Behind Enemy Lines (Part Five)Author: alvara13Pairing
: NC-17Word Count:
I own nothing. Just playing with the boys.Warning:
Mention of past rape.Summary: A murder comes back to haunt a punk bar in the deep underground of a heavily populated city, leading the Winchesters into a complex hunt buried in twenty seven years of vengeance and obsession. Sam and Dean will have to go undercover to dig deep into the past of this case, but will they be able to cope when they discover more than just the reason why someone or something is killing every punk in town?
The Brook house was different when they pulled up in the Impala, the frigid air closer to the small house turning colder as Sam helped Dean out of the car. Dean was less grope friendly now, the pain starting to overwhelm the pleasure and spike repeatedly in his lower abdomen and thighs when he moved to do even the smallest of motions. Even drawing breath shot sharp points of agony through his lower body. Sam put an arm around his waist, holding him up and helping him walk while he carried Stephan Brook’s remains in his other arm.
Dean collapsed just up the stairs to the doorway, the handcuffs straining against his wrists as he attempted to hold his stomach as he retched onto the wooden porch. Sam crouched down beside him, rubbing circles into his brother’s back with his free hand, knowing that it wouldn’t help but he had to do something. He tried not to think too hard on it as Dean started coughing up a long strand that was too thick and too white to be spit.
Dean grimaced from the taste of it, bitter and reminiscent of back alleys and truck stops when low on cash-
“Please don’t tell me that is what I think it is.” He kept his eyes shut, his voice hoarse as he spit the last of what was in his mouth onto the porch. Sam didn’t stop rubbing his back, his silence his answer. “Oh, that’s just nasty. I don’t even know whose it is!”
“I think I might.” Sam listened to Dean catch his breath back, only coughing twice more before it passed. “A lot of the victims went through the same symptoms of ghost sickness. Usually the infected die in a similar way as the ghost had in the past…I think you’re going through how the punks killed Stephan since they infected you.”
“Fuck, that’s just wrong.” Dean winced as he stood before an arm was around his waist again and his weight was leaning on Sam once more. “We better get moving before something else leaks out of me. I do not want an in depth playback.”
Sam nodded, wanting to give Dean a reassuring smile but he couldn’t find it in him.
He picked the lock as Dean leaned heavily against the wall, looking half drunk and half way to passing out from pain, eyes glassy and lips pressed together, obviously biting back any noise his condition was causing him. Sam swallowed when he glanced over at him, and he would have told Dean to go wait back in the Impala - if he hadn’t been so scared that if he did, he’d come back to a dead brother. He was not going to let that happen. Dean was visibly shaking and having difficulty holding himself up, his arms getting limper and limper until the cuffs were digging into his skin beyond the point of discomfort.
“Still with me, Dean?” Sam breathed quietly as he was finally able to pick open the lock and unlock the door, collecting Stephan’s bones from where he set them at his feet. He looked up to see Dean swaying a little, his breath coming in uneven gasps like he was hyperventilating before his knees gave out from under him. “Dean? Hey!”
“Sam…” Dean’s unfocused eyes stared beyond Sam as his fingers dug into his shoulder. His breath gasped out in a cold cloud, the air frigid around them enough to send a shiver up Sam’s spine as well as shake his hunter’s instinct awake. “One of ‘em.”
The wood of the door broke easily from the force with which Sam was thrown through it, splinters littering the entryway of the Brook’s home as Stephan’s bones tumbled free from the confines of the blanket and clattered to the floor. Sam groaned, wincing as he struggled to get up when a heavy booted foot came stomping down on his neck to pin him. A choked sound escaped him and he managed to glance up from the corner of his eye to see the spiked green and black hair, blue eyes, and snake bite piercings of the long dead Seth Patricks.
“You’re not destroying my family, hunter.” Seth’s boot pressed down harder on his neck, making Sam grunt in pain as he struggled to get a good enough grip on the Deildegast to throw him off. His neck strained as the heavy boot twisted it into an uncomfortable position, a bit more force and Sam knew his neck would snap from Seth’s supernatural strength. “Hanten didn’t say there were two of you. I knew it was a little strange that one infected hunter managed to find Stephan’s bones and bring them here without falling victim to need.”
“What should I do with the sick one?” A feminine voice called out from just out of Sam’s line of sight. Seth turned to look toward it’s source, the twist of his leg making the steel toe of the boot dig painfully into the hallow just under Sam’s chin.
“Speed him along, Kaz. I don’t want to be here all night.”
“Dean?!” Dean could barely make out that Sam was shouting for him, his whole body wracked with shivers. He couldn’t make himself focus on anything but the blinding white hot pain spreading through out his body, his body convulsing with his nausea each time it hit.
His eyes felt wet when he was suddenly grabbed by the chin and forced to look up, meeting curly ginger hair and enough piercings to just barely hide a beautiful woman Dean might have looked twice at in other circumstances. Her nails dug painfully into his skin as she flashed him a shy smile, the heat of her touch less painful than the scrape of knifes inside him. Dean couldn’t even find breath enough to cry out as the pain doubled, nearly choking when the tang of blood entered his mouth and spilled across his lips in a sea of red that painted her pale hand the same color.
“Dean!” Sam couldn’t hear anything from his brother, panic seizing him and he struggled under Seth. They shouldn’t have listened to Hanten. Seth’s lips were curling into a smirk like he had planned this, just let another set of hunters fall into their twenty seven year trap like it was a game.
Sam gasped heavily when Seth’s boot was ripped from his neck, the thud of Seth hitting the floor beside him loud in the otherwise quiet room. He turned in time to see Hanten struggling to keep Seth pinned, the shock on Seth’s face quickly turning to rage.
“Burn the bones in his blood!”
“Hanten, you traitor! We’re family!” Seth kicked at Hanten as Sam hurried to his feet, looking towards the doorway in time to see Dean slump over to the side as if he were boneless. Kaz was stepping away from him, hand clenched to her chest as she stared at the two ghosts fighting on the floor like she had forgotten about Sam and Dean.
“No, we’re not! You took me away from Sara when she needed me. It’s your fault we’re in this mess!”
“I didn’t kill that kid alone. And as I recall, you wanted him as much as we did.”
“Stop it!” Kaz screamed out at them, looking lost as she stepped off the porch, distancing herself from them as much as she could. Sam grabbed Stephan’s bones as quickly as he could, feeling a pinch of pity in his chest as he passed Kaz without her so much as noticing. He knelled beside Dean to search for his brother’s lighter inside his leather jacket, unnerved by Dean’s unresponsiveness.
“But Stephan wanted you! Not us, Seth. You let him hurt Kaz! You didn’t tell us you drugged him. You didn’t tell us it was rape then you made us kill him so we wouldn’t go to jail for Sara’s sake!” Hanten took a punch to the face, choking Seth in response though it did nothing more than keep him pinned. “Just because you can’t deal with your real family doesn’t mean you can create some fucking patchwork one to drag down with you! You promised to take care of us then forced us into this!”
“You never complained! Not once!” Seth snarled, kicking Hanten in the chest and forcing him off him.
“Well, consider this thirty two years worth of complaining, asshole.”
Seth raised an eyebrow before glancing over at Sam cradling Dean to his chest, the click and flame of Dean’s lighter catching his eye just before Stephan’s bones were lit in the puddle of blood on the wood of the porch.
The three Deildegast went up in flames and high pitched shrieks, leaving behind small licks of fire in their wake.
Sam let out a heavy exhale, pulling Dean farther away from the burning bone and blood slowly seeping into the wood of the porch. He leaned back against the wood railing, letting himself relax slightly when he found Dean’s pulse, steady and ever present as Dean’s panting slowed into an unconscious breathing pattern.
If it weren’t for the blood smeared across Dean’s chin and his jacket, he might have thought Dean had just passed out from a few beers like the long nights in hotel rooms with no hunt prospects in sight. He stayed there, clutching Dean to his chest with his nose buried in his brother’s hair, until the flames dwindled and flickered out to leave large burn marks on wood and carpet.
When Dean stirred from unconsciousness, he felt like a truck driven by strippers had hit him, the ache in his bones making an unpleasant combination with the build up of lust finally taking over the forefront of his mind again. It was still a relief, the overpowering stabbing feeling of pain no longer present in his body though he could still taste the copper of his own blood in his mouth.
He groaned as he stretched out, trying to ease the ache a bit and roll onto his back before he realized he could feel the shift of cloth over and under him. Cracking open an eye, he was met with the ceiling of their motel room and the sight of linen sheets wrapped around him. Dean closed his eyes and relaxed more, enjoying the brush of the linen against his naked skin as he started to slide back into the need to get off and soon. He didn’t even think to stop as he heard the motel room door open and shut.
“Sam?” Dean felt a warm hand on his forehead after he breathed his brother’s name, opening his eyes to see Sam hovering over him with a small smile on his face. “Did we gank the bastards?”
“Yeah, we did.” Sam took his hand away, making Dean groan at the loss of touch and arch up to follow it. Sam shifted slightly from his spot on the side of the bed, ignoring how Dean’d been staring at him like a fresh piece of pie for the better part of an hour but he couldn’t stop himself from getting hard no matter what he tried to focus on. “You’ve been a bit feverish though. Seems like the ghost sickness isn’t leaving all at once but you’re getting better.”
Dean sat up, not missing how Sam was looking at him back. He leaned in a little too close, his bare chest resting against Sam’s arm as he kissed the shirt covering his shoulder lightly.
“How long have I been out?” Dean kissed upward, moaning slightly when Sam moved his arm to wrap it around his waist. “And more importantly, why am I naked?”
“You were overheating in your clothes. And they were covered in blood.” Sam felt Dean hum a noncommittal answer into his neck as he kissed him, making him feel like he could have said that he just wanted Dean naked and his brother would accepted it. “You’ve been in and out of it for about an hour.”
“That long enough for me to give my consent?”
“Dean.” Sam sighed, moving away slightly but not enough to discourage Dean from moving up to tug on his earlobe with his teeth.
“Come on, Sammy. I give a mean blowjob, so long as you promise to fuck me after.” Dean slid his hand up Sam’s thigh, groaning when he found Sam was hard as a rock in his jeans. “Know how you sound, Sammy. Wanna hear how loud you can get when fucking me. Need to hear it.”
“Dean, you’re still infected. It’s not you talking.” Sam was trying really hard to be the responsible one, knowing Dean was probably still an hour away from coherent thoughts. He just had to hold out past Dean practically humping his leg, even if the hand palming his cock through thick denim was tempting as fuck.
“Need you, Sam.” Dean tossed off the sheets, crawling into Sam’s lap and groaning, disappointed at how the denim prevented him from being able to climb right onto Sam’s cock. “Thought it over in that damn diner all morning. I got so distracted that I ordered that shitty strawberry coffee.”
“That explains your sudden overnight change from black to flavored and sugar and milk.” Sam rested his hands on Dean’s lower back, the lips he’d fantasized about only an inch away from his and so willing to be kissed. Dean’s bare ass rubbing against the tent in his jeans wasn’t helping him think about waiting either.
“Tattooed your name on my ass, I didn’t give a second though to it. Maybe I should make it perm-“
“Dean, shut up.” Sam grabbed the back of Dean’s head, yanking him into a searing kiss without so much a thought to the metallic taste in his mouth as he bit at Dean’s lips lightly. When Dean parted his lips, Sam immediately did his best to shove his tongue down his throat as Dean tangled his fingers in his hair.
Dean cried out into the kiss when Sam suddenly wrapped a hand around his cock, jacking it twice before using his weight to shove Dean onto the bed. The kiss picked up like it hadn’t stopped when Sam moved to sit between Dean’s spread legs, sucking down and enjoying every cry, moan, and hitch of Dean’s breath as he stroked his cock with sharp flicks of his wrist. Dean wrapped his legs around Sam’s waist, thrusting up into his brother’s tight grip with abandon as he quickly lost the fight of control over himself.
Sam was practically fucking his mouth with his tongue, calloused hands feeling like heaven on his cock and groping his ass as his begging to come was lost in the tangle of their tongues in his mouth. Dean arched his back when he felt himself closing in on his orgasm, the rough denim of Sam’s jeans uncomfortable rubbing against his skin but he cared more about how Sam was grinding desperately against his ass than the discomfort right now.
When Sam broke off their kiss to bite at Dean’s neck, he couldn’t hold back. He was trapped between the need to thrust up into Sam’s fist and to grind down on the bulge of Sam’s cock as he came, his hands clenched in the fabric of Sam’s shirt as he stained it.
“Sam, Sam, Sammy…fuck!” Sam bit his own lip as he heard his own name breathed out in a harsh moan before that tell tale hitch in Dean’s breath that he knew he was going to be jerking off to from that day forward. He buried his face into Dean’s neck, kissing it and knowing that he was far from done with his brother when Dean’s cock didn’t soften a bit in his hand.