By the end of the afternoon there were thick clouds hanging over Troutdale and its surrounding areas. Danny wished that he thought that would help them, but he remembered all too clearly that according to reports, the fire salamander had been able to start and maintain a blaze even during a downpour. He and Rusty had been lucky that Dean Winchester had been able to manipulate enough water to save their asses the night before, really.
Speaking of the Winchesters, they were missing from the hotel room when he returned from his shopping trip.
"Where...?" he queried, shrugging out of his jacket. The items he'd bought were in the trunk; they wouldn't be of any use to them until after the sun had gone down anyway.
"Got their own room," Rusty replied laconically from where he was stretched out on one of the beds. Housekeeping had obviously been in while they'd been at the restaurant and the place looked a lot neater than they'd left it.
"Huh. Guess that's for the best," Danny said after a moment's thought. Then he grinned. "How much you wanna bet we won't see them again?"
Rusty shook his head slightly, smiling in return. "Well, considering that their car is still in the lot, across the way from our room, and considering that Sam promised to treat us to our next meal and he seems like the kind of guy who keeps his word...."
"All right, all right," Danny conceded. "No bet." He flopped down on the other bed. "So, did Dean dig anything up?"
"Sure did," Rusty returned, his grin turning fierce in that way that meant the Hunt was about to take a turn in their favor. "Turns out they were blasting in another area last month, when they first started. Dug up an ancient Native American grave site, stuffed with a long-dead Priestess. Figure that's where we're gonna have to do our thing. The current construction site will be useless."
"Ah." Danny nodded. "Excellent. That'll save us some tramping around in the woods, trying to track the damned critter down."
"You think you got enough stuff?" Rusty queried, sitting up and scratching at his tattoo. He'd told Danny in the past that it itched when there were strong supernatural forces in the area. Danny had yet to figure out whether Rusty was bullshitting him or not.
"I think so," Danny replied candidly. "It wasn't easy to rustle up on such short notice, but--"
Just then there was a knock on the door. Rusty got up to answer it, and Danny yawned, glad that he hadn't actually made that bet because, sure enough, here were the Winchester boys.
They were a mismatched pair if he'd ever seen one, and yet he didn't think he'd ever seen two people who fit together so well, were so simpatico. Well, maybe himself and Rusty at their best.
He still wasn't one hundred percent convinced that they were brothers, but Rusty seemed willing to buy the story, so Danny didn't have any real reason to doubt it. It was clear that the younger one had recently been through some really traumatizing events. It wasn't that he was handicapped or mentally disabled. He was all there; just a little... off. Danny had seen enough victims of abuse, mental, physical, and emotional, that he could recognize Dean Winchester as a victim, and also as a survivor. He had to admit that he was curious as to what the boy had survived, but as he'd told Sam, he wasn't going to push for more than the Winchesters were willing to tell him. Even though he wanted to know, some things just weren't his business.
That would explain why Dean seemed so fragile, even though Danny was sure that the reality was the opposite and he'd proved to be very strong. It also explained why Sam hovered and scowled and grumbled like an overprotective guard dog. As well as the fact that he couldn't seem to keep his hands off of his brother. Of course, it that wouldn't entirely explain the dynamic that anyone with eyes would be able to see between them, but Danny was willing to take things at face value. It was just easier on everyone involved that way.
Now here the two were, both flushed, wearing new clothes, and still damp from a recent shower, even though Danny recalled perfectly clearly that they'd bathed in he and Rusty's hotel room that morning before going out for breakfast. But, again, that fell into the realm of "things Danny really doesn't need to know about". And in this case, he didn't feel even the slightest tickling of curiosity.
"Come on in," Rusty invited, waving them inside.
Dean darted inside and climbed up onto the bed Danny wasn't still lounging on, bouncing on the mattress. "Hi, Danny, hi, Rusty," he said cheerfully, grinning at them both. "Did you miss us?"
"Sure, kid," Danny replied, humoring the boy. He really was adorable. And filled with more energy now than Danny had yet seen him display. Whatever he and Sam had gotten up to in the last half hour seemed to have invigorated him -- only Danny totally wasn't going to go there. "I just got back, though. Betcha Rusty missed you more."
"We have our own room now," Dean informed him earnestly, then he stilled as Sam, who had crossed to the bed more slowly, reached and laid a quelling hand on top of his head. Sam had gigantic hands, in keeping with his height, Danny noted absently, but he handled his brother's skull with care and delicacy.
"Hush, Dean," he instructed his brother, seating himself on the mattress in front of him.
Dean obediently hushed, though his face was still glowing. He looked a lot different than the silent, pale boy they'd stumbled across in the woods the night before, and Danny wholeheartedly approved of the change.
"We came over because you asked me a question in the restaurant and I haven't answered it yet," Sam said to Danny and Rusty, clasping both of Dean's hands in one of his own as his brother ringed his neck in slim arms, kneeling up behind Sam and leaning into him. Sam's expression was distracted, though, as if he were lost in thought. Probably deciding how much to tell them.
"Don't feel obligated..." Rusty began, but Sam shook his head.
"No, if you're going to get involved in our problems, then you need to know what those problems are. That's only fair."
"Only fair," Dean mimicked, perhaps unconsciously.
"All right," Danny said, as Rusty came over and sat beside him on the bed. The two pairs faced one another over the space between, and Danny was glad that the elder Winchester had decided that they were trustworthy enough to share with them. Because what Sam had said was true -- if they were going to help, they needed to know what they were getting into.
Danny had never liked going into a fight blind.
"I guess it starts two years ago," Sam began, staring down at his clasped hands between his thighs. He looked very young and uncertain and Danny was glad that he was accepting their aid and that Bobby Singer was on his way to help them as well. "Only I'm not sure, because I don't know what we're dealing with here, so I don't know if it's connected with what happened then."
"It is and it isn't," Rusty offered, and when everyone stared at him, he shrugged. "That's all I've got. I don't know details; I'm as eager to hear your story as Danny is. I just... I can see the web, in my mind's eye, and I can tell you that whatever happened two years ago, it's affecting what's going on now, while not being directly responsible."
Sam looked a little skeptical, but over his shoulder, Dean was nodding. He was still draped over his brother's broad shoulders like a shawl, hands clasped above Sam's heart, and he didn't look as though he was planning on moving any time soon, if ever. "I think that's right," he piped in. "Even though I don't know why."
Sam sighed heavily, but Dean's declaration seemed to set his mind at ease. "Dean, how much do you want me to say about...?"
Dean kissed the side of Sam's neck delicately, causing Sam to flush and Danny to glance away for a moment. "Whatever you need to, Sammy. I'm not ashamed."
"No, of course not!" Sam blurted, sounding aghast. "None of it was your fault, Dean!"
"I know," the boy replied calmly, nowhere near as upset as his brother. "Missouri told me, and my heart tells me, and your heart tells me."
Sam calmed down and scrubbed a hand over his face. Danny had to feel for the young man. It seemed as though Dean had been through hell, and even though Sam had evidently been spared that, he had to deal with the fact that his brother had been dragged through hell, and now he was being stretched to the limits of his resources. Danny felt a surge of protectiveness swell in his chest, for both of these boys, like he hadn't experienced since his last family member had been taken from him. He was going to help them, no matter what it cost. And not just in return for their aid with his own Hunt, though he did hate having debts.
"All right," Sam continued with a deep breath. "So two years ago, well, a little more, I did something dumb--"
"It wasn't dumb, Sammy!" Dean interrupted, outraged, clenching his arms around Sam's neck.
"I did something careless, something the son of a Hunter shouldn't have done," Sam continued smoothly, acknowledging his brother's words but not allowing them to sidetrack him, "And it was Dean who paid the price. He was taken by a Melusine--"
"Ah-hah!" Rusty snapped his fingers, then grinned sheepishly as attention turned to him. "Sorry. It's just that I felt like I could almost remember, only I couldn't, and now that you said that.... I think Caleb mentioned it to me in passing, shortly after it happened, but since I didn't know you or your father, it didn't stick. Your family name is kind of unique, though."
"Yeah," Sam moved on, evidently focused on getting the story out, now that he'd decided to share. "Anyway, the bitch didn't have Dean for long. Long enough to rob him of a good ten or eleven years...."
Danny bit back on his own "ah-hah", because that went a long way to explaining the strange dynamic he'd noticed between the two brothers. He'd thought that even as overprotective as he was, Sam hadn't behaved with the assurance and command that an older sibling usually displayed. He struck Danny more as a little boy waiting for someone to tell him what to do, even if he might argue after being told. Whereas Dean, for all he was broken and damaged, seemed to be sure of what was best for his "Sammy", and he had no qualms about doing whatever it took to get it for his brother. Things made a lot more sense to Danny now.
Of course, that didn't explain the brothers' other interactions, but as long as they didn't do anything explicit in front of Danny, he was content to just assume that they had a very close relationship with no boundary concerns.
"Evidently, from what Bobby was able to discover," Sam continued, "The Melusine was torn apart by something a lot more powerful than herself, and Dean was gone. That was all we were able to find out until about a week and a half ago."
"Oh, wow. You must've been going insane with worry," Rusty put in sympathetically. "For two whole years?"
Sam shifted a little uncomfortably and nodded. "Yeah.... I, uh, I went back to college." He unclasped his hands and then clasped them again, white-knuckle tight. "But that was only because if Dad and I had tried to work together we'd have killed each other before we found Dean. Not because I didn't care...."
"I never would have thought that, Sammy," Dean assured him softly, giving him another bracing squeeze.
Sam still looked tormented, but he forged onward. "Well, it seems that after the Melusine was destroyed, some complete fucking assholes found Dean and decided that since he wasn't able to speak or protect himself, that they'd rent him out for sex." Sam's tone was bitter, venomous, and it was all too obvious that he still blamed himself for not stopping it from happening, even though there had most certain been no way he could have done so.
"I'm only good for one thing," Dean said in a dreamy sing-song voice, his gaze distant. Then he blinked back into focus with a flutter of thick eyelashes. "That's what Engram told me. Lots of times. He was wrong and now he's dead but I was broken then and it was easier to just go away inside my head and inside my Yesterdays."
Sam didn't say anything to that, but the jut of his strong jaw was a good indication of how tightly he was clenching his teeth. His hands were fisted and his eyes were blazing.
Danny shivered slightly. That was a lot of rage Sam Winchester was carrying inside himself. Not that Danny blamed him. And it certainly explained to him why he'd felt that Dean was a survivor -- he had been, he was. Two years of that? No wonder Dean was so skittish in public, and no wonder Sam was so very overprotective. It didn't seem unreasonable anymore. Not that Danny had ever thought that it was; he'd suspected something like this. He wouldn't have thought, though, with how young Dean was and how strong he still was, that it would have been going on for two years. But the fact that he was actually a young adult mentally, who'd had twenty-some years of life experience before being victimized, had no doubt helped him to come through the ordeal with his sense of self intact. Danny didn't like to think about how an actual twelve year old would have fared.
"There are some sick fucks out there," Rusty said hoarsely, and he sounded as upset as Danny felt. After all, those freaks hadn't known that Dean wasn't actually twelve. And no one should be forced into sexual slavery, or any form of slavery, against their will, no matter their age. "But that's really beyond...." He didn't seem to have the words to express his outrage, but Sam was nodding, his face grim, and Danny was certain that he agreed and then some. It was his brother after all.
Dean himself had sunk down behind Sam, his arms now ringing Sam's chest beneath his arms, holding on tight, huge green eyes peering at Danny and Rusty over Sam's shoulder. "It's okay, Sammy," he assured his brother, his voice muffled. "That's in the past and we're in this Now. They're dead and I'm with you, so it's okay."
"It'll never be okay," Sam said bitterly, but he reached one hand up to clasp his brother's linked hands again, dragging in a deep breath. "Anyway," he forged onward. "We got Dean back and took care of those bastards. He wasn't talking, didn't recognize us, was just so... so broken." Sam's voice cracked, almost as broken as he recalled Dean to be. Danny felt for the young man, he really did.
"She took everything away," Dean put in, rearing back up and hooking his sharp chin over Sam's shoulder. "All my Yesterdays were scrambled and I couldn't find myself in them. She took away who I was. But then Missouri helped me to get myself back."
"Dad took Dean to a mind reader and she practically worked miracles," Sam clarified. "She couldn't heal him completely, though, because the Melusine set a mark in his flesh. That's why Dad's here, back in the Northwest; he was trying to find a way to get the mark removed. He called me to tell us to come here, said that he'd found something, but he didn't say what, and now he's disappeared."
The last came out in a rush, and now Danny thought that they had the whole story. It was a lot to process, and he sat in silence for a moment, digesting it.
"Can I see the mark?" Rusty asked, leaning forward intently. "If it's not anywhere too risque...?"
"It's just on the back of his neck," Sam replied. Dean did a lithe little wriggle and suddenly he was sitting on his brother's lap, his back half presented to the men on the other bed, and Sam used one hand to steady him while with the other he lifted the curls at the nape of Dean's neck to expose the dark mark set into his pale flesh.
"Huh," Danny said, staring at the delicate, swooping sworls, noting that the mark really was set into the boy's skin, not raised but a part of him, like extra pigmentation. His attention was shaken loose as Rusty hissed and clutched at his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed tightly closed in that universal way that screamed "headache". Danny just hoped that it wasn't going to be a migraine, because those put Rusty down for a good eight hours, and they needed to be going after the fire salamander that night.
"You okay?" he asked, laying a hand on Rusty's back, feeling the muscles pulled tight, but after a moment Rusty nodded, releasing his nose, scrubbing both hands over his face and blinking rapidly.
"Owch," he said mildly, gazing at Dean, who was now settled back against his brother's chest, his head tucked under Sam's chin. "That hurt."
"What hurt?" Sam asked anxiously, at the same time that Dean said, "Sorry."
Rusty waved a hand at Dean, murmuring, "Not your fault," before answering Sam. "It was kind of like when you're listening to the radio at a nice reasonable volume and then there's a huge burst of static. It hit me between the eyes. Nothing permanent, but it was startling."
"But what was it?" Sam pursued. He seemed to have accepted that Rusty was somewhat prescient, but seeing as Dean could manipulate water, he didn't have a whole lot of room to be judgmental. Danny found that a refreshing attitude in another Hunter. Of course, the same could probably be said in reverse, for how Sam found them.
Rusty frowned, rubbing at the line between his brows with one thumb. "Hard for me to say for sure," he offered ruefully. "It might have been something I dreamt, it might have something to do with what we're going to face in the future, it might have been both, or it might have been something else entirely. What I can tell you is that that mark didn't come from the Melusine. It was put on Dean by whatever the force was that destroyed her."
Sam blinked. "How do you know that?" he asked, not sounding doubtful, really, just curious.
"Well, for one thing, whatever made that mark is still alive and active," Rusty explained. "And I trust Bobby Singer; if he says the Melusine is dead, she's dead. For another thing, there's no sense of the ocean in that mark, even though it looks a little bit like a wave. It's something nearby, and we're hours away from the sea. No, it's something huge, something here, and I think it still wants your brother."
Danny watched Sam's face wash clean of color, though it couldn't have been much of a surprise, considering what Dean had said about being lured from their hotel room the night before by singing. Maybe it was just the shock of hearing Rusty verbalize what he'd already more than half suspected.
"We should leave," Sam got out through a clenched jaw, "Go back to Missouri's." But Dean and Rusty were already shaking their heads.
"Daddy's still missing," Dean protested.
"Running away won't do any good," Rusty told him, sympathetically but firmly. "You could go to the East Coast, or another continent, and it wouldn't be far enough. Even if She didn't find a way to get to Dean or to bring him to Her, he'd always have Her mark on him, and he'd never be free."
Sam looked as though he'd been stabbed through the heart. Not that Danny blamed him. "Then, what am I supposed to do?" he asked plaintively.
Danny leaned forward, fixing Sam's slightly slanted, shadowed hazel-green eyes with his own crystal blue gaze. "You're going to do what you were already planning on doing," he said. Sam listened avidly, confirming for Danny his impression that the boy -- and, really, Sam Winchester was still a boy -- was only waiting for someone to tell him what to do. "Bobby will be arriving in Corbett any minute now, and he'll find out what there is to find out about your father. You and Dean will stay here, and you won't let your brother out of your sight. Danny and I will do whatever we can to help. And if it'll keep you busy, and if it's good for Dean -- as it seems to be -- then we'd love some help with our Hunt. We can do it with two men, but it'd be a lot easier with four of us."
Sam's expression shifted like quicksilver. Relief, fear, upset, mild resentment, agreement, and finally anxiety. He gnawed on his lower lip. "I don't know if...."
"Sammy, I want to help," Dean put in. He'd been silent, but he was clinging to his brother, seemingly as much to offer comfort as to seek it. "I feel better when we're Hunting. I like helping and things are clearer. I feel stronger. I know we're saving people. How many people were killed by bad things in the last two years because I was with Rodgers and the others, and because Dad was searching for me?"
"Don't think about that," Sam commanded, his voice firm but his eyes seeming a little bleak and hollow. He petted Dean's soft brown hair, but his mind was obviously occupied, thinking quickly. "You won't put Dean in any danger?" he sought confirmation.
"Of course not!" Danny was offended by the very question. "We're not going to put either of you into a dangerous situation!"
Sam seemed to be mulling this over. Dean was squirming impatiently, and Sam clamped him tightly in powerful arms. Danny thought that he was stepping into the role of the older brother pretty well. Of course, it was a little easier when Danny and Rusty were here to direct Sam, which left him free to concentrate on Dean. And that was something that would improve the situation for all four of them.
"All right..." Sam finally said, slowly. "We'll help you guys. But keep in mind that I've been at college and Dean's been being held captive for the past two years. Neither of us is at our best. And we'll do as much as we can, we'll be committed and we'll have your backs, but if it looks too dangerous, I'm pulling Dean out. He's my first priority."
"We wouldn't ask anything else of you," Danny assured him, and he meant the words. "We appreciate the help. Dean's already helped, immensely, by finding the location of the fire salamander's lair."
"Rusty could have figured it out," Dean demurred, smiling shyly at them from his brother's lap. He seemed to be pleased by the praise, and by the trust being afforded him. And he was definitely pleased to have gotten his way. Danny would have recognized that smug look anywhere; he definitely recognized it on Dean's face.
"Probably," Rusty answered honestly. "But I'll bet you did it quicker than I could have. And you saved me the trouble." He winked at the boy and Dean ducked his head, embarrassed by the praise.
"So what's the plan, then?" Sam asked, not seeming abashed in the least to be sitting there with his teenage brother sitting in his lap, curled up in his arms. But then, Dean wasn't really a teenager, and he'd been through things that made Danny's skin crawl to dwell on. No way was he going to begrudge the Winchester boys a little bit of physical comfort, even if it pushed the bounds of societal norms. Hell, almost everything most Hunters did crossed those lines. He and Rusty were as guilty of that as anyone else.
"Danny and I have some initial recon to do after the sun goes down," Rusty said, "And then we'll need your help around... oh, say, midnight or one, sometime in there. But we're all free until dark. I'd suggest going back to your room and getting some sleep. Then we can have supper at around seven, if that sounds okay. Take-out, take-in, or eating out; it's your choice since you're paying."
Sam was nodding. "Okay. We'll go and take a nap, then come over here around seven and decide what we're doing for dinner, and go from there."
"Sounds like a plan," Danny agreed. A nap sounded really good right about now.
Rusty had said to take a nap. And Sammy had agreed with that. Dean remembered this very clearly. But that didn't mean that there wasn't also time for some sex in there.
They'd gotten it on as soon as they'd gotten their own room of course, after eating their late breakfast, but that had been rushed and a little frantic. Dean felt pretty good knowing that Sammy wanted him just as badly as Dean wanted his Sammy, as evidenced by how fast they'd gotten each other off. It had almost been disappointing... only good orgasms were never disappointing, and they'd both come quite spectacularly.
After another shower, they'd gone back to Danny and Rusty's room, and Sammy had told the other Hunters all about what was going on, why they were there and what had happened to them. Dean was glad, because he'd thought for a while there that Sammy was going to be an ass and not tell them anything, not accept their offered help. Sammy could be silly and stubborn like that, but Dean had told him that Danny and Rusty were good guys, and he was gratified that his brother had listened.
Or maybe Sammy had just made the decision on his own. But either way things were okay now. Danny and Rusty had promised to help them find their Dad, and Sammy had promised that they could help Danny and Rusty to destroy the dragon that lived in the forest. It felt so damned good to be Hunting again after so many years of being confined to the bedroom, only used for sex, being beaten and yelled at and fucked....
Now Dean had sex because he wanted to have sex. And he was with people who respected him and listened when he talked. And he was able to talk, and to hold onto who he was, and he knew who he was, and he was Hunting again. If only their Dad hadn't gone missing, life would be perfect. But even though Daddy was safe, Sammy was worried, and Dean missed Dad, besides. So they needed to rescue Dad, get him back from whoever had him, and then things would be all good.
Right now, though, Dean felt that things were just about perfect, and he embraced the Now. He and Sammy were both naked, lying in their sides on the bed, facing each other. Sammy's tongue was in his mouth, and Sammy's hands were caressing his ass gently but firmly, long fingers tightening every now and then in a tantalizing squeeze. Dean ran his own hands over Sammy's well-defined pectorals, down his flat stomach, and sometimes, teasingly, tracing over the thick, fat shaft of Sammy's cock, rubbing at the head.
Not that he didn't want to hold it tight, rub it, put it in his mouth... but they were taking things slow now, and taking things slow was even better than doing it fast. Dean liked the urgency when Sammy tumbled him hard and quick, but he liked it just as much, maybe even better, when Sammy took the time to touch him all over, to show him in a tactile manner just how much he loved him.
Sammy ran one hand softly up the curve of his back, coming to rest between his shoulderblades, tucking Dean more tightly against his chest. With his other hand, he slid one long finger along the cleft of Dean's buttocks, then did it again, pressing a little more deeply. Not anything like as deeply as Dean would have liked, of course....
"Sammy," Dean whispered into his brother's mouth, licking at Sammy's pressure-plumped lower lip. He could kiss Sammy all day, he thought, but there were more pleasant things they could be doing. "Sammy, in me?"
"Yeah," Sammy panted against him, "Yeah, but not quite yet, Dean."
"What are you waiting for?" Dean wanted to know. He didn't understand, because the kissing was nice, but there was a time for moving things onward, and they were definitely reaching that point.
"Not waiting... doing," Sammy answered, then suited actions to his words, holding Dean bodily in place as he went down... and then went down.
Dean gasped, fighting the instant instinct to bow over, thrust his hard cock more deeply into Sammy's mouth. That would just be rude, and Sammy was new at this whole thing. Even if Dean hadn't known his brother better than he knew himself -- especially anymore -- he could tell from Sammy's technique that he was completely inexperienced.
Sammy had sucked him once before, that first night they'd been together, but he hadn't brought Dean all the way to climax. That had been all right, because the handjob he had given had been great and Dean hadn't wanted Sammy to do anything that would make him feel uncomfortable. And for his Sammy to give a blowjob... well, Dean was pretty sure his brother would've choked on a mouthful of spunk, and Dean wouldn't like that at all.
This time, even though it felt like heaven to have Sammy's hot, wet mouth on his hard cock, Dean kind of hoped that Sammy wasn't planning to suck him all the way off, because he wanted Sammy to fuck him again. They hadn't gone all the way earlier that afternoon, barely managing to get their flies unzipped before they'd humped their bare cocks together to climax. It had been delightful and sloppy, and they'd had to shower again and change their clothes, but this time Dean wanted Sammy in his ass, wanted Sammy to come in him... or on him... he wasn't too picky. He just knew he wanted Sammy to fuck him.
Sammy seemed to be on board with this, though, without Dean having to say even a word. His mouth was on Dean's cock, sucking and slurping with a flattering gusto, but his hands were also busy. One held the base of Dean's dick, palm cradling his balls, massaging them gently. The other hand... well, that was even better, as lube-slicked fingers brushed against him, then pushed inside with careful but deliberate insistence.
Dean was so happy that Sammy had given up being hesitant or embarrassed, that he seemed to be as eager to handle Dean's body as Dean was to have his body handled. Dean had thought at first that Sammy would be all shy and stuff, think it was wrong or gross or something, because he knew that Sammy wasn't gay, but now they'd been having sex for three nights and days Sammy seemed to be okay with it. Not just okay with it, but downright demanding. Dean still didn't have a lot of his memories from "before", even though Missouri had helped him with that, but he recalled that he had always liked his sexual partners to be enthusiastic. And when he'd screwed with men, he'd preferred them to be dominant in bed. He was pretty sure he still felt that way, only now the only person he ever wanted to have sex with again was his Sammy.
Sammy's tongue lashed at the tender spot on Dean's cock where the shaft met the head, then curled around the crown. He was getting a lot better at this, Dean mused with the small part of his brain that was still capable of rational thought, that wasn't blown with pleasure. But then, Sammy had always been a quick learner, always fast to master something when he set his mind to doing it.
"Oh, Sammy!" he vocalized, his thighs tightening, his ass clenching around Sammy's intrusive fingers. What Sammy was doing with his mouth on Dean's cock was almost enough to distract from the skillful way he was lubricating and stretching Dean... almost enough, but the delicate, deliberate penetration was so good that Dean felt as though he was going to melt away into the sexual thrill of it all.
"Is this okay?" Sammy asked breathlessly, pulling off of Dean's hard-on just enough to speak, his breath gusting hot over the throbbing, saliva-slick flesh.
"Better than okay," Dean assured him, making sure that Sammy knew, because it was silly for him to think otherwise. As if any man alive didn't like having his cock sucked. "Feels so good, Sammy, but I want you in me."
Sammy twisted his fingers then, as though proving that they were, in fact, inside of him, but he knew what Dean meant, and he didn't reply, only bent his head again and licked at the base of Dean's shaft, where it met his balls. Dean shivered and clenched his hands in Sammy's shaggy hair.
"Ngh, yes, Sammy, s'good," he slurred, not caring whether he was articulate or not, because it felt amazing. It would have felt good no matter what, but the fact that it was his Sammy who was slurping his erection down like a piece of hard candy... well, that made it so much more than good.
"Sammy, please?" he begged, tugging at his brother's hair, though not hard enough to hurt. He wanted Sammy inside him. They'd only gone "all the way" twice now, and even though Dean considered everything they did that got them off to be sex, he liked it best of all when Sammy's huge cock was filling him up, when Sammy was thrusting inside of him, when Sammy lost control and pounded his ass until they both came, hard and spectacularly.
"All right. All right," Sammy murmured into the curly hairs that marked the spot where Dean's belly met his cock. He remembered that Royce had sometimes waxed his pubes, to make him look younger, and that it had hurt like a bitch, but most of the things "they" had done to him had hurt, and Dean would rather not remember those things when he was having sex with Sammy -- or at all, really. Sammy seemed to like his pubes okay, if the fingers he was combing through them now were any indication.
Those gentle fingers trailed up the side of Dean's hard, pulsing cock as Sammy rose, kneeling between his spread legs. Dean shivered, his cock jumping at Sammy's touch, his ass already missing Sammy's fingers as he pulled his other hand away. But Dean knew that this meant that soon something much better than fingers would be filling him, and so he didn't complain. He reached down and clasped his own dick, holding it, not stroking it, even though he really wanted to, and clenched his ass cheeks together. He wanted to be tight for Sammy, even though his brother had taken the time to stretch and prepare him. He wanted to be perfect for Sammy.
Above Dean's supine body, Sammy's cock stood up proudly, at a high diagonal from his groin, even though it was thick and heavy. It throbbed, as though pulsing in time with Sammy's heartbeat, and thick gobs of precum were beading at its fat tip before running down the side. Dean wanted to rise up and lap at the head, lick up Sammy's delicious flavor, but he stayed where he was, because Sammy was already squeezing lube into his palm.
"Mm, Sammy," he moaned, squirming slightly on the bed in anticipation, watching eagerly as Sammy smeared shiny lube all over his huge cock. Sammy let out a gusty groan of his own, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark with desire, his cheeks flushed and glistening with sweat. He definitely wanted this as much as Dean did, and since Dean was ready to die from how much he wanted it, that was gratifying.
"Oh, fuck, Dean," Sammy gasped, squeezing his cock tightly at the base as it jerked a couple of times, its dripping head bobbing in the air above Dean.
"That's the idea, Sammy," Dean said wickedly, unrepentantly. He licked his lips, grabbing his own legs beneath the knees and pulling his thighs up to his chest, exposing his slick hole in a blatant invitation. "Now, please?"
"Ah, fuck," Sammy groaned again, then he laid his lube-free hand on Dean's bared flank. With the other hand he positioned the head of his cock, and Dean was relieved, because he thought he'd go mad if Sammy tried to indulge in any more foreplay. "Fuuuuuuuuuuck."
Dean moaned in synch with his brother's low, guttural utterance, his spine stretching as he attempted to bow into the penetration. Sammy filled him so full that there was no room to feel anything else, pressed in deep, was big enough to make Dean really feel it. It didn't hurt; Dean had been well trained over the last two years and could handle nearly anything now. But it was so intense that it bordered on pain, mostly because it was his brother, his Sammy, inside of him, huge and pulsing and hard. It felt so good that Dean almost wanted to cry, only there wasn't anything inside of him other than the pleasure; no tears, only ecstasy.
Sammy propped himself above Dean on one arm, smearing lube all over the comforter, grabbing Dean's hip with the other hand and pulling him into the force of his initial thrust. Dean was pretty sure that Sammy was as deeply buried as he could get, but he applauded the effort to get deeper.
"Ah, God, Dean," Sammy panted against his cheekbone, breath breaking hot and moist over his face. Dean clasped his arms around Sammy's shoulders, squirming a little so that he could feel Sammy's tremendous cock inside of him, clenching his ass around the intrusion. "Sh-shit! Are you trying to kill me?" Sammy gasped, his hips giving a few shallow thrusts in response to this stimulation.
Dean laughed breathlessly, awkwardly wrapping his legs around his brother's waist and grinding upward as well as he was able when Sammy's greater weight was pressing him down into the mattress. "C'mon, Sammy," he urged, a little surprised that he was able to find his voice. "Fuck me!"
Sammy let out another low groan and surged into motion, rocking in and out of Dean hard enough to made them both grunt, gratifyingly forceful. Dean stifled a small cry of pleasure, burying his face against the salty flesh of Sammy's neck. The angle was all wrong, but it still felt so good and Sammy was so big, rubbing the most tender places inside of him, holding him in powerful arms. Dean rode the waves of pleasurable pressure that were building inside of him, his entire body feeling as though he was glowing, radiating heat.
"Sammy," he managed to get out, his voice breaking as his brother fucked him, hard and steady. This was what he had wanted. He wanted anything and everything that Sammy was willing to to do to him, but this was the best. Sammy fucking into him as though there was nothing else in the world, as though it was the only thing that mattered. Because it was the only thing that mattered, as far as Dean was concerned.
"Am I hurting you, Dean?" Sammy mumbled in his ear, and Dean thought that it was a little unfair that his brother was still able to articulate. He shook his head, because even though this cramped over position was a little uncomfortable, it was totally worth it to have Sammy nailing him so thoroughly.
"Feels good, Sammy," he slurred, squeezing his arms around his brother's neck and doing his best to arch into the penetration. He wasn't very effective, where he was squashed beneath Sammy's body, but even the slightest friction could only increase their pleasure at this point.
But then Sammy stopped pounding into him, pausing and lifting up. Dean whined, trying to hold on, clinging tight. "Sammy?!"
"Want you on top," Sammy panted, licking the sweat off of Dean's cheekbone, then kissing him briefly on the mouth before continuing. "Wanna see you ride, Dean."
"Oh." Dean got it now. So long as Sammy didn't want them to stop, he was okay with that. Even though Sammy was now pulling out with a slick glide that felt really glorious, up the point that he was completely out, and then Dean's ass just felt empty. He didn't like that so well.
Sammy rolled over, resting back against the pillows, and reaching for Dean. Dean slung himself quickly over Sammy, straddling him, grabbing his brother's cock and holding it in place as he sank down onto it without hesitation. Sammy choked, his eyes squeezing tightly closed as his already flushed face flooded with more color. "Ah, fuck, Dean!" he jerked out, tensing beneath Dean, knees pulling up behind Dean's body, his hands settling on Dean's hips hard enough to leave bruises. "Fuck!"
Dean smirked as well as he was able when he couldn't catch his breath, happy to have made Sammy feel so good that he'd almost lost control. Sammy liked talking so much that it was always a triumph when Dean could rob him of his words. It had always been that way, though now it was different, because Dean could use sex as his weapon.
Not that this wasn't making his own brain short-circuit. Seated atop Sammy, he could feel his brother's cock driving inside of him even more deeply, as far as it would go. He was taking it to the root, all of it, could feel Sammy's pubes prickling against his ass, and this was so effing amazing. As much as he liked the sheltered feeling of being held by Sammy and fucked, this new position afforded him a chance to savor the feelings, instead of being assaulted by the intensity.
"Mmm," he hummed, planting his palms on Sammy's hard abs, getting his knees under him to either side of Sammy's hips, and then swinging his own hips in a small circle. This shifted Sammy's hard cock inside of him without losing any of the depth it had reached, and it caused Sammy to moan, his head falling back against the headboard, his fingers grasping restlessly at Dean. He could feel Sammy's fingers branding his flesh, marking Sammy's claim in him, and he reveled in it. "Oh, yeah, Sammy."
"Dean," Sammy gasped, his hips jolting upward, probably involuntarily. "Dean!"
Dean set up a nice rhythm; as Sammy had desired, riding his brother's hard cock, lifting himself a little way off before plunging back down onto it. He barely even noticed when one of Sammy's huge hands loosed his hip, closing around his own erection, which was bobbing above Sammy's groin, but he sure as hell realized when Sammy began jerking it in time with Dean's movements.
"Oh!" he gasped, the extra stimulation zinging from his cock to the top of his head, then bursting downward, diffusing through his body and filling him with even more heat, even more pleasure. He didn't know how he could stand for this to feel so good, and yet it kept getting better.
Determined to give Sammy just as much pleasure as his brother was giving him, Dean ground down onto Sammy's throbbing hard-on, shifting his hips erratically before pulling himself on and off the thick shaft in several deep slides, as though it was still Sammy fucking into him. He was gratified when Sammy gasped underneath him, his hand faltering, his back arching. Sammy losing control was the most beautiful sight, Dean thought, all that warm flesh covering hard muscle slick with sweat, Sammy's face pink with arousal, his mouth open in gasping moans, his hands grabbing at Dean all over with no deliberation, only desperation.
"D-Dean!" Sammy choked out, seeming to rally, and then he was grabbing and holding Dean's hips, one in each broad hand, lifting Dean up and down with powerful strokes, his hips thrusting under Dean, pistoning up into his brother's eager body. "T-touch yourself!"
Dean grabbed his own dick, as instructed, but he wasn't going to need to jerk it to get off. He could feel his orgasm building, almost there, simply from the pounding Sammy was giving his ass, the hard cock driving into him, and he stripped his own hard-on a few times, but it was really Sammy fucking him that was bringing him off.
And there it was, breaking him into golden glowing pieces, but in a good way, and Sammy was there to put him back together after he shattered, as he shot a few quick bursts of semen over Sammy's belly with a throttled cry.
Sammy let out a sound like a stifled roar, flipping them both over and kneeling over Dean, his cock in his hand, and he wasn't stroking it, just held it as it jumped, come spurting out in thick, blood-hot streamers over Dean's stomach and chest. Marking him as Sammy's, as though there was any doubt. Then Sammy collapsed next to him, panting as hard as though he'd been riding Dean inside of the other way around, and he rubbed at the come on Dean's torso with one huge hand, smearing it into his flesh, as he pulled Dean close with the other arm. Sammy's lips caressed Dean's temple, and then he raised his face to claim a long, tender kiss.
"That was messy, Sammy," Dean commented sleepily. He was so replete, his orgasm still buzzing warm through his veins, his cock and his balls still tingling between his thighs, that he didn't even feel the lack of Sammy's cock in his ass. He didn't know that he'd ever felt so contented before, and he loved his brother so much in this moment. Not that he didn't always love his Sammy, of course.
"Was good though," Sammy slurred, sounding as sleepy and smug as Dean felt. And Dean rejoiced, quietly and internally, because he was always happy when he discovered that he'd managed to corrupt his Sammy. "Even if I still did all the work."
Dean socked Sammy languidly on the shoulder, then curled into his larger body, plastering their mouths together in a deep, lazy, sloppy kiss.
"We're gonna have to shower again," Sammy murmured against his lips. "Third time today."
Dean snickered. Because Sammy was right.
"We should do that before we get stuck together with dry come," Sammy continued, his nose wrinkling as he levered up onto one elbow. Dean didn't want to move, wanted to remain curled up on the bed together with his brother and have that nap that they were supposed to be take, but he knew that Sammy was right.
"Carry me, Sammy," he requested, tightening his arms around Sammy's neck. He'd been boned weak-kneed, after all. It was the least Sammy could do.
Sammy snorted, pulling free of Dean and rising off the bed. He stretched, all that golden flesh, his cock still a little swollen between his thighs. "I'm going to go and start the shower, Dean," he said, smiling affectionately down as Dean pouted up at him. "If you wanna join me...."
Leaving that invitation open, Sammy strode into the bathroom. Dean watched him go, mainly focused on the flex of Sammy's firm ass as he walked. Damn, Sammy had gotten hot!
As he heard the water start up, Dean scrambled off the bed and followed obediently after. He wasn't sure what they could get up to in the shower when they'd both just come so hard, but he was more than willing to find out.
Sammy had always been inventive, and Dean had faith in his brother's abilities, and his horniess.
They'd nap... eventually.
Corbett was a small town, so Bobby didn't think he'd have much trouble tracking down John's truck. Of course, he hadn't counted on the fact that John had been staying at a bed-and-breakfast deal, an out-building flanking a private residence, rather than a cheap hotel. In fact, he'd have missed it entirely, driving around aimlessly as the sun went down, but then he caught a glimpse of a familiar black truck out of the corner of his eye, checked the plates against his memory of John's license, and there it was.
When he saw and recognized a shotgun he'd given John in the gun rack, he was sure he'd found the right place. A little creative manipulation of the lock at the door and he gained entry.
The suite was empty, that much was clear immediately. What turned Bobby's blood to ice, though, and confirmed the bad feeling he'd had ever since Sam had called, was seeing John's battered leather-bound journal lying on the table beside the bed. John never went anywhere without that journal. Even Bobby knew that.
Further exploration revealed that John's cell phone was next to the journal. Bobby tried turning it on and verified that it was dead, out of batteries, rather than just turned off. The walls had some of the papering that was another of John's quirks, but nothing that Bobby could decipher. There was pictures of waterfalls and rivers, one large color print-out of a deep pool, some articles about the Multnomah Falls, and obscure notes in John's cramped, overly-precise handwriting that meant absolutely nothing to Bobby.
John's clothes were overflowing out of his open duffel, on the floor at the foot of the bed. The blankets and sheets were rumpled, and Bobby recalled seeing the "Do Not Disturb" sign out on the doorknob.
It didn't look as though John had been taken with a struggle, but it also didn't seem like he'd left voluntarily; his journal was still here, his jacket slung over a chair, and when Bobby checked the top drawer of the bedside table, there was John's favorite handgun.
"Well, shit," he muttered, standing in the middle of the room and chewing on that for a moment. He'd promised Sam some answers, but there didn't seem to be any to be had.
At least not until he opened the journal to its last pages. Then everything was suddenly clear and Bobby understood.
John Winchester had gone in over his head, and in order to save his fool ass, they were all of them going to have to dive right in after him. Bobby Singer was not happy. If only there was some way he could gracefully bow out of this.... But Sam and Dean Winchester needed him, and he wasn't going to desert the boys now.
John Winchester was going to owe him through this life and into the next. But for the sake of his boys, Bobby would do what it took.
He just hoped that they all came out of this alive and intact.
For dinner they all ended up agreeing on Chinese, ordered in, and they sat crosslegged on the two beds in Danny and Rusty's room, eating out of the cartons and half watching one of the "CSI" shows; Rusty wasn't even sure which one, they all blurred together anymore, and there was always at least one playing somewhere on tee vee at any given time.
It might be nice, he thought for a passing moment, to live in a world where everything, no matter how outlandish it might be, could be explained by science.... But then he considered the fun they were going to have tonight, and he cast his gaze on Danny and the Winchester boys, and he decided that maybe playing in the supernatural arena wasn't so bad after all.
The "real" world was mighty boring. While Rusty would never have wished the bad things that had brought him here, he intended to make the most of his life now that he knew what was really what.
And things were really going to get exciting tonight. It was going to be a blast.