
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/557537.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester, Bobby_Singer, Rufus_Turner, Ash_
      (Supernatural)
  Additional Tags:
      Stanford_Era
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-11-08 Words: 8983
****** Eighteen Months to Life ******
by anyothergirl415
Summary
     Their bond was always deeper than that of ordinary brothers. So it
     really wasn't a surprise that Sam would go above and beyond to save
     Dean's life.
~2005~
There was a loud clatter from not-so-far away and Dean ducked his head, trying
to make himself both invisible and strong all at once. Life could be shit –
Dean had seen some of the worst of it – but living in this place was a whole
new level of god damn awful. Dean grew up having the upper hand against ghosts
and monsters and shit that went bump in the night. He’d never had to deal with
people like this.
“Move it, pretty boy, ain’t got all day.” The prisoner waiting behind him
huffed impatiently, knocking hard into Dean’s back.
Dean bit his tongue to keep from telling the big, beefy man with no hair and
too many tattoos just how much time he really had when locked up twenty-four-
seven. Instead, he shuffled forward, snatching the phone up and eagerly dialing
Sam’s number. He lived for these little moments, one phone call a week, hearing
Sam’s voice through the line like a balm over fresh wounds.
“Thank God, Dean,” Sam answered in a rush before the end of the first ring,
like he’d been clutching his phone and desperately waiting for this moment.
Dean knew it was later than his usual call but a fight had broken out earlier;
the jail had been in lockdown until after lunch. “Sorry, got caught up in my
needlework. How’s school?”
Sam sighed and Dean wasn’t entirely sure why he kept making jokes, like that
would somehow make things easier on them. “I’ve been doing some research; I
think we can file an appeal for your case.”
“I signed a deal, Sam. Pretty sure that means no appeal,” Dean sighed, glancing
over his shoulder as the asshole from before grunted impatiently.
“That whole thing was fucked up. The death sentence shouldn’t even have been on
the table. And the lawyer the state gave you was an idiot who wouldn’t know
proper justice if it smacked him in the face. Deal or not, you deserve an
appeal.”
“Time’s up, pretty boy,” the asshole growled, too close to Dean who could feel
rancid breath as a heated rush over his ear.
“Just give me a second,” Dean snapped, inching away from the man and turning
back to the phone in his grasp. “There’s no point, Sam. God, you know what they
have against me.”
“And what? I’m supposed to be okay with never being with you again?” Sam’s tone
was clipped, a harsh slap that was painful.
“Hang up, fag, before I make you.”
It was probably the buildup of everything – the bullshit trial that had ended
in a deal to spare Dean’s life, Sam never leaving well enough alone, the fear
of living in a place where he had to watch his back twenty four seven – that
finally caused him to snap. Dean’s arm shot out and he threw all his force
behind it, slamming the man hard against the metal bars.
Sam was still on the line, could probably hear the smack of flesh as Dean’s
fist crunched into the large man’s nose and shattered cartilage. The cheers of
their fellow inmates echoed around them as the man staggered back, calling out
a string of curses. The guards were closing in and Dean knew he barely had a
moment to reach out and snatch the phone, pressing the plastic hard to his ear.
“I love you, Sam,” Dean whispered in a rush, sucking in a quick breath as the
man dove forward and crushed him up against the wall.
Dean fought back with everything he had – his fist driving into the man’s large
gut, his heel digging into the flesh of a calf – until the guards pulled
sharply on his arms. Dean spit blood from his mouth; his jaw ached where the
man had landed a blow. The other inmates were riled up like they always were at
the sight of blood, and Dean had a whole new understanding of what he’d have to
do to survive in this place.
This was a whole new level of Hell, and Dean was only three months into a life
sentence.
~Now~
Someone was watching him cross the yard and it made Dean's shoulders tense up.
Damnit. He didn't want another fight. Didn't want another session in solitary.
Sometimes he was pretty sure the guards threw him in the dark silence for days
on end because they were jealous.
Not a lot of people had the kind of quiet, calm, masterful presence he'd
established over the last eighteen months. Dean didn't want to control his
fellow inmates, but he'd made it pretty damn clear that he wasn't someone to be
fucked around with. It was the only way to survive in this place - hurting
people wasn't like hunting supernatural shit, no matter what Dean tried to tell
himself.
"What's up, boss? Need a hand? Should I get you something?" Twitchy Mike
fidgeted at Dean’s side in that way he always did. He used to be a druggie,
before he got locked up for trying - and failing - to rob a jewelry store; now
he just suffered through the need for a fix, and he would always be someone's
lemming.
"Don't call me boss," Dean grunted and turned slowly, keeping his gaze up
because searching for the conflict wasn't going to get him very far. "Gonna go
in for a minute, watch my back, yeah?"
"Okay yeah, yeah sure boss." Twitchy Mike nodded and scratched under his ear,
through his hair, over his chest.
Dean rolled his eyes and crossed the yard, only vaguely aware of the path that
was created for him. It didn't hurt to have the kind of reputation that
scattered people, not in a place like this. But he couldn't shake the feeling
that someone was keeping a closer eye on him than necessary. And maybe Dean
didn't want to fight anyone, but he would if he had to, if someone happened to
forget just how much power he held.
As he stepped around the corner, his breath slowly deepened while his shoulders
tensed, preparing himself for what was obviously about to come. He just hoped
it wasn't one of the gangbangers, they tended to fight nasty with well hidden
weapons that could do some serious damage.
Something scuffed just behind him and Dean pursed his lips. So much for
trusting Twitchy Mike to watch his back. The man was practically useless.
In a flash, Dean lurched, spinning back and catching the man hard around the
neck and shoving him hard up against the wall. His gaze narrowed, his heart
lurching into double-time, thudding heavily in his ears. Dean's arm was already
drawn back, ready to slam his fist into the man's face with force.
"Dean."
It took a minute - a long one, with time slowing down in the strangest crawl -
before Dean recognized the man standing before him. Everything in Dean kick-
started once more and his lips parted, heart thudding in a different, stronger
way.
"Sam?" Dean stepped back, eyes scanning the full length of the boy - no, the
man; he'd certainly become a man sometime in the last eighteen months - and
settling on painfully familiar hazel eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Surprise?" Sam smirked and reached out, curling his fingers over Dean's hip
and dragging him back in. "Not glad to see me?"
"Fuck, Sam." Dean lurched forward in the next moment, slanting his lips over
his brother's in a hard kiss. He'd never been happier to see Sam, feel his lips
firm against his own, feel the solid strength of heat from his body.
Fingers dug hard into his hair and Dean never really thought he’d feel this
again. At least not for the next twenty years, and that was if he made parole.
Dean moaned loud enough that his body shook, air hitching in his lungs.
"Sam," Dean breathed, then the shock vanished as he realized what it really
meant: Sam being here. Stepping back, Dean slammed his brother hard into the
wall, jaw clenching as he considered what a stupid idiot Sam was to get himself
locked up. "What the fuck? What the hell have you done?"
A hiss fell from Sam's lips, his eyes growing wide for just a minute as he
rubbed over the place where Dean's fingers had dug into his chest. "Ow. Ass.
Thanks for making it so obvious why I love you."
When Sam just rolled his eyes, Dean couldn't help the slow smile from growing
over his lips. Damn, he had missed his brother's smile. "Fuck you. I know
you've been crying for me since I've been gone."
The grin that exploded across Sam's face was blinding, full of all those
dimples and sunshine and irresistible things that had tangled Dean up with his
brother in the first place. In the next beat, Sam was tugging him forward once
more, crushing their lips together in another kiss that shook Dean to his core.
"I've come to get you out of here, big brother," Sam breathed into the kiss,
thrusting his tongue forward.
Dean was pretty sure he couldn't be blamed for biting down on Sam's tongue
after that.
~1998~
"Come on, Sammy! We gotta go!" Dean burst into the motel room and swallowed the
- completely inappropriate - desire to laugh at his brother when he jumped off
the bed in surprise.
But they'd been living like this for a long time - nearly all their lives - and
Sam only needed half a minute to get his body into motion. Before he even asked
why, he was pulling his bag up, shoving his clothes into it. They might have
their moments - bickering over what TV channel to watch, full-out wrestling
matches over who got the last piece of pizza - but when it came down to it, Sam
knew him.
The urgency had to be clear in Dean's voice, or maybe it was the way he
instantly started packing his own clothing, trying to fight the way his hands
were shaking.
What just happened? Had Dean really seen that?
"Dean?" Sam whispered several minutes later as he stuffed the last of his
boxers into his bag and tugged the duffel closed.
Inhaling shakily, Dean closed his own bag and stared down at it, wondering
exactly how he'd make it now. How they'd make it. Was Dean even strong enough
to do this?
"Where's Dad, Dean?" Sam was right next to him now, reaching out slowly to
touch his arm in a firm squeeze.
Dean couldn't talk about it yet, not when his mind was still spinning, and he
didn't know how to handle this, how to make things okay for his little brother
with those big, watery eyes and full, pouty lips. So he shook his head and
reached out for Sam's bag instead, leaving the motel room without a word.
And it really was a sign of how well Sam knew him, because he followed without
question, trailing along to the Impala and climbing into the passenger seat.
The doors squeaked as they opened, closed, and Dean didn't bother with a last
look around.
They drove because it was one of the things he knew how to do best. Even if he
wasn't sure where they were going, or what they'd do when they got there, or if
maybe it would be better to just go to Bobby's, because Dean didn't feel grown
up enough to handle this.
Sam didn't talk - or if he did Dean didn't hear him - until the sun had started
to set and the fuel light had come on.
"Where we going, Dean?"
For whatever reason, that snapped Dean out of his spiraling thoughts. In the
next minute, he was pulling off the highway and following the ramp down into a
small town, somewhere to stop and rest for a while. Dean filled up the car, got
them food and a room, and didn't answer Sam's million-dollar question.
Until, of course, they were tucked behind a closed door with salt lines in
place at the window sill and door frame. Sam didn't ask again but Dean could
feel the question lingering between them, and he knew it was only a matter of
time before their tentative peace was shattered. Sure, Sam might have sensed
his urgency earlier and followed along obediently, but he was still fourteen
years old and was bound to have a hissy fit sometime in the very near future if
Dean didn't explain everything.
"Sam," Dean exhaled steadily and dropped down hard onto the edge of the bed,
lips parting and closing as he fought to find the words. "Dad's dead."
They hung between them like the echo of a gunshot - like the one still echoing
in Dean's ears - and he couldn't bring himself to look up. The bed dipped as
Sam sat beside him, and Dean couldn't help bracing himself for the emotional
explosion.
Dean was almost eighteen, he was a grown up and wouldn't really suffer any
repercussions - expect missing the man who'd raised him, shaped him, changed
every little thing about him. Sam was only fourteen though, and technically,
Dean supposed, he was the property of the state now. Reason one on a list of a
million why they'd left so quickly.
Accepting that his dad was dead and they were all alone? Dean could figure that
out; he could handle it because he had to. Losing Sam? That was not something
to be handled. Dean wouldn't survive it. Sam was just too damn important.
"You watched it happen?" Sam whispered and slowly sank into Dean's side,
curling an arm around his middle. "How did it... was he hurt a lot?"
Dean had kind of anticipated Sam freaking out - he was ready to duck out of the
way of flying plates and vulgar words - so the strong and comforting touch? It
shook him in a way he wasn't prepared for. For the first time since the
warehouse and the moment Dean witnessed, knowing their lives were about to
change forever, tears pricked at his eyes.
"It was quick. Don't think he hurt much. The demon had... there was a gun, I
didn't see it. Shot went straight through his head." Dean swallowed thickly and
shook his head, hoping the emotion wasn't affecting his voice too much. It
would just freak Sam out unnecessarily, watching Dean lose it. "Took him down
though, that bastard demon. Sent him back to the pits so fast, then stayed long
enough to burn down the warehouse... Dad would have wanted that."
Sam clutched him just a little too hard, arms squeezing tight around Dean, head
burying into the flesh at his neck. Dean could feel the wet heat of slick tears
and he wrapped his arms around Sam, holding his brother like he hadn't since
Sam was a small kid.
"We're gonna be okay, Sammy, I promise. I'll look after us. I promise I'll
always take care of you." Dean would sell his damn ass on the streets if he had
to, as long as it meant Sam had food to eat and a place to sleep.
"That’s not what I'm worried about." Sam sniffed and sat back, scrubbing the
tears away from under his eyes. "You've been lookin' after me for years, I know
that's not gonna change. I just... don't let them take me away okay? I don't
want to be without you."
"Why do you think we left?" Dean smiled sadly and swept his thumb over Sam's
cheek. He'd honestly expected his brother to be more upset about the loss of
their father, but he was pretty sure they were both still dealing with shock.
It was going to take a while to truly accept everything that had happened
today. "You're not ever going to be without me, I promise. I'm not lettin'
anyone take you away, you hear me?"
"Yeah. Okay." Sam shrugged and slumped back against Dean's body, squeezing him
tight. "You think Dad's with Mom in Heaven now? Maybe they're happy together?"
Dean didn't have a lot of thoughts about the great beyond - outside of Hell and
demons and fucking poltergeists - and normally he'd tease Sam about his idyllic
thoughts. This time he simply squeezed his brother harder and pressed his lips
to wavy, golden brown hair. "Yeah Sammy, I think they are."
~Now~
Sweeping his gaze around the yard, Dean pulled in a few steadying breaths
before turning to face his brother. As much as it irritated him that Sam was
here - this was so stupid, Sam had just fucked up his entire life more than it
had ever been - he couldn't help being pleased. A slow smirk crawled across his
lips and he shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching out and
grabbing Sam to tug him close.
A few stolen kisses were not enough to make up for eighteen months without the
man.
"Well? You gonna explain whatever your crazy ass plan is?" Dean arched a brow
and turned away, hoping they didn't look suspicious enough to draw unwanted
attention.
Sam laughed softly like it was all some big joke, like they both weren't locked
in a prison that was almost as dangerous as some of the shit they'd been around
their whole lives. "What if my plan is fucking in the showers? Something about
dropped soap?"
"Dammit, Sam," Dean groaned and scrubbed fingers up through his hair, shooting
his brother an under-heated glare. "It's hard enough to watch my own back here,
now I'm gonna have to watch yours, too?"
"Hey, I can take care of myself. I'm not a kid anymore." Sam's shoulders
stiffened and he stared off into the yard, nodding at someone as they looked
their way. Funny, over the years Dean had never noticed the subtle ways Sam had
grown, but now it was glaringly obvious. His jaw was stronger, the muscles
corded in his neck, his arms filled out like he’d developed some extreme regime
to keep in shape – keep his mind off Dean – in the time they’d been separated.
Sam’s nod was just subtle enough for Dean to understand there was more being
said. Dean turned to look in the same direction and his eyes widened slightly
before dropping. "Is that... fuck, is that Rufus, Sam? What the hell is going
on?"
"Come on, Dean, did you really think I'd just leave you to rot in here?" Sam
dropped his voice to a low murmur and stepped forward, just barely letting
their shoulders brush together. "Relax, I know what I'm doing. We've worked out
all the details."
Dean considered yelling at Sam, shoving him back and letting him know just how
damn stupid the very idea of breaking him out of jail was. But, fuck, what
alternative did he have? And he knew Sam would have considered all the risks.
Sure they were each other’s everything, maybe even each other’s greatest
weakness, but Sam was still the logical one.
Dean was more likely to be the one rushing head-first into danger when it came
to saving Sam.
"You still trust me, don't you?" Sam murmured and dropped his gaze, shuffling
his foot along the dirt, swaying in that self-conscious little way that was
still just as adorable as it had always been.
Out of his control, a slow smile grew across Dean's lips and he kicked Sam's
shin to stop himself from looking so ridiculous. "Stop being a shit and fill me
in on this grand plan of yours. I am ready to get the fuck out of here."
Sam lifted his head and shot Dean one of his patent, brilliant, megawatt grins.
"Okay well, it involves Rufus as a guard - he's been working at another state
prison for the last year, just got transferred here last week. And Bobby as a
driver. And Ash as... well, Ash."
Learning just how long this plan had been forming made that tightness in Dean's
chest ease slightly. Sam hadn't forgotten about him, or left him behind for
bigger and better things, and Dean wasn't really sure why he'd ever thought his
brother had. You didn't spend your entire life gravitating around only one
person then simply forget them in a year and a half.
And well, when it came down to it, no one could ever compare to what they had
together, and that was something Dean never doubted.
~2000~
"Ow. Ow ow ow." Sam whined - fucking whined - as Dean struggled to help him
into the room and all but threw him down on the bed. "God. Fuck, Dean.
Asshole!"
"Shut the hell up, Sam, you big baby." Dean rolled his eyes and considered just
leaving his brother to his emo-ness and heading out to get some food. But a
whimper fell from Sam's lips as he slid back on the mattress and Dean's
tendency to be a little over-obsessive when it came to his brother's wellbeing
took over. "Alright, shirt off, let's see the damage."
"No. You're just gonna tease me more."
When Dean glanced over, he wasn't all that surprised to see a full-on pout
tugging Sam's lip out. "Sam? Either let me see or I'll kick your ass and then
make you let me see. So?"
"I hate you," Sam muttered and slowly shifted around until he could tug his
shirt off, tossing it across the room.
Dean caught a flash of bright red blood and Sam's watery eyes before turning
back to his bag and yanking out the first aid kit. He was pretty sure it wasn't
as bad as it looked but worry gnawed at the pit of his stomach and he headed
swiftly over to the bedside. He tried to keep the worry out of his eyes as he
dipped in, using an alcohol swab to clean the blood away and get to the cut.
"I don't really," Sam whispered a few minutes later, biting down on his lip as
Dean paused and looked up at him. "I don't really hate you."
"I know you don't, Sammy," Dean laughed and shook his head, smirking when Sam
hissed as he cleaned over the cut. "You think I'm the shit and I am, so chill."
"Stop," Sam gasped out as Dean's fingers brushed over his middle.
For a moment, Dean thought he'd hurt his brother, that maybe the cut he'd
gotten when the ghost started chucking furniture their way was just the surface
wound and the bruise was much deeper. But when he looked up again and met Sam's
gaze, it was to find something not at all pain-related.
And it wasn't like Dean never thought about it, never realized that their
closeness - especially the bond that had developed over the last two years -
was a little abnormal. Or considered how he shouldn't think of things like
those soft, pink lips and creamy white skin. Whenever Dean had those thoughts
before - back when Dad was still alive, when Sam was just a kid - it was so
easy to see all the reasons they shouldn't.
But it was just them now, it always would be, and Dean couldn't remember all
the arguments that had sounded so convincing in the past. Except maybe the fact
that Sam was still just a kid.
"Sam," Dean breathed and slowly sat back on his heels, shaking his head a beat
later and reaching out for a Band-Aid. "Knock it off. You don't - it's not -
you don't want to go there okay? Trust me."
"I'm not a kid, Dean. It's not like I don't know what it means." A frown tugged
at Sam's lips and he moved away from Dean's lingering touch over his wound.
"Can't we just... it's not like anyone would know, or could even hold it
against us. You're all I have, you're my everything, I just want... more. More
than everything."
Being responsible for a teenager wasn't always the easiest thing, especially
when you were still technically a teenager yourself. Dean always felt like he
was working so hard, making sure they had enough money for food and a motel
room, calling in favors from people like Ash at the Harvelle’s bar to make sure
Sam could finish school legally.
So Dean probably caved a lot easier than Sam expected. The boy had probably
built up a whole collection of arguments - he was good at arguing the why I'm
right thing - but Dean just didn't have it in him. Because Sam was right. No
one would know. There was no one in their little world outside of them. And
Dean wanted that more Sam was talking about just as much.
It took less than two minutes for him to make up his mind and move forward,
drawing Sam close. The boy hissed as the edges of his cut pressed together but
he didn't pull away, hovering in place inches from his lips where Dean held
him. "Are you sure, Sam? There’s no going back from this. It changes
everything."
"No, it doesn't. Not really." Sam laughed softly and slid his fingers up Dean's
arm. "Kiss me, Dean. Come on."
Dean was a little surprised by the jolt that shot through him as their lips
finally met, but he probably shouldn't have been. Sam always made him feel more
than what made sense. In the next beat, they exploded into movement, lips
crash-colliding hard, Dean pushing up off the floor as Sam fell back on the
bed, and they kicked the first aid kit to the ground. Dean couldn't get enough
of Sam's lips sliding hard and constant and perfect against his, fingers
digging into golden, wavy hair.
"God, Sam," Dean gasped as their lips parted and they rolled together, sliding
along the mattress and tangling up in the blankets. He really hadn't
anticipated this, how quickly they'd fall together and start tugging at each
other's clothing with needy moans.
"Touch me. C'mon, Dean - you gotta." Sam latched his teeth into Dean's lower
lip and dragged it out, pushing his fingers up under Dean's shirt.
Dean smirked - considering teasing his obviously virgin baby brother about
being a little over-eager - but a beat later Sam's hand rolled against his
crotch, dragging steadily over the hard length. It was a lot braver than Dean
anticipated and his body jerked up, all thoughts of teasing vanishing from the
tip of his tongue. "Fuck, Sammy, how long you been wanting this?"
"A stupid-ass long time," Sam huffed a laugh and sat back long enough to shove
at Dean's jeans, pushing the denim back until he could slip his hand forward.
Their bodies collided, clothing torn off and thrown to the floor, skin slipping
and sliding together. When Dean rolled his hips up, his body shuddered, the
slide of their cocks the perfect friction thrill. Dean sucked on Sam's tongue
and worked his hand between their bodies, stretching his fingers out to wrap
around them both and stroke over the heated flesh.
"Oh fuck," Sam gasped out and lurched forward, biting clumsily at Dean's lower
lip and thrusting his hips up.
It was hotter than Dean anticipated: Sam's eagerness, the quick, fumbling
brushes of their lips together. It had been awhile since Dean was with someone
- since before their Dad died, if Dean was being honest, but that was
understandable - and he could feel the heat of his release building up in him.
Turned out it was a good thing he hadn't teased Sam earlier, because coming
this quickly? Sam would have mocked him for sure.
Except, a beat later, Sam was the one shuddering against him, the hot splash of
their release spraying over his skin, and Dean captured his brother's lips in a
deep kiss because he was getting a little loud. Not that Dean didn't want to
hear Sam, because he was pretty sure there was absolutely nothing better.
Dean panted through his own release, fingers moving swiftly over his cock to
slick the heat of his brother's come into his skin. Sam's hands were in
constant motion along his body, tracing down his back, over the curve of his
ass. The touch was softer than Dean anticipated, comforting and soothing in a
way Dean never thought he'd want. But then, he'd resolutely been ignoring all
thoughts of Sam in this way because it seemed safer.
"I can't ever be without you," Sam breathed into the post-orgasm silence,
curling up against Dean's side and holding tight. "Not ever."
"Who says you'll have to be?" Dean murmured and brushed his lips over Sam's
temple. "Always you and me, Sammy, you know that."
Sam pushed back and peered down at Dean, wetting his lips slowly. "What if I go
to college? What if I don't want to hunt all the time and want to finish my
school?"
Dean stared up at his brother with arched brows, wondering if the idea of not
hunting would swell a rise of panic in him that would cause a big blowout
between them. When it didn't come, Dean was probably more surprised than he
should have been. After all, what he'd said was the truth: it would always be
him and Sam. "Then I'll go with you. We'll get a place. You'll get all smart
and I'll get a job, hunt every now and then. We'll make it work."
For a while, Sam considered him with narrowed eyes - probably trying to read
his mind; it wasn't as impossible as one might think - then a slow smile grew
across his lips. And yeah, Dean could handle settling down, playing house,
especially if it brought that dimple-laced grin to Sam's face.
~Now~
There was a pretty good chance that this was a stupid idea. A very stupid idea.
Dean kept wanting to point that out to Sam - insist they could somehow make
their relationship work within the prison gates, because at least they were
together - but the amount of teasing he'd have to put up with was enough to
keep him silent. After all, Dean wasn't really ever nervous or unsure; he was
the brave and fearless one, which should be enough.
It didn't stop his hands from shaking, however, when Rufus stepped up to him,
hooking the shackles into place around his wrists and ankles. There were two
guards standing at watch behind them and Dean tried to keep his expression
bored, completely unfazed.
"Stop shaking," Rufus muttered quietly, shooting Dean a look. "It's gonna work,
Dean."
He barely dipped his head in a nod and glanced sideways over at Sam, watching
as Rufus moved to shackle him up to the chain. Dean didn't understand all the
logistics as to how this plan worked. Sam hadn't really been able to give him a
complete break-down because there was no saying who was listening no matter how
quietly they spoke.
But what he did know was that Ash had hacked the prison’s systems, scheduling
for Sam and Dean to be the only prisoners on this move. Rufus would be
accompanying them as a guard and Bobby would be their driver. Dean wasn't
completely sold on the idea that no one would be able to track them down, tie
all of their identities together, but it wasn't like he was really in a
position to complain.
It wasn't as if Dean wanted to stay in jail for a crime he hadn't even
committed. And, as he slowly trailed Rufus down steel and concrete hallways, he
couldn't stop thinking about the man shuffling behind him. Dean had never even
realized how much he could genuinely miss someone until he had to go eighteen
months without touching Sam, without hearing his laugh or feeling the spark of
his kiss.
Dean had survived the loss of his mother as a child; had actually been okay
after the loss of his father as a teenager, but losing Sam? That had nearly
killed him. And their loss hadn't even been permanent. Dean knew he wasn't
strong enough to go without him for the rest of his life.
"I can't wait to have you all to myself again. I'm gonna get you out of here,"
Sam whispered against the back of his ear, sending a shiver down Dean's spine
that he barely concealed. Dean knew Sam felt responsible for him being locked
up, and no matter how many times they covered the issue, Dean couldn't convince
him otherwise.
"Keep it quiet back there!" Rufus hollered over his shoulder, shooting them
both a look that was maybe a little too entertained.
Dean was pretty sure Rufus was getting a kick out of this, more than he should
at least. He ducked his head down but glanced back just enough to send Sam a
private look.
Maybe this entire plan was fucked from the get-go; maybe they would get busted
and spend the rest of their lives locked up in solitude. But... maybe it would
work. Just in case - stranger things had happened - Dean made a silent promise
that he would never leave Sam's side again.
~2005~
"God damn. Bloody Mary, can you believe that shit?" Dean laughed and flopped
back on the bed, faint smile on his lips as he adjusted into Sam's heat at his
side. "Coulda sworn that was a myth."
"Is anything really a myth?" Sam muttered, distracted by the book in his hands.
Well, Dean just wasn't having that. He'd just gotten back after all, and Sam
could stop studying long enough for a proper welcome. Dean inched closer and
dipped forward, sliding his lips along Sam's neck, kissing along his skin.
"Pretty sure Big Foot is."
"Mm, wouldn't be too sure of that," Sam breathed, head tilting to the side even
as his grip tightened on the book. "Dean... got a call yesterday, from Becky."
"Uh huh, that's nice." Dean didn't want to talk about some girl he vaguely
remembered. He’d met Sam's friends - always pretending to be Sam's boyfriend
because their relationship was too complicated to explain - and for the most
part they were good people. But Dean would much rather reacquaint himself with
his brother's body than catch up on social gossip.
"Her brother's in trouble," Sam gasped out as Dean's fingers slipped under his
waistline. "D-Dean, come on, listen to me."
"M'listenin'," Dean muttered and worked Sam's fly beneath his fingers, nudging
Sam's book out of the way so he could roll over onto his body.
"You are not, stop." When Sam pushed up and slid out from under Dean, it really
only made Dean smirk. Mainly because Sam was obviously hard, his cheeks
flushed, and it was adorable sometimes when Sam got irrationally huffy about
things.
So Dean played it up, sighing heavily and rolling away to turn his back to Sam,
and began unbuttoning his shirt. "Fine. What do you want, Sam? Am I supposed to
fix this or something?"
"Come on, Dean, you know I didn't mean..." Sam sighed and the mattress squeaked
as he slid over, tucking in behind Dean's back so his legs settled on either
side. "They think he killed his girlfriend, but Becky's convinced he didn't.
It’s completely out of character for him. I looked into things a bit and there
are a few cases that seem really out there... I just thought maybe you could
look into it. I could come with."
"Finals are soon," Dean whispered and sank back against Sam, because he wasn't
really mad and he wanted his brother to know that. "I was going to take break
for a while. Spend some time with you."
Sam pressed a kissed to Dean's neck, inhaling steadily. "I know. And I really
want you here, but Becky's really freaked out. Maybe it's all just a
misunderstanding, maybe it's nothing, but..."
Yeah, it was the ‘maybe’ that would get Dean to cave in the end. And he did
remember Becky, she'd been really open and accepting when it came to their
relationship, Dean couldn't not help her out. So he gave in, closing his eyes
and turning to brush his lips over Sam's jaw. "You owe me."
"God, don't I know it," Sam laughed and slid his hands down between Dean's
legs, messaging slowly over his crotch. "Don't have to leave 'til the morning,
let me show you all the things I'm gonna do to thank you when you get back?"
"Okay, that better include my laundry," Dean laughed thickly and squirmed back.
He was such a sucker for Sam, it was pathetic. But at least it was for a good
cause.
~Now~
It was easier than Dean thought it would be, pretending like he didn't know
Bobby as they climbed into the transport van, sliding onto the bench and
looking out the window. They didn't speak as the drive began, and Dean eyed the
security camera above the driver’s seat with a narrowed gaze before swallowing
thickly. He wondered if maybe Ash was hacking into the system as part of the
plan.
Dean kept his eyes focused out the window, palms sweating as they traveled
further from the prison. He watched the fields flying past and tried to wrap
his mind around the idea of freedom. What the hell would he and Sam do now? It
wasn't like their life could just pick up from where it left off.
He wasn't even sure how much effort would go into the search for him, but there
was a pretty good chance he and Sam wouldn't even be able to stay in the
country. Truthfully, it didn't matter where they went. Not as long as Sam was
with him.
Dean wasn't entirely sure how they'd decided where to run the van off the road,
and he wouldn’t have guessed it would be this particular area. But, out of the
corner of his eye, he watched Sam's shoulders tense just slightly - no one else
would probably notice but Dean, who was still finely tuned into all things Sam
- and he braced himself for what was obviously about to come.
The screech of tires echoed loudly around them moments before a truck rammed
hard into the back of the van, sending them spinning in a whiplash into the
field. For a moment, Dean worried the van was about to flip and he reached out,
clutching Sam's thigh tightly.
When the engine stopped ticking and Dean's heart began to slow, his eyes
widened as he looked around the van in confusion. This couldn't be the plan,
right? Because no one would find it believable that two chained prisoners had
somehow managed to overpower a driver and a guard after such an insignificant
crash.
"Alright, let's get moving," Bobby grunted and quickly slid out of the driver's
seat, the door creaking open.
Dean's lips pursed but he raised his hand as Rufus reached forward and quickly
unlocked them both. Outside, he could see Ash and Bobby pulling long bags from
the back of the truck and his eyes widened as he recognized the shape. "Are you
fucking kidding me?"
"They were already dead, Dean, don't worry," Sam said quickly, pulling at the
top of his orange jumper as he climbed towards the side door.
It seemed a little unfair, how everyone knew this part of the plan and Dean's
mind was fumbling quickly to catch up. "I thought you said we were knocking
Bobby out? And Rufus. What the hell are we doing exactly?"
"Well it's not like we can really go on living any sort of life if they're
looking for us," Sam reasoned and reached into the cab of the truck, tugging
out a stack of clothes. "Get changed, we're on limited time here.”
Somehow it was still just as easy to do exactly what Sam said, though Dean had
a million more questions. But he followed the orders, changing into his own
clothing - which was kind of amazing after months of that stupid, damn jumpsuit
- then redressing the bare corpse he was pointed towards. Dean's stomach
churned but he swallowed back the rising bile - you did what you had to, right?
"Okay, now can someone fill me in?" Dean huffed as he helped Sam carry one of
the jumpsuit-covered bodies into the van.
"We're gonna blow up the van," Sam said over his shoulder, bending down to re-
shackle the bodies’ ankles. "Ash hacked into the video feed. Right now it looks
like we're still driving, but he's gonna edit it and sync up the image of the
crash and then the van bursting into flames. By the time anyone gets out here
to help, the van will be in pieces, and you, me, and the driver will be assumed
dead."
It all sounded very clever, and a little like something Dean might see in a
movie. His gaze slid over to Rufus, the slightest smirk pulling at his lips as
he watched Bobby land a punch hard enough into his lower lip to make it bleed.
"And I'm guessing he magically escaped?"
"I am one fucking convincing liar, son." Rufus smirked toward Dean and tugged
hard at his shirt, sending buttons flying. "Between my testimony and the video
feed, they won't even think about the fact that they can't find any teeth for
dental records. They'll write you both off as dead, especially with no family
there to question. Less work for them in the long run."
"And the fact that Sam is my brother won't seem at all weird to them?" Dean was
more impressed than he was willing to admit. How they'd managed to come up with
this crazy-ass plan, he had no clue.
"Come on Dean, you think we'd go through all this work and then be stupid
enough to let Sam get arrested with the same last name as you?" Ash arched a
brow at Dean as he glanced up from his computer, clearly not impressed with
Dean's apparently stupid question.
Dean huffed a breathy laugh and looked between the men, gaze lingering on his
brother. It wasn't lost on him just what big risks all these men were taking to
help him, and he was pretty sure he'd never be able to say thank you enough.
"Well then, let's blow up a van."
~2005~
"Sam? Listen to me, this is so - fuck, just give me a minute okay? I get my
damn phone call!" Dean snapped at the officer grabbing his shoulder. This
wasn't happening, there was no fucking way. Dean knew he had shit luck, but
seriously.
"Dean? What's going on? Becky called and said you were... Jesus, are you okay?"
Sam sounded worried on the line, his voice tight and strained in that way it
always got when he was just about to freak out.
Dean shoved his fingers hard up into his hair and pulled, as if the sting of
pain would somehow wake him up from this nightmare he'd stumbled into.
"Shapeshifter, Sam. That's what -" The officer at his side coughed and narrowed
his eyes at Dean, obviously listening in on the conversation. Dean turned away
as much as possible and dropped his voice to a low whisper. "It took my shape.
They think I killed - they're blaming me, okay? They have my picture at the
scene of the crime."
"Fuck," Sam gasped and Dean was relieved that he hadn't been out of the
business long enough to forget exactly what a shapeshifter was. Or maybe Sam
had already reached that conclusion from the times Dean had called over the
last couple of days to fill him in. "I'm gonna come up there, prove it wasn't
you. It’ll be okay."
There really wasn't any way for Sam to prove it wasn't him. How could he
explain away the video evidence? It was an open-and-close case in the eyes of
the DA. Dean rode out the wave of agony at the idea of what would happen now,
how he would lose Sam because of some damn piece of supernatural shit. "It's
okay, Sam. Just be safe alright? Know that I love you, always. Look after
yourself."
"Damnit, Dean, stop. Don't talk like that. I'm gonna get you out of there."
Things were rustling in the background, Sam probably packing a bag.
Dean would probably argue longer, tell Sam how stupid it was to come when there
was nothing he could do, but the idea of seeing his brother in person at least
once more before being tossed in jail? He couldn't resist. "Gee, nice to know
you love me, too."
"You know I do," Sam sighed heavily and the mattress squeaked beneath him,
sparking up the most intense longing in Dean. He never should have taken this
damn case. And apparently Sam must have been thinking the same thing. "I'm so
sorry. I shouldn't have made you go."
"Hey, don't blame yourself, I'm the idiot who fucked up and didn't play it safe
enough," Dean whispered and the officer behind him practically growled and
tapped his shoulder. "Sam? I gotta go. Please just - please be safe."
"I'll be there as soon as I can, Dean, I promise. I love you."
Before Dean could answer, the officer snatched the phone from his hand and
slammed it down onto the cradle. A scowl pulled at Dean's lips and he stuffed
his hands into his pockets to keep from doing something he might regret - like
slamming his fist into the asshole's jaw.
At least Sam was coming. And Dean told himself he'd be okay with seeing his
brother just one more time.
~Now~
Dean couldn't help it, a low moan rumbled through him as his fingers slid over
the black, shiny surface that he'd honestly thought he'd never see again.
Excited, he glanced up and Sam was smirking at him, leaning against the
passenger side and dragging a hand through golden hair that had gotten a little
ridiculously long.
"Knew I'd never convince you to go on the lam without her," Sam murmured and
shrugged, glancing over his shoulder and then back.
The smile on Sam’s lips was growing and Dean knew the feeling. Ash and Bobby
had taken care to stash the Impala out in the middle of nowhere, a good three
hundred miles from the place the van had been run off the side of the road. He
wondered how things were playing out at the smoldering wreck, whether they'd
already been dismissed as dead.
"So, you're a free man." Sam slid along the shiny black surface, smile growing
as he crossed to Dean and curled his arm around his brother’s shoulder,
dragging him in and letting their lips brush slowly together. "Any idea what
you're gonna do now?"
"I'm thinking Disneyworld," Dean laughed softly and tugged Sam in, kissing him
roughly.
Free. He really liked the sound of that.
In fact, the moment it truly sank in, Dean found himself exploding into
movement because being free meant finally having Sam as his own again. A soft
grunt fell from Sam's lips as he sank into the kiss, wrapping his arms tight
around Dean and tugging him as close as possible. Dean tangled his fingers up
into Sam's hair, pulling hard enough to cause a whimper to fall into the kiss.
They fumbled around for a few minutes and Dean considered how stupid this
probably was, no matter how hidden the car might be. If anyone stumbled upon
them now, well, it would sort of defeat the whole purpose of their escape.
"Dean," Sam gasped out and slipped his hands under the back of Dean's shirt,
pushing the material up and sliding his fingers over smooth skin.
"Get in the car." Dean shoved at his brother, spinning and tugging the back
door open. Sam's brows arched and Dean snorted a laugh. "Come on, you can't
tell me you don't miss backseat sex."
"I am not sixteen years old anymore, dude." Lips quirking into a smirk, Sam
slid his hand down and flicked the button open on his jeans. "You owe me a
massage later when I get all out of whack because of this."
"Still a whiny bitch, some things never change." Dean grinned and stepped in,
shoving Sam's jeans down in one swift movement. The grin faded slightly as Sam
sucked in a sharp breath and swayed forward, sliding his lips along Dean's neck
in a familiar caress. "Did you... I mean, I'd get it. Eighteen months. Long-ass
time to wait."
Sam's fingers dug hard into Dean's hips, gripping above the jeans just a little
too tightly. "You are not even asking me that, you asshole."
"Hey man, just making sure. I know how much of a cock-slut you are, didn't know
if you could handle waiting." Dean swallowed the rising hiss and arched
forward, eyes fluttering closed as Sam rubbed with a little too much force over
his crotch.
"Does this mean you didn't wait? Find yourself a nice piece of ass behind bars,
Dean?" Sam shoved roughly at Dean's jeans and, a beat later, they swayed back,
all but collapsing onto the backseat made of cool leather.
Dean groaned as his head smacked too hard into the door, body arching up long
enough to pull cotton over his chest. "Trust me, Sam, no matter how desperate I
got, there was no one in that damn place worth having some secret hook up with.
Makes me a little queasy just thinking about it."
"Glad to hear how your never-ending love and devotion to me was enough to keep
you loyal for a year and a half." Sam rolled his eyes a little too hard and
reached under the seat, tugging out a bottle of lube that Dean was pretty sure
was left over from when they'd last been together back here.
There was some sort of snarky retort building up on Dean's lips, but Sam moved
a lot faster than he anticipated. A deep, low moan shook through Dean as his
legs were spread as wide as they could go in the confined space and Sam's
finger rubbed a slow, steady circle over his hole. He forgot how intense the
initial brush over his hole could feel, the way Sam's breath hitched as he slid
his finger forward.
"God I missed you," Sam gasped and fell against Dean's chest, crushing their
lips together as his finger slid all the way forward. "Don't ever leave me
again. Can't be without you. Can't breathe without you."
"Never, Sammy, never leaving again." It was all desperation now and Dean really
wasn't complaining. Later, when they were settled in somewhere, Dean would
spread his brother out on a bed and take his time stretching the man open. He'd
fuck into him slow and steady for hours until they both hit their peaks and
passed out from the level of far too good.
Right now though, he wanted his brother to take him, fast and dirty, and he
didn't want to wait any longer. He dug fingernails into Sam's shoulders and
claimed his mouth in a rough kiss, digging his knees into the seats to give Sam
as much room to move as possible. By the time Sam had three fingers moving
sloppy and quick inside him, Dean was panting roughly and writhing constantly.
"C'mon, Sam," Dean grunted and rocked up, clenching tight around Sam's fingers.
"Fuck me. Know you want it."
Sam moaned and pulled his fingers back, sliding lube quickly over his hard
flesh. "There was never anyone else. Never could be, no one compared to you."
"I know," Dean murmured, smirking when Sam peered down at him and flicked hair
off his sweaty brow.
"So god damn cocky." Sam shook his head and laughed roughly, then lined himself
up at Dean's entrance and slammed brutally forward.
Their bodies crashed together and Dean moaned, ignoring the protest of his
muscles as he arched into the touch. Before Sam became his absolute everything,
Dean had never thought he'd find himself in this kind of position. Skin flushed
and beaded with sweat, legs spread wantonly wide, lips parted around pants as
he all but begged his brother to fuck into him with all he had.
Dean closed his eyes and drank in the conflicting waves of absolutely
everything. A whole life spent growing up with a father who put his mission
before his sons, the loss of the man they should have cared more for, and then
colliding and winding around one another in a way two brothers probably never
should. And every time Sam's cock slid inside him, throbbing and angled in the
best way to send shudders of pleasure up his spine, Dean thought it was worth
all the things that maybe shouldn't be.
All of those feelings that were always too much between them had simmered over
the last eighteen months spent apart, and this was like the boiling-over
explosion. Their lips crushed hard and painful together, skin slick and sliding
slowly against one another, muscles bunching and pulling. Dean could hear the
squeak of protest from the tires as the car rocked, and it brought a smile
flickering across his lips.
But it had been a while, too long, and by the time Sam's hand was between them
and moving over his cock, Dean was too close to hold on. His spine arched off
the warmed leather and his fingers pulled hard at golden hair.
"God, Dean," Sam grunted and slammed into him, slick, hot release filling Dean
in a way he hadn't even realized he'd missed.
When Sam collapsed against him, Dean's face scrunched up, the feel of his own
release smooshing between their skin wasn't nearly as pleasant as Sam's filling
him. "Better not get any on the seats, asshole."
"Ah yeah, I definitely missed you," Sam laughed and pressed his lips hard
against Dean's temple. "So, ready to start a new life with me? Lots of
potential."
"Yeah, I'd say I definitely am." Dean's arms curled tight around Sam and it
felt like he'd never been gone.
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