Part One

The music was loud, the walls almost vibrating with the sound and apart from a few flashing lights, the club was totally dark. People were on the dance floor, bodies rubbing against each other, moving with the rhythm.

Sam wasn’t drunk but he was really buzzed. He had lost count at how many dance partners he’s had, not caring if he was dancing with men or women. He was having fun and so was everyone else and nothing else really mattered.

The music was loud, the beat almost deafening but that was just how a club was supposed to be. It wasn’t really Sam’s kind of music but it served its purpose and right now his purpose was to have fun and to dance.

He had always felt awkward on the dance floor. He was usually too tall and he had never considered himself to be all that graceful, despite what he had been told. Grace was never something he had ever associated with himself and neither was sexy.

That was why the only way he would ever move to any beat at all was when he was slightly buzzed, knowing that his inhibitions were lowered and he could just go with it, not caring how he looked, or thought how he looked. Because truth to be told? All those years of fight training and long runs had done more than just shape his body in all the right places. The training had also served to provide him with a fluid grace, so no one was kidding when they called him sexy or a good dancer.

Sam had no idea where Dean was but he had been rather tired of going to same sort of bar night in and night out and he had also gotten really tired of sitting in the motel room waiting for Dean to come back after having hooked up with some random woman or man.

It was now nearly a year since he had left Stanford, since Jess had died and nearly six months after the events on the cruise and truth to be told, being that close to his brother and not being able to touch him was still slowly killing him. He had his own reasons now for staying, if it weren’t for those, if it weren’t for his need to find some answers as to why his girlfriend had been killed in the exact same manner as his mother, then he would have left a long time ago. He wasn’t usually one to put himself through prolonged torture and torture it was to be so close to Dean.

He knew now that Dean had wanted him since he had turned a teenager and Sam had no idea how Dean had been able to hide those emotions for all those years. To Sam his feelings were really rather new, only like six months old, or maybe he should rephrase that: the feelings had always been there, he just hadn’t recognized them for what they were.

Either way, Dean was busy once again denying what he wanted because in his mind (thanks to Dad), he was protecting Sam from himself. Sam almost snorted at that, but so far changing his brother’s mind had been rather unsuccessful.

He felt the familiar resentment well up again inside him, he was really tired that everyone assumed to know what he felt and when he told them differently, then no one believed him.

Like his father: Dad was convinced that Dean had taken advantage of him, that his own brother had given into his lust, seduced Sam at a weak moment and that Sam had been the victim.

Sam drowned a shot just by thinking back to that conversation with his father. Dad had repeatedly used the word ‘fuck’, trying to demean the act they had shared, calling it ‘Dean fucking his little brother’. Sam hated that word because to him, they had made love because that was how he had felt and how he had figured Dean had felt.

He waved his hand, asking for another shot. He had no idea why everyone thought that he always craved normal at any cost. It was true that he never wanted to have hunting as his life, but just because he wanted to do something ‘normal’, didn’t mean that he was ever going to ignore where he had come from. How could he? He had grown up learning how to fight, how to shoot and how to kill ghosts. No one could forget that. And he really didn’t want to, he just wanted to have something beside a life of hunting and he saw no reason why that shouldn’t be possible.

Again, no one had listened to him, they had heard that he wanted out, that he wanted ‘normal’ and nothing else had registered. Sometimes Sam wonder if he was speaking Chinese or some other fucking language because what he said and what people seemed to hear wasn’t really matching. Or maybe it was his fault because apparently everything was.

He hadn’t told anyone about how Jess had died because that would have eventually led to him talking about his visions and he already thought that he was a freak and he couldn’t have his father or brother look at him mirroring his own thoughts. Dad had kicked him out once already because he had wanted to go to college, what would he do if he ever found that out his youngest was a freak? Probably put him full of rock salt or something else…Sam thought with heat and drowned another other shot.

He had no idea how Dean would react, his brother was sending him mixed signals from wanting him to just wanting to be brothers, from not talking to him and not returning his phone calls (even though that had already been explained but that memory still stung) to vowing to always be there for him.

Sam just didn’t know what to believe and he was afraid, so he had decided that he couldn’t risk telling anyone about his abilities or about Jess’ death. He needed answers and right now, the best place to find those answers was hunting and by staying with his family.

Thankfully his last vision had been in Fermoy when he had temporarily run away again and since then, nothing. It worried Sam in a way but on the other hand it also had been a great relief. He had no idea how to explain it, if a vision were to hit him while he was awake. Nightmares were one thing but in Fermoy, the last vision had happened while he had been awake and if either Dean or his father would see him, he didn’t know what he would do about it.

“Wanna dance?” a man said behind him and Sam just got up, swaying a little bit but a strong grip on his arm steadied him. He smiled at the man, not really seeing much since it was a bit dark and he was really buzzed but soon later they were on the dance floor, bodies moving with the beat.

Suddenly the man was behind him, his body pressing into Sam’s, his hands on his hips, holding him tight, more or less forcing Sam to move with him. Sam could feel the other man’s erection pressing into him and the invitation was clear but Sam had only come for some fun, not sex. He wasn’t like Dean, he couldn’t just go to some club, pick up a stranger and drown his emotions in sex.

They moved together and Sam didn’t object when he felt a hand slowly lifting his shirt, ghosting over his flat stomach.

Suddenly the man was yanked back, nearly shoved to the ground and Sam found himself gripped and pulled away from the dance floor. He stumbled forward, the room spinning around him and it only got a little bit better once he was outside in the cool night’s air.

“What the fuck were you thinking, Sammy?” Dean shouted, shoving Sam into a wall and moving in on him, pinning Sam to the wall.

Sam blinked owlishly, trying to focus on Dean while he was more or less multiplying before his eyes. Maybe he had a little bit too many shots after all but Sam wasn’t sorry.

“What the fuck.” Sam tried to shove Dean off him but since Dean wasn’t drunk and in full control of his motor function, Sam didn’t manage much, just a gently shove that had Dean’s eyes blazing at him.

“Explain to me what you were doing in there, Sammy.” Dean was no longer shouting but the even tone was even worse.

“It’s called having fun. You should try it some time,” came Sam’s pissed off reply. He tried to shove Dean off him again, but instead he more or less fell into him, causing Dean to push him once again back into the wall, now pressing his body onto his to keep Sam steady.

He gripped Sam’s wrists and pinned them down hard, causing Sam to hiss with pain, glaring at his brother.

“Why is it that every time you get drunk you get yourself into these situations?”

Sam just blinked at Dean, not quite getting what he meant.

“The last time, surely you remember,” Dean continued, “Jason? On the cruise?”

Of course Sam remembered. How could he forget the time when he had ended up drunk in bed with Jason, still not remembering anything that had happened then. And how could he possibly forget Jason who had turned out to be a demon, drugging him with some freakish lust drug for some ritual, claiming that after he had taken Sam, he would be theirs.

Another thing Sam had never mentioned, he had never consciously withheld what Jason had said to him but he had been so out of it afterwards that he had forgotten about it and then everything had gone to hell, so it had really never come up. And how dare Dean bring up Jason and what had happened? As if any of it had been his fault? And Sam suddenly realized that he actually didn’t know what had happened to Jason. He had just assumed that he had either died or that the demon had left him but he had actually never asked.

Sam struggled against Dean holding him back but all that got him was having his wrists again slammed into the wall and this time his eyes glazed over with pain.

“Let go off me.” Sam said slowly, searching for something in Dean’s eyes. There was something strange there that Sam couldn’t read and then suddenly Dean’s lips were pressed to his, kissing him fiercely.

There was no tenderness there, the kiss was possessive, almost as if he wanted to claim Sam and Sam struggled now in earnest. Dean didn’t get to do that, he had lost any right to kiss him when he had put down the law that they were supposed to be brothers and nothing else. Dean didn’t get to change the law just because he felt horny, just because apparently he got off on pinning his little brother to wall. These had been Dean’s rules and not Sam’s and Dean didn’t have to right to mess with his head and heart just because he hadn’t gotten laid tonight.

Sam eyes watered and he went totally rigid while Dean kept on kissing him. Suddenly Dean let go, stumbling back, eyes wide with horror.

“’m so sorry, Sammy, Didn’t mean to…”

Sam just huffed, Dean never meant to but he always did. If Dean hadn’t laid down his stupid rule, if Dean hadn’t given in to Dad instead for standing up for what he wanted, what Sam wanted, then Dean could pin him to the wall to his heart’s content because Sam would be welcoming it. But Dean had lost that right when he had played with his heart and he so didn’t get to change his mind to get off and then put the horror and remorse crap again on Sam’s shoulders. Sam was tired form all the emotional back and forth, tired from constantly feeling like a freak and from getting the looks of horror every time Dean touched him too long or hell forbid, kissed him.

Lapses like that happened here or there, Sam knew that Dean still wanted him, this fucked up situation had never been because Dean didn’t want him but Sam so couldn’t play these games any more.

His mind was made up, this wasn’t working. They couldn’t be just brothers any more, not if Dean slipped here and there and then looked at Sam with such horror and pity that Sam felt just awful. He just couldn’t do it anymore.

“I can’t do it anymore.” Sam said, his voice small and low, defeat clearly audible in it.

“What?” Dean’s gaze was suddenly back on him, but so far he hadn’t dared coming near him again, he was keeping back, almost afraid that like a deer caught in the headlights, Sam would just get skittish and run off.

Sam looked at his brother, really looked at him, trying to put everything to memory and then he let out a deep breath, “’m leaving. This isn’t working.”

Dean just stared at him and after a few seconds of staring right back, Sam turned around and walked away.

The reasons why he had chosen to stay were still valid, his best chance of finding some answers where to stay with his family, to keep on hunting but he had reached his limit, he couldn’t do this anymore. He would however keep on hunting, doing it alone wasn’t a good choice, but he knew how, he could do it besides he knew all their contacts, he could get information on his own just as well.

Sam was deep in thought and still way too drunk, so he stumbled a bit and didn’t notice that Dean had eventually recovered and had come rushing after him.

Sam suddenly found himself spun around again, his shoulders gripped tight by Dean, squeezing really hard.

“You can’t leave, Sammy, you just can’t” Dean’s eyes were wide, emotion for once clearly swimming in his green eyes but Sam just narrowed his eyes, determined not to let Dean play him this time around.

They both were hurting. If he stayed, Dean would keep on slipping, hating himself afterwards and Sam would get the looks of horror. Not to mention the constant glances Dad still kept sending towards Dean or his look of pity whenever he looked at Sam. No, this had to end, enough was enough.

“This (Sam was waving between him and Dean, trying to proof his point) isn’t working.” He said, anger and hurt clearly betrayed by his voice, “If you can’t keep your jealousy in your pants like a normal brother, then I can’t live like this. You say you don’t want to be with me and then you go all postal on me just because I’m dancing with someone, having fun. I can’t do this anymore, Dean.”

Sam was fighting for breath he had spoken so rapidly to get everything out that he had almost forgotten to breath. His eyes were downcast and because of this, he didn’t see Dean launch himself at him until the last possible moment.

“No,” Sam yelled, fighting his brother off and both were struggling. In the heat of the moment, Dean pushed Sam with probably more force than he had intended and Sam crashed backwards, landing hard on the ground, his head hitting the pavement.

He could hear Dean yelling his name while Sam tried to get up, struggling with his sluggish motion. He really hated hitting his head, he was messed up enough as it was, he really didn’t need to add more head injuries to the mix.

He didn’t trust his legs yet, so he more or less crawled away from his brother when a car suddenly pulled up.

A guy leaned his head out of the window, it was the same man Sam had been dancing with.

“Is everything alright here?” he asked, his eyes darting from Sam to Dean, noticing the blood on Sam’s head and how Sam was trying to get away from the other man.

“Get lost.” Dean was his usual charming self but Sam took his chance.

The guy narrowed his eyes, getting out of the car and helped Sam to his feet. Dean’s eyes narrowed dangerously when the other man laid his hands on Sam but Sam didn’t look at him at all.

“Can you get me out of here?” Sam asked the other man and he could hear Dean protesting but Sam was ignoring him. His head hurt something fierce and he really didn’t want to be near his brother at the moment.

Suddenly his hand was grabbed, Dean trying to yank him back and Sam suddenly turned around, yanking his hand out of Dean’s grip. Sam was furious now, furious at Dean for how he was handling their mutual attraction, furious for how his father kept on telling him what he felt regardless of how he really felt, furious for loosing Jess and furious at himself because he was such a freak that apparently he didn’t deserve to be happy if his life was any proof.

“What is next Dean?” Sam hissed, “Instead of shoving me every time we have an argument (Sam clearly remembered last time on the cruise where Dean had shoved him too, and he had ended up hitting his head on a coffee table), will you just start hitting me?”

Dean jerked back at Sam’s obvious fury and Sam took his chance and despite his head protesting, he moved quickly, getting into the backseat of the car, smashing the door closed. Whoever the guy was, he read Sam clear enough and he took off before Dean could react.

Sam refused to look back watching his brother disappear from the rear window. He wasn’t too sure what was hurting more, his head or the anguish he had clearly seen written on Dean’s face.

He knew that Dean didn’t mean most of his words or his actions, he knew that Dean didn’t do anything without trying to look out for him but if Dean didn’t eventually wake up and realized that he was the one actually hurting Sam out of some misplaced sense of duty and who knew what, then there was nothing Sam could do about it. He just knew that he couldn’t take any more of his own anguish, he just couldn’t.