The Bringer – 30


In one smooth motion Rezzy pushed the gun hard into Sam's throat, thus gagging and incapacitating the young man. Then, turning the weapon onto the older Winchester, he fired.


The bullet hit John Winchester in the chest, and he fell to the ground. Cool redness spread, staining the shirt beneath his jacket.

Rezzy laughed.

"You can't save them both, Dean!"

Rezzy heaved Sam bodily into the van and quickly joined him. A quick uppercut eliminated the need for restraints.

Dean was torn even as he raced to his father's side. The only thing that kept him from leaping into the van for Sam was the fact that he knew Rezzy would keep the young man alive at least until he had a chance to kill Dean.

Dean slid to his knees beside his father's prone form. With trembling fingers, he felt for a pulse…and found it right away, strong and steady. Dean couldn't believe it. The red stain was still spreading. He pulled back his father's jacket to reveal John Winchester's flask, which was made of consecrated iron. The flask, punctured by Rezzy's bullet, had been used to carry the anointing oil for the ritual. The red-tinged anointing oil. John was fine albeit bruised, but the impact had knocked him unconscious.

Dean turned John gently onto his side. "I'm sorry, Dad. You'll be fine, but I gotta go save Sam."


Sam remembered nothing of his ride in the van. His next lucid moments were agony. He was standing practically on tiptoes in darkness, hands bound behind him. At first he thought Rezzy had blinded him, but when he forced the panic aside he could feel the blindfold over his eyes. New panic rushed in as he found breathing difficult. Something…a noose?...constricted his throat, and if he sagged at all the noose got tighter.

Sam's heart leapt as he heard the rumbling of the Chevy's engine, but he was fearful as well. No way would Rezzy go through all this trouble then leave him here. It was a trap for Dean, and his brother would walk right in. Dean would know, of course, but that wouldn't stop him from coming after Sam, especially now.

Sam heard the car stop and the door open. Sure-footed steps made their way quickly to Sam's side. Sam was struggling, trying to call out to Dean, to get him to turn around and go back to Dad, but all that came out was a painful-sounding wheeze.

"Whoa, easy there, Sammy. You're OK. I'm gonna get you down. Everything will be fine." Sam listened closely to his brother's voice, his light in the darkness. Dean continued to whisper comforting words, and Sam nearly strangled himself with relief when he heard their father was safe. Soon, he was free of the ropes, and he accepted Dean's assistance in removing the blindfold.

Although it was past daybreak, the woods at the bend in the road contained tall trees whose limbs and leaves filtered the sun's rays. Sam gazed at his brother through the mottled light and wiped at his gummy eyes, trying to clear his vision. Something was off.

"I can't believe you just walked in here, boy. You have a pretty big opinion of yourself." Rezzy's voice echoed through the small clearing. Sam and his rescuer twisted to face the tracker as he emerged from behind one of the larger trees. The gun in Rezzy's hand was rock steady.

"I was hoping for a little more of a challenge. I even put on my custom-made bullet proof vest for the occasion." Rezzy continued, "You don't believe for a minute you're getting out of here with Sam."

The cocky blond shrugged and said, "Just like Dudley Do-Right. Dean Winchester always gets his man." He edged away from Sam, trying to draw Rezzy's attention through taunts.

"You can't have him, Rezzy, and you can't break the bond. Only Sammy can, and he'd die first."

Rezzy knew what the hunter said was true. The type of bond the boys had formed could not be forced apart. One or both would have to willingly break it.

"Not a bad idea, Dean. I know a bokor who's doing some amazing things with zombies these days." Rezzy shifted the gun toward Sam and fired.

Sam, still unsteady, had been watching the man closest to him; something was wrong, but his muddled mind couldn't puzzle it out. Due to his distraction Sam did not see Rezzy's attack. He did hear the shot, however, and feel the powerful shove that pushed him to the ground.

Stillness. Silence, except for ragged breathing and the thump, ka-thump of a failing heartbeat.

Sam crawled to the fallen man's side and rolled the body towards him. As he cradled Dean in his arms, his hands became slick with red gore. The exit wound was too large, and the man was loosing too much blood.

There was no hope. So why were the young hunter's eyes alight with hopefulness?

Blood bubbled from lips stretched in a trademark smirk as NewDean whispered, "You once said if I really loved you that I would die for you. Thank Dean for giving me the chance to prove it."


Ten Minutes Ago

Dean turned John gently onto his side. "I'm sorry, Dad. You'll be fine, but I gotta go save Sam."

"You know it's a trap, don't you?"

Dean swiveled his head, astonished to hear his own voice. More astonishing was seeing his own face staring back at him. Sonofabitch. The shifter! With less than graceful movements, Dean stood and faced the shifter with his father's gun in his hand.

The shifter raised his hands to show he was unarmed, a replay of what Dean had done to Rezzy. "Don't shoot. I'm here to help."

Dean scoffed. "Why would you want to help me?"

"I don't," replied NewDean. "I want to save Sammy."

"It's Sam."

NewDean smirked. "Like I said, it's a trap. He'll kill you. Then he'll kill Sam. Then he'll probably come back here and kill your old man. Unless you have a plan."

"Oh I have a plan," said Dean. "I plan on blowing your head off for what you did to my brother."

"Look, I love Sammy. You might say he 'got under my skin.'" NewDean waited for a laugh that never came. "Guess Sammy got the brains and the sense of humor. Not to mention the looks." The last was delivered with a waggling of blond eyebrows.

Dean's hands tightened on the trigger. "Not helping your case here."

"Do you really want to stand around and play whose is bigger? I'll kill the suspense right now. It's a tie. Or do you want to save your brother?"

"I suppose you have some brilliant strategy?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Gimme your shirt. And your jacket."

"I just bought these!"

"Gimme!"


Sam looked into the face of the dying shape-shifter. A voice inside was screaming at him to throw the body to the ground and get as far away as possible. Another voice urged compassion. It was this one he acknowledged as he gathered the shifter in a close embrace.

"I'm sorry Sammy. I'm so sorry."

"I believe you," said Sam. "And I forgive you."

A single tear escaped NewDean's eye and trickled down his cheek to dissolve onto Sam's hand. NewDean breathed once, twice, no more. Sam gently closed the green eyes staring at the canopy of leaves and laid the rapidly cooling body onto the forest floor. Still kneeling, he looked at Rezzy, who was gloating over his perceived victory.

Rezzy finally looked at Sam's face and noticed that there were no tears.

"What's wrong, Sammy? I thought you'd be crying and wailing about now. Or are you glad Dean's dead?"

Sam stood, brushed off the pine needles on his legs, and said in a slightly raspy voice, "I would be crying and wailing if Dean were gone. But that's not Dean."

Rezzy heard the click behind his right ear. He was alive long enough to catch the final words he would ever hear in this world.

"Nice vest," said Dean as he pulled the trigger on his 9mm.


Epilogue

It was nearly four months since Sam and Dean had bonded. Four long months of nothing but light touches to his arm, head, or back and the occasional kiss whenever Sam could catch Dean off guard. Sam was ready. They were bonded, dammit. There would be no one else for him. No one else for Dean. Sam wanted more, but Dean wouldn't allow them to take it to the next level. The closest they had come to actual sex had been two weeks ago when Sam had convinced a tipsy Dean that masturbating in front of each other wasn't really stepping over any weird boundaries. They had done sort of the same thing growing up, except they were both in their own beds trying their damnedest to keep quiet.

Sam thought it was amazing. Especially when Dean came just from watching Sam get off. The older brother hadn't even touched himself during Sam's little performance. It was a very powerful feeling. Since then? Nothing. Well, things were going to change starting tonight.


Dean made sure he stayed sober; no telling when a horny Sammy would strike. Dean told himself that Sam was just confused. Missouri had told them that the bond was OK, that as long as they at least touched one another each day, Sam was in no danger. Dean knew she was wrong. Sam was in danger. In danger from Dean, who's control was being tested to its limit. Well, things were going to change starting tonight.
Dean entered their latest motel room and stopped cold. There were candles on the table, on the nightstand, even some in the bathroom. What took the cake, however, was…well…a cake. The most amazing looking chocolate cake. When Dean came closer he saw writing in white icing: Happy Birthday Dean

.The soft snick of the door closing, followed by the click of the latch alerted Dean to Sam's presence.

Sam moved up behind Dean and wrapped his arms around his brother's waist. He began to nuzzle and lick Dean's neck and held tight as Dean tried to squirm away. A nip to Dean's nape stopped the struggles instantly. Sam had studied Dean long and, god, hard, determined to figure out the chinks in Dean's armor. His observation skills were paying off as his lips and hands melted Dean's resistance.

That tiny nibble froze Dean. He couldn't move yet for fear of coming in his jeans. He could hear his breathing pick up the pace as Sam eased Dean's T-shirt from his jeans. Those giant hands, gentle hands, spread wide and rubbed Dean's chest and stomach. He only just noticed that Sammy was humming something and rocking them slowly back and forth.

I love what your doing, Sammy, but enough with the chick-flick stuff.

Reflexes trained since the age of four whipped Dean around to catch Sam mid-nibble. Dean dragged Sam's mouth to his own and kissed the younger man with a fervor not enjoyed since the night they bonded. Lips and tongue and teeth mapped and marked their territory.

Sam, with the extra inches of height, maintained his awareness of the candles and guided them flawlessly to the bed. Kissing turned to love-filled laughter as the boys tried to maintain lip contact while removing their shoes, socks and jeans. Finally, both were bare before the other, Sam kneeling above Dean.

Dean flipped Sam onto his back, a triumphant grin beaming across his face until he thought about what Sam was seeing. Sam recognized the second Dean's thoughts turned toward the shifter and hurried to reassure his brother that that particular ordeal was over, and that when they were together, he was never afraid.

They returned to their kisses, this time moving slowly, touching and tasting what they had denied for so long. As they familiarized themselves with one another's bodies, Dean reached under the pillow for the little tube he had secreted there earlier. Sam looked surprised, then delighted, and started to turn onto his stomach.

"No, Sam. This is for me."

Sam's jaw dropped. He had never expected Dean to want that. His brother was new to sex with men, and while Sam's experiences were unspeakable, at least he had some.

Dean smiled and said, "Sam, I have been taking care of you, protecting you your whole life. Do you think for one second that I'm gonna do something to you that I haven't done myself? I need to know that I won't be hurting you."

Sam was touched once more by the depth of this man's love for him. He accepted the tube and determined he would do everything in his power to make this the most amazing night of both their lives.

The boys spent the evening making love. Dean bottomed twice – just to make sure he understood the process, of course. Around midnight, cake was consumed and icing was used in new and interesting ways. Near dawn, Dean took Sam as the lay on their sides, Sam's back to Dean's chest. It was perfect, and by far the best gift Dean had ever received.

He whispered this truth into Sam's ear as he held the younger man close. Sam smiled a wicked smile. Dean hadn't opened the package that lay waiting under the bed. He would let Dean open it over breakfast with their father. Maybe he could get Dean to sing one of the songs from the movie to him.

A Big Top edition of the classic movie, Dumbo.


Oh my God! I killed Rezzy! He's a bastard!

Thank you all for your patience and support as I struggled with stuff this last year. As you can see, the boys insisted on privacy during the good parts. I only got to peek between the blinds once in a while.

It's over. Done. Finished.

Except for your lovely, lovely reviews, yes?