[fanfic] SPN "Do Dandelions Roar" Chpt 11 Title: Do Dandelions Roar: Chapter Eleven Author:kuwamiko Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean, John, Missouri Rating: R-NC17 Spoilers: nothing major (set in pre-series AU) Summary: Two years ago Dean disappeared. Now John and Sam have gotten him back. But how will the three of them deal with the unexpected changes his trials in the time between have effected? Warnings: Nongraphic references to non-con sex and underage prostitution. Violence. Language. Incest (duh). Author's Note: This is AU, utter self indulgence, and has massive Dean!whumpage. Contains Wincest. Set about a year before the pilot, with some major differences. [chpt 1] [chpt 2] [chpt 3] [chpt 4] [chpt 5] [chpt 6] [chpt 7] [chpt 8] [chpt 9] [chpt 10] [chpt 11] [chpt 12] [chpt 13] [chpt 14] [chpt 15] [chpt 16] [chpt 17] [chpt 18] [chpt 19] [chpt 20] [chpt 21] [chpt 22] [chpt 23] [chpt 24] [chpt 25] [chpt 26] [chpt 27] [chpt 28] [chpt 29] [chpt 30] [chpt 31]
"Do Dandelions Roar"
- Chapter Eleven - by KnM
Sam was stalling.
He was stalling and he damned well knew it. He finished eating his lunch, discovering that he had been more hungry than he had thought, and then stacked the plates and cleared all the crumbs off the surface of the desk. He made the bed, as neatly as his father had taught him. He even sorted through the few articles of dirty clothing that he and Dean had collected during the trip here, putting them into the wicker hamper in the corner by the dresser.
Going into the bathroom, he brushed his teeth. Then combed his hair, since he hadn't done it after his shower that morning. In the middle of washing his face he realized that he had most decidedly reached the point of being ridiculous, and had in fact passed it a while ago. He rinsed the soap off his cheeks and grabbed a towel, blushing and cursing himself as he vigorously dried his face.
It wasn't that he didn't want to see Dean. His heart and his head were both urging him to rush downstairs right now! But... but he didn't know what he was going to say.
His brother remembered now. Dean remembered Sam going away to college, so surely he remembered the sacrifice that he had made to save Sam. He must remember their last fight in Stanford, and he'd know that it had been Sam's fault that the Melusine had taken him. And maybe he would remember that he'd tried to give Sam, his own brother, a blow job in the shower that first night after they'd gotten him back. How could Sam face that? How could he meet Dean's eyes, knowing that Dean remembered all these things now?
But how could he remain away any longer?
Balancing the tray carefully, Sam headed out, into the hall and down the stairs. The house was so quiet. There was rich afternoon sunlight coming in through the windows, the clouds having spent themselves in the storm the night before, leaving the skies clear. Occasional floorboards creaked beneath Sam and he almost found himself holding his breath. He knew that Missouri and Dean were still in the house, in her reading room, and yet he felt as though he had been left all alone. Maybe he was alone, in a world without Dean, without Dad, without Jess....
Shaking off this strange flight of fantasy, Sam did as he'd been directed and set his dishes in the sink to soak. There were already bowls and glasses in there; remnants, no doubt, of the meal that Dean and their father had eaten. Sam should have been down here..... But, somehow, he was grateful that he hadn't had to see their reunion. He was glad that Dean had been happy to see Dad. Really. But that possessive side of him that sprang up so consistently around Dean lately would have been pissed, and that would have been selfish. So Sam was just as glad that he hadn't been here.
He wasn't sure what to do with the tray, so he just left it on the counter. He figured Missouri wouldn't mind.
Walking through the quiet house, Sam felt his stomach knotting up tighter and tighter. He was nervous, he realized. And that seemed so silly, because it was Dean. His older brother. He couldn't remember a time without Dean, all during his childhood and until he had left for college. He'd grown up with Dean. They'd spent every waking moment together, except during school hours. Dean had practically raised Sam, filling in the holes when their Dad wasn't there. Maybe sometimes he hadn't done it well -- he'd been only four years older than Sam, after all, and still a kid himself -- but just the fact that he had been there was what mattered....
But Dean was different now. Changed. Not just mentally, but physically as well. Not just physically, but mentally. He was the younger brother now, and Missouri said that he was still broken and confused. And Sam was worried that it was going to be even worse, in a way, than it had been when Dean hadn't remembered him at all.
Though, really, how could anything be worse than that?
This realization chased away most of his nerves, and Sam made his way quickly to the door of the reading room. Last time he'd opened it, just this morning, he'd gotten one hell of a greeting. His stomach twisted again, and he bit his lip. Maybe he couldn't do this after all....
"Come in, Sam." Missouri was there, in the doorway, smiling up at him and gesturing inward. Her expression was smooth and placid, and this set Sam's mind at ease a little. He smiled hesitantly back and slipped past her.
"Go ahead and sit on the sofa," Missouri instructed, waving a hand. Sam surveyed the room, eyes searching instinctively for his brother. There Dean was, standing and staring out the window, a fold of curtain pinched between the forefinger and thumb of his right hand. His ring gleamed silver in the sunlight that bathed his still form and Sam felt its absence on his own hand. He could see the mark on the back of Dean's neck and it made the hair on his own nape prickle.
"Sit," Missouri repeated, shoving him lightly in the direction of the sofa. "I'll go and get your brother."
Sam moved dumbly to do as instructed, unable to defy the woman and go directly to Dean like he knew he should. And it wasn't just because Missouri had told him to sit; he was still afraid of being rejected, he realized. He flopped down, twisting his neck so that he could see them both.
"Dean, honey, what are you looking at?" Missouri asked, walking over to where Dean stood and placing a careful hand on one of his shoulders. Sam wondered why she had to ask, since she was a mind reader. But maybe it was just her way of getting his brother's attention.
Dean started and glanced at her, gold-tipped bangs tumbling in his eyes. He looked like the Dean that Sam remembered from his pre-teen years... and yet at the same time completely unlike his Dean.
"I can't see the swings," Dean replied, his voice low and careful and a little raspy, as though he hadn't used it in a while. Probably not in two years, Sam pondered, and his own throat ached with unshed tears. It was definitely the voice of a fourteen year old boy, not the young man that Sam had known, before the Melusine. But at least Dean was talking again. That was what was important.
"That's because the swings were at your old home," Missouri told Dean gently. "It's on the other side of town, sweetie. I have a bird feeder, though."
Dean peered out the window again. "It's on fire, right? Our home. The fire ate Mommy, but I got Sammy out, like Daddy said."
"Yes, you did," Missouri assured him, and Sam wondered how she could sound so calm when he felt on the verge of bawling himself. "You were very brave and you carried little Sammy right out of there like your Daddy told you."
Sam boggled at that. He hadn't known; Dad and Dean had done their best to keep the details of that night from him, both getting angry and defensive if he so much as brought the subject up. Hell, he'd been eight before he found out that their Mom hadn't been killed in a car accident, like he'd been told. Dean had only have been four when it had happened... and he'd carried Sam out of the burning house?! How could Dad put that on such a young child?! Well, but he'd been trying to save his wife; Sam couldn't fault him for that. Still, Dean had.... No wonder, Sam thought, all the times that Dean had been disturbingly overprotective suddenly making a lot more sense.
"Sammy is here right now," Missouri was saying as Sam's brain flew a mile a minute, coming back to the middle of the maelstrom with a sensation of being a little more centered. If Missouri had meant that literally, then Sam owed his life twice over to Dean. He'd have to begin making that up now that his brother needed him. Not that this hadn't already been his plan. "He'd really like to see you. And you've been wanting to see him, do you remember?"
"I don't remember so good now," Dean said, sounding small and sad and all of four years old again. But he turned away from the window, finally, his face lighting up. He still didn't smile, but his eyes were glowing. "Sammy's here?!"
Sam swallowed tightly. What if Dean expected to see his ten year old, younger brother... or even a baby? What if he took one look at twenty-one year old Sam's face and remembered being taken by the Melusine and freaked out? What if he remembered trying to give Sam a blow job that first night and--
"SAMMY!!!"
And suddenly Sam was fielding a lapful of squirming, enthusiastic fourteen year old boy, Dean's arms locked tightly enough around his neck to threaten his ability to breathe, and Sam was hugging back before he realized and everything was okay after all, and he didn't need to worry anymore.
"Dean," he managed, then his throat locked over anything else he might say. But he didn't really need to say anything else. His eyes were stinging but he wasn't going to cry, he wasn't. He held Dean tightly, burying his face in the soft dip where Dean's shoulder met his neck and chest, feeling Dean's warmth and breathing in his scent. Dean was solid and real in his arms, and Sam wasn't ever going to be able to let go again, he swore.
"Sammy, where were you?" Dean asked, causing Sam's gut to clench. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed. He knew it; Dean blamed him for not saving him from the Melusine, for not rescuing him from the men holding him, for-- "We had to eat lunch without you. Did you eat?"
Dean's hand was petting Sam's head, fingers threading through his hair, and Sam was humbled, awed, that still, even when Dean was the one who was broken, he still tried to look out for his brother.
Raising his head, Sam blinked rapidly and met those earnest green eyes. Dean's palm was warm on one cheek, and he gazed at Sam with concern written on his face.
"Yeah," Sam rumbled, then cleared his throat painfully. "Yeah, I ate upstairs, Dean. Don't worry."
"Okay." Dean nodded, his frown smoothing out. His eyes moved over Sam's face, avid and eager. And Sam would have been willing to bet almost anything that his own expression was virtually identical. "Sammy, you're here," Dean breathed.
"So are you," Sam whispered back, his arms tight around his brother's body. Dean was straddling his lap, knees tucked into the crack where the sofa cushions met the back, his body almost flush against Sam's, but it felt so good to be holding him that Sam didn't give more than a passing twitch to the thought that this embrace was maybe a little more than brotherly....
Except that this was the moment that Dean chose to lean forward and plaster his mouth against Sam's. His lips were firm and plush, just moist enough not to catch, and when they moved against Sam's with intent he couldn't pretend to himself that this was anything other than a real kiss, a meant kiss, and Missouri was still in the room, Oh God!
He couldn't push Dean away, though. He wasn't strong enough. This was Dean, his brother, who'd given everything for him, and maybe Sam would be going to Hell for this, but it felt really good.
Then Dean's tongue traced the inside line of Sam's lower lip and he was able to grip his brother's shoulders and shove him back a bit, though he couldn't break the hold Dean had locked around his neck.
Sam huffed through his nose for a moment, licking his lips before he thought, tasting Dean and orange juice on them, attracting Dean's gaze, and he flushed painfully. He wanted to look to Missouri for help, and yet he couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes, because for a moment there he had been kissing Dean back, and that was inexcusable.
But, hey, wait a minute! Dean remembered who Sam was now! Gone was the excuse that he didn't know who Sam was, and he really shouldn't be kissing his brother like that!
"Dean, what--" Sam managed to croak out, squinting at him. He angled a quick glance at Missouri. She was sitting in her chair, a calm, indulgent look on her face, and while Sam was relieved that she wasn't horrified, that she evidently wasn't going to chase him out her house with a broom, he thought that she could have been a little more shocked. This was bordering on incest, after all. Hell, it was incest. Dean shouldn't have kissed Sam like that, and Sam definitely shouldn't have let him!
"Don't you remember what I told you last night?" Missouri murmured, and now her expression was a little harder, her eyes catching the sunlight, impossible to read.
"But," Sam stuttered, his brain faltering. "But that was when Dean... when he didn't remember. I thought that...."
Missouri was shaking her head. "We'll talk about this later, Sam. Maybe after dinner tonight. In the meantime, I will repeat to you; you do what feels right, even if you think it's wrong. Because you owe Dean that much."
"But he's-- But I'm--" Sam could swear he felt the neurons misfiring inside his skull. Missouri was standing up, she was leaving the room, and Dean was still a warm, breathing, softly rocking weight in Sam's lap, and Missouri couldn't just desert him like this!
"I'm going to go and get you boys some cookies and milk," Missouri informed Sam briskly. "I'll be a few minutes, give you some time alone with your brother. Don't freak out and don't do anything to hurt him. I'll be back."
Sam couldn't say anything to that. There wasn't anything to say.
"Sammy would never hurt me," Dean murmured dreamily, nuzzling the line of Sam's jaw as their hostess left the room, closing the door quietly but decisively behind herself. "Would you, Sammy." It wasn't even a question.
"No, of course not," Sam answered immediately. Then he sort of regretted it, as Dean's mouth found his own again, in a simple yet smooth maneuver that would have impressed him at any other time, wherein Dean tilted his head and slid his lips over Sam's with no hesitation. Gone was the little-boy awkwardness with which Dean had kissed him before. Dean knew what he was doing... and he was doing it to Sam!
Sam pushed Dean back again, trying to be as gentle as he could, remembering what Missouri had said, but just not able to sit here and let Dean kiss him, definitely not able to kiss back. And the fact that his body was responding in a familiar and undeniable manner was very, very wrong.
"Dean, you do remember that I'm your brother?" Sam tried to reason with him, his brow creasing.
Dean stared at Sam as though he had suddenly begun speaking Russian or grown an extra head. Sam tried not to focus on the pink swells of Dean's parted lips. Like a plump "o" and was the dampness on them Dean's saliva or his own? Probably both....
"Oh, God. We can't.... Br-brothers don't kiss like that," Sam tried desperately, one hand at Dean's waist and the other cupping one skinny shoulder, hoping his willingness to touch would be enough, would soften the blow, if there was one.
Dean's eyes were darting over Sam's face, his expression intense and focused. His green eyes were dark, his brows lowered a little. "It's okay, Sammy," he said, tilting his head, the pale freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose standing out in the sunlight. "It's you and me. Right?"
Sam blinked. That sounded a little like the Dean he remembered; so assured and confident. What didn't make sense, though, were the words. Or the way Dean leaned against him, pressing his face into the hollow of Sam's jaw, just below his ear, his mouth wet and warm, his arms tightening around Sam's neck again. His torso was flush against his brother's, rubbing faintly but distinctly in a way that made a hot rush of arousal burst through Sam. And, wow, that just wasn't right! Missouri might be okay with Dean kissing Sam on the mouth, but no way would she be okay with this! Not to mention, Dad would kill him if he ever found out!
"Dean," he husked, grabbing at Dean's hips, and that didn't really help much, because his hands were so large that his fingers were digging into the upper curves of Dean's ass. He had to say something, stop this, but it was getting difficult to think. "Dean, do you think you could get off my lap?"
Dean reared back, his eyes wide and glistening, and Sam's heart sank at the expression on his face. Dean had been so certain that Sam wouldn't hurt him, but....
"I don't want to," Dean said petulantly, shrinking into himself and giving Sam a sidelong look from under thick lashes. He was leaning backward, but his hands were still on Sam's shoulders, and he seemed reluctantly to let go. The statement had almost been a question and Sam wondered if Dean would still obey direct orders, now that he remembered who he was. He wasn't about to try to find out, though. He'd already hurt Dean's feelings just now, he wasn't going to risk damaging them further.
"Missouri is going to be coming back," Sam reasoned with Dean, trying to keep his voice from shaking. He wasn't sure he was handling this right, but he had to get Dean off of his lap. There was just no way that this could be considered healthy. "She's been good to us. You don't want to make her uncomfortable, do you?"
Dean eyed him closely, his lower lip jutting, and for a moment Sam was sure that Dean would call "bullshit". But then Dean sighed and nodded.
"Okay, Sammy," he capitulated, squirming close and grabbing Sam's face, planting a quick peck on his mouth again, before slinging himself off of Sam's lap and flopping face-forward next to him on the sofa. Sam breathed a heavy sigh of relief, sliding an arm around Dean as he snuggled up against his side.
This seemed all right. He'd gotten Dean off of him but hadn't driven him away. Dean was still curled close, still wanted Sam touching him, which was what Sam wanted, needed too, only not in a sexual way. And he was going to have to explore that, because before, when they'd been growing up, Dean had never touched him in a sexual way. Sam didn't even know where to begin questioning Dean about this new development, though. Maybe he could get Missouri to help. If he didn't die of embarrassment just trying to get the words out.
Sam started as Dean's hand came to rest unabashedly on his crotch, palm pressing down against the shamefully burgeoning bulge beneath his fly, fingers curling under, slipping between his legs. He swallowed back a shocked "no!" before it could pass his lips, and instead he silently grasped Dean's wrist, firmly moving his brother's hand to a less dangerous resting place on his thigh.
His breath was coming a little shallow with combined shock and concern -- and maybe a hint of arousal, not that he'd ever admit to that -- as Missouri came back into the room, carrying a tray with cookies and chocolate milk. She met his glazed eyes and gave him a bracing smile.
"It'll be all right, Sam," she told him, and he wished he could believe her. But he was really starting to wonder about that.
***
The world was warm and golden and everything was good again. Dean knew that there were bad things inside his head, and he was still broken and useless, and he wasn't sure where Dad was, but Dean was with Sammy now, so everything was better!
He hitched closer, lifting his hand off of Sammy's leg and wrapping both his arms around his waist. His head fit on Sammy's shoulder just perfect, and Sammy was all warm and strong and he smelled just like he should. Dean wanted to crawl into his lap again and kiss him and rub against him until they both came, but Missouri was sitting in the chair before them, and Sammy didn't want her to see things like that. Dean wasn't sure why, but it was what Sammy wanted, so it was what he wanted too.
"There's cookies here, Dean, honey," Missouri said to him, and her smile was white in the darkness of her face, but it was gentle and loving and it made him feel all good inside.
"Thank you." Dean nodded politely, but there was no way he was going to let go of his Sammy. Not now that he'd finally found him again.
Actually, Sammy had found him, not the other way around. But that was good too. As long as they were together it was all good.
Dean squeezed in nearer to Sammy, closing his eyes and breathing the scent of his brother. Sammy's arm was wrapped around him, and Dean held onto that reality even though he was still having some trouble remembering other things through the fog in his head.
"How are you feeling, Dean?"
Missouri was asking him a question, and he reluctantly opened his eyes. She was nice and round and he liked her, but he wanted to be alone with Sammy; to feel his heat, to smell him, to just soak in the fact of being with his Sammy. He was never ever letting go again. He wasn't!
"Dean?" Sammy prompted him, his arm tensing a little where it was wrapped around Dean.
He let out a murmur of discontent, then cringed because he wasn't allowed to express his own feelings, before he remembered that he was with Sammy now so it was okay. Engram and Royce were dead, Dad and Sammy had made them dead, and Dean was free.
"Everything's blurry," Dean answered honestly, because there was no reason not to be honest with Missouri. "I can't remember things. And I'm wrong. Bad. Broken. I can't take care of Dad or Sammy."
That was the worst thing. It made him want to cry. But that would upset Sammy, so he couldn't.
"We're going to take care of you, Dean," Sammy said, his voice husky. It was the same thing Daddy had said, Dean remembered that. And he remembered that he hadn't liked it when Dad said it either. Because it was Dean's job to take care of them, not the other way around.
He closed his eyes tight against the tears and swallowed down salt and snot and he hated it because it was weakness and it reminded him of being held by Her, the taste of the ocean in his throat. Sammy and Missouri were talking, but Dean was inside of himself and he couldn't hear them. There was the rush of waves in his ears and he took careful breaths, willing the fear away, because he was safe now and Sammy wouldn't let anyone take him away again. He wouldn't.
"Dean?" Sammy sounded concerned. Dean opened his eyes and decided that he needed to wrap himself up in Sammy.
He climbed into Sammy's lap again, but facing outward this time, then he squirmed back into the curve of Sammy's body, ignoring the little squeak that Sammy let out when this ground his rear into his crotch. Sammy's arms automatically wrapped around him, and Dean gripped them, pulling them tighter, falling back into Sammy's bigger body. His breath was coming quick and he felt scared until Sammy tugged him back, holding him still, but that was okay, because he just needed to be closer to him.
"Are you okay?" Sammy asked hesitantly. His breath gusted warm against Dean's temple, and Dean relaxed a little, letting out a sigh, his head flopping back against Sammy's shoulder.
"I feel better now," he said, staying still so that Sammy wouldn't shove him away. He could be a Good Boy. So long as Sammy's arms were around him, holding him in a circle of love, he would be all right. "Don't let go, Sammy."
"I won't, Dean." And Sammy's mouth pressed gently against his brow, through his hair, and that made things so much more better. His stomach still ached some, but he felt safer.
"Don't let go, okay?"
"I won't." Sammy sounded breathless and Dean squeezed his arms closer around his middle. He was surrounded by Sammy, but he was also putting himself between Sammy and the rest of the room. Sammy was protecting him and he was protecting Sammy. They might be safe together. They would definitely be safer together.
"You're always safe in my house, Dean," Missouri told him, and he'd forgotten that she was in the room. He knew that she was right, that she was telling the truth, but he still felt better with Sammy all wrapped around him.
"Now, Dean," Missouri said, and she looked serious. It made Dean nervous, but he was with Sammy so it was okay. "Do you remember how you got here?"
Dean nodded. "We drove here in...." He faltered, frowned. There was something missing, a gap in his memory. It wasn't what Dad had been driving that he couldn't remember. But there was something else....
"In Dad's truck," Sam prompted, and he was shifting under Dean, his thighs tense and tight, and Dean wondered what was wrong. He stroked Sammy's arm, then twined their fingers together and rested back against Sammy more heavily, so that Sammy could feel that he was there.
"I know," he said softly, but he didn't mind Sammy trying to remind him. He just wished that he could remember... whatever it was he couldn't remember.
"That's good." Missouri was nodding, and her eyes were frowning even though her face was soft. Dean wondered if it was because he was keeping her out of his head. But it wasn't a safe place to be, inside his head. He didn't think he even wanted to be there himself, really. He had to keep her out to keep her safe. There were bad, black, twisted, Bad things inside his head. "But what about before that?"
"Missouri, do we have to?" Sammy asked, sounding strangled and hurting. Dean was worried. He didn't want Sammy to hurt.
"Dean is the younger brother now, Sam," Missouri said calmly, even though there was a cloud of worry buzzing around her head. "I need to help him work things out before the next time he looks in a mirror."
"Oh...." Sammy let out a long breath, and Dean wondered what was going on. He heard their words and he knew that they made sense, but he didn't understand them.
Dean thought hard, concentrating on Missouri's question, holding onto it in his head. Sammy's arms were holding him so close that it almost squeezed the air out of him, but that was okay because it kept him here, helped him to remember that he was here in this Now, safe with his Sammy. He remembered....
He remembered....
"Where did Bobby go?" he asked. Now he remembered! They'd been driving and driving and sleeping in hotels and Bobby had been there. Dean hadn't even noticed that Bobby was gone and that made him feel bad and stupid. "He was here, wasn't he?"
"He was," Sammy confirmed before Dean could get himself too worked up. "He left this morning, but he should be back tomorrow, Dean. And he'll be so glad that you remember him and that you're talking again."
Dean was relieved to hear that Bobby would be back. He wanted to see him again. Uncle Bobby was always nice to him and Sammy, even when he was sometimes angry at Dad. Dean would have been sad if he hadn't been able to see him again.
"I don't think we should try to make Dean remember," Sammy was arguing with Missouri, clutching Dean tightly to him. Dean could feel Sammy's heart beating loud and steady against his back and he wanted to kiss him again, but he couldn't reach right now. "It's too much. He's just starting to do better."
Missouri nodded. "All right. You're right, Sam. His mind is protecting itself by shying away from those memories. It wouldn't be right of me to force the issue. Besides, when I do, that's going to be an all day session."
"Don't you mean 'if' you do?" Sammy asked, his arms clenching around Dean. His voice was so hard and mean that Dean was afraid Missouri would get mad too and they would fight. He didn't want that!
Missouri just sighed and looked tired. "Sam. I can't just leave it. It's like a poison, and if I don't tap it eventually, it's going to fester in there until it begins to damage him."
"But not today," Sammy protested, and now he sounded young and scared. Dean twisted in his embrace until he could slip his arms around Sammy's chest again. "Not today."
"Not today." Missouri transferred her attention back to Dean. "You remember the bad lady under the ocean?"
Dean gulped and nodded, driven back into silence, his lungs and eyes filled with salt water. He hugged Sammy desperately, clinging to his strength and Sammy held him, kept him safe.
"Do you remember what she did to you? What she took from you?" Missouri pressed, even though she knew that it hurt him. But if she knew that it hurt and she kept asking, that meant that it was important, right? Because unlike pretty much everyone else he'd met since that day that She, the bad lady, had stolen him away from Sammy, Missouri didn't want to hurt him for no reason.
"She took..." he whispered, past the choking salt in his throat, but it was only tears and memory, right? "She took me down in the dark and sand and bones... underneath everything.... It was cold and heavy and I couldn't breathe but I couldn't die. She tied me up in Her hair and She went inside my head and...."
His voice had been getting smaller and smaller and it faded away entirely as the Yesterdays rose up to swallow him. It was almost like being there again, and he knew why he had hidden from the memories. It hurt.
"Dean, you don't have to--" Sammy tried to assure him but his voice broke and that was what brought Dean back out of the Yesterdays, because it was okay if he hurt, but he couldn't let Sammy be hurt. That was not okay.
"She took a lot of things away from me," Dean whispered to Missouri, his head resting on Sammy's shoulder and his voice tiny. But she could still hear him. "All my yesterdays and tomorrows and She made my Now...." Horrible, painful, agonizing; there were really no words for the way he'd been drowning for forever but never dying. "It was bad."
Missouri's eyes were damp and bleeding pain. "I know it was bad, sweetheart," she crooned, and that was what Mommy had sounded like when Dean had hurt himself, in the Yesterdays when Mommy had been alive. He was closer to them now, with everything in his head mixed around, and it was easier for him to see Mommy in his mind than it was to remember what Daddy had looked like in the kitchen when they had been eating lunch just a couple of hours ago.
Sammy was stroking his hair, and this helped Dean's head to clear a little. "I'm with Sammy now," he said, and his voice was still small, but at least it hadn't gone away again. That made everything better; being with Sammy.
"And that's good," Missouri smiled at him. "I won't try to make you think of how things were, Dean. But do you remember that the bad lady stole things away from you? Your name, and your voice, and she made all your memories mixed up?"
Dean nodded, his cheek rubbing on Sammy's shoulder through the material of his teeshirt. He loved touching Sammy; he was hard and strong and warm and smelled good.
"Well, she also took away some of your years, Dean," Missouri was telling him. "Not just from your head but from your body."
Dean frowned a little. That didn't sound like it made sense. But Missouri wouldn't say it if it wasn't true, right? "What does that mean?"
Missouri leaned forward a little, her hands clasped in her lap. "When you were taken away from your Sam by the Melusine, do you remember how old you were?"
Dean thought for a moment, but his head couldn't hold numbers, and that had been forever ago. He couldn't reach that Yesterday, not right now. He shook his head.
"You were twenty-three," Missouri told him and it sounded right. "That was two years ago and now Sammy is twenty-one."
"Okay," Dean said. He loosed a hand long enough to pat Sammy's chest, before locking his arms around his brother's body again.
"So you should be twenty-five," Missouri continued, and Dean was glad someone else could do the math, because he was feeling more foggy about it the more numbers Missouri spoke and it was getting harder to hold onto what she was saying. "Except that you're not."
"No?" Dean didn't really care. He cuddled against Sammy and waited to hear what he was. As long as he was in this Now and Sammy was still holding him, he didn't really care about anything else.
"No, the bad lady stole your years, so now you're fourteen again."
Dean frowned a little, but that made sense to him.
"Do you understand what that means, Dean?" Sammy asked, his voice all serious and his arms squeezing for a moment. "That means I'm the big brother now."
Dean chewed on that for a while. He wasn't sure he liked that, because he was supposed to be the big brother and take care of Sammy. But right now he was so broken that he couldn't even take care of himself. So maybe it was okay that Sammy was bigger now.
"Do you want to go and look in the mirror?" Missouri offered, rising to her feet. "Bring him over here, Sam."
Dean let out an involuntary little whimper when Sammy stood up, basically forcing Dean to stand up at the same time. But Sammy didn't make him unwrap his arms from his chest and one of his own arms remained around Dean's shoulders, and that was good.
Missouri led them across the room, where there was a big, full-length mirror covered by a burgundy velvet drape. Missouri tugged the cloth off and Sammy moved Dean so that they were both standing before it.
Dean looked. He didn't look any different than he remembered, but since he couldn't remember, that wasn't saying much. Sammy was taller and broader and stronger than the picture of him that Dean had in his head, but he was Sammy, so that was okay.
Sammy was standing behind Dean, but he was all Dean could see in the mirror. He knew that he, Dean in this Now, was there, thin and pale, but he didn't want to see himself. The best thing about his reflection was that he could see how he vanished into Sammy. It made him happy and he snuggled closer.
"See?" Sammy said, and he sounded as though he was trying to convince himself of something. "I'm the big brother now, Dean."
Dean nodded. "You are bigger now, Sammy," he told him, and then he grabbed Sammy's crotch. "Way bigger!"
Sammy let out a choked sound and turned a curious shade of red and Dean wondered what was wrong with him.
***
Missouri thought that maybe this was a first for her. Having to explain to Dean why he couldn't grope his brother in front of their father... well, it was just a good thing her Mama had raised her to never be afraid to speak her mind, that was all.
The hardest part of that task, actually, was getting Sam out of the room for the lecture. Dean seemed determined to cling like a limpet, and Sam wasn't too inclined to peel him off. Not that Missouri blamed either of them for this response. Their mutual dedication was heartwarming and heartbreaking all at once.
Once she got them separated -- promising Sam she wouldn't take any longer than absolutely necessary -- she sat Dean down and did her best to explain things to him.
Oh, she figured that Sam would assume that she was telling Dean not to touch him "that way" at all. But Missouri knew better than that. Dean had been violated, assaulted, forced... and all of this damage, indeed, all of his human contact for the past two years, had been sexualized. It hadn't been a good thing, had been a terrible thing, but it had happened and there was no taking it back. And so Dean had learned to react to everything, positive or negative, in a sexual manner. And that wasn't his fault or anything that Missouri could change.
The only things, people, that Dean didn't react to sexually right now were herself and John. Missouri figured that in her case it was because she was a female, because she was "safe", and because she had absolutely no interest in Dean except as a wounded little boy that she wanted to help. And, of course, John was Dean's father. That was all there was to that.
Sam, on the other hand, was something else to Dean entirely. Missouri could sense the deep-seated, all-encompassing, awe inspiring love that Dean felt for Sam. And the trust. Dean didn't trust anyone right now, not even Missouri completely, and he was aware that he couldn't trust his own mind... but he trusted Sam with a totality that just stunned Missouri. His trust for John was similar, close to as powerful, but Missouri thought that it was tempered a little by the fact that Dean couldn't quite trust John not to fight with Sam, not to potentially hurt his "Sammy".
But love and trust weren't the only feelings that Dean had for his brother. And Missouri respected that, even though she had, like everyone else, been raised to believe that incest was wrong.
There was usually a reason for that. Parents and children should not come together in an uneven, usually nonconsensual manner. Similarly, siblings normally shouldn't partner up, even though Missouri knew full well that sometimes when they were edging into puberty, some might "explore" together. More than that, though, was never a good idea. If it was a brother and sister there was the risk of an inbred child. And whatever the genders of the coupling, it was always a bad idea because lovers could come and go but siblings were bound forever. In all her years of experience, Missouri had actually dealt with three incestuous couples, and in every case it had gone badly.
Well, four, if she counted the Wilson half-sisters. And they were actually quite happy together, had been for seven years, living in Nebraska. But they had so many other issues that incest was the least of their worries, and they brought one another a measure of peace. So Missouri wished them well, and in their case did not judge.
The same held true for the Winchester boys, as far as Missouri was concerned. Normally she wouldn't have approved, much less encouraged Sam to give in to Dean's blatant, unstudied seductive techniques. Normally she'd have done her best to turn Dean aside from pursuing that path. But, again, there were all the things that had been done to Dean and the imprints and patterns they had left in his mind. At this point, there was no way that Dean could be physically close to Sam without it being sexual. And if she or Sam were to try to force him to restrain himself it would most certainly cause more harm than good. Of this she had absolutely no doubt.
Then there was Sam, the other half of this unusual equation.
Missouri actually felt quite sorry for him, the poor young man. What he was doing wasn't easy; giving up everything to devote himself entirely to his brother's well being. And then to be experiencing an attraction to Dean that he was convinced on more than one level was wrong.... Well, that was why she was going to have to talk to Sam tonight, after dinner.
Sam might not want to admit it, even to himself, but Dean wasn't the only one who wanted this. Sam thought he was straight, and for the most part he was. He thought that it was wrong for brothers to touch each other and kiss and carry on, and normally he would be right. But this wasn't a normal situation. The worst thing, though, was that Sam was thinking that if he reciprocated Dean's advances, he'd be taking advantage of Dean's pain and weakness, victimizing his brother further. And in that he was entirely mistaken. If anything, this was the only way to reach Dean, to help him to heal.
All of this and more, Missouri planned on discussing, rationally and at great length, with Sam this evening. But in the meantime, Dean needed a word dropped in his ear, so that he didn't scandalize their father by crawling into Sam's lap and sticking his tongue down his brother's throat at the dinner table.
"Dean." She sat down on the sofa beside him, and reached forward to clasp his hand in hers. Dean gazed up at her through his bangs and there was a decidedly disconsolate jut to his lower lip. Missouri didn't know whether she wanted more to ruffle his hair or tell him to stop pouting, so she settled for shaking her head slightly. Dean just looked so cute that it brought all her motherly instincts rising to the surface.
"You made Sammy go away," Dean said, and he was definitely sulking.
"Have a cookie, honey." Missouri picked up the plate and presented it to the boy. "There's chocolate milk too."
Dean stared at her for a long moment, green eyes steady though his lashes were flickering.
"Cookies won't make Sammy come back," he finally grudged, but he reached obediently and took one.
Missouri smiled, she couldn't help it. "It's only for a few minutes, honey. I just needed to talk to you about something and Sam didn't need to be here to hear it."
Dean nibbled at the cookie, his gaze fixed on hers, waiting.
Missouri drew in a deep breath. This shouldn't be any harder than what they'd both dealt with that morning, but somehow it made her feel... awkward, uncomfortable. Not because of the sexual nature of the subject, but because she didn't like telling the poor boy to quell himself. It just wasn't natural. But it was for his own sake as much as his father's and brother's that she had to do this.
"Tonight," Missouri began, placing the plate carefully back down on the tray, "When your Daddy gets home and we're all together, you can't... well, kiss your brother."
Dean was nodding, half the cookie shoved in his mouth. He chewed on it, crumbs dusting his lower lip. "I know. Sammy doesn't want me to touch him in sex ways when you're in the room. I know."
Missouri was relieved. She'd been so afraid that Dean wasn't going to get it, that she was going to have to explain things in detail, from the beginning to the end. And it wasn't that she couldn't; it was that she wouldn't really know where to start. So it was just as well that Dean already understood.
"So you know you can't do that in front of your Daddy either, right, Dean?"
Dean nodded, eating the rest of the cookie and licking his lips. The boy was really too pretty for his own good. He had definitely grown into the huge eyes and chubby cheeks that she remembered from twenty-one years ago. She sort of wished she could have seen him before the Melusine got a hold of him, could have seen him as a young man rather than a teenager. Well, he'd be back there again... eventually.
"I know that. Because Dad would be sad and mad." His brow creased in a frown. "He would be... worried?"
"He'd be all of those things," Missouri assured Dean, brushing soft bangs out of his face. "It would disturb him. He'd be upset. That's what you mean to say."
"Okay." Dean nodded again. "I know Dad would be up-upset. With me and with Sammy. And that's not good."
"Exactly." And this had taken next to no time. Missouri just thought that it was too bad that there was no way that her coming conversation with Sam was going to go this smoothly. Ah well. She couldn't have everything handed to her on a silver platter.
"Can we go to Sammy now?" Dean asked plaintively, plumping his lower lip at her. And, Lord, if he looked at his brother like that, no wonder Sam was having trouble keeping his intentions pure!
"After one more thing," Missouri said, standing up. Dean gave her a wide-eyed look, but he didn't appear distrustful, and she took that to be a very good sign. "I'd very much like you to give me a hug, Dean."
Dean stared up at her and pursed his lips.
"You don't have to," Missouri assured him quickly. "But I'd like it."
After another long pause, Dean nodded again, once. "Okay," he said, and he rose to his feet easily enough, then stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Missouri.
She squeezed him, grateful that he was willing to give her this. It might have been a little too much to ask so soon, but Dean was really doing so much better than she'd expected by this point. Missouri was so very proud of him.
"Can I see Sammy now?"
Not to say the boy didn't have something of a one-track mind. But that was okay, because Sam only wanted what was best for Dean.
"Of course you can, sweetie." She patted him on the back. "You go on ahead; he's waiting right outside the door. I'll take the cookies into the kitchen for you both and we'll eat them there, okay?"
Dean's eyes lit up and he was across the room with a speed that surprised Missouri a little. But then, Sam was his whole world.
Sam looked a little embarrassed when Dean tugged the door open after fumbling with the knob for a moment. He gave Missouri a sheepish smile over his brother's head as he tucked Dean up against his side once more and then the two headed for the kitchen.
Missouri collected the tray and followed. They could drink the chocolate milk and nibble on the cookies while she made dinner, and it might ruin their appetites, but they'd be happy. And that was what really mattered.
***
"Do you remember how to clean a gun, Dean?"
Dean's brow furrowed and John held his breath. Missouri had told him not to expect too much, and there was a lot that his son was having trouble holding onto, but John couldn't help hoping....
"Maybe?" Dean blinked rapidly. "It's all in my head... but sometimes I can't find things in there," he clarified, biting his lower lip and hunching down into himself as though he expected to be reprimanded. "Sorry."
John reached out, running his hand through Dean's hair. It was still too long in the front, but he knew that Sam would throw another shit fit if he cut it again. Besides, among the accusations that Sam had slung at him the night they'd fought, one had rung true; John had been thinking of Dean as a child when he had given him that trim, not as a grown man. It was easy enough to do when Dean had looked fourteen and been acting like he had when he'd been four.... But whatever his physical appearance, and despite the fact that he was a little confused, Dean was still twenty-five, and as an adult, he had the right to say whether or not he wanted his hair cut.
John was hesitant to bring the subject up, though, considering the conflict that had resulted last time. If Dean didn't mind the bangs falling in his eyes.... After all, it wasn't as though he'd be going on a Hunt any time in the near future.
"Well, I bought you a .45 today," John told Dean earnestly, holding Dean's eyes so that his attention wouldn't wander, as it was inclined to do. "And I want to be sure you'll be able to take care of it. If I bring in some of my guns, do you want to try and see if you remember?"
Sam was sequestered in Missouri's reading room with their hostess; for some reason she had insisted on speaking to him privately after dinner. Sam and Dean hadn't wanted to separate, but Missouri had spoken quietly to Dean and he had joined John without much more than a murmur. Whatever Missouri whispered to Sam made him flush beet red and his shoulders were hunched as he followed her out of the room.
John was pretty sure he didn't want to know what she had said to either of his boys.
He had been pleased to have some more time alone with Dean and Dean had cuddled up against him immediately, but after a few minutes of uninterrupted silence, John had started searching for something to fill the time and the still air between them. He'd given Dean his wallet, explaining everything in it, in case Dean couldn't remember. He'd handed Dean his slippers but held off on the knife. It wasn't that he didn't trust his son, but the blade was very sharp. The gun, for some reason, though, made him less nervous. Maybe because Dean had been handling firearms since before he was old enough to really know what they did.
And now, with the distance of time and the assurance that the demon who had attacked their family was gone for good, John could admit that this probably hadn't been the most healthy way for him to raise his boys. It had been necessary at the time, and so he had always swallowed down that little twinge of guilt, but it had been there. Even though he'd just been glad that his boys had been able to defend themselves. Just because their personal demon was dead, it didn't mean that there weren't still plenty of things that went bump in the night.
"Okay," Dean agreed, his voice even, his gaze steady. And that made him feel both better and worse at once.
Trusting Dean to his own devices, but telling him sternly to remain in the kitchen, John went out to his truck for the firearms. He hauled them in, taking care that no one would see what he was doing. He didn't need to be bringing trouble with the law down on Missouri's head along with everything else.
He and Dean settled at the kitchen table with his own .45 and the gun kit. John handed the weapon to Dean, and as soon as it hit his fingers, his movements became brisk and competent. He didn't hesitate, proving to both himself and his father that he still knew what to do, even if he didn't exactly know that he still knew.
And even though Sam rolled his eyes and sighed in a longsuffering way and Missouri had a few choice words to say about the presence of firearms in her kitchen when the two of them finally emerged after almost an hour had passed, John felt that it was worth it, just to know that the boy he had raised as son, soldier, and Hunter was still in there. Dean was still Dean, even if he might need help remembering how to be Dean.
And this time around, John vowed, he was going to make sure to be a better father.