21 02:51 pm (UTC)

Date: 2007-01-18 04:28 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Have I mentioned how much I love this fic? If not, I love it *holds arms WAY apart* THIS much! I still feel like kicking John's ass, just not as much anymore. *pets the boys* Love them so much.

Now for mistakes. Not many, at least that I caught. Both are about Americanisms.

he and Dad have just finished searching the last room on the first floor. see my comment to the previous chapter on first and second floors over here.

searched through his journal and rung people Sam hasn't even heard of. 'rung' should be 'called'

Date: 2007-01-21 02:52 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Thanks hun.

Date: 2007-01-18 05:57 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

You did it! You did it! *Is ridiculously proud and pleased for you*

It's been one hell of a journey, hasn't it, to get you this far, but here it is, finished and posted. It's a wonderful story and I just know people are going to love it.

*squishes you madly*

(We'll discuss what on earth you're doing up this late, when you're ill, later. *G*)

Date: 2007-01-21 02:52 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
*loves you*

Date: 2007-01-18 08:56 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I really hope this wasn't the end because I am loving this fic. Awesome job.

Date: 2007-01-21 02:52 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Thank you! I'm really pleased that you enjoyed it.


Date: 2007-01-18 10:37 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Your story is amazing,your writing is lovely,and the title is perfection. This is one of the best stories I've had the pleasure to read. Well done!

Date: 2007-01-21 02:53 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

Thank you so much. :D

Date: 2007-01-18 10:38 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Of course, I had to start reading this around midnight, so my brain is frazzled, but I am impressed. It's rare to get a story that is so complete, with a solid mystery and interesting background and hot sex and a believable premise and have it wrapped up so neatly in the end.

I really enjoyed this, liked how you handled it, and love the characterization. Fantastic, really.

Now I'm going to sleep...

Date: 2007-01-21 02:53 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
*blushes and wibbles*

Thank you. I'm flattered and delighted. So glad you ejoyed it.

Date: 2007-01-18 01:03 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Very nice, and a lot to think about. :)

Date: 2007-01-21 02:53 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
In a good way? ;)

Thank you!

Date: 2007-01-18 06:23 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
So I had to give a presentation this moorning and its going to be a large part of my grade. But then I came online and I started reading this fic and I just couldn't stop because I was so in love with it. I ended up staying awake until about 3 in the morning, but this was so totally worth it. There was so much awesomeness in this fic what with the broken!Dean and understanding finally not oblivious about his brother!Sam and John who is a character that I really love even though I hate him.
And then of course there was the pr0n. There was so much hotness in some chapters that I was just dead.

Date: 2007-01-21 02:54 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

Well, I'm honestly flattered that you stayed up so laate. Hope you managed to catch up on your sleep since then!

Thank you. :D

Date: 2007-01-18 08:18 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I am so pleased you posted this wonderful story,and after being able to read it through in full,it`s just as fantastic and heart renching as ever,maybe more so as the emotion is more heartfelt in it`s entirety.

Date: 2007-01-21 02:55 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
*clings and glomps you*

Thanks babe. :D

Date: 2007-01-19 09:05 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Ok so I was so going to bed early tonight! that so totally flew out the window when I started this fic. This was really great. Poor broken Dean broke my heart but I'm glad Sammy fixed him. One of the things that drove me the craziest during the first season was how Sam and John didn't appreciate what Dean does for them. Sam's grown up a lot this season and I think he's starting to realize how much Dean has sacrificed for them. I love how you tackled this issue in your story. I also am in love with the bond tattoos. Such an amazing idea and one that I could definitely see them doing. I would love to see more from this world. So I hope you considering writing more :) Awesome job ^ ~

Date: 2007-01-21 02:56 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Thank you! I'm thrilled that you liked it. :D

As for more, well, I have an idea but my muses have deserved me at the moment so we'll have to wait and see if they come back. Thanks for asking though. :D

Date: 2007-01-21 02:56 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

I have an idea, but no motivation/inspiration to write at the moment. Maybe if my muses come back, but we'll see. Thanks for asking. :D

Date: 2007-01-20 07:57 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I read this whole thing in one sitting - I really, really enjoyed it. Thank you. :D

Date: 2007-01-21 02:57 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Thank you. I'm so pleased that you enjoyed it.

Date: 2007-01-20 08:03 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
OMGawd! I just found this yesterday and haven't even stopped to leave feedback! **Amazing** You are amazing. I love the way you write the boys, the emotions, the relationship, John finding out and knowing, OMG. I could just gush for hours but I need to read more. You don't need to waste time answering me, just Write more fic! *giggles with glee*

Date: 2007-01-21 02:58 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]


Thank you so much! I'm thrilled you liked it. I have an idea for a sequel, but my muses have gone awol right now. Maybe when they get back, I'll get onto writing it.

Date: 2007-01-21 01:04 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Oooooh, wonderful!

Date: 2007-01-21 02:58 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Thank you!

*glomps you*


Date: 2007-01-21 07:59 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
This was great! Good job!

Great character voices, excellent emotional interplay, hot sex scenes and a well developed plot.

Now......GO WRITE MORE!!!! :)

Re: Wow!

Date: 2007-01-21 03:00 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Thank you! I'm delighted that you've enjoyed it.

There may be a sequel, once my muses return from where ever it is that they've buggered off to...

Date: 2007-01-21 11:29 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I can' tell you how much I love your strory and I'm so glad I read it when it was already finished because I would have died waiting for the next chapter.

The story touched me in a way that nothing has before. Great work!!!

Date: 2007-01-21 03:00 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Thank you! Wow, I'm so flattered, honestly. I'm so pleased that you enjoyed it.


(no subject)

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2007-01-21 04:13 pm (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2007-01-22 12:08 am (UTC) - Expand

Date: 2007-01-21 04:43 pm (UTC)
ext_3270: Animated LiveJournal Because... (SPN oxo boys)
From: [identity profile]
I read this in one sitting late last night, having been waiting for DAYS to have enough time to do so, and it was incredible. I love the way you write both boys, and their inner voices (Sam's in particular) were beautifully handled. And John's awareness of them, the tension between them and the realisation, was both painful and touching. I loved the bit about Sam's first word - that seems so realistic. And John's sense of separation from them ("Sam and Dean, and John" - yes!), of them not needing him when they have each other, is perfect.

There is just so much in here. I could ramble on for much longer. Suffice to say, I loved this. I really hope the muses come back to play, bcause I would love to see this continue. Whether or not they do, this was a beautiful piece of work. Thank you for writing it, and for sharing it with us.

Date: 2007-01-22 12:10 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
*wibbles, blushes and glomps you*

Thank you sweetie. I'm all a wibble with your kind words. I'm so thrilled that you enjoyed it so. I'm hoping the muses will be back soon.

And thank you *so* much for the gift. *mwha*

(no subject)

From: [identity profile] - Date: 2007-01-22 05:42 pm (UTC) - Expand

Date: 2007-01-22 04:08 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Wow. Well I know you dont know me since Im new to LJ but I stubmbled upon this story and I have to say that it is my favorite Wincest-y story of all time. I just recently started to read these kinds of stories and this one is definately my favorite. It was so well written and just...GAH! I loved it!!! Great job!

Date: 2007-01-23 10:19 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Thanks. So glad you enjoyed it. :D

Date: 2007-01-23 11:19 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
*snickers cheerily* *glomps* And you were so damned worried about the response you'd get for this fic... *shakes head in amusement* Congrats! And I really liked it! XD *continues plotting mayhem, bwahahah*

Date: 2007-02-04 04:23 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
*glomps back*

Oh shush. What are you up to now, you evil woman? ;)

Date: 2007-01-26 07:17 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Just wanted to say I loved this. I loved Sam being able to heal Dean and Dean giving into Sam and learning to trust him again. I will definately be bookmarking it so I can reread it when I am something resembling awake. *g*

Date: 2007-02-04 04:23 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Thank you! I'm pleased that you enjoyed it. :D


Date: 2007-01-27 04:37 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
i just can say...!
it's the most amazing fic i ever read!!!!!
it's perfect!!! it's on my fave list EVER!!!!
write more!!!!!!

Re: Wow!

Date: 2007-02-04 04:24 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Thanks! So glad you liked it. I'm toying with the idea of a sequel, but the muses are fickle buggers, so we'll see.


thank you...

Date: 2007-02-04 04:44 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
It took me a little over six hours to get through it all cause I started late last night, but wow! The entire fic gave me goose bumps from start to finish and I still can't believe it's over! It was wonderfully written and so beautiful in its sadness. Thank you thank you for writing it, you're very talented!!! Lots of Dean butterfly kisses to you ;)

Re: thank you...

Date: 2007-02-05 07:59 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Thank you. I'm so delighted that you enjoyed it. It really make my day to know that people liked it. :D

Date: 2007-02-06 08:04 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

I've read the story in one go... and that was one of the best stories I've ever read, and believe me - I really read a lot *ggg*

The whole story was full of love, trust and hope. Hey - even John (and he's not my favorite chara) was very well written.

There are so many lovely and gorgeous moments in this story...

You did a great job! Thank you soooooo much for sharing.

Date: 2007-02-06 10:20 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

Thank you! I'm so pleased that you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading and taking the time to comment, it really means a lot.

Date: 2007-02-11 02:03 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Oh, yay! This was awesome! I love this Sam, finally realizing what a marshmallow Dean is. *grin*

Date: 2007-02-12 06:06 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

Thanks. D
Page 1 of 2 << [1] [2] >>
Page generated Sep. 19th, 2017 11:28 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios