Within Me

Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 (this chapter...PG)
Warnings: Rape, violence, angst. Not really any in this chapter.


The house felt creepy. It looked so normal that Dean and Sam thought they'd walked into a parallel dimension. Once Dean had snapped on the light in the front room they'd both been floored.

Cobwebs were everywhere and yet everything was perfect beneath them. Letters sat on the side table in front of them. Stairs stretched up and up and Dean figured that all three stories were used regularly.

Sam tried not to gaze at the hardwood floors with longing. He thought it was so pretty and perfect. The color made him think of Dean's hair. And it was strong and solid and would last forever just like Dean...like it was made for him.

Dean punched Sam in the arm.

"Ow! What the hell?"

"How many times do I have to call your name before I resort to punching you? Damn, Sammy! You know to be more alert than that!"

Sam just rubbed his shoulder and tried to figure out why he'd zoned. "Sorry. What did you want?"

"I said that we should probably not split up until we know what we're really dealing with and I asked if you wanted to start at the top or the bottom?"

"Oh. Let's start at the top."

Dean nodded and started climbing the green carpeted stairs, not caring about the dirt prints he left behind.

Sam frowned, not understanding why Dean couldn't just show some respect. It had been someone's home and he didn't appreciate the hard work that had gone into it at all. Sam stared into the eerie green shade for a moment. It was the color of Dean's eyes after a climax. He remembered the waitress in Utah and Dean's eyes when he'd told her goodnight and Sam came in from the car.

"SAM! Come on!"

Sam frowned and hurried up the steps.

They climbed through the dark, although Sam was sure there had been a lightswitch on the main floor for the stairway.

Dean found the upstairs switch and they found themselves in a large room. Hallways went off in four directions with a doorway or two in each.

Mostly they found bedrooms. Three to be exact. There was an art studio in one and a bathroom probably added by some of the newer residents. The last door made Dean shudder. He looked back at Sam who seemed annoyed with what they'd found so far. "This might be interesting."

"Or it might just be another bedroom. Open it."

Dean pushed at the door and instantly felt at peace. The soft smell of roses drifted past him and he closed his eyes trying to keep his balance at the otherworldly sensation that surrounded him. He walked in and over toward the large floor to ceiling windows that lined two walls. He looked out over the breathtaking sight of fields and small creeks lit up by the moon. He reached out and wanted to touch the glass, but stopped himself. Something told him that the tiniest smudge would be a bad idea.

He turned to see Sam enter and pushed away the annoyance. He liked this room and didn't want to share it at the moment. "It looks like a safe haven."

Sam sighed. "It looks like a place to waste time. Come on, Dean. Let's find the opening to the attic."

He stalked out and Dean shook his head. Usually Sam was the one to appreciate the beauty in simple things. He hadn't even looked at the view.

Dean followed Sam up the small set of stairs that were hidden behind another little door. The attic was large and there wasn't a lot in it. Sam found another door that led to a small balcony jutting into the roof as if it was just place there by accident. He walked out and looked over the edge to the garden path. "Hey Dean! Check this out."

Dean walked out and shivered at being so high up. "What is it?"

"I think this is where that one guy jumped."

Dean nodded. "Makes sense." He walked back inside and down the stairs without a word. He waited on the second floor for Sam to join him and then continued the search.

Most of the rooms seemed to be bedrooms again, but they were much nicer. Sam understood what it meant. "Upstairs was for the servants. Maybe not that big room that you seemed to like, but the rest of it."

"Yeah, these were for guests. I guess maybe we can stay in these." He reached for the last door and stopped. He backed away.

"Dean? What is it?"

"The only room we haven't found yet is the one where everything happened. I just need a minute."

Sam nodded and walked in front of him. "Why don't you just wait here, alright?" He walked into the room and turned on the light. Immediately he closed his eyes. The bed was torn apart and the wall was splattered with old blood from where Cyrus had killed himself. He headed for the bed and imagined what Cyrus's poor mother had gone through. He began to strip the bed.

"Sam, what are you doing?"

"I don't know. I just don't want it left like this."

Dean thought the whole thing was sick, but left Sam to walk into the connecting bathroom. It was very large and he looked into the mirror, wondering why the men had all died differently. Maybe they chose how they died. The thought came to him unexpectedly and he tried to shake it away, but it intensified. Think about it. If you loved someone and you violated them and killed them, would you want to live? He shook his head. "No. I wouldn't."

"What?"

Dean frowned and went back into the bedroom. "Nothing." He watched Sam throw the dirty linens into the closet and then go to find more. Dean just followed him, trying to figure out if his theory made sense.

Sam had chosen a black set of satin sheets with an emerald green comforter and pillow cases. Dean thought the colors were too dark for Sam's preferences, but Sam insisted.

Dean shrugged it off and headed for the main floor. The dining room was huge and the chandelier that had once held the weight of a grown man shone in the light. He had searched most of the area himself by the time Sam made it downstairs.

"Anything?"

"No, parlor, dining room, kitchen, living room...two more bathrooms. Just the basics." He yawned.

"Well, I think it's time for bed."

Dean nodded in agreement and told Sam to get some rest for a few hours and he'd wake him up to switch off later.

Sam studied Dean for a moment. "What's up? You think something is going to get us if we both go to sleep?"

Dean shakes his head, but looks a bit lost. "I'm not sure. Can't you feel it, Sammy? There's something in this house and it's not good. Tomorrow morning we'll search the grounds and the basement."

"I don't want you staying up."

"I didn't ask for your permission."

Sam groaned and pulled his fingers through his hair. "You need your rest, Dean. We'll be fine. This house is just like that crazy shit with the scarecrow. It needs a woman and there's not one here so we're safe for now."

Dean pondered that a moment and finally relented. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Maybe we can actually sleep in a bed for once that hasn't had every piece of vermin under the sun lying on it."

Sam grinned. "I just made the bed upstairs. It looks awfully comfortable."

"No. That room is...Just no."

"Alright. Let's go."

They headed back upstairs, this time turning on the stairway light first. Dean settled on a smaller bedroom with navy blue and powder blue trimmings. "Come on, Sam."

"I'm not sharing a bed with you."

"We have before."

"I know, but there's no reason. This place is huge."

"And dangerous."

Sam just rolled his eyes. "I said no." He walked out and settled on his own choice. Golden brown colors made it difficult to tell where the wood and fabric met, but it appealed to him and the Burgundy comforter made him feel superior somehow. He settled in after yelling his good nights to Dean and fell asleep.

Dean didn't have so easy of a time. He kept looking at the door and expecting something to come through it. It was a good hour later before he finally drifted off, still clutching his knife firmly.

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The spirit watched them wander his house and he pushed and nudged here and there to see how he fit. The tall one was interesting and had the same lovely dark hair as his Anna. He turned to the other and searched him. The love he felt for Sam was sickening. It was deep and unwavering and too strong for him to use the pitiful boy to get free. This one would do what the others had done.

He looked Dean up and down one more time, smiling in his hideousness. Dean was pretty. Pretty like his Anna, but not fair. The fear in his eyes as he huddled under the covers was also like her. He thought of the fun of watching this creature writhe beneath him. Of course it was always that bitch. She was always the one who took them away from him. He didn't care. He just wanted to be free. He was sure that the one with his mother would make it, but no...of course not. Men were so weak.

He looked in on Sam and caressed the boy with cool air and watched him shiver. This one wouldn't fail. This one had left the other before and hurt him and continued to hurt him. He settled in and explored his newest home. Memories of a pretty blonde, but not as pretty as the man in the next room. She was amazingly similar to him. Maybe just a substitute for the real thing. Then he noticed that someone had tapped into this one's anger before successfully. It just made it easier. He went to work.

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Sam had nightmares from time to time, but this was new. He was outside in a field. There was nothing but rolling hills in every direction and the grass was an eerie blue in the light of the full moon. In the distance he could see Dean waiting for him and he began to run. He ran and ran and worked to get there only to have Dean turn away.

Sam's anger took him over and he pushed Dean to the ground and hit him over and over. He hit him until his face looked like it should have when he pulled the trigger at the asylum.

And then Sam woke up with his climax.

He turned over and wept soundlessly, willing the dream to never return.

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The spirit drifted above Dean and smiled softly. He was so young and so innocent, regardless of the way he carried himself. She hadn't thought Barnabas would stoop so low, but she felt it when he made his choice. She always did. Each time he made the mistake of doubting that not every husband holds only suspicion and contempt for his bride.

Her white gown flowed behind her as she settled near the bed and sometimes it was easy to forget that her chance was over. She only had reason to stay to watch Barnabas destroy more lives and to ease the pain for the innocents. She only hoped she could do the same for Dean Winchester. She had done a poor job with the elderly woman last time. Helping women survive their husbands enough to die in peace was one thing, but a son...that pain was deeper than she could fathom. She had an odd thought that this would be the worst.

She began to flow softly through him, warming him when he would shiver. The love was unconditional and that would pose difficult for her. The love was also passionate. She frowned when she sensed it was unrequited. She tried to stop her tears from flowing out of his eyes, but was unable to. This would kill his spirit long before his body. All she could do was try to be there with him and help him through the pain.

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Sam finally calmed down and had an overwhelming urge to check on Dean. He padded slowly across the hall and opened the door softly. The moonlight fell across Dean's face, catching on something that made it sparkle. He walked forward and looked down to see that Dean was crying. He looked as if he'd been overwhelmed with grief and couldn't stop himself from mourning.

Sam reached down and wiped the tears away touching him so softly that he wasn't sure he'd made contact at all. Then he touched his fingers to his lips and closed his eyes, savoring the taste. He headed back to bed and began wondering if Dean's tears were for him.

TBC...