Author’s notes: I don’t know if I was able to convincingly detail Sam’s dramatic change. But I tried. As always, this is for you, Kate.
The Falling Away of Masks (Part 3)
O! I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. – Othello
Sam whirled around at the sound of the familiar whisper voice. There, in the corner, blending in with the shadows, stood the creature from his dream.
He wasted no time in asking what he needed to know. “What is going on? What are those things?”
“It’s almost time, Samuel.”
“Ok, stop saying that! I want real answers, not this mystical shit you keep throwing at me!”
In the dark, the thing smiled. “Those things are demons. They are attracted to the poison in your brother’s blood. But you knew all that already, didn’t you?”
“You set this up, didn’t you? You brought us here, arranged for the attack, the cabin. You did it all.”
“Samuel, it pleases me that you think me capable of orchestrating such a thing. But alas, I am not responsible.”
“Then how? Why is this happening?”
“Fate. Destiny. Serendipity. Choose the word that appeals to you, Samuel.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?”
“It’s your name.”
“But nobody calls me that!”
“I gave you the name. I choose to call you by that name.”
“What?” Sam spluttered. “Ok, you know what, never mind. Just...just tell me what they want with Dean.”
“The same thing you do. To bury themselves in that sweet flesh. To taste his tears.”
Sam shook his head. “I don’t . . . want that.”
“Again with the useless lies. I’ve seen your dreams. I’ve seen what you do to him in them.”
“Look, fine, maybe . . . maybe I do find him attractive,” Sam admitted. “And maybe I do sometimes dream . . . but . . . ” He faltered for a moment, seemingly lost, until he found his words and conviction again. “But that doesn’t mean that I’m going to go in there and sleep with him!”
The shadow man nodded and for a moment Sam could have sworn that it was sad. Disappointed.
“Then I’ll leave you with this thought: you can’t protect him from those demons forever. Your so-called brother’s blood calls to them. They will not be satisfied until he is theirs.”
“I won’t let them have him. That’s not even an option.”
“The only way to keep them from Dean is to claim him before they do.”
“No, I won’t . . . ” Sam began, but already he was wasting his breath. The shadow man was gone.
Briefly, he thought about trying to summon the creature back, but realistically he knew that he had to get back to Dean. But first, there was one more thing he had to do. He ran into the kitchen and threw open cupboard after cupboard in frantic haste until he found what he was looking for - a box of salt.
He grabbed it and ran back into the room, ready to fight any entity that might be trying to hurt his brother. He was relieved to find that Dean was sitting halfway up in bed, looking wan and tired, but very much unhurt.
“Who were you talking to, Sam?”
Sam ripped open the lid of the box and began to pour the salt on the floor. “Nobody. Nobody at all.”
“What are you doing?”
“Making a protective circle around the bed,” Sam said.
“Yeah, I can see that, but Sam . . . Sam, stop! Tell me who you were talking to. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Nobody. Nothing,” he repeated, not even bothering to look up from his task.
He had gotten half of the circle done when the howling suddenly increased in pitch. He dropped the box and clasped his hands over his ears, desperate to block the awful noise. As he did so, some of the salt spilled onto his hand.
He gasped and brought the hand close to his body.
It burned. The salt burned.
Wiping away involuntary tears of pain, he picked the box back up and continued the circle, making sure that it was unbroken. He ignored the pain in his hand and the cacophony of sound from above, working with painstaking care until the circle was complete and he and Dean were safe inside it.
As soon as the circle closed, the shrill howling quieted down a few notches. Enough so that it no longer felt like blood was about to start pouring from their ears.
Dean pulled his hands away from his ears and looked around, seemingly at a loss for words. He finally managed to mutter a small, shocked, “Woah.”
Sam nodded absently. His mind was no longer on the demons or their ungodly noise, it was on his hand, which had turned red and blistered from the salt. Salt was a purifier and sacred, and as such, it could only hurt those things with malignant intent.
And it had hurt him.
Which was why he had placed himself inside the circle when he closed it. He had a feeling that, had he been outside the circle, he would not be able to cross it to get to Dean. And now that he was inside of it, he had a feeling that he would not be able to leave it.
“Sam, you with me here, man?”
Sam turned his attention to his brother, who had apparently been trying to get his attention.
“What? Were you saying something?”
“I was asking you who you were talking to.”
“I told you - no one.”
“But I heard...”
“I fucking said...” Sam, feeling the anger starting to build again, forced himself to stop. He took a deep breath, blew it out slowly and started again. “Look, Dean, it’s gonna be a long night. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”
“Not tired. Besides, I can’t sleep with that racket,” Dean said as he tried to sit up straighter. He didn’t make it more than a couple of inches before he fell back down, wincing and gasping.
“You sure? Cause you look like you’re about to pass out.”
“Maybe...maybe I’m a little tired.”
“Go to sleep.”
“Well, what about you?”
Sam mustered a passable smile. “I’m gonna protect you.”
“You’re gonna protect me? Yeah, ok.”
“Dean...”
“Fine, fine. You’ll protect me. You’re my night in shining armor. Happy?”
Sam scowled at him.
“Well . . . maybe I’ll just close my eyes.”
“Good, close your eyes.”
“I don’t think I’m gonna sleep though.”
Yet, less than half an hour later, Dean was sleeping soundly. Sam sat next to him on the bed, eyes vacant and turned toward the window, thinking about what the shadow man had told him.
According to him, the demons would eventually get to Dean. But Sam had no way of knowing whether or not that was a lie. Because evil lied. That was one of the basic tenants of the job. Never trust the words that come out of the mouth of an evil entity.
And yet . . . deep down inside, Sam knew that the shadow man had been speaking the truth.
The thought of those things touching Dean, violating Dean, was enough to make him sick. He could not let that happen to Dean. He would not let it happen.
But according to the shadow, the only way to protect him was to sleep with him. To claim him before anything else could. But had that been a lie?
He didn’t think so, but he wasn’t sure.
He turned toward Dean and was once again met with the sight of the fallen angel lying next to him. It was the candles, he realized. The flickering candles were bathing Dean in otherworldly light, causing this illusion.
But it was a beautiful illusion.
Sam sighed. Even the candles were conspiring against him.
Another hellish shriek from somewhere outside the cabin caused him to jump. The demons were getting loud again; getting braver. And closer.
He scooted closer to Dean. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to go as far as sleeping with him. Maybe just a kiss would be enough to claim him.
The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea.
Dean would complain of course, but he would explain it to his brother. He’d make a joke of it, compare Dean to Sleeping Beauty or to Snow White. Dean would eventually laugh and they’d get past it.
Decided on a course of action, and before he could lose his nerve, he dipped his head down and placed a small, gentle kiss on Dean’s lips.
And immediately, he felt an electric shock rush through his system.
It should have hurt, but it didn’t. It felt good.
Very good.
Curious, he kissed Dean again, harder and longer this time. And again, he felt electricity spark through him. He felt giddy and warm. And strong. He felt stronger than he’d ever felt in his life.
And that’s when it all became clear. This was power. Somehow, he was siphoning raw power into his body. Through Dean’s kiss.
He also realized, somewhat belatedly, that the howling had stopped. After being assaulted by so much noise for so long, the silence was blissful.
So maybe, Sam thought, the kisses had vanquished the demons after all. Which meant that he could stop now. Dean hadn’t woken up so he’d never know that he’d been kissed. He could simply stop and wait out the night, then help Dean to the car in the morning and forget about this whole mess.
Except that the warmth he was feeling wasn’t strictly coming from the power he’d just taken.
Except . . . except that he wanted more. More power. More kisses. More Dean.
And besides, the third time was the charm. He had to ensure that no demon could get to Dean. He had to be a hundred percent certain. After this one, he would stop, and Dean would never know the difference.
The third kiss lasted longer than the other two combined. So long that by the time Dean began to stir underneath him, the dark power was already singing through his muscles, his blood, and embedding itself into his heart.
By the time Dean opened his eyes, Sam had gladly surrendered to it.
He pulled away, and looked into Dean’s sleepy, confused eyes.
“Sam? What are you doing?”
He should be ashamed, he should be trying to break the damn salt circle so that he could run and hide.
But he found that he didn’t much care for shame right at this moment.
“Kissing you.”
“Yeah, I kind of felt that. Why?”
Sam stroked Dean’s hair. “I’m protecting you. Loving you.”
“Dude, what’s wrong with you?” he asked as he batted Sam’s hand away. “How long was I asleep? What happened? Did you get possessed again?”
Sam placed his hand on Dean’s hair again, but this time he twined his fingers into it. “Shut up, Dean.”
“Sam? You are Sam, right?”
Sam smiled ruefully and shook his head. “Of course I am, silly.”
Dean looked up at him, mouthed the word ‘silly’ before Sam descended on him again. Sam felt Dean’s pathetic attempts to get away from him, and he couldn’t help but smile against Dean’s mouth. Dean was already weak, while he was getting stronger with every sinful touch. Pathetic.
And then he felt Dean’s teeth sink into his lower lip. Hard.
He pulled away, fuming. “Why the hell did you do that?”
Dean wiped at lips, his fingers coming away crimson. “Because you . . . are not thinking straight,” he panted as he attempted to sit up.
Sam grabbed Dean’s uninjured shoulder, pushing him back down easily before grabbing a hold of his wrists and pinning them down on the mattress. “Why would you do that to me when all I’ve done is love you?” He was angry, but also honestly bewildered. He’d been taking care of Dean since they got to this godforsaken cabin, he had saved him from the demons, and this was how he repaid him?
He squeezed Dean’s wrists until he felt bones grind against each other.
“Sam, you’re hurting me.”
“Well, then stop being an ungrateful little bitch so I don’t have to.”
Dean stared at him for a long moment, eyes alert and appraising before finally nodding. His entire body, which had been coiled as tightly as a snake’s, went limp. “Fine,” he said softly.
Sam released Dean’s wrists, then maneuvered his own body so that he was straddling Dean at his waist.
“Good,” he said. He ran his fingertips down the side of Dean’s face. “Now apologize.”
Dean opened his mouth, then promptly closed it again.
Sam’s tone was menacing as he said, “Dean . . . ”
“I’m . . . sorry.”
“See, that wasn’t so bad, now was it?”
Sam ignored the fact that Dean didn’t answer his question and continued. “I’m not trying to be an asshole. It’s just that . . . you don’t know. Those things, those demons, they wanted you. They would have hurt you. And I just saved you. And as usual, you don’t even care.”
“How did you save me?” Dean whispered.
Sam smiled. “By kissing you. By loving you. I didn’t believe it at first. I thought the shadow man was lying. But he was right. And now those things can’t hurt you.”
“I don’t understand, Sam.”
“It’s ok, you don’t have to.” Sam went back to running his fingers through Dean’s hair. “Just trust me, ok?” And with that, he leaned down, intent on getting another kiss. Another taste of power.
“Don’t.”
“Just let me love you for a minute, ok? It’s not as bad as you’re thinking. This is a good thing.”
Dean closed his eyes and Sam followed suit, dropping to Dean’s mouth in darkness. As intoxicating as it was to place kiss after kiss upon Dean’s lips, eventually it wasn’t enough. That’s when Sam began to explore. A little nibbling on his brother’s ear, a little on his tender throat. His hands stroking down the side of Dean’s chest, gripping his thigh. Then long, leisurely caresses with his tongue. Of everything he could reach.
But especially that scar.
He stopped, almost full to bursting with crackling energy and vigor. It enveloped him, suffused him. It brought him to life.
He lifted his hand, opening it and closing it as he stared at it in awe. “Dean, I think . . . I think I can take on the world. I think I can crush mountains.”
Dean swallowed hard, forced his voice to work. “Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s wrong with your hand?”
Sam cocked his head to the side and examined his hand more closely. It was the one that had been burned by the salt. But it was no longer blistered, merely red, and it no longer hurt.
“The salt.”
“What about it?”
“The salt burned it.”
Dean nodded, then turned his head to the side. His eyes shifted from Sam’s hand to the floor and back again.
Sam lowered his hand, ready to revisit the glistening scar, when Dean unexpectedly moved beneath him. As Dean’s body twisted, Sam was thrown off-balance and he fell to the side.
Dean continued to move, using what little energy he had to get off the bed and across the salt circle. Safety lay beyond that circle. He knew that Sam, or whatever was inhabiting Sam’s body, couldn’t cross.
He had just made it to the edge of the bed, getting ready to throw himself down to the floor, when Sam grabbed him by his throat and pulled him back. He pinned him to the mattress, one hand holding Dean’s wrist down while the other worked at crushing his windpipe.
“What the fuck was that little display?” Sam screamed down at him.
When he got no answer, Sam released the hold on Dean’s neck, then watched as his brother choked and gagged on the air that was rushing into his lungs.
“I thought . . . I honestly thought that we could do this the easy way. But no, you have to go and be a deceitful little bitch. A spoiled, selfish little bitch.”
“Sam . . . ”
“Shut up! I’m not finished!”
As Dean stilled beneath him, Sam once again straddled his waist, bringing his weight down heavily on the recent scratches. Dean had to bite his lower lip to keep a moan from escaping.
“You want to see what happens when you try and run away from me?” Sam asked. “I should feed you to the demons. They’re more than ready to fuck you into oblivion. But I’m not going to do that. I’m going to keep you here. And I’m going to teach you a little lesson.”
“You’re insane,” Dean rasped. “Whoever the hell you are, whatever the hell you are . . . you’re insane.”
Sam laughed. “Come off it. Don’t lie to yourself. This is me. This is Sam. No one else.”
“Bullshit.”
“You have no respect, Dean. Not for anybody or anything. But I’ll teach you.” He lifted his hips and unfastened his belt, freeing it from the loops of his jeans.
Dean’s eyes widened when he saw the belt and he began to fight in earnest. But a weak punch to Sam’s face did not faze him in the slightest, in fact it was like hitting a rock, and Sam had little trouble tying the belt around his wrists and then looping it around the headboard.
He sat back and watched in amusement as Dean struggled to free himself. He knew that there was no possibility of getting loose. He was too good at this. He had played these kind of games with Jessica. Sometimes. She hated them, but every once in a while she would agree to them because they meant so much to him. And every single time he ended up going too far and having to hold her as she cried in his arms.
He sighed. It had been so long since someone had given themselves to him. It had been so long since he’d let his desires free.
“Hold that thought, Dean,” he said before he jumped off the bed and removed his shoes, pants and underwear.
Dean stopped struggling and stared at him. “What are you doing?”
“I want you to do something for me.”
“No.”
Sam crawled back on the bed and worked his way up Dean’s body until his cock was right under Dean’s mouth.
“Sam . . . ”
“This is your lesson. This is what happens when you’re bad.”
Dean shut his eyes and began to shake his head. “This isn’t happening.”
“Open your mouth.”
“No.”
“There’s no choice here, Dean. Open your mouth.”
Dean’s eyes flew open. “I swear to God, if you put that thing in my mouth, I will bite you. I swear to God, Sam.”
The look in Dean’s eyes told Sam that he was serious.
But that didn’t deter Sam in the slightest. “You have two choices. I can either break your jaw and do it anyway. Or . . . ” Sam smiled, enjoying the horrified look on Dean’s face at the first suggestion. “I can put you in the trunk of the car, we’ll drive over to Cassie’s and I’ll put her through everything you would have gone through. While you watch of course.”
“You son-of-a bitch! You son-of-a bitch!” Dean raged as he pulled viciously at the belt. “If you go near her, I’ll kill you!”
Sam leaned back. “You’d kill your own brother?”
“You’re not my brother.”
“Tell yourself that. But no one can love you like I love you, Dean.”
“This isn’t love.”
“It is. This is the kind of love that will unlock worlds. I can see that now.”
Dean’s voice teetered on the edge of hysteria. “What are you talking about? What do you mean?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “You’ll see soon enough. Now, stop stalling. What’s it going to be?”
Dean looked away and forced himself to inhale deeply. He let it out in a long, shuddery breath. “Don’t touch Cassie.”
It wasn’t an order. It was a plea, and they both knew it.
“Don’t make me,” Sam said.
Sam read the resignation and defeat in Dean’s sigh, the way his body relaxed against the mattress.
He smiled and shifted until he was once again positioned over Dean’s mouth.
Dean’s entire face twisted in anguish, unshed tears gathering in his eyes as if just now realizing what was going to happen.
Sam ignored it all and placed a hand underneath Dean’s neck, lifting his head up slightly.
But Dean shook his head and tried to pull back. “I don’t . . . ”
“What?” Sam growled. He’d been patient up until now, but he was starting to get frustrated.
Dean’s next words were whispered acknowledgments of shame. “I don’t know how.”
Sam nodded his head and gave a benevolent smile. “Do your best.”
With one hand still supporting Dean’s head, he used his other hand to guide himself into Dean’s waiting mouth. Although maybe waiting wasn’t the right word.
Trembling was more like it.
And that . . . that was sexy as hell.
Sam gasped and threw his head back as he felt Dean’s lips close around him. His brother’s sound of distress barely registered as pleasure combined with the rush of power. Every time he touched his brother, every time his brother touched him, he received more of it. He lowered his head, intent on experiencing this every way possible. Sight, sound, touch . . . he wanted it all.
He stared at Dean’s mouth and watched himself sliding in and out of it. It was mesmerizing. So beautiful. And so fucking wrong. And yet he didn’t care. He was sinking down into the pits of hell and he welcomed every last burning second of it.
But as much as he was enjoying himself, he knew he had to stop this. This wasn’t the joining that the shadow man had talked about. He eased out of Dean’s mouth and released his head, moving off of Dean with a contented sigh.
Dean turned his head to the side, choking on the taste of his humiliation.
“See, Dean, what you don’t know is that the shadow man came to me a few months ago,” Sam said, casually grabbing the sheets that covered Dean’s lower body and throwing them to the floor. “And he showed me the most horrible things. I thought I hated them. I thought they made me sick. But he told me different. And he was right. He knows me, see?”
As he talked, he began to unbutton Dean’s pants, sliding them off of his legs with ease. Dean, who lay unmoving through it all, merely moaned as first his jeans and then his underwear were tossed to the floor.
“He knows things that no one else knows. He talked to me about the ants. And the little boy. And Jessica. See, you don’t know those things, do you? You think your brother is nothing but an uptight, little boy scout. Not that I blame you. I hid everything from you. I hid things from myself. I hid them so well that I even started to believe that I was an uptight little boy scout.”
Sam nudged Dean’s legs open and settled in between them. “But I’m done lying and I’m done hiding. The shadow man was right. About everything. Even about you. I do want you.” He threw his head back and laughed. “Obviously.”
“Sammy, God, please.”
“See, the way I see it, you’re my sacrifice. That’s how people gained the gods’ favor back in ancient times. They sacrificed those that were closest to them. You’re not a blood sacrifice, but you’re one all the same.”
The insanity coming from his baby brother’s mouth, combined with the physical attack he had just endured, were too much for Dean. “Sammy, please, don’t do this to me,” he begged, dissolving into tears at last. “I don’t want this. Don’t do this to me.”
But Sam finally understood. He and Dean were doing sex magick together. And when they were fully joined, the spell they were going to weave was going to change the world. “I have to, Dean. This is my destiny.”
“Oh God, no. Sam, please. If you do this, you can’t go back.” He took several quick, shaky breaths, on the verge of hyperventilating. “You can’t go back, Sammy.”
Sam paused and looked down into his brother’s face. The anguish in his eyes was almost blinding. And the tears . . . they were everywhere now. He didn’t know Dean had that many tears inside his body.
“I’m counting on it, Dean. And please, call me Samuel.”
The Falling Away of Masks, Part 4