Fic: Fractured Bonds Chapter 6

[majestic_duxk]

All he remembered was a white light.

No. That wasn’t quite true. He remembered holding the knife, the slice of metal through…

Dean threw up at the side of the road. Wiping his mouth, he hoped to forget what had happened.

Of course he wouldn’t. Just another way he fucked up.

--oo--

When he realised he was in Sioux Falls, he laughed. Of course Sam had brought him here. It was, after all, the closest thing they’d had to a home. And Bobby was the closest thing they’d had to a family.

John. Dean blinked back tears. How could he forget dad? Of course he hadn’t thought of his father in a while. Not since he’d learned to block out Alastair’s voice.

Once again Dean threw up at the side of the road. Hopefully by the time he made it to Bobby’s he’d have his weak, traitorous mind under control.

--oo--

He was shaking by the time he reached Bobby’s. Exhaustion, maybe. Couldn’t be he was worried about his reception…

He still needed to steel himself before he knocked on the door.

--oo--

Sitting at the table, he could overhear the conversation.

“… No, Sam. I don’t know. But it is him. What? Of course I did! What do you take me for, damn idjit!”

There was a moment of silence and Dean smiled. He could imagine exactly what Sam was saying.

“Yes! I did that too! Sam Winchester, don’t try to teach your grandmother to suck eggs! I was hunter before you were born, and I certainly don’t need lessons on how to figure out if a… What? Yes, Sam. I know your brother went to hel- fuck! I gotta go. Just come as quick as you can.”

Dean was over the sink and throwing up. Idly he noted that just the word was enough to turn his stomach.

Bobby was rubbing his back and telling him it was ok. It wasn’t, but it was nice of him to pretend. And Dean would do his part in acting the lie.

“This is fuckin’ weird, man.”

The two men looked at each other before laughing. It really was fucking weird.

--oo--

Bobby gave him space. For a day and a half he gave Dean space. And he still somehow managed to be there when Dean needed him: to rub his back, bring him water, or put his shivering, pathetic self back to bed.

The uneasy peace couldn’t last.

“Sam’ll be here soon. Is there anything you want to tell me, Dean?”

Rather than answer, Dean took a sip of his beer. Was there anything he wanted to tell Bobby? Was Bobby asking about he- that place? (Dean’s stomach heaved a warning. Seriously? He couldn’t even think the word? This was going to get messy).

“Dean…”

Slamming down the bottle, Dean turned his strongest glare on the hunter. “I don’t want to talk about it, Bobby. I can’t fucking talk about it! I can’t even say the word. Unless,” and Dean’s lips twitched in a humourless smile, “You want to me to redecorate the house?”

Heaving a sigh, the older hunter stared at him. Before quietly stating, “I’ll let it pass, Dean. But do you think Sam will?”

What Dean really wanted to do, was kick something. Kick and punch until whatever it was left him alone. But you couldn’t do that, not to soft words spoken by the closest thing Dean had to a father.

“No. No, he won’t Bobby. He’ll push and pry until he knows, but the problem? The problem is I don’t know! One moment I was… there… the next I remember, I saw a white light and then I was digging my way out of a box, spitting up dirt.”

Dean’s brows drew down in a frown. “And I will be having words with Sam about that. That was a fucking stupid thing to do.”

“More stupid than selling your soul?”

Dean jumped as Sam loomed in the doorway. Fuck! He wasn’t ready for this – Sam wasn’t supposed to be here until the morning. But Dean wasn’t stupid enough to bring up the obvious speeding. His brother was all crossed arms, and mistrust, and Dean wanted nothing more than to throw himself into his brother’s arms.

What?

--oo--

Sam stared at the man in front of him. It looked like Dean. Sounded like Dean. But it couldn’t be Dean.

Because Dean was his beta brother, and this man smelt like mate.

--oo--

Next thing Dean knew there was a strong arm pressed against his throat as his back hit the wall. A deep growl reverberated in his ear.

“Who the fuck are you, and what have you done with my brother?”

Dean couldn’t respond if he wanted to. Not only was Sam’s arm pressed hard against his throat, but more than that, he was struck by Sam’s heady scent: earth, and musk, and something sweet. It was nothing he’d ever smelt before.

“What the fuck?” Ok, so he mouthed it rather than said it as Sam’s arm was fucking immovable. Grappling at the arm, he scowled at his brother. Even that was hard, when all he wanted to do was bare his throat. And that was really fucking scary.

Suddenly he was released. Sliding down the wall, he felt his throat. There were going to be bruises. In the background he could hear Bobby yelling at Sam.

“You idjit! What’re you doing? We just got your brother back! There’s no guaranteeing he’ll get back a second time!”

“That’s a good point, Bobby. How exactly did you get back, Dean?”

Sam’s voice was sharp, and Dean just shrugged. He might have answered if Sam hadn’t just tried to strangle him, but, well, surely he was allowed to feel a little unimpressed.

Apparently not, he thought, as Bobby hit the back of his head.

“Answer the damn question, Dean. The sooner we get this sorted the better.” Bobby turned laser eyes on him. “And I would really like to know too.”

--oo--

Sam hadn’t bought the white light explanation. Not until Castiel, angel of the motherfucking Lord, turned up and shattered all Bobby’s windows.

Sam hadn’t initially noticed, he’d been so busy staring at Dean. How did he not notice the house exploding? Dean didn’t really understand why, but he wasn’t going to argue with Sam in a full Alpha Rage. At least it wasn’t currently directed at him. Angry Sam was intimidating. And sexy.

But it was a hopeless standoff. Sam didn’t stand a chance against one of heaven’s soldiers. He still didn’t back down.

And that did things to Dean…

“What did you do to him?”

Wow. Now Sam had Castiel against the wall. And hot as it was, it was a bad idea, Sam… very bad id-

Dean winced as Sam flew across the other side of the room, crashing down on the couch. Before he could shake his head and get his bearings, Castiel was on him, blade (and where the fuck did that come from?) pressed to Sam’s throat.

“I gripped your brother tight and raised him from perdition. I stormed Hell to rescue him and remade him anew. You think a pitiful human like you can harm me?”

Of course Sam didn’t just lie down and take it. He wouldn’t be Sam if he made things easy. Instead he pushed himself to his feet, shaking off Dean’s helping hands. Dean winced at the bruises already showing on his arms. And was Sam favouring his hand…?

“What do you want with Dean? Why would you do that?”

“Dean has as destiny. He is needed on Earth. And we need you to stay with him, and help him.”

Dean was probably the most surprised to realise Heaven had a use for him. Not that he had an opportunity to think about why an angel would rescue him. And he didn’t think about it now, as Sam’s look of betrayal froze him. Why? What happened? What had he done now?

Dean frantically ran over the conversation. Sure, he’d stopped listening, too caught up in the fact he’d been rescued by an angel, and angels didn’t exist. But obviously they did, as the douche in front of them indicated. Shit. What had he said?

“What destiny?”

Frowning, Dean turned towards his brother. What was Sam’s problem? If anyone should be asking questions, it should be him.

“Although that isn’t the whole truth.” The angel paused, staring off at nothing and everything. It was fucking creepy, if you asked Dean.

Sam obviously wanted to beat the truth out of the angel, but given the way he was favouring his hand… Dean guessed the angel hadn’t gone as gently as it first appeared. Firmly, he stifled any inclinations to check Sam was ok. It wasn’t welcome.

The silence continued, until Sam growled.

“Then what is the whole truth?”

The angel pursed his lips, obviously not used to mere mortals questioning him. Better not hang out with the Winchesters then, Dean thought, lips quirking. The angel sent him a look, and Dean started. What? The fuckers read minds?

Making a show of turning towards Sam, Castiel’s laser eyes sought the alpha’s. Whereas Dean’s inclination was to turn his eyes away, Sam growled and puffed up his chest. The angel’s expression didn’t waver.

“You, Sam Winchester, and your brother Dean Winchester, are the chosen vessels of the archangels Michael and Lucifer.”

“What does that mean? A vessel? Is that like a demon meat suit?”

Dean lost track of the conversation, thinking instead on the angels. Archangel’s if Castiel was to be believed, and Dean wasn’t yet convinced. Still, vessels to the most powerful angels in all of creation? That probably meant something. He’d think about it more later. Right now he was still too busy processing the fact that an angel had pulled him from hell. Of course he should probably feel a little more strongly than that, but he had just been pulled from hell, so being an angel suit wasn’t on top of his list of things to think about. Still…

“So whose vessel am I?”

Bobby coughed and Sam actually looked at him.

“You think that is the important thing here, Dean? Which angel wants to wear you?”

“There wasn’t any choice.” Castiel’s voice broke through. “Sam here is an alpha, created to be Lucifer’s perfect vessel. And Michael…”

Castiel trailed off and Dean’s grin, which had been hiding, appeared again. So Sammy was a bad boy! Not that that was any surprise. What was more surprising was the angel’s vaguely uncomfortable expression. Given he hadn’t looked anything other than superior or pissed off. Who would have thought it?

“Michael… Michael needs his mate, and Dea–“

The roar that rent the air stopped even the angel.

“You dare play with us?”

Dropping to his knees, Dean lowered his head. It was instinctive. He’d seen Sam angry before, but never like this. He didn’t know what to compare it to.

Pressure built in the room, before with a flicker of sound the angel disappeared.

Blessed silence filled the room. Dean cautiously raised his eyes, only to find Sam leaning heavily against the wall. All his protective instincts were back, as he sprang to his feet.

“Sam? Are you ok? The angel didn’t do anything did he?” He moved towards his Sam, only find his back pressed against the wall. Again. He was really getting sick of this.

But before he could yell at his brother, Sam’s nose was in his neck. Inhaling deeply before a growl shook his body. Pushing himself back, Sam strode across the room, straight for the door. Hand on the handle, he paused, taking a deep breath before looking back at Dean. And Dean was stunned at the loss in his eyes. What the fuck? What was wrong with Sammy?

“Sammy…”

“How could they? How could they do this, Dean? And why? Everything I wanted… but I… you…”

Given Sam was normally gifted with speech, this was more than worrying. Reaching one hand out, Dean moved towards Sam, and couldn’t help but feel hurt when Sam batted his hand away and backed out of reach.

Now Dean felt his anger build: any decent brother would be fucking glad he was back! But Sam? Of course he wasn’t he was angry at Dean. He’d been splashed and cut, and yes, he got that. He would do exactly the same thing. But to have his brother turn on him – to be accused and attacked even after Dean had passed all those tests.

And now, now that the freaking angel (and yes that was still weird, but Dean wasn’t going to think about it) had confirmed that Dean was exactly who he said he was, even with that, Sam was backing away!

Dean was back and Sam was leaving him.

No. No, that was not his heart breaking. And those weren’t tears in his eyes.

“I have to go. I’ll be back. Later.”

Hands clenched by his side, Dean watched as his brother walked out the door. Again.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

--oo--

Sam drove until it was too dangerous not to stop. He’d come straight to Bobby’s, kept going on desperation alone.

Because Dean.

Dean who he thought was lost. Dean who he hadn’t stopped thinking about it since he was killed in front of him. Dean who had been dragged down to hell. Was back.

Dean was back and the angels had done something to him.

Dean smelt like his mate, like every fantasy he’d ever created. Everything he’d ever wanted was right in front of him but it was wrong. It had to be wrong.

Sam was glad he’d pulled over. He didn’t even realise he was crying, until heavy sobs shook his whole body. Dean was back, and what had Sam done? Run away. Left and was grieving for the future he’d wanted and would never get. Dean was back and what the fuck was wrong with him?

Sam cried until there was nothing left. He cried until he fell asleep. He slept so deeply he didn’t hear the buzz of the phone throughout the night.

--oo--

He felt better when he woke. Worn out, but better. The light of day brought resolution, and he knew what he had to do: go on as if nothing had changed. He’d wanted his brother for years, and yeah, it would be hard, given he smelt so fucking perfect, but he was not his hormones.

Dean was still his brother.

(And if his dick wasn’t quite on board, well, hadn’t Sam always said it was mind over matter? Time to put that into practise.)

--oo--

“Where is he?”

Sam could hear Dean before he was even at the door.

“He never answered the phone. He always answers the phone! Why wouldn’t he answer the phone?”

“Dean…”

Bobby’s voice had obviously been attempting reason for a while. Dean was having none of it.

“It’s been twelve hours and I haven’t heard from him. I’m goin-“

The front door was flung open just as Sam raised his hand to knock. Unexpectedly, he was face to face with his brother. Silence rippled between them.

“Dean?” Bobby’s voice was worried.

As the older man rounded the corner, Dean flung himself at Sam. Grunting a little under the force, Sam automatically wrapped his hands around his brother, breathing in the intoxicating scent. Which went straight to his cock.

Fuck. He wanted his brother. He’d wanted him since he knew what it meant. And now he was here, smelling the way he’d always dreamed off. In any other universe, this would be their happy ending, because Dean was his mate. His.

But in this universe the Winchester luck was against them. Because this was just part of some angel plan. Dean wasn’t an omega, he was just caught up in some angel game: he wasn’t Sam’s mate, he was Lucifer’s mate. And Sam loved Dean too much to claim him just because of angel politics. He couldn’t hurt him like that.

He breathed shallowly and willed his erection down. This was going to be harder than he thought. The alpha part of him that he’d suppressed was out and ready to go, urging Sam to push his brother down, kiss him, fuck him, mark him, and claim him as he’d always dreamt of. Claim him so no one else – and nothing else would ever take him away.

Sam held Dean until Dean leant back, and punched Sam in the chest. Hard.

“Ow!”

“What the fuck, Sammy? You never just run off like that! And you fucking answer the phone! I didn’t know what happened to you! I didn’t know if you were ok! I…”

Dean’s breath caught, and Sam couldn’t stay strong against the shimmer of tears in his brother’s eyes. And it was stupid – and masochistic - but Sam hugged his brother again, feeling the way Dean moulded to his body. He felt perfect.

“I can’t lose you, Sammy. You’re important. You’re-“

Sam cut him off. “I’m sorry I left, Dean. But… fuck.”

He didn’t know what to say. Letting go of Dean he pushed past into the kitchen. And then wished he hadn’t, as Bobby was standing there. This conversation was going to be uncomfortable enough as it was.

Still. If he hadn’t run away like a child, Dean and he could have had this conversation privately. It was a just penance.

Taking a deep breath Sam could taste Dean. Why the fuck was he everywhere now? Who was fucking playing with them now? Sam turned and fought for calm. Tapping his fingers against his thigh, he sought the words that would make this ok. Were there any?

“Dean. I… I’m sorry. I just couldn’t believe it was you. It’s been hard. You were gone-” His voice broke and Sam fought back tears. It had been fucking hard, like half of his self had been ripped away. Blinking rapidly, he felt Bobby’s hand on his shoulder, and for once was grateful for the older hunters stabilising presence.

“To be honest, I don’t think I really… really dealt with your… your death.” Fuck. Was that first time he’d said it? “I… Bobby and I… we looked to bring you back.”

Sam winced at the look on his brothers’ face. “I know! I know I promised. But I couldn’t! Surely you understand? For the same reason you made the fucking deal I couldn’t… you aren’t meant to be in Hell.”

“Sammy–”

Sam shook his head and looked away. He just needed to talk. “You were gone, and I –“

“Look, Sammy, I –“

“Let me finish.” Shit. That was his alpha voice. He never used it! Well… not since yesterday, when Dean had come back smelling so fucking sweet… fuck. Not what he should be thinking about. “You were gone, and I didn’t know what to do. And when you came back? Fucking miracle. I know I reacted… badly,” And yeah, that was an understatement, “But it was all wrong.”

He was making a mess of this. How do you explain to your brother that he’s been created as a living breathing fantasy? There was no way to explain that, so Sam cut to the chase.

“You’re safe with me.”

--oo--

Dean blinked at the abrupt change in topic. While he itched to interrupt, he couldn’t. He’d never realised how compelling an alpha’s voice was. What with how fucked his body had been, he’d had no response to anything alpha. And he wasn’t particularly pleased with the current situation. And Sam ploughed on, with more words he didn’t want to hear.

“I promise I won’t touch you, Dean. You don’t have to ever worry about that.” Sam’s voice rang with sincerity. He could do this. He would do this. “You’re my brother and I love you. And I’ll keep you safe.”

Sam wouldn’t look at Dean. Couldn’t stand to see the pity, or disgust that might be there. So on that promise he ran. Again.

“Just heading to town. Need gas, but I’ll be back soon.”

--oo--

Silence met Sam’s abrupt departure. Dean’s mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound came out. Unfortunately his eyes leaked. Bobby coughed uncomfortably and clapped him on the shoulder.

“I’ll be inside if you need me.”

For the third time in his life, Dean’s heart was breaking. Cas had changed him. He knew that, felt it. It had taken a little while, but it added up: he could scent Sam, he reacted to Alpha voice, and his need to show his throat all the fucking time. Somehow he’d been brought back as if the past had never been, and Sam, his mate, didn’t want to touch him. Didn’t want him.

Gathering himself, Dean stuffed the hurt down. It wasn’t about him. It never had been. Sammy had grown up and didn’t need him. Dean could be the big brother. He could do this.



go to chapter 7