DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to their respective creators.
ARCHIVE: No
The following short story is based on characters
created for the television series
SUPERNATURAL & DARK ANGEL, and is set in an indeterminate time frame. -- author's note
Forgetting
By Valjean
*************************************
Maybe certain things are best left unseen and unsaid -- even between brothers. Or maybe not ...
The local library closed at 8 p.m., not 10 like Sam thought, which on the one hand meant he didn’t have time to finish researching local legends of ghostly phenomenon, but on the other meant he could go back to the hotel room and get to bed early. However, when the younger Winchester brother pulled the black Chevy Impala into the parking lot of “Bunny’s Slumber Town” -- a seedy, run-down dump of a motel that was all they could afford for the moment -- he noticed right away that the window of the room he and Dean were sharing was dark. That meant one of two things, Sam thought. Either his hungry sibling was down at the local bar and grill getting a late dinner, or he was as exhausted as he was from their long drive and had crashed for the night.
Being extra quiet in case Dean was sleeping, Sam gently turned key in lock and eased open the door. The first thing he noticed was the sound of heavy breathing punctuated by faint whimpers and creaking bedsprings. The second thing he noticed was that Dean was indeed in bed ... but not alone. His naked muscular form silhouetted against light coming through the opaque white window curtains, Big Bro was mounted and riding the girl beneath him for all he was worth, his panting grunts punctuating his pleasure.
Sam knew the polite thing would be to quietly close the door and pretend he’d never intruded. However, the carnal sight he was witnessing wasn’t easily turned away from. There was something so primitive ... animal ... about the way his older brother was doing the female beneath him it riveted the senses and froze his body in place. Seconds passed ... ten ... twenty ... and suddenly the girl cried out as Dean’s back arched and his heavy breathing momentarily intensified, only to slow as he gave one final deep thrust followed by a satiated groan.
The spell broken, Sam began a self-conscious -- and hopefully silent -- retreat. But of course it wasn’t going to be that easy.
“It’s called knockin’, Sammy,” Dean’s sarcastic voice cut through the dark like a knife. “What you should have done at the door I mean, not what I was just doin’.”
“I’m sorry,” Sam said, the words catching in his throat. “I didn’t know you weren’t alone. The library closed early.”
“Yeah,” Dean drawled as he rolled off the girl, turned over on the squeaky mattress, and snapped on a light. “Maybe I should’ve left a sock on the doorknob or somethin’.”
“Maybe,” Sam said, his eyes widening at the sight of the buxom, bleach-blonde girl in bed with his brother. She was holding a sheet up to cover her nakedness and looking from one man to the other, her face reflecting boredom rather than embarrassment.
“If you both wanna do me, it’s gonna cost another twenty bucks each,” she said, her nasal New Jersey accent grating on Sam’s ears.
Dean glanced up at his brother and smirked. Then he reached down to where his jeans were hanging slung across the footboard of the bed and pulled out his wallet. Peeling off a fifty, he handed it to the blonde -- apparently payment for services already rendered. “Thanks, but no thanks sweetheart,” he said, his voice deep and sexy -- a man who’s needs had been satisfied. “Keep the change.” His eyes met Sam’s. “And my apologies for the intrusion.”
“You sure you don’t want a threesome?” Blondie cooed as she reached down to the floor to pick up her clothes, at the same time letting the sheet slip away to unashamedly reveal a pair of breasts so large they made Sam’s eyes widen. “Your baby brother’s cute.”
Dean -- apparently realizing things had gone a bit too far -- quickly pulled the sheet back up for her when he saw Sam staring. “No thanks, sweetie,” he said, his voice still slightly husky. “Maybe some other time. Now, you better get back to your job before your manager wonders what happened to his late night desk clerk.”
“Okie-dokie, lover,” the girl said happily, at the same time wriggling into a tight-fitting white t-shirt that stretched in a pornographic manner over raisin-hard tits. Low slung blue jeans followed, sans underwear. Her only shoes were flip-flops -- not exactly practical footwear for streetwalking, but good enough to cross the parking lot to the office. Tucking the fifty into a tight pocket, Blondie gave one final toss of those long ratty bleached locks, batted mascara-laden eyelashes, blew Dean a kiss, then squeezed past Sam and out the door, on the way being sure to rub those double-D’s firmly up against baby bro.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sam said coldly, rounding on Dean the moment the door had closed. “When did you start hiring hookers? Is that something Dad taught you? What would Mom have thought?”
Dean’s eyes narrowed -- the first sign of danger. In spite of all his military training, he’d never been one to take criticism well, especially from his kid brother. “Seems to me, Sammy, this isn’t any of your business,” he said carefully. “Not unless you really do want me to call her back for a little menage a trois.” Eyebrows wriggled as he said that last, hazel-green eyes daring.
“You’re disgusting,” Sam snapped. He noted the half-empty bottle of Scotch whiskey on the night stand. “And drunk.” There were also two blue condom wrappers on the floor. “But at least you had sense enough to play it safe,” he added as he tossed his backpack down on a chair.
“Yeah,” Dean drawled. “I always fuck safe. Wouldn’t wanna catch somethin’, would I? ‘Least not of the STD variety. But who are you to say I’m not entitled to a little bit of fun? And don’t tell me you’ve been a one woman man the past few years.”
Sam clenched his jaw. “Oh, but I have,” he said quietly. “Jess and I were exclusive, difficult as that may be for you to comprehend. I was gonna ask her to marry me. She was it, Dean. Why would I want to even be with another woman? And I thought Max was it for you. What would she think if she found out you were doin’ hookers in your motel room?”
“Shut up,” Dean said in a low voice. “This has nothin’ to do with ... her. You know damn well the code we hafta live by. We love ‘em. We leave ‘em. Period. It’s for their own good, as well as ours. Blondie was just helpin’ me forget. ‘Sides, it’s not like we’re wearin’ rings.”
“No, but the two of you do have a child together,” Sam said heatedly. “My nephew might I point out. And I know by the way you look at Max that you--”
Dean was out of the bed so quickly and in his face that it took the younger man’s breath away. “Don’t talk about her,” his older brother grated, tangling fists in Sam’s jacket and pulling the younger man so close he could count every golden fleck in those intense green eyes. “Just ... don’t.”
Sam angrily batted his big brother’s hands away, at the same time wondering just how much Scotch Dean had consumed. Their Dad had a drinking problem. Both boys knew that John Winchester would occasionally simply disappear for a few days on a binge. It was said that alcoholism was hereditary. Was Dean beginning to have the same problem? The thought left Sam shaken. Not Dean ... not the guy he’d always looked up to ... worshipped even. Not the one he relied on more than he’d ever admit ... the one family member he had left to love.
“What are you thinkin’?” Dean said, the words crisp -- not slurred -- as those sharp eyes continued to regard Sam closely.
“I’m thinkin’ you ought to put on your pants,” Sam replied levelly, carefully studying the freckles on Dean’s nose and looking no lower. “I know you’re proud of yourself, and a showoff, but I’ve seen it all before and I’m not impressed.”
For just a brief moment, something very, very dark swam in the depths of those feline/human hybrid eyes. But then Dean smirked and nodded -- conceding to his brother’s logic and, more importantly, willing to be the one who backed down. Grabbing the jeans that were still hanging slung over the footboard of the rumpled bed, he began pulling them on, at the same time saying, “We need to talk.”
“That’s an understatement,” Sam replied quietly, his eyes once again raking over the liquor and condom wrappers. He let himself fall into the chair, prepared for a long confrontational night. Most of the time Dean was seemingly happy-go-lucky ... completely confident no matter what the situation. ... a man very much at home in his own skin. In fact, the guy had more guts and pride than anyone else Sam had ever known -- traits he’d always envied. However, Sam also knew his brother well enough to recognize that -- no matter how much of a brave facade Dean put up -- deep down inside he was an extremely complicated and conflicted person. Between Manticore and all the evil he’d experienced in his short lifetime, the guy’s soul had to ache ... just like his own did. And sometimes that pain showed -- like now.
Dean tugged a grey t-shirt on over his head, yanked it down to cover rock hard abs, then sat down on the edge of the bed to pull on his motorcycle boots. “But not here,” he said, glancing up from tying the shoes.
“Why not here?” Sam said, not understanding. “You afraid Betty Big Boob’s gonna come knockin’ on the door with her knockers again wantin’ that threesome after all?”
“Just follow me,” Dean said, grabbing his leather jacket and heading for the door.
Still not understanding, but as usual willing to trust his brother’s instincts (because they were seldom wrong), Sam stood and, with a puzzled shake of his head, let Dean lead the way.
*****
“Where are we going?” Sam asked as they walked out of the motel parking lot and down the berm of the road, gravel crunching beneath their feet. “It’s gonna rain you know.”
“Don’t worry,” Dean said crisply. “You won’t melt. As for where we’re goin’ ... Someplace safe.”
Sam looked around, saw the lighted steeple of a small church a short ways up ahead, and began to understand. Of course ...
“You had another dream, didn’t you,” the younger man said, his voice not unsympathetic as he speeded up to keep pace. “You dreamed about Max and what might happen to her ... the fire like with Mom and Jess.”
“Shut up,” Dean said tersely.
“Dean, just because you have dreams, they don’t always come true. Sometimes they’re just warnings, or better yet, don’t mean anything at all.”
“And sometimes they’re prophecies,” his brother said quietly. “It’s happened before. I can’t risk it. Not when-- Not when she’s involved.”
They reached their destination, and together the two brothers mounted the wooden steps of the church, boots clacking. The double doors were locked, but a dim light from inside shone through the intricate stained glass windows -- a nativity scene and one of Jesus on the cross. Dean tried the knob ... rattled it ... then, before Sam could open his mouth to object, put a shoulder against the panels and pushed hard. Wood splintered, and they swung open.
“What’d you do that for?” Sam protested. “Breakin’ into a church is pretty low even for you, Dean!”
“We don’t have time to be nice and polite,” his sibling snapped. “We need hallowed ground.” With the precision of the warrior he was, Dean quickly moved around the relatively small room, glancing up and down the pews and peering into the choir loft, making certain they were alone, the faint lighting casting dark shadows on the planes of his handsome, beard stubbled face even as it hid the worry in his eyes. At last satisfied they wouldn’t be interrupted or overheard, he turned to Sam. “All right. Say what you hafta say. Ask.”
By this time Sam was ready to jump in with both feet. “Premonition or not, why the hell are you fucking a motel desk clerk when you’re in love with Max? And call it bonk buddies, recreational banging, hooking up, whatever you want, Dean, you were fucking her. She was a whore. I saw.”
“No argument there,” Dean said quietly, leaning back against a pew. “As for how I can sleep with a whore when I’m in love with someone else ... well, did it ever occur to you that my love for Max is why I’m doin’ it?”
Sam’s dark brows drew down in puzzlement. “Huh?”
Once more Dean looked up and around the room, his keen eyes searching the rafters overhead as if afraid something might be perched there eavesdropping. “That thing we’re after kills the people we love,” he finally said, his tone hushed.
“You don’t have to tell me that,” Sam returned bitingly. “So, you’re tryin’ to fool this thing into thinking you don’t love Max by bangin’ hookers? That’s dumb, and you know it. Too dumb for a smart guy like you, in fact. Your I.Q.’s 156? Well tonight you were actin’ like it was about ten.”
Dean glanced away, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, well, it’s easier than tryin’ to convince whatever it is that I’m hopelessly in love with my right hand. A man’s got needs, Sammy. And if I can fool this thing into thinkin’ I’ve forgotten all about Max then she won’t be in as much danger. This dream I had ...” He shivered, hands jamming in pockets as he hunched in his leather coat. “Damn, I wish I wouldn’t dream. Dad says I hafta to pay attention to ‘em ... that they might be warnings ... but seein’ Max burn ...” His voice trailed off.
“This thing as we’re calling it doesn’t seem to kill unless we’re right on the spot to see it ourselves,” Sam pointed out in an attempt to offer his brother a little hope. “Do you really think it would go after Max when you’re so far away?”
Dean shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t wanna find out. But you’re right about one thing, Sammy. I can’t just stop lovin’ her. Believe me, I’ve tried,” he added dryly.
“So you’re playin’ it safe by drinking too much and laying whatever female’s convenient?”
“I don’t drink too much,” Dean said quietly. “My metabolism’s too high to get drunk on anything much less than three or four bottles of the stuff. It’s just that a good drink takes the edge off ... makes it all easier.”
“And if you catch something -- rubbers not withstanding?”
“Quit bein’ such a nag. I’ve got a kick-ass immune system, Sammy. I’m built to throw off anthrax and bubonic plague. I doubt a little germ like the clap is gonna get a foothold in this transgenic body of mine.” He held up one hand and wriggled his fingers, emphasizing the intricacies of his DNA-enhanced body. “Sides. Like you saw. I’m not a total idiot. I use protection. Always have.”
“Except with Max,” Sam had to add. “My nephew being the proof.”
A wise-ass grin, and an agreeing tip of the head. “That night with Max,” Dean said, “the first time ... it was wild ... unbelievable. We wanted each other so bad neither of us gave a thought to wearin’ a raincoat, or any other kind of protection for that matter. We just ... did it. Just like Manticore wanted us to.”
“What?” Sam said, his ears perking up at that. “What do you mean just like Manticore wanted you to?”
The grin faded into an enigmatic smile. “We were assigned as breeding partners ... me and Max. That’s how we met, back at Manticore before it went down. But of course Max wasn’t particularly interested in me seein’ as how she was in love with another guy at the time.”
“Logan Cale.”
A nod. “So, we ended up bein’ just friends ... partners ... until that night. The rest, as they say, is history.” Dean’s eyes roved around the room and he sighed heavily. “But now, I can’t let myself love her, at least not outright. It puts her in too much danger. And in my book the easiest way to forget one woman is in the arms of another.”
“You can’t forget Max that way,” Sam said. “Any more than I can forget Jess. We love them too much. And ... even though part of me knows Jess is gone forever ... I don’t ever want to forget her. But you ... I envy you. Your lady might not be at your side, but at least she’s still out there, and more than that you’ve got a son. Once we take care of this monster that’s been haunting our family you’ve got a real life to go back to. Me ... I dunno.”
“Yeah,” Dean said darkly. “If Max doesn’t get tired of waitin’ and ends up back sith Logan again. Which is a whole other worry I don’t wanna think about right now. As things stand, just give me a little leeway with the ladies, all right?”
“Tell me something,” Sam persisted as -- their talk over -- they walked together toward the broken church door. “When you were with that girl in the motel room ... did it help? Did you forget Max, even for a moment?”
Dean though about that for a long second, then he blinked and hazel-green eyes rose to meet his brother’s, the honesty and trust between the two siblings almost palpable. “No,” he said softly. “Not even for a moment.”
THE END
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