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The Wanting Comes In Waves

All Sam/Dean, All The Time

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Fic: Hidden In The Right Place (Sam/Dean, NC-17) Chapter 5 of 11

Back to Chapter Four


They walked down the hall together from the dungeon, both thinking about Raya’s easy acceptance of the sacrifice she’d be making. Sam peeled off without saying anything to head into his room. Dean paused because he could hear glass and metal clinking together and Sam’s footsteps heading quickly back to the dungeon.

“Hey, hold up a second,” Dean called out. He watched Sam’s shoulders pull up as his brother paused in mid-stride. “We need to talk about an actual game plan here, right?”

“I’ve done the demon curing thing most recently, and I remember all the steps, that’s the plan,” Sam said without turning around.

Dean hurried to catch up with Sam’s long strides and put a hand on Sam’s forearm, tugging at him to stop.

“Sam, I don’t think you should be the one to do it this time,” Dean said.

“Why the hell not? I’m the one with the experience, I’ve done it twice, you’ve never done it, not even once.”

“I know, and it’s my turn to give it a try, right?” Dean asked, desperate for Sam to listen to him about this.

“We want this thing to go right, we have a chance to get the Gates closed like they should have been. So just let me get it started,” Sam said, beginning to walk again.

Dean stretched out and grabbed Sam’s forearm again, stopping him. He momentarily struggled with how to skirt around what he was most worried about and gave up, just blurting it out, “What if it counts as the final Trial all over again and you die this time?”

“That doesn’t even make any sense, if it didn’t happen when I cured you. It won’t be the final Trial, unless I say the Enochian spell words after she’s been cured,” Sam argued.

Dean couldn’t think of what to say, that was exactly what he couldn’t trust Sam not to do. Sam looked down at him even more closely. Dean felt a fiery blush starting up on his cheeks and flooding his whole body as Sam examined him. He just couldn’t take the chance of losing him again.

“I don’t believe it. You don’t trust me. You don’t believe that I wouldn’t do that,” Sam said, incredulous and on the edge of anger.

“You’ve just been in such a dark place since Mom and Jack…and Cas—” Dean trailed off, not even believing himself.

“You’re fucking unbelievable sometimes!” Sam yelled, as he slammed the case of needles into Dean’s hands. “I can’t be around you, around all this right now.”

Dean looked up at Sam and caught a faint flash of yellow at the edges of Sam’s eyes. He could feel Sam’s power spiraling up, maybe getting close to out of control.

“I thought I was supposed to be like your power controller or dampener or whatever? Shouldn’t you stick around since it’s kind of going off again?” Dean asked, turning the leather case over in his hands. The glass needles inside tinkled faintly.

“I can’t explain it to you right now. Sometimes it doesn’t work like that. I’ll be back in a few hours, besides we’re out of orange juice,” Sam said, walking down the hall towards the garage.

“Okay, Sammy, just don’t go too far, okay?” Dean knew he was babbling, watching his brother practically run away from him.


He needed to get out, that very second.

Out of there, out of this…now… now…now.

The power was spiraling out of his control. He had to get away before he did something irreversible like tell Dean how he really felt. Or blow the roof off the bunker with his rage at Dean not trusting him—again. Dean thinking he’d sacrifice himself after all they’d been through was incomprehensible. The horrifying thoughts he’d had back then came back to him. He could feel himself in that position, almost saying those final phrases in Enochian, giving it his all one last time, to close the Gates and give Dean and the world a chance at a life free of demons.

He stomped out to the garage and sat in the Impala for a second. He struggled to get his breathing and heart rate down, his powers seemed immediately soothed in her leather and vinyl embrace. Something about being encased in this familiar place that meant brother and home and Dean worked in almost the same way as being with Dean in person. He roared out of the garage, with Baby pushing him along with all the demons of need and want and power and anger left in their dust.


Dean decided not to wait for Sam’s pouting fit to be over. He knew that he was right about this, not taking the risk of Sam being tempted to sacrifice himself once again was worth pissing him off. Powers or no powers. He set about the process and consecrated his blood with a confession that rang hollow in his own ears. But that was probably just the self-loathing that had fueled what he’d just confessed.

He would begin the demon cure on Raya without Sam being there, they really didn’t want to put this off. And he didn’t want to be around her for any longer than necessary after what she’d done to him. He read over Sam’s neatly written instructions over several times and did all the steps very carefully. It was his turn to do this thing and there was no point in stalling until Sam’s bitch fit was over.

“Are you sure you should be doing this alone?” Raya asked, watching him approach with the hypodermic needle filled with his blood.

“Shut up and take your medicine,” Dean said, swiping at her skin with a cotton pad soaked in rubbing alcohol and stabbing the first injection into her arm.

Raya hissed in pain and struggled against the feeling of Dean’s human blood flowing into her. “I heard all the yelling before. Don’t you take all your pent-up bullshit out on me, Dean. I’m trying to do the right thing here. You could at least talk to Sam. The mutual pining thing is honestly kind of disgusting.”

“I am not taking any advice from a damn demon, so you can shut your pie-hole. I’ll be back in an hour with your second shot,” Dean said, stalking out of the dungeon and slamming the door with a satisfying crash.

He flopped back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes until he remembered the timing of the shots, he dug his cell out of his pocket and set a timer for fifty-five minutes. That would give him time to chill out and calm down from fighting with Sam. His mind wandered and he recalled seeing the flash of yellow in Sam’s eyes, and how the power had hummed and thrummed in the space between them in the hallway. What would it be like if they ever gave in to what they both wanted? It would have to remain a daydream for now, he wasn’t going to try and change their entire lives in the middle of trying to close the Gates. He told himself: Focus on the task first, then we can get ourselves sorted out.


Sam came back three hours later, just as he’d promised, a plastic bag full of orange juice and groceries in one hand, and an apology pie in the other from the bakery in Centerville that they both loved. Unfortunately, after he’d put the groceries away, he came into the dungeon just as Dean was finishing up administering an injection, and had to endure the screaming and crying from Raya as the consecrated blood burned through her veins.

“Well, thanks a whole lot for waiting!” Sam snarked from the doorway after most of the yelling was over. His arms were crossed over his chest and he knew he looked even angrier than he had when he’d left.

“Nice of you to join the party, Sam,” Raya snarked, her face streaked with tears of pain and transformation. She grimaced and screamed so loudly again that Sam almost covered his ears.

Sam gestured for Dean to come out of the dungeon, he didn’t want to do this in front of her.

“I just wanted to get it started, she’s already halfway through it, Sam,” Dean said. He stalked across the devil’s trap and passed through the doorway, brushing up against Sam briefly. They both held back gasps at the feelings that little touch ignited.

“I told you I’d be back, why didn’t you wait?” Sam asked as they walked down the hallway to get out of Raya’s hearing.

“I told you why, it had to be me this time,” Dean said, crossing his arms and stopping at his bedroom doorway.

“We hadn’t both decided that,” Sam said, pausing to tower over Dean.

“No, we didn’t get to finish that conversation because you left like a pouty teenager and the demon that had me chained up for weeks is here offering to close the Gates of Hell. So sue me if I wanted to get it started while you went off and sulked or whatever,” Dean said, leaning against his closed door. Sam leaned into the bricks of the opposite wall for support, Dean didn’t get it, Sam was missing the whole point.

“I wasn’t pouting or sulking, I was trying to get myself back under control so we could finish talking. You not trusting me, it hurt, Dean, it made the power start to go off, and I couldn’t control it around you,” Sam admitted.

“It’s true though, what I was saying, isn’t it? You’re still in this for the big sacrifice play. I mean, I know you, so I know you are. Throwing yourself in the Pit the first time around wasn’t enough to soothe your conscience or whatever. And it’s bullshit, Sam, you’re worth more than that, and I can’t…I couldn’t risk—“ Dean said closing his eyes and hugging his arms tight around himself.

Sam closed the distance between them in the hallway to put a hand on Dean’s shoulder to stop him, to connect them, to make it right again. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Dean. I just wouldn’t, not anymore. You have to believe me. It’s all changed for me. I couldn’t leave you like that again.”

“I want to, I mean…you have no idea how much…” Dean said, matching the emotion shining naked and beautiful on his brother’s face.

Through their connection they seemed to soothe each other without any more words. Sam steered them both down the hall to the kitchen with a hand on Dean’s lower back. He served him a piece of pie and brewed up a new pot of coffee. The genuine apology seemed to work as they ate together in silence, re-regulating and calibrating being near one another again. Both of them eating it up as avidly as Dean consumed the pie.


Dean’s timer alarm went off and he headed back down the hall to the dungeon for another injection. Raya was quiet after this one, a few tears rolled down her cheeks, but there was no screaming.

“You two make up after the lover’s spat?” Raya asked as he was about to leave.

“None of your damn business,” Dean growled, leaving the room with another slammed door.

He and Sam stayed away from each other for the next few hours, they both needed to cool down after all the heated talk and emotion flowing around the place. Dean struggled to keep focused on the hourly injections, but finally it was time for the very last one.

Raya’s head lolled to one side and she was barely able to focus on Dean’s movements.

“Thank you, Dean, for giving of yourself to me, after what I did to you. You are an angel, my perfect angel,” Raya slurred.

Dean cleaned the skin with a cotton pad soaked with alcohol and jabbed the final needle into her arm. There was a twinge of satisfaction as he watched the last of his blood push into her veins.

“Ahh, I can feel you, flowing in me, through me. My heart, Dean, my heart, it’s too much!” Raya yelled and then seemed to collapse, falling forward and going limp against her shackles.

Dean darted around the chair, taking her pulse and checking her breathing. He didn’t notice that he had knocked over the bottle of rubbing alcohol. It burbled out onto the cement floor, pooling over the painted edge of the devil’s trap.

He waited, kneeling in front of her to see any detectable changes. She slowly came back to herself and sat up straight in the chair, smiling so perfectly normal and beautifully human at him, there seemed to be not a single hint of demon left in her.

“So are you, you again, Raya?” Dean asked.

She nodded and smiled at him, brilliant white teeth flashing in the gloom.

He quickly undid the ankle shackles and then unbound her wrists. She rubbed at them vigorously for a few moments, not looking at him as he stood back up. His foot skidded through the small puddle of rubbing alcohol and now-dissolved paint.

“Dean, don’t! She’s not really cured!” Sam yelled behind him.

Dean turned and saw Raya stand up, her eyes clicking over to inky black, the beautiful human smile turned into something feral and terrifyingly familiar. She slammed them both against the dungeon walls and poofed out of the room before Sam could react with his powers or Dean could  even think of getting the shackles back on her.

“Why didn’t it work? I did all the steps, just like you wrote them down, Sam. She was crying and talking and breaking down, just like you said Crowley and I did.”

“I think it’s probably because even though I cured you from being a demon, your blood just wasn’t purified all the way back to human enough to be able to do the same to another demon. Or maybe there was something left over from the Mark?” Sam said.

“I shouldn’t have, shit—why didn’t I wait?” Dean threw the empty rubbing alcohol bottle against the wall.

“You didn’t know. I mean we don’t really know why it worked for me to cure you. Maybe our bond—our soulmate thing was part of it.”

“You could totally say I told you so here. I wouldn’t even care at this point,” Dean said, kicking his toe at the broken devil’s trap on the floor.

“There’s no point in throwing I told you so’s around. I had to leave because of the power thing, I didn’t think I could control it.”

“Are you okay now?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, I got it dialed down again. But, c’mon, we’ll get her back and try this again. She wants to do this, I know she does. I have a feeling the whole captive in a dungeon thing was a bigger problem than she was letting on.”

“You got that demon tracking spell handy?” Dean asked.

“It’s in the other binder here, in this section on demon spells,” Sam said, paging through his well-organized spells. He pulled the ingredients from the cabinet, efficient and so practiced. The match was quickly thrown in the bowl and the map burned, leaving a spot clear. She’d just gone back to the temple where she’d kept Dean.

“Guess I’ve got some driving to do,” Dean said. “You should probably stay here in case she decides to come back. You’d have to let her in past the wards.”

“We could just summon her here instead,” Sam offered.

“It’s not that far, and I bet she’ll be calmer if she’s gotten a chance to be out of the dungeon for a while.”

“You’d think she’d be used to confined spaces,” Sam said.

“Who knows what her life has really been, right? I’m gonna take off, you’ll be okay here in case she comes back?”

“What if she traps you again?” Sam asked.

“She won’t,” Dean said, probably over-confident, but he just believed her motivations for some reason. And usually demons weren’t worth listening to, but she’d had such a good story. “And besides, I have Mr. Save-the-Day to count on, right?”

Sam grinned at the new nickname, and Dean wanted to just stay here in this uncomplicated moment between them. He shook himself a little to snap out of it and headed out of the dungeon knowing he was running from—what? How they were changing, where they were going to end up? He told himself firmly as he started up the Impala: Focus, Dean, focus. Get the job done, then we can get ourselves sorted out.

As his baby roared to life and seemed to take off out of the tunnel, he felt more like Batman exiting the Bat-cave than he had in a long time. But he was leaving his boy wonder, his Robin behind though. He could have sworn he heard the old Batman tv theme briefly come out of the speakers, but then the radio blared back onto the local farm weather report. The miles back towards the temple where he’d been held prisoner went quickly, it was almost like Baby knew her own way there, several of the turns he should have missed were highlighted by her headlights.

“We make such a good team, Baby,” he said, patting his girl on the roof top as he got out on the gravel road that led to the temple.  “I’ll be right back.” He slapped the roof twice in the familiar rhythm and set off to get himself a wayward demon.


To Chapter Six