Don't hate me guys. First, I want to thank all of you who reviewed my last story. Re reading all of your kind words motivated me to come back to writing it. I've been dealing with a lot of personal issues, but things are a lot better now. I'm going to do my best to be more consistent. I also didn't know where to go with this story but I'm back with a fresh take!
Disclaimer: Wish Supernatural was mine…
"Oh my god I feel like shit! Why did I drink so much last night?" my brain screamed as I slowly opened my eyes. The room was dark and I could hear Sammy snoring gently on the next bed. I looked over to him and suddenly my stomach lurched. Everything that happened last night slowly flashed before my eyes, especially the part right before I threw up. Me and Sammy tangled in each other's body writhing and humping. His flesh, my teeth, the scent of whisky and Sam's apple cinnamon fragrance filling my nostrils. I reached down into my boxers and felt the dry crust of my seed plastered into the fabric.
"It was real," I mumbled to myself. "Fuck it was real." I stumbled out of bed and ran into the bathroom. I had to get cleaned up and get the fuck out of this room. I can't face Sammy yet. No. Need to get my game face on.
I took a quick shower and quickly and quietly yanked my clothes on, doing my best not to wake Sam. Clearly he was worn out from last night, or trying to fake sleep to avoid having to look at me. Maybe he was disgusted, maybe he hated me. I didn't even really look at him. Lust took over all my senses.
I'm such a fucking pig. A pig that probably will lose the only person that really makes life worth living. I grabbed the keys to the Impala and bolted out the door, more of last night's liquor rising up in my throat as my heart and head throbbed.
"I'll be back Sammy," I whispered as I pulled my jacket on. I stepped forward to the edge of Sam's bed, his head as buried under the covers. "Please, please don't remember any of last night baby boy. Please."
Pain seared down Sam's neck and upper body as he turned and tried to unravel himself from beneath the itchy motel blanket. His lips felt dry and cracked and stung when he licked them. Sam slowly pushed the covers back and shuddered. The white t shirt he wore was flecked with bits of his blood. Tears flooded his eyes as he rolled out of bed and limped towards the dresser to look in the mirror. He slowly peeled his shirt off and gasped as he tossed it to the floor. Black and blue marks spotted his arms and torso in odd shaped circles. Open bite marks lay on either side of his neck and randomly along his chest, the last one just below his belly button. In the haze of lust and alcohol that enveloped him and Dean last night he hadn't realized how aggressive Dean had been. Sadness and fear rolled soared through Sam's body causing him to feel dizzy and nauseous. Last night he went to sleep feeling somewhat satisfied though a little perturbed. Now as he looked at his body he couldn't help but wonder why Dean was so rough with him. Was it because he didn't truly feel that way for Sam? Could it be that Sam was just a drunk fuck for him? Dean never treated him so harshly. Sure he wasn't the touchy feely type but even if he hurt Sam unintentionally or in a play fight, he always apologized profusely and made sure Sam was ok.
Sam pushed open the bathroom door, forcing back the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. So much doubt filled his heart right now, not knowing what to make of last night's encounter, coupled with the dull stinging pain that coursed through his body. Sam turned the shower on and stepped in, crying out in pain as the water hit his open wounds. It took all his might to will himself into soaping each and every bite and rinsing it out thoroughly to prevent infection. After carefully rinsing off and shampooing his hair, Sam stepped out of the shower and opened up the first aid kit on the countertop. He rummaged around the brown leather bag and pulled out the bottle of rubbing alcohol. "This is gonna be fun," Sam muttered.
Dean shoved his key into the door and pushed it open. The first thing he noticed was Sam's empty bed. His stomach dropped as he set down the bag of food and travel tray of coffee down on the round wooden table. He walked towards the dresser, picking up Sam's white t-shirt. He ran his finger over the blood stains in disbelief, his heart racing. "Sammy?" he yelled as he looked around the room for signs of struggle. From the bathroom, he heard a yelp and muffled cry. He strode over to the door and pounded on it. "Sammy, you okay?" He could hear Sam take a deep breath and turn the faucet on. Dean's mouth ran dry as he waited for Sam to open the door, not knowing what to expect. The seconds dragged by as Sam slowly unlocked the bathroom door, his hair shaggy and wet from his shower. Dean's cock jumped as he met Sam's eyes, a surge of emotions both good and bad rushing through him. The moment was cut short when Dean caught sight of the open bite mark on Sam's neck. His face fell as his eyes ran down Sam's chest and torso taking in all the bites and bruises on Sam's soft skin. Sam noticed the look on Dean's face and brushed past him, setting the first aid bag on the dresses. In the mirror, he saw Dean staring at him in horror as he applied antibiotic ointment to his wounds.
"Sam," Dean said stepping forward "Are you- are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Sam replied wincing as he rubbed the ointment into the deep bite on his chest.
"Here let me help you," Dean offered turning Sam towards him by his shoulder. Sam grabbed Dean's wrists and stared into his eyes. "Sammy?"
"I got it," Sam said dropping Dean's wrists from his grasp. Dean felt like someone kicked him in the stomach. Sam never refused to let him help him before especially when he was injured. To make it worse, these injuries were ones he caused Sammy himself.
"Let me help you," Dean insisted pulling the bandages out of Sam's hands and tearing the packages open. He avoided eye contact with Sam, still unsure of what to say. They were both stifled by the tension that hung between them. Dean finished covering the last wound and finally looked up into Sam's eyes. Hurt, confusion, and pain emanated from Sam's gaze as he looked down at Dean. "Sam, I didn't- I don't.."
"You did this Dean," Sam stated, no hint of emotion in his voice. "Last night when you were drunk. You did this and a lot more so don't try to shut it out now."
"I'm not shutting anything out," Dean barked. "You think I don't know what happened last night? You think I'm going to try to deny what we did and the fact that I tore you up like this? I'm not that much of a coward Sam!" Anger flared in Sam and he took a step back from Dean. Of course this was going to turn into some stupid argument. It always does with Dean.
"So then say something Dean. I dare you. I want one coherent honest thought out of you that doesn't start with some type of denial or excuse." Dean turned his gaze away from Sam and folded his arms. The truth? What the fuck was even the truth right now? Nothing made sense except the fact that on some level he knew that Sam was his whole world. How do you say that to your baby brother, especially after brutalizing him in a drunken stupor the night before?The air suddenly got thick and hot. Sweat began dripping down Dean's forehead.
"Stop it Sam," he mumbled.
"Stop what?" Sam asked taking a step forward. He grabbed Dean by the shoulders and pulled their bodies together. "What Dean? You don't want to face the truth? Why can't you just accept whatever the fuck it is that's going on?"
"Cause I don't know what the fuck is going on," Dean snarled shoving Sam away from him. "I don't want to answer your questions, I don't know what the fuck to say okay? I'm sorry, for this and for last night. For everything."
Sam thought he was going to be sick. "Sorry? You're sorry?" he backed away from Dean and turned towards his duffel bag on the floor. He hastily pulled out his boxers, a pair of jeans and a T shirt and pulled it on allowing his towel to fall with Dean in plain sight. Dean stood in silence as he watched Sam get dressed. He tried to think of something to say as Sam pulled his boots on. Something to make Sam not walk out of the room. "Sam, wait."
Sam turned to him as he slid his jacket out, eyebrows raised, hurt and anger etched into his face. "What?"
"Uhm- There's food and coffee on the table," Dean replied losing his nerve at the last second. That did it. Something inside Sam snapped. He grabbed the tray of coffee and launched it at Dean, who narrowly ducked out of the way. The tray hit the opposite wall and hot coffee exploded everywhere.
"Fuck you!" Sam screamed as he ripped the motel room door open. "Fuck you!" The door slammed and Sam was gone. Dean stood in disbelief for a long minute before collapsing onto the floor. A cry of agony escaped from his lips as he pounded his fists into the floor till his knuckles bled. Dean calmed himself down and pulled his weak body onto the bed. Sam's duffel on the floor caught his eye. He wasn't sure if that should comfort him or cause him more despair. On the one hand, the duffel could mean that Sam intended to return and had just left to let off some steam. Either that or Sam was so pissed and disgusted with him he left for good with just the clothes on his back….
And scene.. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I'm still working on developing a fluid style and working within different points of view. I really enjoyed writing this chapter and will do my best to update at least once a week.
Reviews are the best motivator so the more I get the more I will want to write.
Read. Review. Enjoy!
Sam's POV next chapter…