Three Days
folder
Supernatural › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
7
Views:
2,174
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Supernatural › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
7
Views:
2,174
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the SUPERNATURAL franchise, nor any of the characters from the program or novels. No monies made from this nor offence intended.
Part One
A/N: AU turn of events at end of 2.17 "Hearts"; fic takes place after 2.19 "Folsom Prison Blues".
~~~THREE DAYS, Part One~~~
Dean closes the door to their tiny room as quietly as he can. Sam called the place a hostel, whatever the fuck that was.
They'd definitely stayed in worse places back home, and at this point, they really can't be picky.
It'd been a hell of a trip for both of them, and Sam, predictably, is totally and completely exhausted.
Neither one of them had ever been out of the States before, let alone Eastern Europe. But Sam's condition has warranted extreme measures.
And Dean will do whatever it takes to save Sam. No matter the cost.
It had all happened come on so fast...Sam complaining of being achy and tired, the headaches, and eventually the physical manifestations that had led to the unavoidable conclusion that Sam had indeed been infected by Madison.
So they'd had three days before the full moon when they'd known for sure Sam would Change.
A few stray scribbles in their Dad's journal alluding to a possible cure had pointed them toward Romania in the first place; Bobby'd pulled every string and called in every favor, finally uncovering a solid lead of an alchemist just outside of Bucharest.
Bobby had really come through, and Dean didn't know how he'd ever be able make good on it.
Thanks to wi-fi at the Paris airport, they'd been able to check in with Bobby, who'd actually been able to dig up the name of their contact: Luthar. They even had a grainy picture of him, and under different circumstances, Dean wouldn't trust the shifty looking guy as far as he could throw him.
But he's desperate.
And this Luthar's the only link they have to this mysterious alchemist.
The bad news was that this alchemist, and Luthar, had changed venues and were now over one hundred miles from Bucharest, outside of a much smaller city called Slatina.
It complicated matters, but Dean had no choice but to go with the flow.
It'd taken them over a full day to plan their journey and arrive in Romania.
Now, they've just over a day and a half until the full moon; and it doesn't seem like nearly enough time to find this alchemist that supposedly has the cure for Sam's lycanthropy.
But really, everything had gone relatively smoothly so far. They'd landed in Bucharest on schedule, made it through customs with their forged passports without incident, easily rented a car, and headed out, barely going thirty miles before night had closed in.
Dean doesn't have a clue where, exactly, they are.
All he knows is that he misses the Impala, the music on the radio sucks, and he's dying for a real, honest to goodness hot shower.
They should've cleaned up back in Bucharest, but neither one of them had given it a thought then, both eager to hit the road as soon as possible.
Despite that he's dead tired and seriously jet-lagged, sleep had eluded him. So he'd taken a walk through the narrow streets and alleys of wherever the hell they were, hoping the fresh air might clear his head.
It hadn't, but at least now he's having trouble keeping his eyes open.
He slips out of his jacket, unable to tear his eyes from Sam's naked form on the lumpy, old bed.
"Damn, Sammy," Dean breathes, carefully moving across the uneven floorboards. Sam's taken off his t-shirt and boxers again, most likely due to the worsening night sweats.
Dean sits on the bed and gazes at his brother, the early morning light catching the tiny droplets of sweat on Sam's smooth skin. Dean can barely believe how damn gorgeous Sam is, all long legs and taut muscle. He slowly reaches out, his fingertips ghosting down the center of Sam's back.
He pauses for a moment and licks his lips as Sam moves around a little. Dean slowly draws his fingers along the swell of Sam's ass, and Sam actually groans aloud, whether from his touch or some dream or vision, Dean doesn't know.
He doesn't quite recall when or how it happened, when it became okay to want Sam, to have him, and in the end, it doesn't really matter. Sam's the everything, the only good thing in Dean's life, the one person Dean's truly loved, his reason for being.
Dean leans down and slides himself onto the mattress, spooning himself against Sam, hugging his brother tightly and throwing a protective arm about Sam's shoulders.
Sam moans again and presses himself into Dean.
Dean nuzzles the back of Sam's neck, gently kissing the unhealed bite marks left there by the werewolf that had attacked them three weeks ago.
If they can find the alchemist, if he really does have a cure, if they can administer it before the moon, if it actually works...
A lot of damned ifs, and if something goes wrong, and Sam actually Changes...well, Dean doesn't like to think about that, even though he knows what he'll have to do.
What Sam would make him do.
"Don't worry, Sammy," Dean breathes into Sam's ear. "I'll save you. No matter what, I'll save you, man."
Dean closes his eyes at the prick of tears, hoping for at least an hour of sleep.
And even though he's not the praying type, Dean says one anyway, for his Sam, just as sleep finally claims him.
~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~
~~~THREE DAYS, Part One~~~
Dean closes the door to their tiny room as quietly as he can. Sam called the place a hostel, whatever the fuck that was.
They'd definitely stayed in worse places back home, and at this point, they really can't be picky.
It'd been a hell of a trip for both of them, and Sam, predictably, is totally and completely exhausted.
Neither one of them had ever been out of the States before, let alone Eastern Europe. But Sam's condition has warranted extreme measures.
And Dean will do whatever it takes to save Sam. No matter the cost.
It had all happened come on so fast...Sam complaining of being achy and tired, the headaches, and eventually the physical manifestations that had led to the unavoidable conclusion that Sam had indeed been infected by Madison.
So they'd had three days before the full moon when they'd known for sure Sam would Change.
A few stray scribbles in their Dad's journal alluding to a possible cure had pointed them toward Romania in the first place; Bobby'd pulled every string and called in every favor, finally uncovering a solid lead of an alchemist just outside of Bucharest.
Bobby had really come through, and Dean didn't know how he'd ever be able make good on it.
Thanks to wi-fi at the Paris airport, they'd been able to check in with Bobby, who'd actually been able to dig up the name of their contact: Luthar. They even had a grainy picture of him, and under different circumstances, Dean wouldn't trust the shifty looking guy as far as he could throw him.
But he's desperate.
And this Luthar's the only link they have to this mysterious alchemist.
The bad news was that this alchemist, and Luthar, had changed venues and were now over one hundred miles from Bucharest, outside of a much smaller city called Slatina.
It complicated matters, but Dean had no choice but to go with the flow.
It'd taken them over a full day to plan their journey and arrive in Romania.
Now, they've just over a day and a half until the full moon; and it doesn't seem like nearly enough time to find this alchemist that supposedly has the cure for Sam's lycanthropy.
But really, everything had gone relatively smoothly so far. They'd landed in Bucharest on schedule, made it through customs with their forged passports without incident, easily rented a car, and headed out, barely going thirty miles before night had closed in.
Dean doesn't have a clue where, exactly, they are.
All he knows is that he misses the Impala, the music on the radio sucks, and he's dying for a real, honest to goodness hot shower.
They should've cleaned up back in Bucharest, but neither one of them had given it a thought then, both eager to hit the road as soon as possible.
Despite that he's dead tired and seriously jet-lagged, sleep had eluded him. So he'd taken a walk through the narrow streets and alleys of wherever the hell they were, hoping the fresh air might clear his head.
It hadn't, but at least now he's having trouble keeping his eyes open.
He slips out of his jacket, unable to tear his eyes from Sam's naked form on the lumpy, old bed.
"Damn, Sammy," Dean breathes, carefully moving across the uneven floorboards. Sam's taken off his t-shirt and boxers again, most likely due to the worsening night sweats.
Dean sits on the bed and gazes at his brother, the early morning light catching the tiny droplets of sweat on Sam's smooth skin. Dean can barely believe how damn gorgeous Sam is, all long legs and taut muscle. He slowly reaches out, his fingertips ghosting down the center of Sam's back.
He pauses for a moment and licks his lips as Sam moves around a little. Dean slowly draws his fingers along the swell of Sam's ass, and Sam actually groans aloud, whether from his touch or some dream or vision, Dean doesn't know.
He doesn't quite recall when or how it happened, when it became okay to want Sam, to have him, and in the end, it doesn't really matter. Sam's the everything, the only good thing in Dean's life, the one person Dean's truly loved, his reason for being.
Dean leans down and slides himself onto the mattress, spooning himself against Sam, hugging his brother tightly and throwing a protective arm about Sam's shoulders.
Sam moans again and presses himself into Dean.
Dean nuzzles the back of Sam's neck, gently kissing the unhealed bite marks left there by the werewolf that had attacked them three weeks ago.
If they can find the alchemist, if he really does have a cure, if they can administer it before the moon, if it actually works...
A lot of damned ifs, and if something goes wrong, and Sam actually Changes...well, Dean doesn't like to think about that, even though he knows what he'll have to do.
What Sam would make him do.
"Don't worry, Sammy," Dean breathes into Sam's ear. "I'll save you. No matter what, I'll save you, man."
Dean closes his eyes at the prick of tears, hoping for at least an hour of sleep.
And even though he's not the praying type, Dean says one anyway, for his Sam, just as sleep finally claims him.
~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~