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flawedamythystTitle: The Truth In The Lie: Day Eleven (Part Two)
Rating: NC-17 this chapter, NC-17 overall.
Word count: 11,222/63,000 (this chapter/total)
A/N: Main header and notes: here.
This section is in two parts, because it's too long for one post. Part One is here.
Prologue, Day One, Day Two, Day Three, Day Four, Day Five, Day Six, Day Seven, Day Eight, Day Nine, Day Ten, Day Eleven (Part One, Part Two), Epilogue.
****
It was dusk when they finally got out of the water and getting cold enough to raise goosebumps on Sam's skin. He wrapped his towel around his shoulders and headed back to their cabin.
Dean hesitated for a moment, then nodded in the direction of the shower block. “Gonna have a warm shower first,” he said. “I'll see you in a bit.”
Sam pursed his lips and nodded, wondering how long Dean would keep avoiding being alone with him. Pretty soon it was going to get really annoying.
He rubbed himself roughly with the towel, then pulled on his clothes fast in an effort to warm up. He did his best to dry off his hair, but it was too long to be easily towel-dried. He thought glumly to himself that Dean's would probably be pretty much dry by the time he came back, and wondered if having longer hair was really worth it. A brief memory of just how bad his ears had looked when he'd had short hair after the Nair incident reminded him that it really was.
He left the cabin without waiting for Dean. He's probably just waiting for me to be gone anyway, he thought bitterly and headed towards the centre of the clearing, where he could see Gerald crouching next to the firepit and frowning.
There was a brief spark as he lit a match and then he swore when it went out without setting alight the small twig he was holding it against.
“Your twig's too big,” said Sam.
Gerald looked up at him with a grin. “That's what the all boys say,” he smirked, and Sam rolled his eyes at his own stupidity setting that one up.
“Let me,” he said, crouching down next to Gerald and taking the matches away from him.
Gerald surrendered them easily. “Brian usually does this bit,” he admitted.
Sam broke the twig up into small pieces, grabbed a handful of dry leaves for the first spark, and then tried again. It lit from the first match, and he sat back on his heels with a satisfied grin.
“Not bad,” Gerald allowed.
“I've had a lot of experience,” said Sam, and then regretted it.
Gerald snorted with amusement. “Baby, I don't doubt it.”
“Flirting with the tourists again?” asked Charlie from behind them.
Gerald turned round to grin at him, then stood up. “Well, I try to make sure everyone has the best possible time,” he said. “If that involves stroking their egos a bit, then sure.”
Charlie winked. “Oh, darling, you can stroke my ego any time.”
Gerald laughed. “How about you just help me get the marshmallows and graham crackers from the bus, while Sam does his manly fire thing?”
Charlie shrugged. “I'll settle for that,” he replied.
Gerald glanced at Sam. “You're okay here?” he asked.
Sam nodded and waved them away. “I promise I won't burn the forest down,” he said.
“No,” agreed Gerald as he and Charlie headed off back to the parking lot. “You're far too experienced for that.”
****
Nick and James came out to the campfire just before Dean did, and sat down together on one of the logs that surrounded it, talking quietly to each other. When Dean came out, he stood and watched Sam adding wood to the fire for several moments, and Sam tensed slightly under his scrutiny.
Dean didn't say anything though, just waited until Sam had the fire going well enough for it to not need any more attention and had shifted back to sit on the nearest log, then he sat down next to Sam. Dean leaned in close enough that Sam could feel his breath on his cheek and he thought for a single heart-stopping moment that he was going to kiss him.
Instead, he said in a quiet undertone. “They were talking about us in the bathroom.”
Sam's eyes darted over to James and Nick, then he forced himself to look away. “About your 'alcoholism'?” he asked, just as softly as Dean.
“No,” replied Dean. “They were talking about our scars – how we had too many for a mechanic and a law clerk. Then James mentioned the fight the other night – the way they were talking, they're definitely investigating.”
“But they're not hunters,” said Sam.
Dean shook his head. “They'd have recognised our tattoos,” he pointed out, and Sam nodded, sighing.
Dean kept his head close to Sam's, and Sam could tell that Dean's hair was already dry like he'd predicted, while his own was still damp at the ends, curling coldly against his neck. Dean shifted, as if he was going to move back now that the conversation was apparently over, and Sam moved his arm without thinking about it, looping it around Dean's back and keeping him close.
“Sam,” said Dean warningly, glancing over at Nick and James again.
“Don't panic,” said Sam, “just sitting with my boyfriend.”
“I'm not your boyfriend,” whispered Dean harshly.
Sam sighed. “No,” he agreed. “You're more than that.”
Dean tensed up but didn't move, although Sam could feel his discomfort almost emanating in waves. “Sam,” he growled.
“No,” said Sam quickly, before Dean could start. “Just listen, Dean. I can't prove to you how much I want you unless you give me a chance. Either you trust me to know my own mind, and we do this thing, or we're going to be stuck trying to pretend it's not there for...for ages.” Dean didn't speak, or even move, and Sam sighed, leaning his forehead down on Dean's shoulder for a moment as if he was just a kid again, and Dean still had all the answers.
“I can't imagine ever not wanting this,” he confessed quietly into Dean's shirt, not sure if he could even hear him. “But if you want to wait, then I guess we'll wait. Just...don't make me wait forever. Please.”
Dean shifted his shoulder under the weight of Sam's head, and drew in a breath as if he was going to speak, but before he could say whatever it was, James let out a loud gasp.
“What the hell is that?”
Sam lifted his head to see one of the monsters standing in the shadow of the nearest cabin. When it saw Sam looking at it, it growled.
“Fuck,” swore Dean, sounding more pissed off than surprised, and they both stood up.
“Keep away from it,” Sam instructed James and Nick as the monster growled again and started to prowl towards them. Sam couldn't help noticing that its eyes were fixed on him intently as it moved closer. Great, it really is after me.
“And close to the fire,” added Dean. He started circling round to the left, keeping his eyes on the creature and his hand on the butt of his gun. Sam gripped his own gun with one hand, but didn't draw it yet. So far, the monsters had always fled the minute they saw a gun and Sam wanted this one to get close enough for him to have time to shoot it before it disappeared again.
“Where's the other one?” he asked Dean, unwilling to take his eyes off the one that was now definitely stalking him to look around.
“No idea,” said Dean. “Let's just get this one now and worry about the other one later.”
“Okay,” agreed Sam, just as the monster went from its slow slink towards him into a rush of motion. He drew his gun fast and managed to get off two shots, at least one of which went wide, and then threw himself to the right as it jumped at him, roaring. There was another roar from his left, where Dean was, and several fast gunshots just as Sam managed to roll out of the path of the monster's leap.
“Found the other one,” yelled Dean, but Sam couldn't spare a moment's attention to look, even when there was another growl and more gunshots. The dim part of his mind that was keeping track pointed out that not all the gunshots could be coming from Dean, or he'd have run out of bullets already, but Sam really didn't have time to worry about where the other gunshots could be coming from.
He stood up as fast as he could, and spun around to where the creature that had leaped at him had landed. It snarled at him, and he raised his gun, certain to hit it this time, now that it was at point-blank range and trapped between him and the fire.
Just before he fired, there was a yell from Dean and a roar from his left, and the other monster leapt on him. His shot missed and the creature he'd been targeting jumped straight over the fire and ran full-tilt for the trees. The one who'd knocked Sam down scrambled after it, zigzagging to avoid the bullets that Dean sent flying after it. They both disappeared before Sam had even stood back up.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” swore Dean.
The door of one of the cabins surrounding the clearing banged open, and Andrew rushed out, then stopped suddenly in shock when he took in the scene in front of him. Sam and Dean weren't the only ones with guns - Nick and James were both holding guns in a casual, familiar way, and Sam remembered the extra gunshots he'd heard.
“What the hell is going on?” Andrew asked in a freaked voice.
“Who are you guys?” Sam asked James and Nick.
“Special Agent Nicholas Harding, FBI,” Nick replied, and Dean muttered a curse word.
“That's all we need – the damned Feds,” he bitched.
“Holy crap, Nick,” said James in a shocked voice, bringing up his gun again and pointing it at Dean. “I've just worked out where I've seen him before. He's that Winchester guy Henriksen is obsessed with.”
“Fuck,” swore Nick, bringing up his own gun.
“Which would make you his brother,” continued James, waving his gun at Sam.
“You're brothers?!” asked Andrew incredulously.
“Look, guys,” Sam said, trying to sound calm. “It's not what you think. We're not psychos, we haven't killed anyone.”
“Let me guess – all just a case of mistaken identity; wrong place at the wrong time. Like accidentally being on a tour that a serial killer is targeting,” said Nick, his gun not wavering at all.
“Serial killer?!” asked Andrew in a voice that was almost a squeak. Everyone ignored him.
“We're here for the same reason you are,” said Sam. “To stop the murders. And those things,” he gestured off in the direction the monsters had disappeared in, “are the ones responsible, not us.”
Nick scoffed. “Michael Turner wasn't killed by bears in the Canadian wilderness.”
“No,” agreed Dean, “He was killed by shape-shifting bear-monsters in his own home. But unless we quit fooling around, waving guns at each other, we'll be killed by shape-shifting bear-monsters in the Canadian wilderness.”
“What the hell?” exclaimed Andrew. “Will somebody please explain to me what's going on?”
“We need to find the others,” said Sam, glancing back at the woods. “They could attack again.”
“You're both under arrest,” disagreed Nick, cocking his gun. “Put your weapons down.”
“Like hell we will,” said Dean. “You put your weapons down.”
“We're not the ones under arrest,” pointed out James.
“Yeah, but you are the ones whose guns are gonna be useless if those things come back. Unless the FBI switched to silver ammo without telling anyone.” Dean's reminder about the monsters made Sam glance over at the edge of the woods, and he saw a dark shape watching them from just beyond the tree line. He swung as fast as he could, but it was already gone by the time he fired.
The shot cut through the tense stand-off, and he dropped the hand holding his gun. “They're hanging around this time,” he said to Dean.
“It's the perfect place for them to finish this,” realised Dean. “Nothing but woods for miles. If they want to kill someone before the tour ends, they'll do it this evening.”
“We need to get the others,” said Sam. “If they decide to go after easier prey...” He turned to James and Nick. “Just give us tonight. If you still want to arrest us in the morning, we won't put up any resistance, but let's worry about the monsters first.”
James was staring off into the woods, with wider eyes. Nick glanced at his face, then at the woods himself, before looking back at Dean. Sam saw his resolve waver. “I don't know,” he said slowly.
“Look,” said Dean heavily, “these sons of bitches are stalking my brother. No way I'm going to just give my gun away.”
Nick twisted his mouth in indecision, then sighed and put his gun up, clicking the safety on. “This is such a mistake,” he muttered.
“Best decision you've made all week,” said Dean with a smarmy grin as he dropped his own gun arm, but Sam could see real relief underneath it.
“We really need to find the others,” said Sam, glancing around the clearing again.
“Hopefully, we'll find all of them except two,” said Dean grimly. Sam winced at the reminder that they were hunting two guys that they'd spent the last two weeks with, and started running through where everyone had gone.
Paul and Ray had left the lake while almost everyone else was still swimming, so that they could have sex. Or, at least, that was what they'd implied. Marcus and Victor had gotten bored of watching the others swim not long after that, and gone back to their cabin. They'd tried to imply they were going to have sex as well, but Sam had privately thought they were more likely to just have a nap. Gerald and Charlie were getting the s'mores supplies from the bus, but shouldn't they have been back by now? Surely they'd have heard the gunshots?
Dean met his eyes with a serious look that said he knew what Sam was thinking. “Paul and Ray's cabin is closest,” he said softly. Sam nodded, glanced back at the woods one last time, and followed him down the little path that led to the other cabins.
****
Sam had to talk Dean out of just bursting into Paul and Ray's cabin, guns waving. Instead, they knocked politely, and Paul answered the door clearly half-asleep, and with a towel wrapped round his waist that Sam was willing to bet hadn't been there just a moment before.
“What the fuck?” asked Paul, taking in the guns. “What the hell is going on?”
“No time to explain,” said Dean tersely. “Get Ray.”
“And get dressed,” added Sam.
“What?” asked Paul in confusion.
Nick sighed. “Jesus,” he said to Sam and Dean, “You guys really don't have any people skills, do you?” He turned to Paul. “James and I are undercover FBI agents. There's no need to panic, but everyone's lives might be in danger. Get dressed quickly – we're going to get to the bus and get out of here.”
Paul's eyes went wide. “Christ,” he said shakily, and turned away, leaving the door half open.
Andrew snorted and shook his head. “'No need to panic but everyone's lives might be in danger'? And you think Dean doesn't have any people skills?”
Sam turned slowly round as Nick glared back at Andrew, checking the dark shadows between the trees and the cabins. Nothing seemed to be moving, but for some reason he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. His wariness must have transmitted itself to Dean, who also turned to gaze around at the area, then knocked twice on the ajar door.
“Hurry up,” he called. There was some muffled muttering from inside, then Paul and Ray appeared, fully clothed.
“I hope we're going to get a proper explanation for this,” grumbled Ray.
“I wouldn't bet on it,” bitched Andrew. “I haven't yet.”
****
They didn't get as far as Victor and Marcus's cabin. They were passing the long building that housed the bathroom facilities when they heard a loud groan from inside. Sam and Dean froze and exchanged worried glances with Nick and James, before carefully moving towards the door, guns in hand.
There was another sound as Dean carefully pushed open the door – a long, breathy moan, and it was enough to tell Sam that it wasn't monsters that they were walking in on.
Gerald was leaning against the wall, pants round his knees and head thrown back while Charlie knelt before him, enthusiastically sucking his cock. Sam stopped in surprise, just as Gerald opened his eyes to see them.
“Fuck!” he said loudly, and pushed Charlie off his dick. Charlie looked around, and then collapsed back on his heels when he saw them, his eyes focused beyond Sam and Dean on where Andrew must be. Sam turned round to see Andrew's reaction himself, feeling like a voyeur at a car-wreck.
Andrew's lips were pressed so tightly together that they'd gone white. For a moment, Sam thought he was going to turn and run, then he took a deep breath and released it.
“The tour guide, Charlie? How...completely lacking in class.” Charlie went red but didn't move, ignoring the way Gerald was frantically pulling up his pants. Andrew let out a harsh bark of laughter. “This holiday was meant to be a new start,” he gritted through his teeth. “I guess you just don't care enough to even give us two weeks.”
Charlie's nostrils flared angrily, and he stood up. “Me?” he asked, “You were the one going after Sam before we'd even been here two days!”
“Nothing happened,” said Sam quickly, but neither of them were listening to him.
“You joined the Mile High Club with the steward on the flight up here!” yelled Andrew. Charlie winced. “And then you had the gall to act as if I wouldn't notice!”
“I figured you were too busy with your damned medical journals,” said Charlie bitterly. “You usually are.”
Andrew glared at him. “I always notice when you cheat on me,” he said, hurt so thick in his voice that Sam could practically see it. Charlie glanced down at the floor.
“O-kay then,” said Dean carefully. “Let's save the rest of this for later – we need to find Brian, Victor and Marcus first.”
Gerald cleared his throat, and edged around Charlie. “Brian's staying with a lady-friend tonight,” he said. “What's going on?” he asked, noticing the guns and tense expressions for the first time.
Dean ignored the question. “Wasn't he staying with a lady-friend when we were in Halifax?”
Gerald shrugged. “He has a lot of them.”
Dean grinned widely. “A girl in each port. I knew I liked the guy.”
Sam felt bile rise up in his throat, and he turned to leave the bathroom. “We should get to Marcus and Victor's cabin,” he said.
“Why?” asked Gerald, as the others followed him out. “What's going on? Where did you get those guns? You know you can't hunt here, right? This is a national park.”
Sam ignored him, and glanced round at the shadows, which were getting deeper as night fell properly. Was something moving behind that tree? He stopped to squint at it properly, bringing his gun up.
“Sam?” asked Dean softly.
“Something moved,” he said, straining his eyes against the dying light.
“Everyone keep back,” ordered Dean, and Sam felt more than saw him coming up to stand beside him.
There was a roar from behind them, surprised yells and a particularly girly scream from Ray, and then a heavy weight sent Sam crashing forward. He lost his grip on his gun, and it went flying off into the dark.
“Sam!” yelled Dean in fear, and Sam felt hot breath on his neck, and the sharp sting of claws raking down his back. All the breath had been knocked out of his body, and for a moment he struggled just to breathe.
Fuckfuckfuck gotta get my knife. But his knife was tucked in his boot, and he was trapped under the monster with no hope of getting at it. Teeth grazed at his neck like a warning, and he jerked away, then flung his head suddenly backwards, catching the creature with a hard blow. It gave a yelp and its weight shifted, but it didn't move off him. Pain radiated from everywhere it was pressing down on him, and the effort of breathing with something so heavy on him began to make his lungs burn.
There was a growl and gunshots from where Dean had been, and Sam realised he wasn't getting any help from that corner because the other monster had Dean pinned down. Besides, any shots that hit the one on Sam's back would go straight through and into Sam at this range.
Sam tried head-butting the monster again, but it was ready for that trick now and easily avoided him, shifting its back legs so that he could feel claws digging into him through his jeans. It wasn't attacking him properly though, even with his neck right under its teeth, and he wondered why, even as he tried to work an arm free to defend himself with.
There was another three quick shots, and Sam wished he knew how many were from Dean, and how many from Nick and James. Surely Dean's gun must be getting low on ammo? The monster on Sam's back growled slightly, then shifted back until most of its weight wasn't on him any more, and grasped at his shoulder with one massive paw, claws sinking into his skin and making him swear with pain. It started to pull him roughly round, and he thought, of course. It wants to get at my heart while it's still pumping.
He flailed hard with his arm when it came free from underneath him and hit hard at the monster, but it just ignored Sam's blows and growled again. There was another loud shot, and a pained cry from the other monster.
“Get off him!” yelled Dean, “Or I'll finish your friend off!”
The creature paused and Sam took the chance to buck up against its weight.
“Move off him, or I'll shoot this bastard in the head,” said Dean.
The monster gave something that sounded like a little sigh and shifted backwards off Sam. Sam took a deep breath as soon as most of the monster's weight was off him, then pulled himself up to his feet. Dean was holding his gun on the other monster, who was collapsed limply on his side, blood seeping out from a bullet wound in his flank. The others were all huddled back against the wall of the bathroom cabin; Nick and James stood protectively in front of them, holding their guns.
“You okay?” Dean asked.
Sam took a moment to check. “Yeah,” he decided after a moment. He glanced around for his gun, but wherever it had flown off to, he couldn't see it.
The monster who'd attacked him stood up high on its hind legs and shook itself all over, violently, like a wet dog. When it paused, it looked less like a bear and more like a person. It grimaced at him, then shook again, until it was recognisable as Victor.
“Holy shit,” murmured someone from behind them, but Sam ignored it in favour of bending down to pull his knife out of his boot. His clawed-up legs and the strained muscles in his back loudly complained about the motion, but he was damned if he was going to end up in another fight without a weapon.
There was still something distinctly bearlike about Victor when he started talking, a rough note like a growl in his voice. “You boys have really made this trip entertaining. It's almost going to be a shame when I rip Sam's heart out.”
“Why me?” asked Sam, stalling for a moment so that he could get at least some of his breath back.
Victor grinned widely with teeth that were too long and pointed for a human mouth. “Because you're the most loved person on this trip, Sammy,” he said. “And that means you'll be the most mourned.” He turned to Dean. “Your grief is going to taste so sweet.”
“You son of a bitch,” Dean growled at him.
Victor's grin grew. “Oh yeah, stay angry,” he said. “You're too stubborn to kill yourself like Kyle – years of beautiful grief, all gone in the time it takes to swallow a bottle of pills. So sad.”
“You feed on grief?” Sam asked incredulously. “What about the hearts?”
“Heart is good for you,” said Victor primly. “Full of iron. And it gives us a link in to all that lovely pain.”
“Oh, screw this,” said Dean. “No one's going to eat Sammy's heart.” He pulled his gun up fast from where it was still pointed at the wounded monster, who must be Marcus, realised Sam, and pulled the trigger when it was aimed at Victor's head.
There was a dull click instead of the loud bang Sam was expecting and he realised with a sinking feeling that Dean had lost count of his shots as well.
Victor laughed viciously and turned back to Sam, already morphing back into something much wilder. “Say goodbye, Sammy,” he growled, and then sprang at Sam, hands elongating into claws in mid air.
Sam threw himself backwards and held his knife out, letting the weight of Victor's body drive him onto it, then sliced upwards, trying to hit as many internal organs as possible. Victor grunted and snapped at his neck, and Sam shoved him as hard as he could, then rolled them over until he was on top. He pulled his knife free with a tug, sending blood splattering down his clothes, and slashed it across Victor's throat. Victor gave a half-choking exhale of breath, then his eyes went dark and his body went limp.
Sam let out a long breath and got off the body, then collapsed down on the grass. Dean was standing over Marcus's body, holding his own knife, and he met Sam's eyes for a brief moment.
“Okay?” he asked. Sam nodded. “Awesome,” said Dean, and kicked Marcus's body. “Thank fuck that's over.”
****
Nick and James helped them dig a rough grave at the edge of the clearing with the firepit in it. The others watched in numb shock as they slung first Marcus's body, then Victor's, into the hole, soaked them down with petrol and set them alight.
“Still want to arrest us?” asked Dean as the flames engulfed the bodies.
Nick shook his head tiredly. “No, I reckon you get a free pass on this one.” There was a long pause, then he added, “I can only speak for me and James though. We're going to have to contact the police about Marcus and Victor's 'disappearance' and our reports will have to include information about the two of you that will probably mean they'll work out your real identities.”
Sam sighed. “Yeah, we know,” he said. Usual thing - save the day, then get the hell out of Dodge before we get arrested.
“Soon as we're done here,” said Dean, “we'll head back to the States.”
Nick nodded in understanding, his mouth twisting unhappily. Sam looked down at the fire burning in the hole and thought about going back to how things were before – being so close to Dean all the time but not having the excuse to touch him and watching him go off with every pretty girl prepared to drop her panties at the flash of his grin – and suddenly the smell of burning flesh made him feel queasy.
He stepped back from the grave. “I'm going to pack up our stuff,” he muttered, and headed back to their cabin without looking at Dean.
Victor had managed to claw up Sam's jeans and shirt as well as his back and legs, so he changed into clean clothes and tucked the old ones into his bag to be thrown away later. When he'd gotten all their stuff shoved back in their bags, he dumped them by the door and went to see if he could find where his gun had flown off to when Victor had tackled him earlier. He wasn't going to leave it to be found by some over-zealous Mountie unless he had to, not when it had his fingerprints all over it.
James joined him when he walked back through the clearing where the others were and followed him in silence. Sam wasn't sure if he wanted to talk or was keeping an eye on him, but he'd reached the stage where he didn't really care.
James watched as he cast around the area they'd fought in, but it was fully dark now and Sam couldn't completely remember what direction the gun had gone in. After a few minutes of fruitless searching, he turned to James with a scowl, meaning to ask him to help. James was standing by the dark patch of blood where Victor had died, staring down at it. Sam made a mental note to clean it up later. The fewer clues they left the police, the better.
“Do you do this kind of thing a lot?” James asked suddenly.
“Pretty often,” admitted Sam warily.
James nodded. “This was my first time,” he said, still staring at the blood soaking into the grass. “I'm a desk-jockey really. I work in the Fraud division – I wasn't really lying when I said I was an accountant. It's just I'm the kind with a badge.” He paused, then added reflectively, “I'm not sure I'm any good at this undercover investigation thing.”
Sam frowned. “How come you're on the case then?” he asked.
James shrugged. “They needed a gay couple. And Nick's been on Violent Crime for years. I just...I didn't think it would be like this.”
Sam snorted, and resumed the hunt for his gun. “I'm pretty sure most FBI cases don't end with shapeshifting monsters.”
“Yeah,” agreed James. He toed at the blood for a moment, then let out a long, tense breath. “I need...I'm gonna find Nick,” he muttered, and walked back towards the clearing with fast steps.
Sam turned back to poking at the bushes. He wasn't really surprised when Dean appeared a few minutes later.
“You better not have lost that gun,” he bitched, watching Sam.
“We can buy another one,” Sam pointed out. Dean scowled at the suggestion, just as Sam had known he would. Dean got sentimentally attached to all their weaponry – Sam wasn't entirely sure he hadn't given all their guns names.
Dean joined in the search, going through the long grass growing at the base of the cabin wall. “Evil guys are all burnt,” he offered after a few moments of silence. “The others are just filling in the hole now.”
“Good,” said Sam. Was that the gun, or just a stick?
“They're going to wait on calling the police till tomorrow – tell them they just woke up and Victor and Marcus were gone.”
Sam nodded. “That'll give us some breathing space.” It was just a stick. Damnit, where had the damned thing gone?
“Yeah,” agreed Dean. “Gerald says there's a rest stop about forty-five minutes' walk away, so I reckon we just hike over there, then steal a car and head for the ferry port.”
“So we should be back in Maine by morning,” said Sam, straightening up and casting his eye back over the ground around them. Maybe it had gone further than he thought, and made it all the way over to the line of trees?
“Yeah,” said Dean again, sounding distracted. He muttered, “Oh, fuck it,” under his breath and grabbed Sam round the neck, pulling him down into a hard kiss.
Sam froze in shock for a moment, then his brain kicked in. This is what you want, it reminded him, and he grabbed at Dean's shoulders, pulling him closer even as Dean was pushing him back up against the cabin wall, still desperately laying claim to Sam's mouth with his tongue. Dean's hands descended down Sam's body, clutching hard at his clothes, alternatively pushing and pulling, as if Dean couldn't quite decide what he wanted to do with Sam.
Sam just pulled Dean in as close as he could, feeling the hard line of his body pressed tight up against his, and let Dean burrow his hands underneath Sam's clothes until he was grasping at Sam's waist.
Dean pulled back for a second when he reached skin, and Sam thought for a horrible moment that he was going to pull away again, but instead he hissed, “Do you know how many times you could have died tonight?”
Dean didn't wait for an answer before diving back into Sam's mouth, blocking any words Sam might have come up with. His fingers slid beneath Sam's waistband, and Sam sucked in a sudden breath.
“We might never have had this,” muttered Dean against his lips, and then suddenly fell to his knees, pulling hard at Sam's jeans.
“Dean,” Sam managed to say, every vein in his body pumping fast with lust. “Dean.”
Dean yanked down Sam's pants as soon as the zipper was open, pulling down his boxers at the same time. He paused for a long, heart-stopping moment in which all words fled Sam's brain and just stared at Sam's cock, then leant forward and sucked it down, taking Sam in deeper and harder than he'd ever have expected.
“Fuck,” exhaled Sam, “fuck, Dean,” but he couldn't string together anything more coherent than that, not when Dean was sucking his cock as if he'd die without it, as if he'd been waiting his whole life just to feel Sam in his mouth.
Sam clutched desperately at Dean's head, then thought better of it and pulled his hands into tight fists instead, not wanting to do anything that might make Dean stop. When he came, he couldn't stop himself from gasping out Dean's name, and Dean clutched hard at his hips as he swallowed down Sam's come.
“Jesus fuck,” Sam breathed out, leaning all his weight back against the wall behind him as his knees threatened to give in.
Dean sat back on his heels and smoothed a hand over Sam's hip. “We're still not talking about this,” he said in a warning tone.
Sam couldn't bring himself to care, too caught up in Dean blew me. And it was awesome. He let himself slide down the wall, ignoring the rough burn of wood against the injuries on his back, until he was sitting on the ground in front of Dean.
“Dean,” he said again, and reached a hand out to touch him, swiping his thumb over Dean's lips, those lips that had just been wrapped around his cock.
Dean squinted at him, looking worried. “Did I break your brain?” he asked. “I mean, I know I'm awesome, but...”
Sam cut him off by leaning forward and pulling their mouths together, kissing Dean with everything he was feeling. He clutched at Dean's face, not wanting to let go for a second, then let one hand drift down to Dean's crotch, where he could feel the hard line of Dean's cock pressing against his jeans. He squeezed it gently and Dean flinched away.
“Not here,” he said, glancing back towards where the others were.
“But you will let me later?” asked Sam, suddenly unsure. It would be just like Dean to not let Sam give this back to him.
Dean nodded jerkily. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, just...later, Sammy.”
Sam nodded, letting it go, and kissed Dean again, deep and thorough, like a promise of what was to come. “I'm gonna hold you to that,” he whispered. Dean shivered, then cleared his throat and sat back, away from Sam.
He frowned slightly, then reached down to pull something out from underneath him, grinning with triumph when he saw what it was. “Found the gun,” he said happily.
Sam couldn't stop himself from grinning back. “Then we're all set to blow this popsicle stand,” he said.
****
They gave Gerald their mobile number – 'in case anything else weird happens' – said goodbye to the others, and set off towards the rest stop. They were both walking too close together, hips and shoulders jostling, but Sam waited until they'd turned the first corner and were definitely out of sight of the others before reaching out for Dean, sliding his hand into Dean's back pocket. Dean shot him an amused look, but didn't say anything. He just walked even closer.
****
Epilogue
*
Rating: NC-17 this chapter, NC-17 overall.
Word count: 11,222/63,000 (this chapter/total)
A/N: Main header and notes: here.
This section is in two parts, because it's too long for one post. Part One is here.
Prologue, Day One, Day Two, Day Three, Day Four, Day Five, Day Six, Day Seven, Day Eight, Day Nine, Day Ten, Day Eleven (Part One, Part Two), Epilogue.
It was dusk when they finally got out of the water and getting cold enough to raise goosebumps on Sam's skin. He wrapped his towel around his shoulders and headed back to their cabin.
Dean hesitated for a moment, then nodded in the direction of the shower block. “Gonna have a warm shower first,” he said. “I'll see you in a bit.”
Sam pursed his lips and nodded, wondering how long Dean would keep avoiding being alone with him. Pretty soon it was going to get really annoying.
He rubbed himself roughly with the towel, then pulled on his clothes fast in an effort to warm up. He did his best to dry off his hair, but it was too long to be easily towel-dried. He thought glumly to himself that Dean's would probably be pretty much dry by the time he came back, and wondered if having longer hair was really worth it. A brief memory of just how bad his ears had looked when he'd had short hair after the Nair incident reminded him that it really was.
He left the cabin without waiting for Dean. He's probably just waiting for me to be gone anyway, he thought bitterly and headed towards the centre of the clearing, where he could see Gerald crouching next to the firepit and frowning.
There was a brief spark as he lit a match and then he swore when it went out without setting alight the small twig he was holding it against.
“Your twig's too big,” said Sam.
Gerald looked up at him with a grin. “That's what the all boys say,” he smirked, and Sam rolled his eyes at his own stupidity setting that one up.
“Let me,” he said, crouching down next to Gerald and taking the matches away from him.
Gerald surrendered them easily. “Brian usually does this bit,” he admitted.
Sam broke the twig up into small pieces, grabbed a handful of dry leaves for the first spark, and then tried again. It lit from the first match, and he sat back on his heels with a satisfied grin.
“Not bad,” Gerald allowed.
“I've had a lot of experience,” said Sam, and then regretted it.
Gerald snorted with amusement. “Baby, I don't doubt it.”
“Flirting with the tourists again?” asked Charlie from behind them.
Gerald turned round to grin at him, then stood up. “Well, I try to make sure everyone has the best possible time,” he said. “If that involves stroking their egos a bit, then sure.”
Charlie winked. “Oh, darling, you can stroke my ego any time.”
Gerald laughed. “How about you just help me get the marshmallows and graham crackers from the bus, while Sam does his manly fire thing?”
Charlie shrugged. “I'll settle for that,” he replied.
Gerald glanced at Sam. “You're okay here?” he asked.
Sam nodded and waved them away. “I promise I won't burn the forest down,” he said.
“No,” agreed Gerald as he and Charlie headed off back to the parking lot. “You're far too experienced for that.”
Nick and James came out to the campfire just before Dean did, and sat down together on one of the logs that surrounded it, talking quietly to each other. When Dean came out, he stood and watched Sam adding wood to the fire for several moments, and Sam tensed slightly under his scrutiny.
Dean didn't say anything though, just waited until Sam had the fire going well enough for it to not need any more attention and had shifted back to sit on the nearest log, then he sat down next to Sam. Dean leaned in close enough that Sam could feel his breath on his cheek and he thought for a single heart-stopping moment that he was going to kiss him.
Instead, he said in a quiet undertone. “They were talking about us in the bathroom.”
Sam's eyes darted over to James and Nick, then he forced himself to look away. “About your 'alcoholism'?” he asked, just as softly as Dean.
“No,” replied Dean. “They were talking about our scars – how we had too many for a mechanic and a law clerk. Then James mentioned the fight the other night – the way they were talking, they're definitely investigating.”
“But they're not hunters,” said Sam.
Dean shook his head. “They'd have recognised our tattoos,” he pointed out, and Sam nodded, sighing.
Dean kept his head close to Sam's, and Sam could tell that Dean's hair was already dry like he'd predicted, while his own was still damp at the ends, curling coldly against his neck. Dean shifted, as if he was going to move back now that the conversation was apparently over, and Sam moved his arm without thinking about it, looping it around Dean's back and keeping him close.
“Sam,” said Dean warningly, glancing over at Nick and James again.
“Don't panic,” said Sam, “just sitting with my boyfriend.”
“I'm not your boyfriend,” whispered Dean harshly.
Sam sighed. “No,” he agreed. “You're more than that.”
Dean tensed up but didn't move, although Sam could feel his discomfort almost emanating in waves. “Sam,” he growled.
“No,” said Sam quickly, before Dean could start. “Just listen, Dean. I can't prove to you how much I want you unless you give me a chance. Either you trust me to know my own mind, and we do this thing, or we're going to be stuck trying to pretend it's not there for...for ages.” Dean didn't speak, or even move, and Sam sighed, leaning his forehead down on Dean's shoulder for a moment as if he was just a kid again, and Dean still had all the answers.
“I can't imagine ever not wanting this,” he confessed quietly into Dean's shirt, not sure if he could even hear him. “But if you want to wait, then I guess we'll wait. Just...don't make me wait forever. Please.”
Dean shifted his shoulder under the weight of Sam's head, and drew in a breath as if he was going to speak, but before he could say whatever it was, James let out a loud gasp.
“What the hell is that?”
Sam lifted his head to see one of the monsters standing in the shadow of the nearest cabin. When it saw Sam looking at it, it growled.
“Fuck,” swore Dean, sounding more pissed off than surprised, and they both stood up.
“Keep away from it,” Sam instructed James and Nick as the monster growled again and started to prowl towards them. Sam couldn't help noticing that its eyes were fixed on him intently as it moved closer. Great, it really is after me.
“And close to the fire,” added Dean. He started circling round to the left, keeping his eyes on the creature and his hand on the butt of his gun. Sam gripped his own gun with one hand, but didn't draw it yet. So far, the monsters had always fled the minute they saw a gun and Sam wanted this one to get close enough for him to have time to shoot it before it disappeared again.
“Where's the other one?” he asked Dean, unwilling to take his eyes off the one that was now definitely stalking him to look around.
“No idea,” said Dean. “Let's just get this one now and worry about the other one later.”
“Okay,” agreed Sam, just as the monster went from its slow slink towards him into a rush of motion. He drew his gun fast and managed to get off two shots, at least one of which went wide, and then threw himself to the right as it jumped at him, roaring. There was another roar from his left, where Dean was, and several fast gunshots just as Sam managed to roll out of the path of the monster's leap.
“Found the other one,” yelled Dean, but Sam couldn't spare a moment's attention to look, even when there was another growl and more gunshots. The dim part of his mind that was keeping track pointed out that not all the gunshots could be coming from Dean, or he'd have run out of bullets already, but Sam really didn't have time to worry about where the other gunshots could be coming from.
He stood up as fast as he could, and spun around to where the creature that had leaped at him had landed. It snarled at him, and he raised his gun, certain to hit it this time, now that it was at point-blank range and trapped between him and the fire.
Just before he fired, there was a yell from Dean and a roar from his left, and the other monster leapt on him. His shot missed and the creature he'd been targeting jumped straight over the fire and ran full-tilt for the trees. The one who'd knocked Sam down scrambled after it, zigzagging to avoid the bullets that Dean sent flying after it. They both disappeared before Sam had even stood back up.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” swore Dean.
The door of one of the cabins surrounding the clearing banged open, and Andrew rushed out, then stopped suddenly in shock when he took in the scene in front of him. Sam and Dean weren't the only ones with guns - Nick and James were both holding guns in a casual, familiar way, and Sam remembered the extra gunshots he'd heard.
“What the hell is going on?” Andrew asked in a freaked voice.
“Who are you guys?” Sam asked James and Nick.
“Special Agent Nicholas Harding, FBI,” Nick replied, and Dean muttered a curse word.
“That's all we need – the damned Feds,” he bitched.
“Holy crap, Nick,” said James in a shocked voice, bringing up his gun again and pointing it at Dean. “I've just worked out where I've seen him before. He's that Winchester guy Henriksen is obsessed with.”
“Fuck,” swore Nick, bringing up his own gun.
“Which would make you his brother,” continued James, waving his gun at Sam.
“You're brothers?!” asked Andrew incredulously.
“Look, guys,” Sam said, trying to sound calm. “It's not what you think. We're not psychos, we haven't killed anyone.”
“Let me guess – all just a case of mistaken identity; wrong place at the wrong time. Like accidentally being on a tour that a serial killer is targeting,” said Nick, his gun not wavering at all.
“Serial killer?!” asked Andrew in a voice that was almost a squeak. Everyone ignored him.
“We're here for the same reason you are,” said Sam. “To stop the murders. And those things,” he gestured off in the direction the monsters had disappeared in, “are the ones responsible, not us.”
Nick scoffed. “Michael Turner wasn't killed by bears in the Canadian wilderness.”
“No,” agreed Dean, “He was killed by shape-shifting bear-monsters in his own home. But unless we quit fooling around, waving guns at each other, we'll be killed by shape-shifting bear-monsters in the Canadian wilderness.”
“What the hell?” exclaimed Andrew. “Will somebody please explain to me what's going on?”
“We need to find the others,” said Sam, glancing back at the woods. “They could attack again.”
“You're both under arrest,” disagreed Nick, cocking his gun. “Put your weapons down.”
“Like hell we will,” said Dean. “You put your weapons down.”
“We're not the ones under arrest,” pointed out James.
“Yeah, but you are the ones whose guns are gonna be useless if those things come back. Unless the FBI switched to silver ammo without telling anyone.” Dean's reminder about the monsters made Sam glance over at the edge of the woods, and he saw a dark shape watching them from just beyond the tree line. He swung as fast as he could, but it was already gone by the time he fired.
The shot cut through the tense stand-off, and he dropped the hand holding his gun. “They're hanging around this time,” he said to Dean.
“It's the perfect place for them to finish this,” realised Dean. “Nothing but woods for miles. If they want to kill someone before the tour ends, they'll do it this evening.”
“We need to get the others,” said Sam. “If they decide to go after easier prey...” He turned to James and Nick. “Just give us tonight. If you still want to arrest us in the morning, we won't put up any resistance, but let's worry about the monsters first.”
James was staring off into the woods, with wider eyes. Nick glanced at his face, then at the woods himself, before looking back at Dean. Sam saw his resolve waver. “I don't know,” he said slowly.
“Look,” said Dean heavily, “these sons of bitches are stalking my brother. No way I'm going to just give my gun away.”
Nick twisted his mouth in indecision, then sighed and put his gun up, clicking the safety on. “This is such a mistake,” he muttered.
“Best decision you've made all week,” said Dean with a smarmy grin as he dropped his own gun arm, but Sam could see real relief underneath it.
“We really need to find the others,” said Sam, glancing around the clearing again.
“Hopefully, we'll find all of them except two,” said Dean grimly. Sam winced at the reminder that they were hunting two guys that they'd spent the last two weeks with, and started running through where everyone had gone.
Paul and Ray had left the lake while almost everyone else was still swimming, so that they could have sex. Or, at least, that was what they'd implied. Marcus and Victor had gotten bored of watching the others swim not long after that, and gone back to their cabin. They'd tried to imply they were going to have sex as well, but Sam had privately thought they were more likely to just have a nap. Gerald and Charlie were getting the s'mores supplies from the bus, but shouldn't they have been back by now? Surely they'd have heard the gunshots?
Dean met his eyes with a serious look that said he knew what Sam was thinking. “Paul and Ray's cabin is closest,” he said softly. Sam nodded, glanced back at the woods one last time, and followed him down the little path that led to the other cabins.
Sam had to talk Dean out of just bursting into Paul and Ray's cabin, guns waving. Instead, they knocked politely, and Paul answered the door clearly half-asleep, and with a towel wrapped round his waist that Sam was willing to bet hadn't been there just a moment before.
“What the fuck?” asked Paul, taking in the guns. “What the hell is going on?”
“No time to explain,” said Dean tersely. “Get Ray.”
“And get dressed,” added Sam.
“What?” asked Paul in confusion.
Nick sighed. “Jesus,” he said to Sam and Dean, “You guys really don't have any people skills, do you?” He turned to Paul. “James and I are undercover FBI agents. There's no need to panic, but everyone's lives might be in danger. Get dressed quickly – we're going to get to the bus and get out of here.”
Paul's eyes went wide. “Christ,” he said shakily, and turned away, leaving the door half open.
Andrew snorted and shook his head. “'No need to panic but everyone's lives might be in danger'? And you think Dean doesn't have any people skills?”
Sam turned slowly round as Nick glared back at Andrew, checking the dark shadows between the trees and the cabins. Nothing seemed to be moving, but for some reason he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. His wariness must have transmitted itself to Dean, who also turned to gaze around at the area, then knocked twice on the ajar door.
“Hurry up,” he called. There was some muffled muttering from inside, then Paul and Ray appeared, fully clothed.
“I hope we're going to get a proper explanation for this,” grumbled Ray.
“I wouldn't bet on it,” bitched Andrew. “I haven't yet.”
They didn't get as far as Victor and Marcus's cabin. They were passing the long building that housed the bathroom facilities when they heard a loud groan from inside. Sam and Dean froze and exchanged worried glances with Nick and James, before carefully moving towards the door, guns in hand.
There was another sound as Dean carefully pushed open the door – a long, breathy moan, and it was enough to tell Sam that it wasn't monsters that they were walking in on.
Gerald was leaning against the wall, pants round his knees and head thrown back while Charlie knelt before him, enthusiastically sucking his cock. Sam stopped in surprise, just as Gerald opened his eyes to see them.
“Fuck!” he said loudly, and pushed Charlie off his dick. Charlie looked around, and then collapsed back on his heels when he saw them, his eyes focused beyond Sam and Dean on where Andrew must be. Sam turned round to see Andrew's reaction himself, feeling like a voyeur at a car-wreck.
Andrew's lips were pressed so tightly together that they'd gone white. For a moment, Sam thought he was going to turn and run, then he took a deep breath and released it.
“The tour guide, Charlie? How...completely lacking in class.” Charlie went red but didn't move, ignoring the way Gerald was frantically pulling up his pants. Andrew let out a harsh bark of laughter. “This holiday was meant to be a new start,” he gritted through his teeth. “I guess you just don't care enough to even give us two weeks.”
Charlie's nostrils flared angrily, and he stood up. “Me?” he asked, “You were the one going after Sam before we'd even been here two days!”
“Nothing happened,” said Sam quickly, but neither of them were listening to him.
“You joined the Mile High Club with the steward on the flight up here!” yelled Andrew. Charlie winced. “And then you had the gall to act as if I wouldn't notice!”
“I figured you were too busy with your damned medical journals,” said Charlie bitterly. “You usually are.”
Andrew glared at him. “I always notice when you cheat on me,” he said, hurt so thick in his voice that Sam could practically see it. Charlie glanced down at the floor.
“O-kay then,” said Dean carefully. “Let's save the rest of this for later – we need to find Brian, Victor and Marcus first.”
Gerald cleared his throat, and edged around Charlie. “Brian's staying with a lady-friend tonight,” he said. “What's going on?” he asked, noticing the guns and tense expressions for the first time.
Dean ignored the question. “Wasn't he staying with a lady-friend when we were in Halifax?”
Gerald shrugged. “He has a lot of them.”
Dean grinned widely. “A girl in each port. I knew I liked the guy.”
Sam felt bile rise up in his throat, and he turned to leave the bathroom. “We should get to Marcus and Victor's cabin,” he said.
“Why?” asked Gerald, as the others followed him out. “What's going on? Where did you get those guns? You know you can't hunt here, right? This is a national park.”
Sam ignored him, and glanced round at the shadows, which were getting deeper as night fell properly. Was something moving behind that tree? He stopped to squint at it properly, bringing his gun up.
“Sam?” asked Dean softly.
“Something moved,” he said, straining his eyes against the dying light.
“Everyone keep back,” ordered Dean, and Sam felt more than saw him coming up to stand beside him.
There was a roar from behind them, surprised yells and a particularly girly scream from Ray, and then a heavy weight sent Sam crashing forward. He lost his grip on his gun, and it went flying off into the dark.
“Sam!” yelled Dean in fear, and Sam felt hot breath on his neck, and the sharp sting of claws raking down his back. All the breath had been knocked out of his body, and for a moment he struggled just to breathe.
Fuckfuckfuck gotta get my knife. But his knife was tucked in his boot, and he was trapped under the monster with no hope of getting at it. Teeth grazed at his neck like a warning, and he jerked away, then flung his head suddenly backwards, catching the creature with a hard blow. It gave a yelp and its weight shifted, but it didn't move off him. Pain radiated from everywhere it was pressing down on him, and the effort of breathing with something so heavy on him began to make his lungs burn.
There was a growl and gunshots from where Dean had been, and Sam realised he wasn't getting any help from that corner because the other monster had Dean pinned down. Besides, any shots that hit the one on Sam's back would go straight through and into Sam at this range.
Sam tried head-butting the monster again, but it was ready for that trick now and easily avoided him, shifting its back legs so that he could feel claws digging into him through his jeans. It wasn't attacking him properly though, even with his neck right under its teeth, and he wondered why, even as he tried to work an arm free to defend himself with.
There was another three quick shots, and Sam wished he knew how many were from Dean, and how many from Nick and James. Surely Dean's gun must be getting low on ammo? The monster on Sam's back growled slightly, then shifted back until most of its weight wasn't on him any more, and grasped at his shoulder with one massive paw, claws sinking into his skin and making him swear with pain. It started to pull him roughly round, and he thought, of course. It wants to get at my heart while it's still pumping.
He flailed hard with his arm when it came free from underneath him and hit hard at the monster, but it just ignored Sam's blows and growled again. There was another loud shot, and a pained cry from the other monster.
“Get off him!” yelled Dean, “Or I'll finish your friend off!”
The creature paused and Sam took the chance to buck up against its weight.
“Move off him, or I'll shoot this bastard in the head,” said Dean.
The monster gave something that sounded like a little sigh and shifted backwards off Sam. Sam took a deep breath as soon as most of the monster's weight was off him, then pulled himself up to his feet. Dean was holding his gun on the other monster, who was collapsed limply on his side, blood seeping out from a bullet wound in his flank. The others were all huddled back against the wall of the bathroom cabin; Nick and James stood protectively in front of them, holding their guns.
“You okay?” Dean asked.
Sam took a moment to check. “Yeah,” he decided after a moment. He glanced around for his gun, but wherever it had flown off to, he couldn't see it.
The monster who'd attacked him stood up high on its hind legs and shook itself all over, violently, like a wet dog. When it paused, it looked less like a bear and more like a person. It grimaced at him, then shook again, until it was recognisable as Victor.
“Holy shit,” murmured someone from behind them, but Sam ignored it in favour of bending down to pull his knife out of his boot. His clawed-up legs and the strained muscles in his back loudly complained about the motion, but he was damned if he was going to end up in another fight without a weapon.
There was still something distinctly bearlike about Victor when he started talking, a rough note like a growl in his voice. “You boys have really made this trip entertaining. It's almost going to be a shame when I rip Sam's heart out.”
“Why me?” asked Sam, stalling for a moment so that he could get at least some of his breath back.
Victor grinned widely with teeth that were too long and pointed for a human mouth. “Because you're the most loved person on this trip, Sammy,” he said. “And that means you'll be the most mourned.” He turned to Dean. “Your grief is going to taste so sweet.”
“You son of a bitch,” Dean growled at him.
Victor's grin grew. “Oh yeah, stay angry,” he said. “You're too stubborn to kill yourself like Kyle – years of beautiful grief, all gone in the time it takes to swallow a bottle of pills. So sad.”
“You feed on grief?” Sam asked incredulously. “What about the hearts?”
“Heart is good for you,” said Victor primly. “Full of iron. And it gives us a link in to all that lovely pain.”
“Oh, screw this,” said Dean. “No one's going to eat Sammy's heart.” He pulled his gun up fast from where it was still pointed at the wounded monster, who must be Marcus, realised Sam, and pulled the trigger when it was aimed at Victor's head.
There was a dull click instead of the loud bang Sam was expecting and he realised with a sinking feeling that Dean had lost count of his shots as well.
Victor laughed viciously and turned back to Sam, already morphing back into something much wilder. “Say goodbye, Sammy,” he growled, and then sprang at Sam, hands elongating into claws in mid air.
Sam threw himself backwards and held his knife out, letting the weight of Victor's body drive him onto it, then sliced upwards, trying to hit as many internal organs as possible. Victor grunted and snapped at his neck, and Sam shoved him as hard as he could, then rolled them over until he was on top. He pulled his knife free with a tug, sending blood splattering down his clothes, and slashed it across Victor's throat. Victor gave a half-choking exhale of breath, then his eyes went dark and his body went limp.
Sam let out a long breath and got off the body, then collapsed down on the grass. Dean was standing over Marcus's body, holding his own knife, and he met Sam's eyes for a brief moment.
“Okay?” he asked. Sam nodded. “Awesome,” said Dean, and kicked Marcus's body. “Thank fuck that's over.”
Nick and James helped them dig a rough grave at the edge of the clearing with the firepit in it. The others watched in numb shock as they slung first Marcus's body, then Victor's, into the hole, soaked them down with petrol and set them alight.
“Still want to arrest us?” asked Dean as the flames engulfed the bodies.
Nick shook his head tiredly. “No, I reckon you get a free pass on this one.” There was a long pause, then he added, “I can only speak for me and James though. We're going to have to contact the police about Marcus and Victor's 'disappearance' and our reports will have to include information about the two of you that will probably mean they'll work out your real identities.”
Sam sighed. “Yeah, we know,” he said. Usual thing - save the day, then get the hell out of Dodge before we get arrested.
“Soon as we're done here,” said Dean, “we'll head back to the States.”
Nick nodded in understanding, his mouth twisting unhappily. Sam looked down at the fire burning in the hole and thought about going back to how things were before – being so close to Dean all the time but not having the excuse to touch him and watching him go off with every pretty girl prepared to drop her panties at the flash of his grin – and suddenly the smell of burning flesh made him feel queasy.
He stepped back from the grave. “I'm going to pack up our stuff,” he muttered, and headed back to their cabin without looking at Dean.
Victor had managed to claw up Sam's jeans and shirt as well as his back and legs, so he changed into clean clothes and tucked the old ones into his bag to be thrown away later. When he'd gotten all their stuff shoved back in their bags, he dumped them by the door and went to see if he could find where his gun had flown off to when Victor had tackled him earlier. He wasn't going to leave it to be found by some over-zealous Mountie unless he had to, not when it had his fingerprints all over it.
James joined him when he walked back through the clearing where the others were and followed him in silence. Sam wasn't sure if he wanted to talk or was keeping an eye on him, but he'd reached the stage where he didn't really care.
James watched as he cast around the area they'd fought in, but it was fully dark now and Sam couldn't completely remember what direction the gun had gone in. After a few minutes of fruitless searching, he turned to James with a scowl, meaning to ask him to help. James was standing by the dark patch of blood where Victor had died, staring down at it. Sam made a mental note to clean it up later. The fewer clues they left the police, the better.
“Do you do this kind of thing a lot?” James asked suddenly.
“Pretty often,” admitted Sam warily.
James nodded. “This was my first time,” he said, still staring at the blood soaking into the grass. “I'm a desk-jockey really. I work in the Fraud division – I wasn't really lying when I said I was an accountant. It's just I'm the kind with a badge.” He paused, then added reflectively, “I'm not sure I'm any good at this undercover investigation thing.”
Sam frowned. “How come you're on the case then?” he asked.
James shrugged. “They needed a gay couple. And Nick's been on Violent Crime for years. I just...I didn't think it would be like this.”
Sam snorted, and resumed the hunt for his gun. “I'm pretty sure most FBI cases don't end with shapeshifting monsters.”
“Yeah,” agreed James. He toed at the blood for a moment, then let out a long, tense breath. “I need...I'm gonna find Nick,” he muttered, and walked back towards the clearing with fast steps.
Sam turned back to poking at the bushes. He wasn't really surprised when Dean appeared a few minutes later.
“You better not have lost that gun,” he bitched, watching Sam.
“We can buy another one,” Sam pointed out. Dean scowled at the suggestion, just as Sam had known he would. Dean got sentimentally attached to all their weaponry – Sam wasn't entirely sure he hadn't given all their guns names.
Dean joined in the search, going through the long grass growing at the base of the cabin wall. “Evil guys are all burnt,” he offered after a few moments of silence. “The others are just filling in the hole now.”
“Good,” said Sam. Was that the gun, or just a stick?
“They're going to wait on calling the police till tomorrow – tell them they just woke up and Victor and Marcus were gone.”
Sam nodded. “That'll give us some breathing space.” It was just a stick. Damnit, where had the damned thing gone?
“Yeah,” agreed Dean. “Gerald says there's a rest stop about forty-five minutes' walk away, so I reckon we just hike over there, then steal a car and head for the ferry port.”
“So we should be back in Maine by morning,” said Sam, straightening up and casting his eye back over the ground around them. Maybe it had gone further than he thought, and made it all the way over to the line of trees?
“Yeah,” said Dean again, sounding distracted. He muttered, “Oh, fuck it,” under his breath and grabbed Sam round the neck, pulling him down into a hard kiss.
Sam froze in shock for a moment, then his brain kicked in. This is what you want, it reminded him, and he grabbed at Dean's shoulders, pulling him closer even as Dean was pushing him back up against the cabin wall, still desperately laying claim to Sam's mouth with his tongue. Dean's hands descended down Sam's body, clutching hard at his clothes, alternatively pushing and pulling, as if Dean couldn't quite decide what he wanted to do with Sam.
Sam just pulled Dean in as close as he could, feeling the hard line of his body pressed tight up against his, and let Dean burrow his hands underneath Sam's clothes until he was grasping at Sam's waist.
Dean pulled back for a second when he reached skin, and Sam thought for a horrible moment that he was going to pull away again, but instead he hissed, “Do you know how many times you could have died tonight?”
Dean didn't wait for an answer before diving back into Sam's mouth, blocking any words Sam might have come up with. His fingers slid beneath Sam's waistband, and Sam sucked in a sudden breath.
“We might never have had this,” muttered Dean against his lips, and then suddenly fell to his knees, pulling hard at Sam's jeans.
“Dean,” Sam managed to say, every vein in his body pumping fast with lust. “Dean.”
Dean yanked down Sam's pants as soon as the zipper was open, pulling down his boxers at the same time. He paused for a long, heart-stopping moment in which all words fled Sam's brain and just stared at Sam's cock, then leant forward and sucked it down, taking Sam in deeper and harder than he'd ever have expected.
“Fuck,” exhaled Sam, “fuck, Dean,” but he couldn't string together anything more coherent than that, not when Dean was sucking his cock as if he'd die without it, as if he'd been waiting his whole life just to feel Sam in his mouth.
Sam clutched desperately at Dean's head, then thought better of it and pulled his hands into tight fists instead, not wanting to do anything that might make Dean stop. When he came, he couldn't stop himself from gasping out Dean's name, and Dean clutched hard at his hips as he swallowed down Sam's come.
“Jesus fuck,” Sam breathed out, leaning all his weight back against the wall behind him as his knees threatened to give in.
Dean sat back on his heels and smoothed a hand over Sam's hip. “We're still not talking about this,” he said in a warning tone.
Sam couldn't bring himself to care, too caught up in Dean blew me. And it was awesome. He let himself slide down the wall, ignoring the rough burn of wood against the injuries on his back, until he was sitting on the ground in front of Dean.
“Dean,” he said again, and reached a hand out to touch him, swiping his thumb over Dean's lips, those lips that had just been wrapped around his cock.
Dean squinted at him, looking worried. “Did I break your brain?” he asked. “I mean, I know I'm awesome, but...”
Sam cut him off by leaning forward and pulling their mouths together, kissing Dean with everything he was feeling. He clutched at Dean's face, not wanting to let go for a second, then let one hand drift down to Dean's crotch, where he could feel the hard line of Dean's cock pressing against his jeans. He squeezed it gently and Dean flinched away.
“Not here,” he said, glancing back towards where the others were.
“But you will let me later?” asked Sam, suddenly unsure. It would be just like Dean to not let Sam give this back to him.
Dean nodded jerkily. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, just...later, Sammy.”
Sam nodded, letting it go, and kissed Dean again, deep and thorough, like a promise of what was to come. “I'm gonna hold you to that,” he whispered. Dean shivered, then cleared his throat and sat back, away from Sam.
He frowned slightly, then reached down to pull something out from underneath him, grinning with triumph when he saw what it was. “Found the gun,” he said happily.
Sam couldn't stop himself from grinning back. “Then we're all set to blow this popsicle stand,” he said.
They gave Gerald their mobile number – 'in case anything else weird happens' – said goodbye to the others, and set off towards the rest stop. They were both walking too close together, hips and shoulders jostling, but Sam waited until they'd turned the first corner and were definitely out of sight of the others before reaching out for Dean, sliding his hand into Dean's back pocket. Dean shot him an amused look, but didn't say anything. He just walked even closer.
*
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no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 12:55 pm (UTC)I LOVE YOU LIKE DEAN LOVES SAM... only without the gay incest.
♥
no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 11:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 12:58 pm (UTC)Thank you so, so much for your fantastic writing and daily updates.
I'll be sad to see tomorrow come with the epilogue and know it is the ending, but so happy to have been a part of this wonderful journey.
Thanks again, sweets. :) :) :)
no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 11:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 01:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 11:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 01:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 11:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 01:25 pm (UTC)*glee*
x
no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 11:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 01:26 pm (UTC)But the reason... going after the most loved person, and feeding off the grief of the partner... that's even more monstrous than usual *wibble* And they chose Sam. Poor Dean! Still, the boys saved the day, in front of the FBI, no less.
I loved the FBI bit, that mention of Hendrikson, and that everyone finds out they're brothers. Hee, the rest of the group will be replaying the week in their head and wondering at their cover act. Well, after they get over the shock of monsters being real, that is.
Loved that Sam was pushing it and Dean finally attacks him. Very hot and satisfying.
Oh yeah, and matching tattoos! LMAO.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 11:49 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you've enjoyed this. *hugs*
no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 11:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 02:32 pm (UTC)When Dean finally gave in? Too perfect.
Thanks for writing such a wonderful story and I'm really glad that you didn't begin posting until it was complete. It would have been too hard to wait longer for updates.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 11:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 02:52 pm (UTC)I really liked the way Dean just gave in, heh.
Please, please say that we get to see Sam topping Dean next? *hopeful look*
no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 11:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 03:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 11:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 04:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 12:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 04:15 pm (UTC)NOW THEYRE GOING TO BE DOING PDA ALL THE FREAKIN TIME NOW.
SOSOSOSOSCUTE.
GAH. CANT WAIT FOR THE SEXIN.
TOP!DEAN HOPEFULLY.
#STARES AT THE COMMENT ABOVE#
no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 12:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 04:16 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for sharing this, it was a blast reading, can't wait for the last part;)
no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 12:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 05:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 12:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 06:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 12:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 06:06 pm (UTC)Dean got sentimentally attached to all their weaponry – Sam wasn't entirely sure he hadn't given all their guns names.
Now I can see this, oh yes I can. Looking forward to the epilogue.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 12:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 06:18 pm (UTC)Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 12:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 06:45 pm (UTC)Loved the monster attack and of course the blow job.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 12:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 08:52 pm (UTC)I'M SO HAPPY ABOUT THE PROGRESSION OF THE RELATIONSHIP! *giddygiddy*
I JUST CAN'T WAIT FOR THE EPILOGUE! ^_____________________^
TOTAL DEBAUCHERY, YES? YES?! *hopeful look*
no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 12:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 09:06 pm (UTC)(P.S. Monsters - I so knew it, yay.)
(P.S.S. Sam and Dean, yay.)
no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 12:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 09:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 12:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 09:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 12:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-01 10:07 pm (UTC)And of course, I´m completely gleeful about the Dean and Sam´s moments. I couldn´t be happier and I can´t wait to read the epilogue.
This story continues to be perfect! :D
no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 12:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 03:57 am (UTC)I LOVED that Dean didn't just give in, in the beginning and that Sam had a few moments of 'Is this really what I want or is the case affecting me?' kind of doubts. And then Dean finally jumped in while they were looking for the gun :D Awesome!
I'm actually sad that this will soon be over :((
no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 04:00 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 05:12 am (UTC)And I was right! As well as everyone else reading this, but I don't care, I was right!! Woot, go me!!
I love how Nick and James were FBI, it totally worked ^^
Really happy I get to read a few more things from this fic
no subject
Date: 2009-02-02 05:21 am (UTC)P.S: I was just wondering, what season is this set in? Because we don't meet Hendrikson until season two and we don't see the tattoos until season three...Anyways, that's just bothering me.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
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