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The Wanting Comes In Waves

All Sam/Dean, All The Time

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Fic: Run, Run As Fast As You Can - (Sam/Dean, NC-17) Part 1 of 2

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Title: Run, Run as Fast as You Can

Author: smalltrolven

Artist: m14mouse

Rating: NC-17
Warning: Canon character death

WordCount: 9,400
Author Note: Not my characters, only my words. Written for this year's spn_reversebang. Thank you m14mouse for such an inspiring piece of art to work with.

Summary: Sam and Dean made a choice that day to run. Four years later, it all comes back to haunt them.

Be sure and check out the Art Masterpost right here.

Read it over on AO3 here.


Truman High was six months ago in the rearview mirror and he still couldn’t stop thinking about his friend, Barry Cook. It was unusual for him to ever get the chance to make a friend, but Barry had been one, and not just because of the stuff with Dirk the Jerk either. Sam could see himself in Barry, the neediness, just wanting to be seen, or even heard. Barry had been someone he could eat lunch with since he couldn’t count on Dean anymore. It seemed like his brother was always with some girl or another in a janitor closet or under the bleachers. It was hard for him to hear the other students talk about Dean, how he was a bad boy and the girls should stay away from his corrupting influence. It was not hard to hear about how the boys (who were obviously jealous) wanted to be Dean, because Sam knew the feeling. He wavered between wanting to be just like Dean or at least someone he’d be interested in.

It had been months since he’d gotten anything resembling a normal interaction from Dean, something had changed back at the “Home of the Bombers” good ol’ Truman High. That girl had messed Dean up, said or done something that had bugged him. Sam wasn’t sure how to help, or if Dean even wanted his help. Dean had been broody since then, he’d completely dropped out of school, and had been near silent especially when Dad wasn’t around. And that was when Sam needed him the most. Sam started acting up, or acting out, in all the typical teenage ways trying to get Dean’s attention, even the bad kind. But Dean’s heart wasn’t in it anymore, Sam barely got a reaction from him.

Sam could see Dean struggling to keep it together, to keep them together, so he tried his best to help, tidying up and cooking dinner more than usual so that when Dean got home from the mechanic’s assistant job he’d been lucky to score he could relax. He’d joke and call Sam a good  little housewife, but he’d eat absolutely everything without too much complaining and then help Sam with the dishes. It became their nightly routine, and Sam looked forward to it. Because he could get Dean to talk when his hands were sudsy and Dean had something to occupy his body besides some girl.

“Dean, you got any idea yet if we’re staying here for the summer?”

Dean finished washing the plate he was holding, rinsing it and handing it off to Sam. “No clue, haven’t heard from Dad in a while and he hadn’t said anything before. Why, now you’re almost done being a freshman, you got some nerdy science camp you want to join?”

“No, I kinda wanted to get a summer job,” Sam answered, swiping at the plate and trying to watch Dean out of the corner of his eye.

Dean plunged his hands back into the soapy water. “Why? I’m already working, you don’t need to.”

“It’ll be summer, and I’ll just get bored. I already got a line on something, winter wheat harvest on my friend, Phil’s farm.”

“How far out of Palouse is it?” Dean asked.

“Well, that’s the thing, I’d have to live out there on the farm while we’re harvesting. It’d be too far to get there and back every day. I wouldn’t want to have to make you drive me all the time.”

“Think they’d have two jobs out there? I’m sick of the new guy Eric hired at the shop, and we’re almost up on the lease on this place.”

“You’d really wanna quit working on cars and go harvest wheat with me?” Sam asked, taking the last plate from Dean to dry with the towel printed with mushrooms with the vaguely creepy faces.

“Sure, why not? It’d be nice to work outside instead of being stuck under the hood of all the stupid-ass trucks in this town,” Dean said, pulling the drain plug and rinsing the suds off the edges of the sink.

“What’ll Dad say?” Sam asked, leaning against the counter.

Dean squeezed the sponge and wiped at the counter around and behind Sam, his body brushing against Sam’s back. “I’ll tell him when he calls, you find out from Phil if they can put both of us up and whether they’d have a job for me.”

“Thanks..uh…Dean,” Sam said, his words stuttering out because of his brother’s surprising proximity.

Dean stepped away and left the sponge on the edge of the sink. He crooked one eyebrow at Sam. “Okay…whatever, Sammy. We got anything sweet for dessert?”

“No, I didn’t have enough left over to buy us anything at the store last time.”

“C’mon, let’s go then,” Dean said, striding out of the kitchen area to the front door, he pulled the Impala keys out of his front pocket and jingled them at Sam.

Sam scowled at being beckoned like a dog, but he was excited at the idea of going somewhere with Dean. “Go where?”

“Let’s go get us some ice cream, I know a place by my work.”

“I have to finish my history final term paper,” Sam hedged, not sure why he was hesitating, because it had been ages since they’d gone somewhere just for fun, just because, just the two of them.

“When’s it due? If the answer’s not gonna be tomorrow, then never mind, get your butt in the car.”

Sam smiled at that and brushed past Dean on his way out the door, Dean’s hand swatting his ass a couple times which sent a strange shiver up his spine.

The evening breeze felt good as they drove along the empty streets, headed back towards town. Sam watched his brother’s face closely as the streetlights and car headlights shone on him, sometimes he was struck at how beautiful his brother was. This was one of those times, he wasn’t sure if Dean noticed him staring, and tonight he just didn’t care. The words were on his tongue to say something, but he stopped himself as they pulled into the parking lot of Marie’s Fresh-Made.

“This place is packed, guess it must be good,” Sam said, glad that the words that would have screwed up everything had stayed out of his mouth this time. He wasn’t glad about the way his voice broke on the word ‘good’ though, that was just embarrassing.

“God, that’s cute,” Dean said, smiling over at him as he turned the Impala engine off.

“What is?” Sam asked, assuming Dean was talking about one of the many teenage girls hanging out on the brick wall along the edge of the parking lot. He was surprised to find that Dean’s eyes were on him. He squirmed under the weight of Dean’s full attention.

“Your voice finally changing, ’s cute is all.”

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam said, a flash of annoyance flaring up, he slammed out of the car and scowled as Dean’s head popped up.

“What, you don’t like me pointing it out?” Dean asked with a grin.

“It’s not cute, it’s just stupid biology, and it’s not like I can control it or anything,” Sam said, his scowl deepening.

“Just means you’re becoming a man, Sammy, so I’m buying you the biggest sundae they’ve got,” Dean said, still smiling even though Sam was continuing to scowl.

Sam didn’t say anything, didn’t want to risk pushing the issue or bringing up any of the other changes that had been happening to him. He knew all about what to expect of course, having sex ed in several different locations had given him a lot of varied information. He’d had to check out some books from the library to verify that he was still normal even though he noticed boys just as much as girls. Unfortunately nothing he’d read had covered what being attracted to your big brother meant, so Sam tried not to dwell on it too much.


The wheat smelled so good when the wind came up in the afternoon. It was hotter than anything out in the fields baking under the strong, early summer sun. Sam tried to keep his attention where it was supposed to be, running the harvest machinery was dangerous, but Dean was there, and tanned and beautiful. He let himself look, just for a bit, until the next combine came in to dump their load in the truck.

Dean was looking off to the horizon, watching the combines drive through the ocean of wheat, the chaff and dust spraying up from each machine as it ate its way through the field. His brother’s shoulders were even wider now, he’d put on more muscle with all the physical work, as well as the enormous farm-style meals they’d been eating for the past month. This had been the most stable amount of food they’d had in a long time, and Dean was taking full advantage of it.

Dean turned as if he felt Sam’s gaze, and Sam felt caught, he froze and tried to smile, but Dean just bumped their hips together and grinned. It was like he knew Sam was looking, and that it was okay. Sam felt the familiar twist of disgust with himself, his feelings, the wanting that never seemed to settle, always rising up to dwarf everything else. Dean was everything, his whole horizon. He tried to breathe and not worry about what would happen to them. He knew that Dean would say everything would be cool, but Sam knew he’d have to leave, he would have to go off on his own and take his black and twisted heart with him where it couldn’t hurt anyone but himself.

The sun was finally starting to sink towards the horizon and a cool wind stirred the tops of the wheat fields, clacking the full seed heads together in an intoxicating rustle. Sam walked alongside Dean back towards the bunkhouse, he smiled as Dean patted the Impala’s flank as they passed by. Another enormous dinner was under their belts and they were taking a walk out into the fields because Dean wanted to sneak a cigarette. Sam hated that he smoked, it wasn’t all the time, but it was gross and he didn’t want Dean to die on him or anything.

The night was alive with insect sounds and the occasional swoop of bat wings. They walked along the edge of the harvested line, Sam ran his hand over the top of the seed heads that would be chopped off tomorrow and thought about how this couldn’t be a much more perfect night. He had Dean all to himself, and it was beautiful out here.

Dean halted abruptly, and stuck his hand out to stop Sam in his tracks. He brought a finger up to his full lips in the shhh gesture and then pointed out to the field. There was a deep red glow with shadows moving in and out of the odd red light. Dean ground his cigarette out with one foot in the drift of wheat chaff and pulled the knife out of his belt while Sam grabbed his own from his boot. They crept closer to the light, taking pains to move with stealthy steps through the wheat stalks. As they came closer they heard terrible moaning noises, along with some growls. They didn’t sound quite animal, but they were deep and ferocious. Sam stuck close to Dean’s side and they finally stepped through the wheat close enough to see what was happening.

There was a man, a big man, swinging a shovel high above his head and bringing it down, pounding it into something that lay hidden at his feet. Each time he’d raise the shovel up he’d make the horrible moaning noise they’d heard and whatever or whoever he was striking with it would growl in pain. They heard no intelligible words just those awful sounds and as the moon rose a bit higher, Sam couldn’t believe what he saw. The man swinging the shovel was their father. Their father who they hadn’t seen or heard from in more than a month.

Dean had heard via Bobby that Dad had gotten the message about where they were living now. But there hadn’t been any further word about where or what he was doing. Pretty much S.O.P. for the old man. But there, undeniable, right there in front of them was their dad, killing something or someone with a shovel.

Sam tried to hold back on saying or doing anything, but a small squeak of fear managed to escape. Their father stopped in mid-swing, his body twisted and turned unnaturally, raising the shovel in their direction. His eyes shone a deep sick yellow, his face side-lit by the red glow of the lantern near the stilled figure at his feet.

“Dad?” Dean asked in a voice gone hoarse with fear. “Is that you?”

“Dean-o, nice you could join me, and you brought little Sammy too, that’s splendid.” The shape at their father’s feet moved slightly and groaned. A swift kick from their father’s boot at its head made it go still and quiet again.

Splendid? When had their father ever used that word? Never.

Sam could tell that Dean was thinking the same thing.

“What are you doing out here, Dad?” Dean asked, voice a little stronger, he stepped a bit in front of Sam to shield him, that protective instinct kicking in.

“Just taking care of the family business, you two munchkins run along, I’ll come catch up with you in the bunkhouse. I’ll tell you all about it and then we can go get some ice cream and cookies. I know you’ll like that.” The thing that looked like their father gestured with the shovel back towards the lights of the bunkhouse. Its eyes flashed that sick yellow again, making Sam squeak with fear.

“Yessir, we’ll…uh meet you back there,” Dean said, stepping backwards and pushing Sam behind him. He grabbed Sam’s elbow and tugged him away from the bizarre scene.

As they moved through the field Sam felt his lungs constrict, like someone was squeezing his whole ribcage tighter than tight. He couldn’t breathe and felt himself falter and almost faint. Dean grabbed him around the waist and kept him moving back towards the lights of the farm.

“Gonna be okay, Sammy. Keep breathin’ with me, in-one-two-three, out-four-five-six.”

Dean kept repeating the mantra and Sam tried to cling to the words, make himself do what Dean said. Somehow his legs kept going and they made it back to the Impala, Dean unlocked the door and loaded Sam into the passenger seat.

“Stay here, I’m gonna go get our stuff, don’t get out of the car, keep breathing, buddy.”

Sam nodded, feeling the tears that covered his face go suddenly cold as Dean’s warmth left him. He wrapped his arms around himself and tried to block out the image of his father’s glowing yellow eyes, killing someone with a shovel in the wheat field.

Dean was back in what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, he had their duffels and was stuffing a thick wad of cash into his front pocket.

“Earl paid us our last week’s worth in cash, he said to get you to the hospital. Told him you got hurt on our walk.”

Dean turned the key and started up the car, they peeled out of the dirt parking lot and sped away from the farm. At the edge of the field, the figure of a hulking man stood, shovel raised over his shoulder, the headlights illumined him just enough to see all the blood, splattered on his face, covering his hands and dripping from the sharp edge of the shovel. His eyes, burned yellow knives into them as they passed. He waved and gave them a one-sided grin that made Sam want to scream.

Neither of them said anything for a few long moments, the Impala leaping forward through the night as Dean got them away as fast as possible.

Sam felt his chest compressing in on him again, the fight for every breath beginning all over. He needed to hear his brother’s voice in the dark of the car, he needed something to tether himself to the tatters of reality that were slipping away. “That’s not really Dad is it?” Sam watched Dean closely, saw his jaw tighten in the under lighting from the dashboard lights.

Finally Dean tore his eyes away from the road and looked at Sam with a face that he’d seen before. This was Dean, hiding how scared he really was. “No, pretty sure it’s not. That’s why we’re leaving in a hurry like this. It knew our names though, so we gotta disappear for a while. You ready for a vacation, Sammy?”

Sam curled up on the seat and rested his head on Dean’s shoulder. He couldn’t think of any words to say, he wanted to cry or scream or shout, but nothing could come out and no air could come in. The weight of Dean’s hand squeezing his knee in the rhythm of the breaths he should be taking the only thing that seemed real. Finally the blackness took him and he disappeared for a while.


Sam didn’t know how Dean chose where they ended up in Sonora, whether Bobby had been involved or maybe Pastor Jim. He didn’t ask Dean why he’d chosen a small California town on the foothills at the edge of the Sierras. All he knew was that they were finally settled down in one place, so he got to stay in the same school for the rest of high school. And more importantly that as far as anyone in town knew, Dean was his legal guardian and their dad was dead. They didn’t talk about that last part, it was an unspoken decision to not ever bring it up. There wasn’t anything they could do about it now, Dad was gone, and whatever had taken him over hadn’t followed them.

Life in the Sierra foothills wasn’t too different from how it had been before that awful night in the wheat fields. There wasn’t a big before/after difference for Sam to dwell on. He could see that Dean was truly struggling, working two jobs to keep them fed and a roof over their heads. Sam didn’t see him as much as before, he kept up with his schoolwork and made sure that Dean didn’t have to do anything around their small double-wide trailer. He offered to get an after school or weekend job, but Dean insisted he concentrate on school.

Weeknights he’d try to stay awake until Dean finally came home from his bar tending job, just to be able to feel the weight of Dean’s hand on the top of his head, feel the gentle scratch at his scalp as Dean stroked through his hair. He treasured this routine at the end of his lonely day, measuring it by the tone of voice Dean would use to say, “G’night, Sammy.” The echoes of that fondness and care suffusing his dreams and coloring his world.

On Saturday mornings, Sam would wake up late to an empty trailer, and make a lunch to bring to Dean at the Jiffy Lube. Dean’s face lighting up in delighted surprise every time made it worth the effort of biking all the way downtown. Every Saturday, Sam knew he couldn’t hide what it meant to him, so he just stopped trying. He’d grin right back at Dean, mirroring back at him the enthusiasm and joy at this little thing between them (that maybe wasn’t so little after all). The guys Dean worked with would call out teasing comments about Sam being Dean’s boyfriend. Dean would shut it all down with a quick, “He’s my brother!”

Sam would blush and hide behind his hair that was always too long now that Dad wasn’t around to bug him about its length. Dean would lean into him and elbow his ribs gently, “Sorry about them, Sammy, they’re just jealous is all.” Sam wanted to ask for specifics on that. What exactly were they jealous of? Being brought a home-made lunch, by someone that cared about you? Or was it something they could see, that Sam wasn’t able to hide? Sam got no answers to his unasked questions, but he did get the happy eating sounds Dean would make as he’d plow through the sandwich or soup Sam had brought them to eat. And it was enough, those sounds, Dean’s smiles kept him filled up enough to not ask any questions that could ruin the delicate balance of their world of two.

Most Saturday nights Dean would go out, unless he was lucky enough to pick up a shift at the bar. He had a solid rotation of girls he’d date, nothing too heavy or official, just enough to bother Sam. Jealousy wasn’t a good feeling to hold onto, but it kept him company those nights when Dean would be gone with a wink and a “Be good, Sammy.” He tried to go out on dates of his own, but it never went anywhere. It was like all the girls knew his heart wasn’t really into the whole thing.

No matter what had gone down on Saturday night though, Sundays were always reserved for them. Over the years, a ritual evolved of Dean’s pancakes and then a day hike on one of the nearby mountain trails, it was their version of going to church. They’d walk for hours along the granite cliffs, stopping for lunch with their legs dangling over the edge looking out at the forever horizon. Sam would talk about school and what he was learning, Dean would tell him stories about the customers at the bar or the shop. They were never more than a few feet apart, all day long, enjoying comfortable silences where they just rested in each other’s company.

Dean always insisted that they bring at least one of the weapons with them, either the crossbow or a short axe to practice with, keep their skills up just in case of the unmentioned coming to find them. Sam would pretend that he needed more physical guidance than he really did, just to feel Dean’s hands on him, guiding his body where it should be. There wasn’t anything more to it on Dean’s part, he knew that, but he fed that twisted black heart of his these little bits of contact just to keep it quiet enough so he didn’t have to deal with his feelings. He often thought back to that night in Palouse, when they’d gone out for ice cream and how he’d almost spilled it all into Dean’s lap and wondered if anything would have ended up being different.

It was on one of those Sunday hikes that Dean brought up the idea of Sam going to college for the first time. Sam had been dreading this conversation for three years, putting it off even after the recent meetings he’d had with the guidance counselor. She had gotten more and more detailed and excited about the possibilities for Sam’s future. He hadn’t wanted to upset the balance of his life with Dean, changing everything like that for a slim chance at college didn’t seem worth it.

“So…you working on any college apps yet?” Dean asked.

“Yeah….uh, got them all done with Ms. Wylie the guidance counselor at school. She wouldn’t leave me alone about it.”

“Glad someone else has to ride your ass about doing stuff.”

Sam didn’t say anything, just increased the length of his strides. He had been reveling in the physical advantage of his longer-than-Dean legs lately.

Dean huffed and puffed behind him, keeping up anyway. “Where’d you apply?”

“A couple of the UC’s and Stanford, she says I’ll get in to at least one of them, but that the full scholarships are even more competitive than getting accepted. And we both know I need one of those to even think about going.”

“Sorry, Sammy, I wish…” Dean said.

Sam noticed the sound of his brother’s feet slowing and then stopping behind him. Sam halted and turned around, Dean was looking off the edge of the granite cliff at the valley below, blinking furiously, hugging his arms around himself. “Dean, I don’t know what you’re sorry about. But you’ve gotten me to this point of even having these options, okay? What you’ve done and sacrificed for me, it’s not something we talk about, but I’m thankful, I really am. I just want to get to college, make something of myself, make you proud of me.”

Dean shook his head and stepped towards Sam, lifting his chin to look him straight in the eyes for a moment that filled with all kinds of possibilities Sam couldn’t even name. Finally Dean broke the silence. “Can’t believe I have to look up at you now, Sasquatch.”

Sam couldn’t help himself, he stood up even taller just to mess with Dean and smiled when his brother tried to do the same.

Dean put both hands on Sam’s shoulders like he was trying to push Sam back down to a smaller size, and took a noticeable breath to steady himself. “Sammy, I am proud of you already. But it’s not just about that, I wish…damn, I just wish it was all different somehow, that you had a more normal life. You deserve more than this, someone like you deserves better.” Dean kneaded at Sam’s shoulders, then moved his hands down to Sam’s biceps, squeezed them briefly and let go. His hands dropped and his head followed like he couldn’t hold it up under Sam’s scrutiny any longer.

“Someone like you deserves better too. Anyway, normal hasn’t ever been our thing, you know that,” Sam said, sliding an arm around Dean’s shoulders. Dean held himself apart for a few stiff moments and then melted into Sam’s chest. Sam wrapped both of his arms around the solidity of his brother, anchoring them both to the cliffside, to each other. He couldn’t control the impulse of his twisted black heart, so he murmured into the side of Dean’s neck, “I want you to come with me, wherever I end up going to school.”

Dean turned his face up to meet Sam’s eyes, searching to find any trick or joke that he might be hiding. Sam just smiled at him, patient, waiting for Dean to catch up.

“Really, you still want me around cramping your style?”

“That’s my normal, Dean,” Sam said, brushing a soft kiss to Dean’s temple, and holding him close, enjoying the surprise reaction he could feel running through his brother’s body.

Dean laughed into Sam’s neck and brushed his lips against the skin below his ear as he spoke, “We are a whole world away from normal.” Dean said the words almost too softly for Sam to hear.

Sam felt his brother’s words move through his body speeding towards the black twisted part of his heart he’d always struggled to keep hidden. Before he could do anything stupid that would ruin them forever, he stepped away from Dean and turned back up the trail, hiking off at a fast clip. Dean kept up without a word.

Part 2