Possession

Twilight brought a little bit of peace to Sam's troubled thoughts, but not much. He kept seeing the look on Dean's face, the anger at seeing Alice touch him so casually right after he’d told Dean he couldn’t stand to be touched. Sam hadn’t had much experience with humans, well, none that he cared much about anyway. At least not since he had become a Cullen. It had been just them, and they had been his world.







He thought back on their conversation and his failure to qualify his statement. Bur wasn't it a given that family was different anyway? Shouldn't Dean know that without Sam having to spell it out or him? Maybe he was just being difficult again. Maybe Dean Winchester had just grown up to be an asshole.







Yeah, that was why Sam found himself standing in front of Dean's house now. It was why he’d jumped from his window, on the top floor of the Cullen home and thought about Dean while he ran all the way to Dean's house. And it was why he now stood there looking up at the window on the second floor, the one he knew, just somehow knew was Dean's.







Sam leaped up onto slanting roof right below Dean's bedroom window. He crouched, fingertips braced in front of him on the rough material of the roofs surface as he looked down through the window, watching Dean as he lay across his bed, staring into a small laptop that looked as though it had seen better days. There was an arsenal of guns laid about the bed around him, some taken apart, others still together, but all within reach, covering every square inch of the bed where his body wasn't.







"Expecting a small invasion, Winchester?" Sam mumbled under his breath before sighing softly.



He moved a hand, his elbow now on one knee, his fisted hand against his lips, the other hand still helping to keep his balance on the slanted roof.







Sam remembered doing this for hours, years ago. Watching as Dean would play in his room, or when his mother would come to tuck him in at night. The corner of Sam's lips turned up as he smiled softly thinking of Mary Winchester. She had been a wonderful mother to Dean. Sam only wished he'd been able to save her. If he hadn't been a vampire, if he could still heal through touch, if he had gotten there sooner, maybe... Sam closed his eyes with a huff, head hanging. Sometimes it seemed his entire world was built on 'if only's'.







Slowly Sam opened his eyes and lifted his head, looking back through the window at Dean, watching him now, watching the young man he remembered so well as a child.



Yup, definitely something was going on in Axtell, Nebraska. All indications were that the town's single hotel was having ghost issues. Dean finished underlining the part of the article that gave the biggest clues about the place's history, then reached for the nightstand and got a large envelope. He should go after this ghost, was dying to do so, but the sitch at school... Dammit. Stuffing the information he'd found into the envelope, he scrawled Bobby's address on it. His dad's friend would either do the hunt or find someone.



Frustrated by the thought of homework, he scrubbed his face,. That was when he felt something. His hand automatically reached for one of the guns he'd finished cleaning as he looked up toward the window.







"What the fuck?" Seeing Sam Cullen watching him, his breath caught in his throat. He gave the guy a long look, them put the gun down and went back to staring at the lap top for a moment.







Sam was ready for Dean to go off on him again, to point that gun at him. Fire it even. Not that it would have hurt Sam, but he wasn't looking forward to the acting job of falling off the roof to complete his performance once the trigger was pulled. But then, after Dean returned his gaze for a long moment, he’d put the gun down and Sam let out a soft sigh silently thanking the God of his youth, who he had no idea would even listen to vampires, for not having to play out his 'death scene'.







Hope flared in Sam's chest that maybe Dean wasn't mad anymore, after all, he had put the gun down. Maybe... He crept closer to the window, his hand, the fingertips that had been resting against the roof tiles, now against the glass.





Dean hoped he looked calm and collected, everything he wasn't feeling on the inside. Once, the sight of his angel would have thrilled him, even when it had left him confused in later years. Now it just stirred up too much inside him, and he hated feeling out of control. Not knowing who or what he was dealing with. Why he cared that one minute the guy was acting like someone who gave a crap and the next like Dean was some sort of disgusting shapeshifter with oozing skin dirtying those perfect hands of his. Was it really that place he’d been imprisoned at that had made him so damned weird?



He glanced up, expecting Sam to have left, but no, he was still there. Yeah... really weird. He raised an eye brow and took a breath. Putting his computer to the side, he started putting some of the guns he'd taken apart to clean back together again. It gave him something familiar to do, something he didn't need to concentrate on because concentration had gone out the window with Sam.







Sam tore his gaze away from Dean as he looked down at the window latch, noting that it was locked. Well, at least he was one for safety, he had remembered that since his parents’ passing. However, it made Sam frown, as he had been sort of hoping it was unlocked... not that a locked window had ever stopped him in the past, but...







Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, he made a decision, keeping an eye on Dean to be sure he wasn't watching, Sam used his TK to turn the lock, then pulled the window up just slightly before leaning down so Dean could hear him through the small opening, "Can I come in?"



Dean looked up. "Like that's not creepy." He'd had the window locked, he knew he had. It was the kind of lock you'd have to break the window to work from the outside, unless you had a very strong magnet and... Could he really have left it unlocked? He gave a nod, "not like you're not half way in already."



Sam pushed the window the rest of the way up and gracefully swung himself inside, not making a sound. He stood there, next to the window, just watching Dean for a long moment, not sure what to say or if he even should. "I didn't lie to you, you know? It was the truth." Sam told him out of the blue, feeling the tension between them and thinking that had to be the cause. "Alice, my sister, she's... special. It's just her that can... without warning, no one else in my family can even touch me, Dean."



Dean nodded, not at all sure why the hell he cared so much about getting an explanation. Why the hell should he care that some guy shot clear across the room when he touched him? He didn't want to care. "You probably should see someone about that. Could get in the way of chicks cuddling up to you at the movies."



Sam frowned as he leaned back against the wall. "I don't..." he sighed and looked toward the floor, "Wouldn't know about that." he gave a soft huff and shook his head, looking away.



"And you never will if you..." He gave a shrug. What the hell did he know about psychology anyway? Nothing, so he should keep his trap shut. Besides, Cullen's dad was the new doctor in town and he should be able to advise his son about these things.







Sam looked back at him, pressing his lips together, thankful that he was close to the window, and for the smell of the gun oil, it helped to cover Dean’s scent, but not completely.



Dean grabbed a cloth to wipe his hands completely free of gun oil. The smell was very familiar and comforting to him but Cullen was probably gagging. "How long?" He looked over at Sam. "How long were you there?" Most of the victims had been there less than a week.







Sam shrugged, "Seeing you, I knew it had been longer than I had first thought... after Alice and I talked... five years."



"Five years! Sonova..." Last time he'd seen Sam skulking around was when he'd been about thirteen, it meant he'd been grabbed shortly after. "They kept you all that time, why?" He gritted his teeth, knowing those people had it coming to them.



Sam looked toward the floor, slowly raised his arms crossing them over his chest, as if to protect himself from the memories. "Tests." he answered softly, "It was shorter than the first time..." he pressed his lips together as he raised his head, "But, more brutal."



"You said that before, what first time?" There was definitely more going on here, more than he'd thought. "I didn't get them," he said quietly. "They're still out there. For now."



Sam nodded, taking a deep breath as he turned his head toward the window, hoping to add the fresh air to the air inside the room as he drew it in. "Yeah," he answered as he turned his head, looked back at Dean, "I know. But, it's okay." He shook his head, "They won't get the chance again." There was something in Sam's voice as he said that last part, something that would have made anyone else’s blood run cold, but he didn't see that look of fear on Dean's face, didn't hear the change of rhythm in his heartbeat.







The corner of Sam's lips lifted slightly, before he licked his lips, shifted his weight, letting his arms fall to his sides. "Let's just say that they aren't the first wackos who wanted to see what made me tick and leave it at that."



"You calling me a wacko?" Dean raised his brows, and chuckled. "And you're right, they won't get another chance. I'm on to them now. They'll start up a new shop and this time..." All the misery they'd brought to people, and to Sam, they deserved a one way ticket to hell, and he was gonna give it to them.



It had been on the tip of Sam's tongue to ask Dean about his comment, about him wanting to know what made him tick, he hadn't missed that, not by a long shot, but then Dean had went on and Sam's face fell, a look of fear crossing it as his eyes widened slightly, "You're not going anywhere near them, Dean. Do I make myself clear!?" he took a step forward, "I mean it. Just stay the hell away from them." He took another step.



The authoritarian tone surprised and pissed Dean off. No one had told him what to do since his dad, no one had the right. "What do you think these are for?" He swept his hand across the weapons on his bed. "Show? If I hadn't gone after them that day, you'd..." He pressed his lips together. "I can't let them do that to people. You know that." If Sam had listened to Dean's mom's talk about angels, and he'd stuck around watching them other times, he couldn't have missed that they were all hunters. That first time they'd met, he'd been on a hunt because without mom around, his dad hadn't been able to find a safe place for him that particular night.



Sam grit his teeth, walking closer as he yelled, "I know that, but I also know that I can't let them possibly," he waved a hand, "probably, do that shit to YOU!" he poked his finger in the middle of Dean's chest as he said, 'you', eyes narrowed and angry. "I won't let them touch you, Dean. I'd rather go back myself."



Dean's hands automatically came up but he restrained himself. "Back off," he gave Sam a warning look, his heart racing at the sudden outburst, his mind trying to work out what it meant. One minute Sam was soft-spoken and gentle, and the next he was going all sergeant on his ass. He didn't even point out that Sam had touched him, but one more poke and they'd be having the same conversation as they had in the library, because Dean wasn't going to allow that without pushing right back.



Sam narrowed his eyes even more, but pulled back from Dean. "You have no idea what those...people," he spat out the word, "are capable of, Dean. I do." He nodded, jaw clenched, muscle twitching, "For five long years I was reminded every damn day of what they were capable of." he hissed out. "They cut me, they took from me... and never once was I not awake for it, never once was there any relief from the pain. I endured that pain, that misery, but I will NOT allow you to endure it, not for a second," he told him, his voice soft, deadly. "Even if that means that I have to go back there."



Sam was shaking, eyes darkening a shade, his chest tightening with fear. Fear for Dean, fear that he would indeed have to go back to protect Dean, that he wouldn't be able to kill those monsters before they caught him again. But, he'd made a promise. A promise to a dying woman who had thought him an angel, had held his hand and begged him to watch out for her little boy and Sam wasn't going to let her down. Not now, not ever.



"Alright," Dean gave a casual shrug and deliberately kept his tone calm and even. "Plenty of other hunts out there." He wasn't lying, there were. But whether he knew it or not, Sam had just kicked up his need to find those bastards that tortured him and to nail their coffins.



Just this short conversation had given him a lot to think on. What could survive being cut on for five years like Sam had? And what was special about him that they'd treated him different. Used him daily. Secured him with heavy chains. What supernatural creature had eyes that could go from green/bronze to black in seconds?



As he filed all that information away, he started to wonder why the outburst? Did Sam think he really was his angel? Even Dean didn't believe that anymore. Still, his vehemence, his panicked statement that he'd rather go back then allow Dean to be caught... it rang true.







He licked his lips and let out a soft breath. "Why?" He cocked his head. "You don't even know me, not really. Why would you trade your freedom for mine... drama aside since I never intended to get caught?"



Sam eyed him suspiciously. There was something he didn't trust about the way Dean had suddenly agreed like that. He started to relax as he thought about it. He supposed that even a stubborn ass like Dean would be affected by his words. Wouldn't want to be cut on like he had been. Maybe, just maybe, he had seen reason.







Sam started to back away from him toward the window. "It doesn't matter why," Sam told him softly, once he was back leaning against the wall near the window. He huffed softly, "No one intends to get caught, Dean and yet they caught me. You think you would do so much better?"



Yeah Sam, I know I could. Just because you know how to climb in windows and might have a few other tricks up your sleeve, doesn't mean you have the skills to hunt, trap and avoid traps. It was damned hard, but Dean kept his thoughts to himself.







Sam hung his head, "I do know you. Have known you since you were little," he looked up at him, shook his head, "I can't, I won't allow anything to happen to you. You wouldn't survive what they did to me. Trust me." He looked back down, "There were times I didn't think I would."



"Watching someone once in a while, talking to them once..." A lump formed in Dean's throat as he remembered the tall stranger wiping away his tears when his mother had gone to sleep one last time. Shrugging off the memory, he cleared his throat. "That's not 'knowing' someone." But he'd known Sam enough, it seemed, to look for him when he'd had to burn his own father's body a few years back. This was getting too weird.







Sam glanced up at Dean from under his long bangs as he spoke, only to turn his head away, his gaze fixed on the window sill. "It's as close to 'knowing' as I can get," he said softly, before looking up. "I should go." Sam paused at the window, looking back over his shoulder, "Don't... do anything stupid. I'll be watching." With that, Sam jumped from his window to the ground below and took off at a run.



Dean frowned and crossed the room, checked out the window and seeing nothing, slammed it shut and locked it. What the hell did that mean? Sam Cullen was worse than a medium, with all his cryptic comments. Standing there for a long moment, he replayed the things Sam had said and the way he'd acted. Talk about moody. With a shake of his head, he went back to the bed and checked his e-mail again.



* * *





Dean woke to the sound of the alarm and rain beating down hard. Groaning, he sat up and then felt the cool breeze. "Sonova..." Jumping out of bed, he went to the open window. He was damned sure he'd closed and locked it. Damned sure. His gaze went to the salt line he'd placed on the sill. It was broken, but not by wind or anything... it was clearly someone pushing right over it as if it wasn't a barrier. A sense of relief at the thought that at least there was nothing demonic about Cullen mixed with his anger and outrage that the guy had gotten in without him knowing.



*





When lunch time came around, Dean was sitting with a rowdy group. He didn't really have any close friends but he never had trouble being in the party group. Of course he noticed the Cullens, as did everyone else. For supernatural beings who were trying to mix in, they sure did a bad job of it. Each one of them was a little more perfect than the other. Their skin was pale, some days as pale as Sam's had been when he'd found him at that facility, drained of blood and injured.







The Cullens had taken their seats at the table they always sat in, far from the other students.



Sam sat next to Alice, Jasper on her other side, Rosalie and Emmett across from them. They spoke very little, even to each other and even then speaking more with looks and body language than with actual words.







As always, they ignored the other students and acted like no one else existed or mattered. Yeah, and that pissed off a lot of people, triggering gossip like crazy.



Of course Dean listened to all of it. Discounting certain things as being the product of jealousy. But there was a lot of truth to what was being said. They sure didn't act like brothers and sisters... not like any he knew anyway.





The tap Dean’s shoulder had him turning around and laughing at some joke that wasn't that funny. Needing to distract himself from the Cullens and one Cullen in particular, he started to flirt with a girl... a dark haired girl with green eyes. Yeah, that would help. And maybe he'd get himself a hot date, which would help too.





Sam watched Dean for a while from under his bangs, before he stood up with his family to get in line for food. Food they wouldn't eat, and drinks that would be left untouched. At the salad bar, Alice stood between himself and Jasper, her arms around their waists. Sam knew her reason was to stop the both of them from doing anything stupid. Jasper, Alice’s mate, was new to their vegetarian way of life, and she probably thought both he and Sam, who was overprotective of her, might react badly to the whispered comments about them that might as well have been shouted across the cafeteria.







The others, Alice included, seemed to take the whispers in stride, passing it off as the stupidity of the human race. With a huff, Sam walked back to the table, his tray only half full of food. The small salad nowhere near enough for a guy his size, if he was going to make it look like he was actually going to eat.







Slipping into his seat and waiting for his brothers and sisters to rejoin him Sam stole a glance from under his bangs again at Dean. He clenched his jaw as he watched Dean flirting shamelessly with some dark haired girl, who seemed to be hanging on his every word. The longer Sam watched, the angrier he became with what he was seeing. Golden hazel eyes slid to the milk carton on her tray and the corner of his lips curved upward slightly.







The small carton started to shake slightly, though it seemed neither Dean nor the bimbo noticed. Then as Sam narrowed his focus, the carton burst open wide, spilling and spewing milk all over the girl, their table and Dean, just as the other Cullens came back to their table.







Sam let out a choked half laugh, before he swallowed it down as he watched the girl and Dean both jump to their feet. The girl’s hair and shirt were dripping wet with milk and she seemed to be blaming Dean for it. He tore his eyes from Dean and his little milk covered bimbo as he heard Emmett snort, Rosalie sigh, and Jasper gasp. Alice however, only laid a hand on his shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze before they all took their seats.







"Well, at least it's good for her hair," Alice commented softly as she picked up her fork and started pushing the salad around in her bowl.



"I swear I didn't touch it," Dean was protesting as he started to wipe at her chest but stopped before touching her and lifted his arms as if to surrender. "It just freaking exploded." Looking down, he started wiping at the mess on his own clothes only to glance up and see her walking away. "Wait, how about that date?" When she didn't turn around, he swore under his breath, running his hand through his hair. He really could have used a good lay, or whatever she was willing to give up.



From the corner of his eyes he saw Sam wearing a rare grin. When their eyes met, he could have sworn the guy's shoulders were shaking. Taking a deep breath, he strode right over to the isolated Cullen table, ignoring all the pairs of eyes on him. "I need to talk to you," he said, pointing at Sam."







Clearing his throat, Sam exchanged a look with Alice, before looking up at Dean and quirking a brow as he tried to hold back his grin. "Problem?"



Dean made a face. "Not about that. You coming?"







Smile falling away completely, Sam looked back at Emmett and Rosalie, before pulling to his feet and nodding slightly, "Yeah." he answered softly, laying a hand on Alice's shoulder.







"No," Emmett cut in as he pulled to his feet too, looking at Sam, then glancing at Dean, "If you want to talk to Sam, you can do it here."







Sam nodded to his brother and slowly sat back down, Alice slipping her hand onto his shoulder as he did.







Once Sam was seated, Emmett slowly sat back down too.



"What?" Dean spread his arms, "you've got to be fucking kidding me. Sam?"



This Dean guy looked like he was wound up and it wouldn't take much to get Sam the same way. Then everything would hit the fan. "Sam," this time it was Rosalie, her voice soft and pleading in contrast to the hard glint her eyes held for Dean.



Sam looked from Rosalie to Dean, "You," he nodded, "you can talk in front of my family, we don't have any secrets."



"Well this gives 'family affair' new meaning." His gaze shifted over perfect faces, now looking away as if they weren't sitting-in on what he'd wanted to be a private talk. Fuck it... if this is how Sam wanted it, then so be it. "My window. I'd locked it." His eyes held Sam's.







Sam looked at him, a blank expression on his face. "So, you did..."



Dean's mouth flattened into a thin light. "It was open this morning. I know you were there." Was he really going to deny it?



Sam quirked his brow as he crossed his arms over his chest, "Do you? Like you knew you were going to score," he glanced toward Dean's table, then looked back at Dean, "with the little bimbo?"



Raising his eyebrows, Dean stared at him. "What does that have to do with... listen, I know, Goddamnit. You used to do that when I was a kid, it's you. I'm not a kid anymore, and you try that again, you might end up with your head blown off or an eyeful of something that maybe you shouldn't see. I don't sleep with teddy bears anymore."







Sam was well aware that Dean wasn't a little kid anymore, but he wasn't going to comment on that. Instead the corner of his lips pulled up slightly into an almost grin. "I'll take your warning under consideration," Sam told him evenly, before leaning forward and uncrossing his arms, resting his forearms on the table, he quirked a brow again, "Was that it?"



Giving him a look, Dean didn't answer and just walked away. Why the hell did that guy think it was okay, breaking into people's homes, snooping around, and God knew what else. He closed his mind to memories of dark, hungry eyes that had affected him in the strangest ways.



"He's rude," Rosalie said. "What do you see in him?"



Sam shrugged as he picked up a piece of lettuce and started inspecting it like he'd never seen such things before, "He wasn't always rude."





"If he doesn't know what we are, he's going to figure it out," Emmet added. "Dad said it’s a good thing the older Winchester isn't around or we wouldn't be so welcome in Forks." Not that any hunter worried them other than it would interfere with their plans to peacefully make a home for themselves and fit in as much as possible.



Sam looked at his brother, jaw clenching, "I made a promise, Emmett. If it wasn't for that woman, I'd," Sam glanced around, lowered his voice even more, "we'd all be in a lot bigger mess because of my weakness." He huffed and shook his head, "I can't let her down. I owe her," he said softly, before pulling to his feet and standing with his tray.







"I'm sorry. I have to do this. I have to see it through to the end." With that Sam turned, carrying his tray to the trash and dumping his food he hadn't touched.







* * *



Sam stood at the window of his room, his back straight, jaw clenched. You didn't have to be a mind reading vampire like his brother Edward to know he was thinking of Dean. He'd said for Sam to stop coming around and he would... until he knew Dean would be asleep. Until it was too late for him to possibly be up, and then that's when he would go back. Sure, it didn't solve the window problem, per say, but Sam could be sure to lock it again after himself from now on and Dean would never have to know that Sam spent the entire night there watching him sleep, watching over him... his angel.







Sam scoffed at that and shook his head. Some angel he was. Since when did an angel want to drink you dry? Possess you body and soul? But, Sam had made a promise, and he was going to keep that promise if it killed him. He'd be the angel Mary had thought him to be, even if it was an illusion. With a glance over his shoulder at the clock, Sam jumped out his window to the ground below and headed for Dean's house, reaching it, in a matter of minutes.





Dean had worked on his English paper for as long as he could until he got sick of it and shoved it aside. All evening, he'd been looking at the damned window... expecting company. And why the hell he should be looking forward to it when he knew damned well that if they didn't start off arguing, they'd end off arguing, he didn't know. Besides, he was the one who'd told Sam to cut it out. Maybe he'd gotten through to him, or maybe one of his brothers or sisters had.



No, he didn't want Sam at his window or in his room. Yeah, he'd liked it as a kid, but the last time he'd been there, he'd left Dean confused. And then he'd never come back.



Pushing off the bed, Dean knew it was because Sam had been captured by those nut jobs. It didn't change how hard it had been, and the questions he'd had. Not that he was even sure Sam would have talked to him. They'd talked only that one time when his mother died, that was it. After that time, Sam let him see he was around but never got close.



Glancing at the window again and seeing it was clear, he started to walk toward the bathroom, dropping his clothes on the ground along the way. The bathroom was small and claustrophobic so he had the habit of leaving the door open. He waited a few minutes for the water to get hot, then stepped inside and pulled the glass shower door closed. The hot water running over his head and back felt damned good.





Sam leapt up to Dean's window, crouching outside, hand against the glass as he looked in.

He didn't see Dean anywhere around in his room, but he could hear the water running inside. Leaning forward, Sam looked toward the bathroom.







What Sam saw made his throat dry, his eyes darkening slightly. Swallowing hard, Sam leaned a bit further against the window, one hand raised and pressed against the cool glass. He licked his lips as his eyes traveled over the side view of Dean's naked body. The curve of his tight ass, the way he was arching back slightly to rinse his hair had Sam beginning to take in large gulps of air.







His eyes traveled to Dean's trim sides, lean waist, hips. Sam squeezed his eyes closed, then opened them again. He should probably not be sitting here staring, he should probably look away, but he couldn't bring himself to. Even though he knew it was the better idea.



Dean quickly scrubbed his body, bending over to reach his feet, then straightening. Tossing the soap aside, he stood under the steaming water, letting it relax him. He had one hand on the tile, head bent slightly, thinking hard, trying to come up with a way out of writing all those papers for class when his mind wandered away from him.



His dad had been on the move and left him at a long term rental type motel in the middle of nowhere USA. He'd been thirteen and bored shitless. The crappy t.v. in the room hadn't had any reception, his school work was done, and he'd had no one to talk to. He was used to it, but for some reason he had cabin fever, so he decided to go out. There was no way dad would be back and catch him out late, and he was old enough to protect himself.



He'd hung around the small town, and then headed out into the desert. Hiking under the moonlight... ha, looking for trouble under the moonlight, more like. Finding none, he'd sat on a boulder. That was when he saw him. Sam. Usually he was in the shadows, but that night, the moon had been low and bright.



For the first time, it struck him how tall his angel was, and how forbidding his expression could be. There was no smile for him this night, and those perfectly straight white teeth were hidden from view. His prominent jaw appeared tight, his eyes unusually dark. Something fluttered in Dean's belly. He swallowed and looked into the angel's eyes again. Even from a distance, he could see a deep hunger in them. A need. Licking his own lips, he looked around. Nope, he was the only one there, the only one that the angel was looking at.



A shiver of fear ran down his spine. Then he realized it wasn't fear. It was something different. It was affecting his entire body... all of his muscles getting tense and tight. When the angel tilted his he head back slightly, Dean was momentarily mesmerized by the dark slash of his lips. His breaths started to come faster and he sought out the heat in the guy's eyes again. His heart raced. Something was gonna happen. Something wonderful.



Then the angel was gone.



That night, and for a long time after, each time Dean thought about the look in the angel's eyes, his body reacted. A couple of years later, he found his hand wandering to his cock as he thought about the heat in the angel's eyes... the way they made him feel.



"Aw, man." Dean looked up and opened his mouth to let some of the water in. Why the fuck was he thinking of that now? He tried to get it out of his head, but he couldn't. His cock was already stirring at old memories and seeing Sam up close and personal, drawing in that strangely intoxicating scent of his, hadn't helped.



Maybe just this once, he thought, turning slightly, still hanging onto the wall with one hand, but moving his palm slowly down over his stomach to his cock, and wrapping his fingers around it. Closing his eyes, he started to stroke.



Sam continued to watch Dean, watch each movement he made, each touch of his hand on his own body. Sam's muscles tensed, his jaw clenched and unclenched as the hand on the window curled slightly, fingertips digging into the glass.







As Dean's hand slid down his body, Sam's eyes widened, then dropped to Dean's just visible cock, a soft sound escaping him, somewhere between a gasp and a groan. He bit his lip, finger tips gripping the glass of the window harder. He started to feel his own cock twitch in response to what he was seeing, to watching Dean slowly begin to stoke himself. A soft whimper left Sam as he laid his forehead against the glass.







Somewhere in Sam's mind, he wondered what or who it was Dean was thinking about, but Sam shoved those thoughts away, not wanting to know which bimbo from school it was. For that moment in time, in Sam's mind, this was, did, belong to him. He could have this one dream, right? As long as Dean never knew? As long as he hid from sight. As long as he ran far enough away later... couldn't he?



How could the thought of someone's eyes... a guy’s eyes... make him so crazy with need? He was already so fucking hard, each glide of his hand up and down his shaft bringing him closer as he thought about that hunger... pretended it was lust, a forbidden need. That drew a groan from Dean. He squeezed himself and stroked harder, faster, holding Sam's face in his mind, imagining him tipping his head back and looking at him under his lashes... imagining him breaking and asking to be touched.



"Unh... unh... hell yeah... unh..." so close, so fucking close, he was about to blow.



Sam's eyes were glued to Dean, flickering between watching his hand on his cock and his face.



Sam felt feverish, which was just plain stupid as he was cold, always cold to the touch. Maybe it was an inner heat, but he rolled his forehead against the cool glass anyway.







His eyes darkened to inky black, his breaths panting out like humans who had been working out too much. If he could have, he was sure he would have been sweating. Liquid heat pooled in his belly, he was so hard, so full of need.







He could hear every sound Dean made, almost imagine what it would be like to touch him, to feel him. Sam wondered what it would be like to kiss Dean. He had thought about it when Alice asked him to, but Sam had never kissed anyone before, at least not a lover.







Sam's fingers dug into the window, small shavings of glass peeling off under his nails. He held his breath, waiting, eyelids lowered as he tilted his head back just slightly, watching Dean from under his lashes. His straight white teeth bit and cut into his bottom lip, drawing blood. His free hand, sliding down his thigh to press his palm against his own erection, a soft groan escaping as he did.



Dean started jerking off harder, needing so badly to come. Now... now Goddamnit. He imagined Sam's mouth taking him, all of him, and that was it. His balls drew up tight. He arched back.







"Unh... unh… yeah....hell yeah!" he practically shouted his release, slapping his palm hard against the tile as ropes of cum hit the wall a few feet under his hand.







Sam's breath whooshed out of his lungs, as he watched Dean come. Holy hell...



Sam was panting hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. His teeth started to ache as he thought about just opening the window, going in and taking what he wanted. What he needed. His eyes slowly closed as he pressed his lips together, breathing deeply through his nose as he tried to regain control over himself. And then he heard her voice in his head, "I know what you are. I know you're his angel. Watch over him for me.... always. Please."







Sam's eyes opened as a growl mixed of rage and need erupted from his throat. He drew back the hand he had on the window, made a fist and let it fly, punching right through the glass. The sound of glass shattering like from an explosion filled air. Nearby birds flew away, scattering in fear.







Sam pulled his hand back, dripping with blood, and jumped from the roof. By the time his feet hit the ground, his hand and wrist were already mostly healed. He ran off into the woods to rid himself of at least one need....



"What the!" Dean shoved the glass door open and threw a towel around his waist as he rushed across his room, cursing when he almost stepped on glass. "The hell?" Walking around the glass, he reached the broken window and look out. "Freak!"







Pulling back, he wondered if it was Sam. Had he thrown something in? But why?



Then he saw the blood. That made him look out again. What had just happened? He listened for any sounds... and got nothing. "It better not be you," he muttered, but who the hell else had a habit of climbing to his window? If he lived to be a hundred, he had the feeling he would never understand Sam Cullen.



A half hour and a hundred curses later, he'd gotten rid of the glass and blood, and nailed a board over the missing window panel. He couldn't sleep with the window open, and there was no way he was gonna sleep in the safe room downstairs. As he tumbled into bed, he cursed again. Just what he wanted ... a board over his window. At that thought... any relaxation he'd gotten from jerking off was long forgotten. He'd have to start all over again...



* * *



Drinking his fill of deer might have quenched Sam’s thirst, but it did nothing for his other hunger that continued to burn inside of him. He’d gotten home, gone straight to his room through the window, and collapsed onto his settee, his mind, his thoughts filled with images of what he had witnessed.







Dean in the shower, naked, his beautiful body wet and hard. The sounds he had made, the look on his face. Sam closed his eyes, turning his head to the side with a groan. He was hard... again.







The hunt had taken his mind off of things enough to help him before, now what was he going to do? His mind started to wander and he thought about what he would do, would have done, if he had gone into Dean's room.







He thought about walking into the bathroom, about stepping under the spray with him, pressing him back against the wall, pinning him there. Kissing those lips that he was sure would be petal soft, tasting his sweet mouth, his neck. All the while he explored is body with one hand, he would pin both Dean's wrists to the wall with the other. He thought about soft wet slippery skin and the hard muscle underneath. Thought about running his tongue along Dean's jugular, feeling his blood rush through his body, about sinking his fangs in and how incredibly sweet he knew, just knew Dean would be.







Sam groaned and rolled onto his side, just as he heard Jasper and Alice's door slam shut, heard their voices, then their sounds of love, which were NOT helping him any. Ah, hell...







It was going to be a long night.... a very long night....







* * *







The next day at school Sam made damn sure to avoid Dean Winchester. There was no way he wanted to be even in the same room with him unless it was absolutely necessary... like maybe the Apocalypse… let alone be next to him or talk to him. Sam was making sure he kept that promise to Mary Winchester, even if it meant keeping himself as far away from Dean as possible.







Well, apparently, the fates thought it would be funny to totally blow that little idea out of the water. They were having an assembly in the Gym, all students had to attend, there was no getting out of it. Sam knew that first hand as he had tried damned hard. He’d argued and fought, all of which had done nothing more than make him one of the last to enter the gym. Shit.







Walking in, Sam looked up into the bleachers, to find his brothers and sisters. They were all sitting in the back, exactly where he wanted to be and there was an empty seat next to Alice. It would have been perfect, if it hadn't been for one thing...it was also right next to Dean Winchester. Shit, shit, shit.







Sam hadn't even had to look for him, had known right where he was the moment he had walked into the gym, had smelled his scent, felt his presence, and had done his best to ignore him. Now however, that was obviously not going to be an option. Fuck.







Sam's eyes met Alice's and he gave a small shake of his head, his lips set in a firm thin line, before his eyes scanned the rest of the bleachers. There was no way he was sitting there now. He didn't like the idea of sitting lower, students were always brushing up against you if you didn't have the wall at your back. But there was no way he could sit there next to Dean now, as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't seen, hadn't heard, hadn't hungered, hadn't wanted to possess... no way.







The only other seat open was right down in front near the steps, where everyone would be brushing past him, touching him. Sam grit his teeth, jaw clenched, he started for that seat anyway. He'd have to manage...somehow.







Just as he reached it, some freckle faced kid with coke-bottle thick glasses took the spot, making Sam's steps falter and stop, his eyes going back to the empty seat between Alice and Dean.







Resigned to the fact that fate hated him and wanted to make him suffer, he started up the bleacher steps. As he sat down next to Alice, he made damn sure he left a wide gap between himself and Dean, even if it meant leaning way toward his sister. She put a reassuring hand on his knee briefly, and for a moment, it seemed to help a little.







With a sigh, Sam sat back, his back pressed to the wall, head tilted slightly back, as he kept his eyes straight ahead, looking out from under his lashes, his muscles tense, as he tried to ignore Dean completely, to pretend he wasn't even there.



It wasn't as if Dean had missed how weird Sam was acting all day long. He'd noticed how the guy quickly changed directions twice when they'd been walking toward each other in the school halls. He'd also skipped physics. And now, he was looking to sit anywhere but next to him. It wasn't as if Dean had purposely chosen to sit next to the Cullens, but he liked to face the entrance, and he liked having his back to a wall, and this had been the only open area.



Turning, he glanced over at Sam who looked like someone had put a piece of cheese under his nose... or like Dean smelled that way. Without bothering to hide what he was doing, Dean sniffed himself, then looked at Sam again. "Dude, we can't all smell like cookies."



Sam nearly groaned out loud. He would talk to him now woudn't he? Slowly, Sam frowned, head rolling against the wall as he looked over at Dean with a quirked brow, "Excuse me?"



"Cookies. You always smell like chocolate chip cookies, but you look at me like I smell like.... ah..." he searched for something bad enough, "blue cheese," he shuddered. "I took a shower." This time, he gave Sam a pointed look.







Sam's face had scrunched up into a look of utter disgust at the thought of the smell of either of those things, but before he could comment on how gross they both were, Dean said the one thing that had Sam had a beating heart, would have made it skip a beat.







Instead he swallowed hard and quickly looked away, "No doubt." he mumbled softly. This conversation was going nowhere good. Sam turned his head to look down toward his brothers and sisters. If Dean kept this up, he'd ask Emmett to trade seats with him.





"Yeah... well you're the one who looks like you're doubting. Do you bake every morning or something?" Good thing he had a thick skin or he'd have gotten his feelings hurt.







Sam shook his head, glancing at Dean from the corner of his eye. "I don't know what you're talking about. Maybe it’s... my sister's perfume you're smelling."



"Maybe you use her fancy shower gel," he muttered in response, thinking of a girl he'd been with. She'd had shower gels in chocolate, vanilla and strawberry scents. "And speaking of showers..." he completely ignored the teachers asking for silence, "gimme me your hand."





Sam's head turned and he looked at Dean, brows furrowed in suspicion. "Why? No. Why? I don't like to be touched, remember?" Not to mention, Dean Winchester holding onto his hand right now was not the best idea in the world.



"Show me your hands." Dean jerked his chin upwards, pull up your sleeves.







Sam narrowed his eyes and lifted his hands, turning them over and back. "Satisfied?" he nearly growled before leaning forward and turning his head, looking at his brother. "Emmett, psst."







Sam waited until Emmett looked at him, after he had tore his gaze from Rosalie. "Trade with me. Please?" He watched his brother frown and look at his sister, before standing and making his way over. Sam immediately and traded seats, a small uplifting of the corner of his mouth showed his satisfaction at knowing he was getting away from Dean Winchester and his questions.









Arms on his knees and leaning forward, Dean looked over at Sam in disbelief, then he pulled back and sat straight. "Asshole," he muttered. What the fuck was with that guy? He was the one who'd broken in and now he was acting like... Dean didn't even know what he was acting like. Even if Sam's arms were free of wounds from the glass, he was sure... damned sure it had been him. It made sense now, how he survived five years under those people's knifes. He healed fast. Did he grow new parts though? Is that why they kept him so long? Thinking about the possibilities, he kept his mind off the slow burning anger that was developing toward Sam. Again.



Emmett looked over at Dean, "As I hear it, he's an asshole who saved your life. A little respect might be in order." With that Emmett looked away, completely dismissing the human beside him.







Sam sighed, leaning his head back against the wall, jaw clenched as he closed his eyes. He felt a hand touch his and opened his eyes to see Alice's hand over his own. His eyes slid to her and the corner of his mouth lifted up into an almost soft smile.







"He's the ass." Rosalie muttered.



"He saved me??" Dean gave the guy a scathing look and waved his index finger in a circle near his temple. "Guess it runs in the family." Yeah, they were all looney. Leaning forward again, he looked as if he was paying rapt attention to the teachers, like he really wasn't wondering what the hell was going on with Sam. Why he ran hot one moment and cold the next. Was it only to him, or was he that way to everyone?







* * *







Two days passed and Sam and Dean hadn't spoken at all. Sam had left the assembly with his brothers and sisters surrounding him protectively making sure that Dean couldn't get to him.



Not once since had Sam seen or been by Dean's place. Well, that wasn't totally true. He had been by, but he hadn't gone to the window, and it wasn't just due to the boards that were blocking his view.







It was Friday afternoon and as Sam left the school, he’d heard Mr. Wilson rip into Dean again about his school work and how he just wasn't getting it done. It bothered the hell out of him, but he still left.







Hours later, he was still thinking about Dean. How he couldn't keep hiding, couldn't keep acting like if he didn't look directly at Dean that what he’d seen and how he’d felt hadn't happened. Just as those thoughts tumbled through his mind, he concentrated on Dean, focused on his scent, and somehow, for the first time since he’d been captured, he started to sense Dean’s feelings… sort of blurry at first.







Sam had always been able to feel Dean, ever since the night in the caves, so long ago. Whenever Sam had thought about the blond haired little boy, he had been able to feel what Dean felt. Dean's feelings had become Sam's feelings as if whatever was happening to Dean was instead happening to Sam. When it came to Dean, Sam had gotten a small view of what Jasper's world was like. But then, after he had been captured... his own daily horrific pain had somehow built an invisible wall, one that shut Dean out completely. Once he’d come out of that place, he found he could not feel Dean anymore, not even a little.







But, now, it was like the veil between them had been torn… and thinking, concentrating on Dean opened him up to Dean’s feelings again. Sitting at the stoplight, Sam closed his eyes briefly as he focused harder. The first thing to slam into him was Dean's lust, hard and hot. It had Sam gasping for breath, eyes flying open, just as the light changed to green.







The one good thing was that with the window open, Dean’s scent had hit him like a ton of bricks and he could track him. His gaze narrowed as he looked down the road at Gink's. It was a teenage dance club that sometimes opened just after school and served coffee, soft drinks and let some of the students perform armature acts before the nightly dancing started. Apparently, Ginks was open this afternoon.







Sam's jaw clenched as he thought about the place. He'd been in there once himself, not that he had been there for the fun, but there had been a big "ta-do" about the place and he'd had a paper to turn in, in his behavioral sciences class. What was he going to write about? The art of being taken prisoner and being sliced and diced for five years? So, he'd come here, hoping to get some sort of an idea of something he could write. As far as Sam could tell, the place should be named Kink's, not Gink's. It was dark and the girls who went there needed someone to buy them clothes instead of the barely there outfits they wore.







Some girl had tried to pick him up when he was there. The idea of it still had him shaking his head. If only she had known what she had invited back to her bed that night, she would have run screaming from the room.



Pushing down on the accelerator, his Camaro roared and he made it to Gink's a lot faster than legally allowed. Not that he cared a whole lot. The police never bothered him. And when they had a mind to, it seemed that an odd explosion would happen across town that would need their attention far more than some petty speeder.







Pulling into the lot, Sam parked his car beside Dean's black '67 Impala. It wasn't hard to know it was Dean's, after all, who else in this little town had a '67 Chevy Impala that they kept polished like it was a new copper penny? Pulling from his car, Sam shook his head as he glanced at Dean's car. He should just let Sam buy him a new one. Something with a lot less miles and a lot faster engine, but then, he wasn't a vampire, and Sam could just see Dean getting himself into trouble in such a car. Maybe it was best that Sam had never suggested that.







Pulling the door open, Sam walked into the dimly lit dance hall, though he could see perfectly, there was no way a human would be able to see very well at all in here. He didn't have to look for Dean as he entered, he could smell his scent, it got even stronger as soon as Sam had opened the door, like a slap in the face, making his eyes darken slightly.







Dean was sitting in the back of the room, facing the door, a book open out in front of him, a girl, some dark haired thing with boobs about ready to bust out of her shirt, sitting on his lap. They were talking softly and laughing, and kissing as they looked from the book to one another then back to the book.







Sam could feel each kiss as if it was being given to him. Feel soft lips against his, a tongue in his mouth. He raised a hand and wiped the back of it across his lips as if to wipe away the feeling. He grit his teeth and walked toward them, stopping as he reached the table, leaning down, fisted hands on the table top, he looked at Dean. "I heard Mr. Wilson today, I came to help you with your homework."







Sam's eyes slid to the girl and back to Dean, "There is no way you can study here. It's too dark for you to see." he pulled up, standing straight, "Come on, Dean. Let's go."



Dean felt Emily tense as if ready to pull away, but put his hand around her waist and settled her back down on his lap. "Don't listen to the lunatic, sweetheart, he was just leaving."



She smiled and turned her head toward Dean, bringing their mouths together for another kiss.



It had been too long, it felt so good, the way her ass was grinding down against him. Dean pushed his tongue in Em's mouth, tangling it with hers as he pulled her close. His temperature was definitely sky rocketing. When he came up for air, he saw Sam was still there. "I got me a new tutor... with benefits."



Emily gave a throaty laugh. "I use the carrot system... every time he gets the answer right, he gets a treat."



"Baby, I got a carrot for you," Dean said lifting his hips and putting his hand on the side of her face, turning her and greedily kissing her again. So what if it was the heat in Sam's eyes he was imagining now each time he stabbed his tongue inside her mouth, so what if it was that hunger, that unquenchable thirst he'd seen that he was reaching for? She felt good in his arms and against his cock, she tasted good, and if he had to guess, he was getting laid today.



Sam's eyes narrowed dangerously, the feelings that he was getting from Dean, the way he could feel each kiss, almost as if he were the one being touched, Dean's rising lust, all of it combined to darken his mood. To stir things inside him that he didn't understand, and one thing that he did.







Who the hell did she think she was?







This was not studying!







Sam's eyes darkened, his teeth ached. He clenched his teeth jaw set as he gazed down at them, head slightly tilted back, looking at Dean from under his lashes. "Dean..." the one word was low, a warning, as his hands clenched and unclenched into fists at his sides.







The next few moments happened in a blur, Sam couldn't even say what exactly had set him off. Was it the slight uplifting of the corner of Dean's lips as he leaned in toward the girl as he seemed to ignore Sam's warning? Or was it the flash of his tongue meeting hers just before their lips met? Or was it the one word that reverberated in his head in a feral growl, 'MINE!'?







Whatever it was, Sam was standing still and stiff as cardboard one minute, the next he was a blur of movement as he stepped around the table, his eyes and inky black, teeth aching, grabbed the girl by the arm in a bruising grip, ignoring her cries of 'ow, you're hurting me," and pulled her off and away from Dean. He then moved to stand between the two, his back to Dean as he faced the little tramp that had dared touch what was HIS. Sam bared his fangs, a growl, feral and low, menacing, just like the one in his head had been left him as he looked at her and this time, he said the word he had only thought before, "Mine!"



"Sonova..." Dean started to get up.







Sam slowly pressed his lips together, but inky black angry eyes continued to glare daggers at the girl as she gathered her things, still rubbing the arm he had grabbed. "I think you’d better leave.... NOW!" he told her, his eyes following her as she hurried to and out the door.



Emily would have stayed, if cold eyes and animalistic teeth hadn't flashed her way. There was something about him, about all the Cullens that made people watch where they tread. "I... I have to go. See you at school, Dean," she said, quickly picking up most of her books but not bothering with the ones she didn't get. She just had to get out of there now... it's what the alarms screaming in her head were telling her.



"Awww, man, what the fuck was that about," Dean reached out and shoved Sam's back, frowning when Sam didn't stagger forward. "What are you trying to do to me, you sonovabitch?"



Sam turned in a blur of motion, grabbing Dean by the front of his jacket, slamming him bodily against the wall behind him. His face was only inches away from Dean's, black angry eyes gazing into green, teeth clenched, "I told you not to touch me," he grit out, before his eyes dropped to the pulse point at the side of Dean's throat.







Sam shut his eyes, tried to regain some control over the emotions, the feelings, the hunger washing over him. His teeth ached, the blood pounded in his temples.



Just for a second, Dean glimpsed that look in Sam's eyes he'd kept in his mind for so long. His cock twitched as surely as it had with Em sitting on him. His reaction was the only reason he didn't punch the hell out Sam right here, right now. He was trying to process it, understand.







"Shut up, don't move. Don't talk." Sam told him as he slowly opened his eyes. After another moment, he slowly released his hold on Dean's jacket and took a step back. "You should go home." Sam told him softly, not looking at him, his eyes on the floor.



"What's the matter with you? You're a fucking maniac, you know that?" He straightened his jacket, jaw set stubbornly. "I am not your kid or your anything, you got that? You don't get to tell me when to study or what to do... you don't know shit about me or what I want or need. One minute you're busy ignoring me, the next you're in my business. It's got to stop... it's going to stop Sam."









Sam huffed softly as Dean called him a 'maniac', but remained silent, his eyes directed at the floor. He had no idea how much of a maniac he could be.





Dean picked up his books and stuffed them into his bag, and looked up. "Great. Now I'm hot and horny, what are you gonna do about that, dad?"







Sam slowly looked up at him, and said the only thing he could at that moment. "You should go home." This wasn't the place for them to be having this discussion, or any discussion for that matter. "I'm sorry I... 'ignored' you, there were reasons... reasons you wouldn't understand. It was... for you that I did it."



"Take your reasons and shove them up your ass. I don't care, you got that? I don't care. Go back to ignoring me, and stop.... this..." he spread his hands, "whatever this is. I'm serious. You don't like to be touched? Next time you pull something like this there'll be a lot of touching. Don't tell me I didn't warn you." He didn't get the feelings coursing through his body... like he needed something more from Sam, like something should happen but wouldn't. Goddamit he hated feeling unsure and that's what Sam did to him.







The corner of Sam's lips quirked up slightly at Dean's threat. "You're going to..." he cleared his throat, tried not to laugh, he knew Dean was serious. "Beat me up?"







Dean slung his back pack over his shoulder. "I don't care what you are, I can handle you... you should know that."



Sam shook his head slightly, "No. You can't. Believe me."



"What do you want?" He spread his arms out again, demanding an answer.







Sam slowly let out a breath, dark eyes scanning the area around them, but it appeared that no one was showing any interest in the two of them. His eyes returned to Dean. "It's my job to protect you. Look out for you, and I plan to do that until the day you die. Whether you like it or not."



"Protect me from WHAT, sex? I had a godamned condom." He didn't care about the snickers, he wanted to know what the hell was going on here. There were all sorts of unstated emotions floating around, and secrets inside that head of Sam's. It was driving him up the wall already.



Sam pressed his lips together, "No, that... wasn't planned." He wasn't about to tell Dean that he had been unable to watch another second of someone else touching what he in his mind now, apparently viewed as his. The guy would be pissed and either trying to beat his ass or run screaming from the room.



"That's it, that's the only explanation I'm getting here?" Dean's mouth tightened. "Do me a favor and protect me from FAR AWAY. Like at least a hundred feet away. And never," this time he pointed at Sam, "ever talk to me when I'm getting it on with a girl. Some things have priority," he gave him a look that any guy would recognize.



Someone at the next table laughed. "Should know better than to get between ‘All-the-way-Dean Winchester' and a girl." The others nodded and launched into discussions about him being a total horn dog. The guys were envious but the girls were looking over as if they wouldn't mind getting a piece.



Sam looked over toward the table talking smack about Dean, his lip curled, revealing sharp teeth, but he made no sound. His head snapped back around as he looked at Dean through angry narrowed eyes. "A hundred feet?" he gave a curt nod, "Fine," Sam started toward the door, stopping at the end of the table to look back at him, "I'll try to remember that the next time you run into a wendigo." With that, Sam continued toward the door.



Dean waited until the broody brunette was clear across the large club and at the door, then whispered in a low voice no human could hear from that distance. "Sam Cullen cries through sex."



Sam stopped, his back against the door as he glared back at Dean. "Wouldn't know," he called back, before pushing the door open and walking out.



A grin spread over Dean's face as he added superhuman hearing to his list of facts about Sam.



(A/N: If there is any interest in this story, then I'll post more chappies. I sometimes skip posting here because of lack of interaction. I do wish comments could be responded to though, that would be fun.)