Title: Carry On My Wayward Son
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural neither the characters. I wish I owned them. I would make pretty nasty things with them…Neither the music its from Kansas.
Summary: OneShot with lot of love nothing to heavy only a kiss.
Pairing: Sam/Dean (yes wincest, if you don't like it, don't read it)
Timeline: After Sam leaving for Stanford until after the Pilot.
Feedback: Always welcome even if you want flame me. (at least don't be anonymous) Your rage fills mine creativity.

Special thanks to PissedOffEskimo he really helped me with the grammar and scenes making this fic much better.

Dedicated to my Favorites Authors: cottonmouth, Rose of No Man's Land, Miss Meehan, Robbie the Phoenix


Oh Cottonmouth i fell in love with your fic Full Moon,Fast Cars same with you Meehan and you Falling for Smallville!


Carry on my wayward son,

For there'll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest

Now don't you cry no more

Sam's POV

Once I rose above the noise and confusion

Just to get a glimpse beyond the illusion

I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high…

It was like a dream.

Sam had never thought leaving the dirty rooms and nightmarish creatures behind could be this… good. Not that he didn't have something there, in that life; actually, he did, and that something was a four-letter word: Dean

But it was a wrong and he knew that. There was no way he could be with Dean. That they were brothers was bad enough, but beyond even that, Dean would never have allowed that type of relationship between them and Sam couldn't live in an illusion anymore. So he'd decided to leave - abandoned his dreams of love and eternal happiness to study and become the ordinary man with an ordinary wife and an ordinary life.

He'd found Jessica. She wasn't all that bad, really, he'd actually loved her at first and still loved her in some ways, but each day it seemed to him that he was losing more of his dreams and part of him, his essence, and the longer it went on, the more aware he became of it. He wasn't happy. Jess noticed that, he knew she did, and that was probably why she'd let him go with Dean that night.

He'd tried since he was eleven to think about how to get that with Dean or how to make himself not want it, but the way they'd lived - always in a hurry, always on the move - he'd never been able to stop long enough to really think clearly. After six years thinking about Dean, wanting him, but never being able to have him, Sam had made a choice…forget the illusion and aim for the real life, where he could have real happiness.

He aimed too high, now he was falling like a shooting star.

Dean's POV

Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man

Though my mind could think I still was a mad man

I hear the voices when I'm dreamin', I can hear them


He was mad with Sam. Deep down, he knew he couldn't blame Sam for leaving, because in that deep down place, he wanted a normal life too, but still something in him was angry. He thought it was just because Sam was his brother, they'd always been there for each other and watched each other's backs, and Sam didn't even flinch when he chose that normal life over his own brother. He was angry because Sam left him alone, lost in that eternal struggle between good and evil.

At least, he was angry at first. After six months, though, he couldn't be angry anymore… after six months, all he could do was missed Sam - his smell and the way he move. That's when the lies started. He just couldn't believe he'd fallen in love with his own little brother. It was so wrong, but there was something about it that felt... well, right, making everything more difficult and unbearable. He could fight the feeling and he did, but what he didn't want to admit to himself was that the fight was already over before it started.

It took four years and the disappearance of his father for him to see the truth.

After all, he was a mad man pursuing whispers of dreams and love.

Carry on my wayward son,

For there'll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest

Now don't you cry no more

Sam's POV

Masquerading as a man with a reason

My charade is the event of the season

And if I claim to be a wise man, it surely means that

I don't know…

He wasn't going to just accept Dean and all those thoughts he'd buried back into his life. He couldn't live like that again. But he seeing Dean's non-so-well hidden sadness over their father's disappearance had made Sam feel kind of guilty for his desperate act of running away from his problems, if they could be called problems. So, he'd agreed to come along.

After all those years, nothing had changed. They still use credit card scams and he was surprised when all the movements and everything he had been taught, but hadn't used in four years, came back to him like he'd never left.

They discovered the cause of men disappearing in thin air - a woman in white.

He'd been driving down the same road all the disappearances happened on while talking to Dean with a cell phone. Suddenly, he'd seen the woman in the middle of the highway and he couldn't swerve in time to miss her. She passed through the car and vanished, his heart was still beating too fast in his chest when he saw her in the back seat from the rear-view mirror.

From there everything was a blur. The car drove itself and when it stopped she was above him with her fingers in his chest trying to kill him. He'd heard shots coming from outside, breaking the glass and making the spirit flicker. Her whispered words "I can never go home" echoed in his head, sad and something else. Afraid. She was afraid of going home. He'd plowed the Impala through the house and seen her leaving forever, pulled into the afterlife by the children she'd murdered.

And now he could go back to Stanford, because the only reason he'd come was the hunt, right? They drove in silence and when they finally arrived, he found that his nightmare was only starting... fire everywhere - around Jessica, consuming her body, pinned to the ceiling.

He'd wanted to save her, he would have willingly sacrificed himself, but he couldn't. A man's frame had appeared in the door surrounded by that same, spreading fire. He looked almost like an angel, moving through the flames without getting burned. It was Dean, his brother, his savior. His lover.

He was shaking, partly because of Jessica's death, but also because of Dean. Everything he'd spent four years building, all that normal was gone and there were no more excuses, nothing keeping him from going with Dean. He was shaking from the inside out, filled with contradictory emotions of sadness and happiness.

They were back at the road, this time setting out for revenge - for Mary murder and Jessica's.

Sam knows what he want now, but he still doesn't know what will happen... after all he was a fool.

Dean's POV

On a stormy sea of moving emotion

Tossed about I'm like a ship on the ocean

I set a course for winds of fortune, but I hear the

voices say

They were in Jericho, searching the culprit of the disappearances. Apparently their dad had left his journal, intending for them to do the job alone. From the alley outside the police station, he'd dialed Sam's number and told him about the journal and about his thoughts on dad working alone on something bigger, that Dad would want them to continue the job. Sam had interrupted him, saying he couldn't stay, he needed go back to Stanford for the interview. Then the call had end suddenly and Dean had hear a woman in the background saying, "Take me home."

He'd almost panicked when he heard that. It was the woman in white and she was going kill Sam. His Sammy…He'd hot wired the first car he saw and raced to Welch's house.

This couldn't be happening. Just when he'd had the time and possibly the courage to say everything to his brother that he'd been feeling - how he loved him, how he'd missed him - that bitch had stolen Sammy from him. He wouldn't let her hurt him; he still remembered the last time he'd failed to protect him. Sammy almost lost his sight to that thing. It wasn't happening again. Ever.

He could feel himself crying inside, even if he couldn't let the tears flow. The fear of losing his brother was too much, it made his insides ache. But he couldn't let himself fall into that darkness or his brother wouldn't even have a chance.

Dean had arrived to see Sam dying, screaming in pain with Constance in his lap and her fingers through Sam's chest, squeezing his heart. He'd started shooting her and she'd flickered, but it wasn't enough, it wasn't stopping her, just slowing her down. Then he'd noticed Sam turn on the Impala and watched him drive it forward, only to the porch and right through the house. He'd following and watched the children as they appeared in front of Constance, hugging her and dragging her spirit away.

The hunt was over and he didn't want think about that, because that meant Sam was going to leave him. Again.

They didn't speak on the drive back to Palo Alto. When they got there, Sam said goodbye and left. Dean was about to drive off when he'd heard Sam scream. In the apartment, everything had been on fire and Sam had been in the, like he was made of it, trying to save Jessica.

He'd grabbed Sam's arm while gasping for fresh air in the cloud of smoke. As they left the house, there were only two thoughts in his mind:.

Jessica would be avenged.

Sam would stay with him, because there was no one waiting for him anymore.

He was a turmoil of emotions- happy and sad, because for the first time he was being selfish.

Now the wind will carry him, nothing will be like it was before; the wheel of fortune is spinning.


Carry on, you will always remember

Carry on, nothing equals the splendor

Now your life's no longer empty

Surely heaven waits for you

They were back on the road and there was nothing but silence. Dean was getting concerned about Sam, losing someone like that, he couldn't imagine. He'd been too young when their mother died and now it was just an old, blurry memory, nothing more.

Finally seeing a motel, he'd decided to stop. He needed to sleep, rest up and restore his energy. He also needed to talk with Sam. He'd pulled the car into the parking lot and Sam stared at him, perplexed.

"What are you doing?" After what had happened to Jess, sleep was the last thing on his mind, but there was more. He was nervous and he didn't know why.

"We need rest and talk." Dean said serious, using his carefully composed poker face to hide his concern.

Sam was about to protest, but stopped when he saw his face on the rear mirror. The circles under his eyes and obvious exhaustion etched into his features. He may not be feeling it, but he was bone weary and Dean was probably just as bad off as he was.

There was only one room left, queen bed size and no other motel until the next town. Sam felt his stomach drop in a rush of nerves, but was too lost in his own thoughts of the past to notice the way that Dean's brows dew together, or the way he clenched and unclenched his fists reflexively. Dean, too caught up in his own memories, didn't notice Sam's shoulders stiffen or see him shift on his feet.

The clerk, annoyed by the silence, clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, making Dean look up. Dean didn't bother looking at Sam as he said, "Ok we will take the room."

He was too tired to keep driving and he needed to talk with Sam about everything. The silence was killing him and it wasn't doing Sam any favors, either. Sam didn't complain. Part of him was strangely glad for the compromising situation and the chance to be close to Dean.

When they got to the room neither of them spoke. Dean stripped down to his black boxer, and, yeah, he felt a little awkward about the idea of sleeping next to his brother with only underwear on, but deep down, in that same place that wanted normal, he was happy.

Sam was trying not to look at his brother while pulling off his own clothes. He could literally feel Dean staring to him, making him uncomfortable and unsure.

They got under the sheets and Dean was almost sleeping against his side, so close that Sam could feel his brother's warmth and it made Sam shiver, his brain reminding him that this was what he'd wanted. He was more comfortable now.

The next morning they were going to talk, Dean thought, but now he only wanted to sleep, feeling the warmth of his brother's body invading him like waves. That night both dreamed with each other, without worries or deaths.

When Sam woke, Dean was sipping his coffee, holding a muffin and sitting in the chair nearest the bed, staring to him.

"Good morning princess, you want some?" Dean nodded to the box of muffins in his lap and Sam watched him, curious about how his brother could sometimes seemed like a child.

"You planning on answering, or were you just going to keep staring at me?" He spoke, annoyed by Sam's confused face.

"Dean…you are covered in sugar…" Sam said smiling. The first smile since Jessica's death, Dean thought and couldn't help but smile back.

"Do you want it or not?" Dean said, more playful now than annoyed.

"Yes, daddy!" Sam said, remembering old jokes about the way Dean used to treat him, like he was Sam's real father.

Dean felt an urge to kiss Sam when he said that. Leaning towards Sam, he hesitate, looking into his brother's eyes for a long moment, assessing what he saw there. Fear, confusion, want. "Sam?"

Sam's smile softened at Dean's caution and he sighed against his brother's lips. "Yes."

Dean heard the invitation in that, the reassurance that this was something Sam wanted, too. He closed the gap between their mouths. That deep part of him, the part that said this was wrong, gave a shudder and he deepened the kiss, relieved when Sam's mouth opened under his, recriprocating.

Sam reached his hand up, tentatively running fingers through Dean's hair and gave a chuckle under his breath. Dean pulled back, "What?"

"Nothing, just... I was thinking that this, right here? This is all the normal I'm ever going to need."

Dean thought about that and a wicked smile crept onto his face, "Just this? You sure you, because if we're calling normal, I've got a lot more where that came from."

Sam grinned back and bit Dean's lip playfully, "Shut up and come back to bed."

Dean didn't resist as he was pulled forward to lay over his brother, because sometime between Jericho and here, he'd decided. He didn't need normal and neither did Sam. As long as they had each other, they'd be just fine.