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The Wanting Comes In Waves

All Sam/Dean, All The Time

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Fic: Where the Jackalopes Roam (Sam/Dean, NC-17) Part 1 of 3

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Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.  ~Kahlil Gibran

They were going stir-crazy in the Bunker, both of them in their own unique ways. Sam was poring over the minimal information they had found on the Darkness. Dean was tidying up after the mess Lucifer had made of their files. Both were trying not to think about Cas’ inexplicable choice and what it might mean for the whole world.

Just to distract himself, Sam did his usual perusal of the news of the weird websites and found a story about hikers being badly bitten by antlered creatures, but not killed in Arizona. He looked up the dates and saw that it seemed to maybe coincide with the moon cycle, but the incidents were occurring only on half moons.

“Hey, uh, Dean? You still in here?” Sam asked, poking his head into the door of the main file-room.

Dean didn’t answer, but Sam heard a small grunt and a box dropped heavily onto one of the tables. He stepped into the room and saw his brother holding a stack of files and shaking his head. He had his headphones on though, so he hadn’t heard him come in. Sam leaned against the wall and watched him work, the muscles in Dean’s back and arms visible even under the t-shirt and flannel. The light in the room seemed to gather itself to Dean, highlighting himself as if he was in a painting. Sam shook himself out of his reverie when he noticed Dean was grinning at him from across the room. Damn…caught out again.

Dean took off his headphones and thumbed off his iPod. “Something up?”

“Might have caught us a case,” Sam said, relieved that Dean wasn’t taking the opportunity to tease him this time.

“Oh thank god,” Dean said, dusting his hands off vigorously. “Tell me all about it in the car?”

“You really want to just leave without hearing it?” Sam asked, surprised at Dean’s answer.

“I trust ya, Sammy. And we need to get the hell outta Dodge for a while, you know? If I spend one more minute in here with this damn mess of papers you’re gonna have to drop me off at the loony bin.”

“Well, give me a few minutes to pack. I wasn’t expecting you’d want to just take off,” Sam said, turning to leave.

“Sam?” Dean asked before he was out the door.

“Yeah?” Sam said, turning back to find Dean was already in his space, crowding him up against the door hard enough to close it. He switched off the lights and leaned into Sam, encircling him in his arms. Sam’s body automatically responded to Dean’s, pulling him in close to align their bodies. He was about to ask Dean what he wanted, but was interrupted by Dean’s lips assaulting his own. Dean kissed him strong and insistent, no more questions between them about whether this was what they wanted. It was what they both needed. Dean kissed him for a long time, achingly thorough as if he was re-learning Sam’s favorite way of being embraced.

They finally pulled apart to breathe, both of them hard in their jeans.

“What was that for?” Sam asked. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Dean didn’t answer him, just sank to his knees in front of Sam and rubbed his cheek against Sam’s hardness. Sam was shocked by the wordless efficiency that Dean had him out and swallowed down. Dean’s fingers stroking him behind his balls just the way he liked, a finger almost pressing inside, teasing just around his rim.

Sam braced himself against the door with one hand and the other found its way to the top of Dean’s head. He held Dean in place and thrust forward a few times to see how much Dean could take. Dean’s response was to suck harder and swallow him deeper, his eyes glittering in the darkness of the file-room. All Sam could feel was the places Dean was touching him, the heat of his brother leaching into him through his hands on his ass, his arms around his hips and his mouth, and oh god, his hot hot mouth all over him. Sam’s hand tightened on top of Dean’s head as he came, moaning Dean’s name on one long exhale.

One of Dean’s hands left Sam’s ass and began moving in the darkness, Sam could hear the quickening pace of Dean’s hand. He reached down to pull Dean up, who came willingly and leaned into Sam’s side. Sam’s hand joined Dean’s, adding to the friction, stroking Dean off hard and fast until he came, the sound of it hitting the floor drowned out by Dean groaning several expletives along with Sam’s name.

Dean’s breathing slowed down a little and he nosed along the bottom of Sam’s jaw.  “That was what we call, ‘one for the road,’ Sammy,” Dean answered the question that had been asked what seemed like a very long time ago.

“You’re not going to fall asleep while you’re driving, right?” Sam asked, chuckling quietly as he pressed his nose into the hair behind Dean’s ear.

“Nah, now I’m so relaxed I might even let you drive,” Dean answered, slapping Sam surprisingly hard on the ass.


“So, you said we’re headed for Arizona, right?” Dean asked as they pulled out of the Bunker’s garage into the bright Kansas winter morning.

“Yeah, Sedona. It’s hard to tell what we’re really hunting from the description of the people who’ve been attacked. At first I assumed it would be a chupacabra, but the victims are saying it had antlers and hopped like a rabbit.”

“That totally sounds like a jackalope to me, but those are just made-up for the tourists, right?” Dean asked.

“As far as I know. There are folk stories that people have told about them, how you can bait them with whiskey and that you can only catch them while they’re mating during electrical storms.”

“Sounds like the killer rabbit from that Monty Python movie. With bonus antlers though,” Dean observed.

“But the bite marks and venom poisoning that’s happening sounds more like chupacabra,” Sam said, after checking his notes.

“So, we’re hunting a chupalope, then?” Dean said, grinning at his own cleverness.

“No, no it’s not. That sounds like one of those Mexican lollipops we used to get in gas stations in the Southwest. It’s my turn to name this one, remember you got to do the werepire?” Sam asked, “I think jackacabra sounds more badass.”

“Well, let’s wait until we see the thing, see which one fits it better,” Dean said, grinning at the memory of the werepire and how well that name had suited them, then frowning as he remembered all the damage those damn things had caused to Baby.


Midnight on the night of the half moon found them chasing the thing alongside a swiftly moving Oak Creek, which should really be a river not a creek with so much water, at least according to Dean. Earlier that evening they’d already saved a couple of hikers who were late in exiting Crescent Moon Park. The creature had been following them, but was interrupted by the brother’s appearance. The thing was fast, but it made a lot of noise when it crashed through the brushy undergrowth near the river so they could follow it pretty easily. Luckily the hikers were smart and ran in the opposite direction.

Once they caught a good look at it in their flashlights, huge antlers for its size as well as the ugly chupacabra-goat-wolf-type of body, Dean insisted on calling it a chupalope.

“It’s totally more chupacabra, it has the whole body, the only difference I really saw was the antlers,” Dean said, running along the flat expanse of river-smoothed red rocks.

“Dude, it is still my turn to name something. Jackacabra sounds much more badass, like I said the first time, Dean,” Sam answered, following close behind his brother. While they ran alongside the river, they continued to fight over the name, the thing darted forward and took a chunk out of Sam’s calf.

“Shit! It bit my leg!” Sam yelled, stopping abruptly and turning in a circle with his flashlight to see if the thing was still within range.  “How did it double back on us? I just heard it up ahead, didn’t you?”

Dean reached him in a few steps and steadied Sam as he sank into a crouch. “Damn it all, Sam! I told you that shorts are always a bad idea!”

“It seemed like it was going to still be hot out tonight, so sue me!’ Sam gestured at his bleeding leg. “Just help me stop the bleeding and stop yelling so we can hear which direction the thing runs away,” Sam said, tugging at Dean’s wrist to keep him close.

“It better run, it just bit you for no good reason. I’m gonna kill it!” Dean yelled one last time then sank to his knees next to his brother.

“I’m thinking it probably knows we’re here to take it out, so it has a pretty good reason to be on the attack.”

Dean examined Sam’s wound with the help of his flashlight. “Youch, you’re lucky, dude. The thing damn near got your Achille’s tendon.”

“That would have left me hamstrung,” Sam joked.

“I’m not even acknowledging that as a joke. Were you raised by chupalopes or something?”

“For the last time, it’s jackacabra, and no, I was pretty much raised by you. You have only yourself to blame buddy,” Sam said.

“How do we kill the damn thing? Just pretend it’s a chupacabra and go at it like usual? Or is there something special we’re supposed to be doing?” Dean asked.

“You really weren’t listening earlier in the car. I don’t know why I ever bother reading all that shit out loud to you. Why do you ask me to go over it if you’re not even going to listen, Dean?”

“Maybe I just like to listen to your dulcet tones, Sammy,” Dean said with a grin as he leaned forward to tie a bandana around the bloody wound.

“Dulcet tones?” Sam asked with a laugh in his voice.

“I do know words, Sam. And what you said in the car, when I was listening very closely did not sound very specific on how to kill these damn things that shouldn’t even exist in the first place.”

“As you well know, most creatures do not come with an instruction manual. Two legendary creatures, maybe somehow mated and there’s a whole new beastie to hunt down. I’m going to guess it’s got some elements from both sides of the family,” Sam said.

“I’ve never hunted jackalope, as far as we know, nobody has. Chupacabras, sure those are pretty easy as long as you don’t get bitten. But…” Dean gestured at Sam’s blood-covered sock.

“There isn’t much at all about the jackalope to be researched. I honestly didn’t think it was a real thing. Everything I’ve ever read said they were just tourist trap inventions,” Sam said, readjusting his sock to help hold the bandana in place.

“Yeah, I always thought it was just people with too much time on their hands, getting bored with the usual weirdo taxidermy poses. A lot of those things have a basis though, once we look hard enough for it,” Dean said. “And just to be clear, I’m not saying that you didn’t look hard enough, Sammy.”

Sam grinned at Dean because of the softness in his brother’s gruff voice. “The only things I remember from the jackalope tall tales I read was that you can bait traps for them with whisky. And that they can only be caught when they’re mating. During electrical storms.”

“Well, that damn thing already got a piece of you. It’s not getting my whisky too. And I damn sure don’t want to have to catch that ugly thing while it’s mating.”

“Dean, we’ll go buy the cheapest bottle we can find and use that, instead of the good stuff. How about that?”

“Can you feel the venom spreading yet?” Dean asked, avoiding the topic of wasting whisky on this stupid beast.

“Uh…yeah, it’s starting to go numb already. I could use some help up this hill,” Sam admitted.

Dean didn’t say anything, just secured his arm around Sam’s waist and pulled most of his weight onto him. “Hope that sucker leaves us alone until we get back to the car.” He made a sweep with his flashlight most of the way around them.

“See anything?” Sam asked, leaning more heavily on Dean as the slope of the hill increased.

“No—wait, what’s that?” Dean yelled, the flashlight dropped as he drew for his gun, abruptly letting go of Sam. He fired as something rushed towards them, many feet scrabbling in the rocky hillside. Sam overbalanced and fell backwards down the hill with a cry.  The flashlight bounced crazily as it rolled towards where Sam had come to a crumpled stop.

Dean felt something brush by his leg and he slashed downwards with his knife, the creature cried out with a guttural squawk. It seemed to rush past him again in the dark, the sounds moving away down the hill towards where Sam had fallen. He heard Sam cry out in pain, so he fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone and turned on the flashlight app. He shined it around him and didn’t see any movement in the small circle of illumination.

“Sam? You okay down there?”

“No, it got me again, in the other ankle this time. And now I can’t really stand up,” Sam’s pained voice floated up through the darkness between them.

“Hang on, I’m coming back down,” Dean said. He picked his way down the steep slope, knife at the ready, not wanting to shoot anywhere near Sam in the dark.

When he reached him, Sam was trying to staunch the bleeding on his other leg with his own bandana. Dean reached forward and tied it tightly for him. He then squeezed Sam’s calf, but there was no response in his foot. “It looks like the tendon is cut this time. Shit. Okay, I’m gonna help you outta here, and we’re going to the hospital.”

“No, we have to get this thing, Dean.”

“Sammy, you can’t walk, and you don’t have any ankles left to bite. What if it gets me, how am I supposed to help you walk then?”

“Fine,” Sam grumped, trying to stand up and falling into Dean’s shoulder.

“Besides, I slashed the thing pretty good. It’s probably off somewhere licking its wounds,” Dean said, beginning to sound out of breath from all the hill climbing and brother supporting.

“Let me hold the flashlight, and you let go of me if it comes at us again,” Sam said.

They made their way the rest of the way up the steepest part of the slope to the top. Sam hopping as best he was able to while Dean supported him and kept them both balanced. They were both happy to see the Impala glinting at them in the moonlight.

“There’s my girl! See, you’re gonna be okay,” Dean said.

“Dean, I hear…” Sam said, swinging around with the flashlight beam behind them. Lit up and highlighted, the beast’s red face was terrifying. The glowing red eyes and yellow pointy teeth didn’t help much either.

“Dean!” Sam yelled, holding the light steady as the beast charged.

Dean let go of Sam and leaped forward with his knife at the ready. He slashed through empty air as the creature dodged, then he made solid contact in its side as it attacked again. It pinned Dean down, standing on his chest and was reaching for Dean’s throat with open jaws as the flashlight beam went wild up into the sky and a gunshot boomed in his ears. The beast made a small wounded noise and rolled off of Dean’s chest.

“Shit! Thanks Sammy! Follow it with the light!” Dean yelled, leaping back to his feet.

Sam steadied the light along with his gun and swept the hillside. They could see the thing almost disappearing into the bushes at the base of the hill. Dean fired several times and the thing fell over, spasmed a few times and was still.

“Think I got it?” Dean asked, panting heavily, leaning forward to brace himself on his thighs.

“Looks that way,” Sam answered, panting just as heavily, seated on the ground, grimacing at the pain in both of his legs.

“I better go check, stay here,” Dean said, scrambling back down the hill.

Sam could hear a few more shots ring out, then Dean’s footsteps approaching again. But he also heard loping footsteps from the direction of the car. Smaller ones, that were moving fast towards him. He brought his gun up and fired towards the noise, hoping that it wasn’t going to hit the car. Whatever had been coming for him fell heavily and rolled down towards Dean.

“Watch out below! I think I hit something, Dean,” Sam yelled.

“Holy crap! You got another one, Sammy! There were two of these suckers!” Dean yelled back.

Sam could see the warm glow of the flashlight nearing closer and closer, Dean’s familiar grunts and noises making him smile. He tried to stand up, but had to wait for Dean’s help. Dean wrapped his arm around Sam’s waist and steadied him across the dusty pullout towards the Impala. Dean got him sitting in the front seat with a towel wrapped around both legs. They pulled out in a cloud of red dust, leaving Oak Creek and Sedona behind.

“You’re not going to burn the bodies?” Sam asked.

“Naw, we gotta get you to a hospital. The sooner the tendon can get repaired the better off you’ll be. And it’s close to an hour up to the hospital in Flagstaff.”


As Sam went into emergency Achilles tendon repair surgery, Dean explained to the nurse filling out the forms about the javelina that had attacked them while they’d been out for a night hike. She seemed to buy it, as well as their faked insurance. Thankfully, he didn’t have too long to wait for Sam to be through with surgery. It wasn’t a life-threatening thing this time, but any surgery was still a risk. He was there when Sam was waking up in recovery, having sweet-talked the nurse into letting him even be in the room, ready with the post-surgery ice-chips.

Sam smiled when he saw his brother napping in the chair next to his bed. He hated to say or do anything to wake him up, but then his IV began to beep with a loud alarm. Dean’s eyes flew open and Sam was reminded all over again that the green of Dean’s eyes was never more intense than when they were focused on making sure that he was okay. Luckily, he’d gotten over that being annoying and just enjoyed the attention.

They had moved out of the hospital after just a few days, and Sam was working hard on recovering, going to physical therapy every other day. He got bored in their small motel room when the only thing to do was watching Dean flip through daytime television and insisted on having access to his laptop. That was when he finally checked the news for the first time in a week.

“So get this, Dean. I’m pretty sure the jackacabras followed us, they were attacking people in a park near the hospital the two nights after I had my surgery.”

“So they stopped when the half moon was over?”

“Seems like it,” Sam says.

“How could they follow us though? It was almost an hour’s drive up here from Sedona,” Dean asked.

“I don’t know how they could track us through the desert that far, or that fast.”

“Guess the regular bullets didn’t do the trick on ‘em, huh?” Dean said, obviously already making plans to go out and hunt the things down himself.

“You’re not hunting them on your own, Dean. No way,” Sam said with a finality Dean knew he couldn’t argue with.

“I know. But you’ve got at least a week of recovery time to go.”

“Can we go somewhere then? I’m so damn tired of just sitting around here in Flagstaff,” Sam said. “And I think I’ve got a handle on the PT stuff now.”

“We haven’t been this close to the Grand Canyon in a while,” Dean said.

“I’m still on crutches, Dean,” Sam said, gesturing at the crutches propped up against the wall on his side of the bed.

“I know, and I already checked, they’ve got all kinds of wheelchair accessible stuff there,” Dean said. “C’mon, you’ve always wanted to go.”

Sam smiled, touched that his brother had thought to look that up for him.  “Where are we going to get ourselves a wheelchair though?”

“Already got that covered. Nancy, the rehab clinic receptionist sold me a used one for a real cheap price yesterday.”

“Will it even fit in the trunk?” Sam asked.

“It’s already in there, ready to go,” Dean said with a self-satisfied grin.

Sam smiled again. How could he not smile? Dean had already planned out this whole trip as a diversion, knowing in advance that Sam would be getting antsy around this time in his recovery.

“Are we camping or did you book us a room?” Sam asked.

“You will just have to find out when we get there,” Dean said.


Part 2