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The Wanting Comes In Waves

All Sam/Dean, All The Time

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Finish Lines

Fic: Finish Lines (Sam/Dean, NC-17) Part 2 of 3

Back to Part 1

Dean opened his eyes and met his brother’s, worried and dark with fear, brow furrowed with the extra line that always meant trouble. Or at least having to tell the full truth.

“Dean, you okay?” Sam asked, voice full of hesitation.

Dean pushed himself up and out of Sam's arms, even though all he wanted was to curl up in the shadow of his brother’s protection. But he couldn’t right then, the price would be much too high. Sam would want to know all of it, and he couldn’t just lay that on him. It wasn’t fair, and it didn’t make sense anyway. In the scheme of things his trauma about Magnus really didn’t matter, it shouldn’t matter one fucking bit (but it did). He’d survived Hell and all the rest, and to let a colossal dick like Magnus get to him like this, it just wan’t acceptable. It wasn’t okay, and it wasn’t how he did things.

“Was it Amara again?” Sam asked in a careful voice, because of course that’s what he’d think Dean’s breakdown was about.

Dean nodded, because that was most of the truth. That was the real thing that they were dealing with in the here and now. Not the memories of the maybes and almost-happened that he ought to be able to put behind him. It didn’t end up happening, so it shouldn’t bother him, right? Amara was more invasive, more powerful than Magnus could have ever hoped to be, but she was also so big, so infinite she was nearly unreal. Magnus was man-sized, comprehensible, and very very real. Even though the asshole was dead, really truly dead. Maybe in Dean’s brain, it was a more realistic fear for him to focus on. Or it was just a reminder of that powerlessness he’d felt back then, even with the Mark, that being under someone else’s control was the thing he always feared the most.

“So, if you’re dreaming about Amara or whatever that just was, then we’re not safe from her down in here either?” Sam asked.

“It wasn’t that kind of thing, just a dream that I came up with on my own, it wasn’t from her or anything. But you know, I don’t think there’s anywhere that could work to keep her out, doesn’t matter what the wards or spells are on the place,” Dean said, surprised at how utterly tired he felt. “She’s God’s freakin’ sister, remember?”

Sam didn’t say anything for a very long time, just kept the same distance between them, like he was worried about invading Dean’s personal space bubble too quickly. All Dean wanted to do at that point was to fall into Sam’s arms and try to forget all of this crap.

“Listen, I’m really tired, and I know you are too. Let’s find somewhere to bunk down for the night in here instead of driving. It’s at least an hour to the nearest town and I’ll admit I'm not up to sleeping in the car,” Sam said.

The last thing Dean wanted was to spend a whole night stuck in here, but he knew Sam was right. And after all that thrashing and angsting, he sure as hell wasn’t up for driving. And he really wasn’t up for explaining why he didn’t want to sleep here. That was a whole conversation he’d really rather avoid if at all possible.

“Guess we could crash out on the leather couches in the main room,” Dean offered instead of telling Sam all that.

“I found a couple of bedrooms down that hall—“ Sam said.

“No, I’m not sleeping in any of the beds, who knows what that Magnus guy did in here,” Dean interrupted.

“What makes you say that?” Sam asked.

“He…it was some of the stuff he said when you and Crowley were gone.”

Sam’s eyes widened with sudden realization, and the bottom of Dean’s stomach felt like it had fallen out of his body onto the floor. Shit, now Sam knew or at least suspected his real objections to staying in this place.

“Leather couches it is, but I’m going to go find us some blankets at least, okay?” Sam asked.

Dean nodded, grateful that Sam wasn’t pushing him right away, but Sam would ask him before the night was over, that much he knew for sure. He found the bathroom and got himself ready to try and get some sleep, as fruitless as that might be, he had to try, otherwise Sam’s questions would hit him much sooner.

Entering the living room area, he noticed the only light was now coming from an arrangement of candles on the low table near the couches. Sam was stretched out on one couch, already down to just his boxer briefs. The candlelight licked along the planes and edges of his body, caressing them, highlighting all the beauty that Sam kept hidden under his usual hunter’s uniform of baggy clothes. Dean leaned against one of the pillars and let himself look his fill, Sam was unaware of his presence and was smiling as he stared into the flames of the candles. Dean was curious what Sam could be smiling about when he heard his brother’s low chuckle.

“You seen enough?” Sam teased, stretching his arms over his head.

“Maybe, depends,” Dean answered through a mouth suddenly gone dry at the image of his brother’s body stretching and moving in the candlelight. All the coiled strength and graceful movement, all that luscious soft skin practically begging to be caressed.

Sam chuckled again as Dean began stalking over to stop behind the couch Sam was occupying. Dean’s hand, unbidden, acting on instinct, gently stroked along Sam’s side, feeling every dip and curve, tracing the ridges of his ribs, the jut of his collarbone, the point of his chin. Sam shivered and bit at Dean’s hand when it came close enough to his mouth. He held his teeth on the meat of Dean’s thumb and growled in the back of his throat.

“Ticklish?” Dean murmured.

“No, just want more,” Sam said through his teeth, still not letting go of Dean’s hand.

“Stop biting me then,” Dean said.

“Never thought I’d hear you say that,” Sam teased, opening his mouth and letting Dean’s hand fall away.

Dean leaned over the back of the couch and pulled Sam up into an embrace, taking his mouth forcefully, no tickling here, more like plundering, having his way, enjoying the feeling of Sam melting in his arms from how good Dean was making him feel. How different this was, how completely opposite to how it would have been with Magnus (shudder), or Amara for that matter (infinite shudder). Choosing to give the other person pleasure, instead of just being controlled and taken ‘from’ made all the difference.

The back and forth between them, the trading of dominance was everything he needed and wanted right then. Sam gave him his all, and that was enough to get Dean out of his head enough to push through his fears and get over staying here. Sam always knew, the little shit, always knew exactly what he needed to get over himself.

“You always just know somehow, what I need, before I even do,” Dean said as they finally broke apart to take a breath.

“Of course I do, you’re mine, that’s how it’s supposed to be,” Sam said.

“No, Sammy, it’s not just that, it’s…I can’t explain it,” Dean said, giving up on trying to express all the thoughts swirling around in his head. Magnus’ creepy smirk morphing into Amara’s triumphant smile and all the feelings they had ever triggered in him flying away into something he wanted to empty a whole clip into, kill it dead and never have to think about it again.

“Try,” Sam said, encouraging and warm. He pulled Dean over the back of the couch and somehow had him wrapped up in his arms on his lap, safe and in the shadow of his protection, just like how Dean had wanted earlier. Sam always knew.


“Like this, how you’re holding me right now? That’s how you were holding me when I woke up from the Amara thing earlier, and I had wanted to just stay there. And you’re doing it again, without me even asking you to, and I don’t know what it means that you know to do that.”

“Dude, I pay attention to you more than anything else in this whole world. I’m the world’s foremost authority on Dean Winchester, you know? And I may not always get it right, but I try, just like you do with me,” Sam said, squeezing him even tighter in his arms.

Dean tensed for a moment, toying with resisting, or maybe scrambling off his brother’s lap, getting away from the intimacy of confronting all of this. “I…I didn’t tell you what happened in here—with Magnus,” Dean said. “Back then you were so worried about the First Blade and what I’d almost done, it didn’t seem important. I guess being in here is hard or something. It seems lame, but it’s reminding me of what almost happened, and how similar it is to Amara.”

“Are you talking about the control spell he had you under?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, but not just that, it was the stuff he said and uh…did to me before you and Crowley got back in here. He wanted to keep me trapped in this place, like a pet, another addition to his zoo, or like a sex-slave or something like that.”

“I wouldn’t have let anything like that happen,” Sam growled. He pulled Dean into his body, holding him even closer. “I’m sorry that he said all that, the guy was a complete and raging asshole.”

Dean shuddered at the memory, even being held in Sam’s arms it still seemed so immediate, he could call up the memory of it so clearly. The worst part was that he couldn’t stop the memory from crashing over him, again and again. He had been right over there—stuck right there against that very pillar. Magnus had touched him over and over again, laughing at his body’s response. And he couldn’t do anything, and it wasn’t okay, and he didn’t want it, and he couldn’t get away, couldn’t stop it.

“Dean!” Sam yelled, shaking Dean’s shoulders. “Dean, please, you gotta snap out of it!”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, felt the last tears trickle down his cheeks and buried his face in Sam’s chest, wiping his wet face on his brother’s soft skin. “I don’t know why…but I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“It was more than him just talking to you, wasn’t it?” Sam asked, as softly as he could probably manage, but still with that underlying threat behind it where he was maybe going to level the whole damn world with his anger.

That implied threat made Dean feel so damn safe he didn’t even know where to begin to put that feeling or somehow acknowledge it. Dean couldn’t speak, so he just nodded, the movement smearing his tears into his own cheek and into Sam’s chest.

“I think it would help if you told me the whole thing. Get it all out of your mind, just say it—straight out. It won’t change how I feel about you, whatever it is, I promise. Please, let me help you, Dean,” Sam said, holding Dean closer than close, one hand firm on his waist the other wrapped over his shoulder, hand brushing gently along his jaw.

Dean soaked up the gentle touches from his brother, and let himself breathe in time with Sam, waiting until their heartbeats had both calmed down. The shush-shushing of Sam’s heart vibrating through his chest a reassuring backdrop, that sound he’d charted over the course of their life together.

Dean took a deep breath and spoke in a quick, inflectionless monotone. “He had me under that control spell, and he touched me all over. Wherever he could reach under my clothes with his soft, disgusting hands. They were all over my skin, it made me want to vomit and scream. But I had no control, not over my body, or my will. It was like I was trapped inside a cage deep inside my own body. He laughed this horrible triumphant squealing laugh in my face when my body responded. He kept on doing it while he told me all the things he would do to me while he kept me in his zoo. He told me how he’d make me fuck all the creatures he had here, how he’d film them and make a fortune out of hunter creature porn.”

“Oh god, Dean, that fucker, ’m so sorry,” Sam said, holding Dean and kissing along the top of his head.

Dean could feel the tension in his brother, the anger radiating off of him was comforting in its familiarity, just knowing Sam would have torn Magnus apart if he’d still been alive made him feel better enough that he could continue.

“And he made me…he was just starting to make me touch him, when you and Crowley showed up. I could see what my hands were doing, could feel it, and it was like they were someone else’s hands and mine at the same time. And the Mark was struggling to overcome the spell, everything was going red and I couldn’t hear anything right.”

“When you sliced his head off like that, I knew there was something more going on. But I thought it was just the Mark and the First Blade,” Sam said.

“I almost killed you, Sammy. You don't know how close I came….” Dean trailed off, unable to complete the thought or the sentence.

“I do though, I saw you, Dean. I saw how you fought inside yourself and beat it, how you saved me from it. It was fucking amazing, I was really proud of you,” Sam said, pulling them apart, probably so he could look at Dean’s face.

Instead of hiding himself, Dean looked at him in surprise to hear something like that. He sure as hell didn’t feel amazing or someone to be proud of at the moment. He felt like a weak, whining asshole going on and on about all this petty stuff. He closed his eyes against Sam’s smile, not wanting to accept the compliment. He wasn’t worthy of it, or Sam for that matter, he never really had been. Never would be.

“You know, it was the same thing, when you killed Death instead of me. I knew it was a possibility that the Mark would win. But deep down, I hoped what you felt for me was stronger. And it was. Just like when I beat Lucifer.”

“But that was you being a fucking hero, Sam.”

“No, that was the power of what we have together winning over the eons of planning from Heaven and Hell. Just like you used it, beating the Mark of Cain and it is how we’ll end up beating Amara.”

Dean was silent for a long moment as he absorbed Sam’s positive spin on their history and possible future. “Maybe, but why do I feel so damn shitty being in this place when nothing really happened?”

“It’s reminding you of being sexually assaulted, Dean. I’m pretty sure it would do that to absolutely anybody who’d survived the same thing. And being here probably brings up all the shit you’re feeling about Amara controlling you. But I’m here, and I’m not going to let her or anyone else get to you like that again.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, you know better than that,” Dean scolded. “But thanks anyway.”

“Hey, I just had a thought. You want to do a banishing ritual before we try and get some sleep tonight?” Sam asked.

“But we burned Magnus, he's not haunting this place or anything,” Dean said.

“No, but the memories of what happened here are haunting you the same way a spirit would. The banishing ritual might help get your mind to let it go a little bit,” Sam said.

“Okay, okay, I’ll try it,” Dean mumbled, pretty sure it wouldn’t do a damn thing, but needing to say yes to Sam to get him to let this go for now.

Sam kissed the top of his head and Dean felt his heart crumple with the tenderness of it, he felt itchy all over from all the care-taking and drama. He stood up abruptly, holding himself, hands wrapped around his own elbows.

His brother watched him for a long moment before sitting up and rummaging in his bag next to the couch. He came up with a sage bundle and a large black feather. Sam handed him the feather and scooped up one of the candle plates to hold under the sage bundle once it was burning.

“This thing is really big, where’d this come from?” Dean asked, holding the feather between two fingers and swooshing it through the air.

“One of the ravens left it for me by the bunker, I take their offerings when they’re given,” Sam said as he leaned forward to light the sage in the nearest candle flame.

Dean rolled his eyes and didn’t say anything, just watched his brother as he lit the sage, holding it steady in the candle’s burning flame.

“I think it’ll work better if you actually do the whole thing yourself. I’ll walk you through it first, if you want,” Sam said, looking up at Dean with that inscrutable gaze that always left him feeling as if he’d been measured very precisely.

“I just wave this thing around or what?” Dean asked, taking the now smoking sage bundle from Sam and testing out a small spiral of the fragrant smoke in the air over Sam’s head.

Sam breathed in the sage smoke and smiled up at Dean. “Yeah, pretty much. There’s some words you can say, but they’re not necessary. Like with so much of magic, it’s all about intention.”

“What’s my intention supposed to be here?” Dean asked, genuinely confused about why he was going to be wafting sage smoke around this place. It kind of seemed pointless.

“Start with what you want to get rid of, acknowledge it, and then banish it. Then ask for only good things to come in to replace it,” Sam said.

Dean nodded and began to think hard about what he wanted to get rid of here. The first thing was the memory of what Magnus had done to him, the loss of control. The fear that he’d be trapped here without Sam forever. He shook himself physically out of the memory, it really went deep. Sam’s hand landed on his shoulder and gently squeezed. That’s what he wanted to replace all the shit with, Sam and his raven feather offerings, sage bundles, and geeky researching of banishing spells.

“Got it,” Dean finally said, opening his eyes and taking in the concern on his brother’s face made him try his best to smile.

Sam seemed to get enough reassurance from the smile that felt tenuous and removed his hand from Dean’s shoulder, handing him the candle plate. “Just keep this under the sage bundle so nothing gets burned. There’s a lot of paper in this place. Start going room to room, counter-clockwise into all the spaces, thinking about what you’re banishing. Then do the same clockwise while thinking about what you’re bringing in.”

“Stay here, okay?” Dean said, suddenly embarrassed at what he was doing, even if it was Sam’s idea. He didn’t necessarily want Sam watching him the whole time.

Sam nodded, obviously picking up on Dean’s embarrassment, he sat back down onto the couch and put his feet up on the table near the candles. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

Part Three