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01 January 2008 @ 09:24 pm
Fiction: Spellbound 3/6  
Title: Spellbound 3/6
Sam and Dean both have to deal with the aftermath
Hurt & Comfort, Drama
Disclaimer: Sam, Dean and John belong to their respected owners of the CW! I'm just borrowing them....

Spellbound 3/6

Heather sat at a small table near the entrance of the bar.  After waiting for 30 minutes, she didn’t want to miss the moment Dean would turn up. The spell should have by now taken hold. Logically, he would return to the bar sometime this evening, searching for his object of desire. Imaging Dean longing for her, made her grin. She was going to get what she wanted this time. But first she was going  to make him beg and not give in too soon. She wanted to enjoy the power she would have over him. This time her room mate wasn’t right – the spell had worked! Somehow she was certain it had.

 Another 30 minutes later, Heather was nervously tapping her foot on the floor and ordering her 3rd Martini. What was taking him so long?

Just in that moment, the door flung open and someone entered the bar.
Leaning over the table in anticipation, Heather tried to catch sight of who it was.


After checking out the library once more, Sam had looked around the town, questioning the locals. But so far nobody seemed to know of anything supernatural. Finally, he had ended up in front of the bar he and Dean had visited the night before. When everything had still been normal. Sam sighed.
He wasn’t usually the kind of person to go in bars and drink alone, but with all that had happened today, he decided to change his habits.

The last time he had gotten really drunk was after that huge fight with Dad, the night before leaving for Stanford. It had been years since then, but now he felt the occasion called for a good booze again.

After entering the bar, he looked around for a second before recognising the black haired woman. She looked directly at him, starring some what in surprise. Sam didn’t know what to make of her at first, before memory floated back. She had been Dean’s pool partner of the night before. Obviously this was her usual place for hanging out.

Still starring at him, she slowly dropped her gaze and took another swallow of her martini.
Sam wondered if she recognised him. He looked at her, remembering how she had thrown herself at Dean. Had he been jealous? Right now it seemed that way.

Going past the table, Sam headed for the bar and ordered his first beer.

I am jealous at my brother for flirting with a girl, okay. I adore him and loved him secretly, okay. We made love together, not okay. He was under a love spell, really not okay.
Man, I am so fucked up!

By the time Dean decided to get up, Sam was long gone. He had tried to think about everything that had happened. When had it gone wrong? Was what happened really wrong? His head told him yes, his heart told him no. But how many of these thoughts were really his own, and how many influenced by the spell? Screw you Sam. And screw the spell.

Dean got up and took a shower, hoping to clear his head of all this useless thinking. He never was one to over think every situation. He was a man of action. Thinking was Sam’s habit.

Oh Sammy!

The cold water managed to cool the heat of his body, but didn’t manage to extinguish the fire in his heart. He let the water run along his neck, over his shoulders and over his chest. When he held his head under the shower head, the water touched every nerve in his body. For a short moment he felt like loosing himself in the moment. The water really seemed to purge all thoughts from his mind. But the sensation only lasted seconds, before images of Sammy came floating back.

Dean leaned against the cold tiles to keep from sliding down. These feelings were too much for him – this whole situation too complicated. All he knew right now was that he needed his Sammy. Needed him close, needed to kiss him, cradle him, tell him that everything was going to be alright.
He needed to make love to him.
With images of the love act from before flashing back into his head, Dean already felt the heat grow between his thighs. He turned the water even colder, but it didn’t help to forget his need.

Man, how the hell was he going to get through this?
If Sam didn’t want to give him what he needed, well then he’d better find a way to undo the spell – quickly.

After his third beer and five shots of Tequila, Sam couldn’t sit straight any more. Walking seemed even harder, as the whole room seemed to shake before his eyes. Driving would be a even greater challenge.
Perhaps he just shouldn’t go back to the motel tonight. Back to Dean. Would he be waiting up for him?
He wanted to go to him, badly, but he couldn’t.

After finishing his last drink, the bartender came to Sam asking if he wanted another.
Sam just rolled his eyes.

“Do I want another drink?” he asked somewhat ironically.
“I guess I shouldn’t, since I’m already pretty much drunk and normally can’t hold my drink. But since I’m trying to forget what happened today, I think I should.”

The bartender, a chubby, mid-aged woman, looked at Sam a bit pitiful.

“So you wanna tell me what happened today? Don’t take it personal, but loads of guys who come in here, appearing all tough, drink until they can’t stand on their own feet any more, often only long to talk to somebody.”

“You think I’m that kinda guy?” Sam asked unbelievingly.

“Not really. But I guess every guy wants to be like that every now and then, don’t they? Well anyway, I’m a good listener.”

Now a smile graced the little round face of the bartender.

Sam really was beginning to like her. Although it seemed absurd to tell anybody what had happened, even without explaining the supernatural bit, Sam gave in.

“Can I get a drink after?”

“If you still want one. But then please let me drive you home?”

“See that’s just what my problem is. I don’t have a home”

“So you’re homeless?” the bartender jumped to conclusion.

“No. Well me and my brother are travelling across the country right now. So he’s kinda my home. Where ever he is, I feel at home.”

Sam blushed lightly while rethinking his words.

“But today I risked it all.”

“And just how did you do that?”

“You won’t believe me. It’s crazy and illegal and you’ll think I’m sick.”

Sam wasn’t so sure about telling his story any more. He didn’t know anything about her anyway. Could he really talk about his feelings to a total stranger? Sometimes it could help, that much he knew.

“Darling, trust me, I heard a lot of weird stories before. Wouldn’t be my first, I’m sure. Besides, I don’t judge. Not what I’m here for. So tell me what’s bothering you.”

Sam let out a sigh.

”I fucked my brother.” he replied bluntly, waiting for the shock to set in.

But the bartender didn’t scream, laugh or say anything. Not even her eyes betrayed some sign of shock. So Sam continued.

“I’ve been in love with him ever since I was a teenager. But I’ve always kept it a secret. I mean falling for your own brother isn’t really normal, is it? And it’s not something I wanted to share.”

“I can understand why.”

“Well everything was okay until yesterday.”

“When you fucked your brother?” the bartender quite bluntly repeated.

“Yeah. See the problem is that he’s under a spell. A love spell.”

Sam didn’t care how crazy it sounded, the words just kept spilling out of him. It felt so good to talk about it all.
It was probably partly due the overdose of alcohol in his blood. Tomorrow he would surely die of shame remembering this conversation.

In the end, the bartender brewed him a fresh cup of coffee, just what Sam needed at 1.30 am.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” she asked.

“For listening and for the coffee. It really seems to clear my head.”

The bartender smiled.

“See, I knew it would do you good.”

Sam smiled back and took another swallow of what probably was the best cup of coffee he had had in weeks.

“So what about this spell? You believe in that?”

Sam nodded. “With all the things I’ve seen . . . let’s just say magic exists.”

The bartender leaned closer towards Sam.
“That’s interesting. See I don’t believe in that esoteric crap, but Heather always swears it works.”

“Heather?” Sam asked confused.

“Yeah, she’s our town witch. At least the people around here call her that.”

“Really?” Sam asked, his logic brain clicking in again.

“Well she’s into all that sort of stuff.”

“Do you know where I can find her?”

“She was just here. Left only minutes ago. The black haired girl sitting over there.”

Sam followed her gaze to the empty table near the entrance. Then he put two and two together.

“That was Heather?”

A silent nod.

“Does she normally come here?”

“Yeah pretty often.”


Heather was the one who had laid the spell upon Dean. It all made sense. She had probably been angry at him for taking off the other night.

Smiling pleasingly, Sam gripped his jacket, through some money on the table and got up to leave.

“Hey wait a sec. You’re taking off? Can you even drive? And what’s up with Heather? Did I just miss something?”

Sam grinned.

“Don’t worry, everything’s okay. See you tomorrow.”

With that Sam took off, finally feeling that he’d made progress. Perhaps he could still make things better.
Who would have thought a bar visit could be the key to solving his problems? Well at least some.

When Heather returned home, she found her room mate still up.

“Well, how did it go? I assume you went to his place? Was it worth it?”

Heather shot her an angry look.


She didn’t understand what she meant by it, until it clicked.

“It didn’t work, did it? The spell?”

Heather preferred not to answer, already feeling annoyed. Yeah so her room mate had been right again. But still she could do without having to listen to another lecture.

“Look I know,” she finally replied. “And I don’t need you to tell me I was wrong. I’m already in a bad mood, having spent four hours at that damn bar with absolutely no cute guys and only martinis for comfort. What a waste!”

She through her jacket in the corner and flung herself down on the couch.

“Well, there was one cute guy, but he only looked at me in a queer way and then didn’t pay me any attention any more. What’s wrong? Is it me? The way I look or treat guys?”

“I’d try and not put a spell on everybody you’re interested in. Maybe that would work to begin with!”

“Ha-ha. But honestly, I do think I shouldn’t do any more spells at the moment. They don’t seem to work, although I don’t understand why. It really should have gone right this time. I did everything the way....”

“Yeah, yeah. Oh just forget it Heather. Probably better this way. And now let’s get to bed. I’m totally wasted.”

After Sam left the bar, he strolled around a bit before returning to the motel. He knew how silly his behaviour was. He was trying to avoid Dean, his own brother! What did he expect he’d do? Jump on him like some craving animal? Surely not. He wouldn’t do anything without Sam wanting it. He may be under a spell, but he still had some working cells in his brain left. He would never hurt Sam, never force him in to anything. But that was just what his problem was. Dean wouldn’t need force. Sam only had to look at Dean’s beautiful eyes, his gorgeous lips and he would turn into a freaking puppet, obeying every wish.

“Come on Sam, you’ll get through this,” a little voice told him in the back of his head.

It was almost 2 am.
Dean would probably be sleeping by now anyway.

So gently he slipped the keys in the lock and opened the motel room door.

Complete darkness surrounded him. Trying to be silent, he closed the door and approached the table.
Putting his laptop down, he glanced over to Dean and then went over to his own bed.

He couldn’t see Dean’s face, only his silhouette. He was breathing steadily, but still Sam sensed that he wasn’t asleep, perhaps only dozing.

Years of sleeping together in one room had made him all too familiar with the sounds and moves his older brother would make while asleep.
Right now Dean was trying to fall asleep, trying really hard, but obviously it wasn’t working.
Sam pulled of his shirt and jeans and crawled underneath his blanket. He really tried to avoid making any noises, but he knew Dean’s attention was all his.

He laid down and tried to close his eyes. It would be impossible to sleep like this, Dean starring over to him, longing to come over and crawl into his bed . . . wanting to touch him. Was Dean thinking the same thing right now?

All of a sudden he could hear moans coming from the other bed and gazed over. His eyes having adjusted to the darkness, he saw his brother tossing and turning, not finding any rest.

Was he getting hard underneath his shorts?

Damnit Samuel Winchester! Stop these thoughts. Do you want to torture yourself?

He felt a tensing below his stomach but decided to ignore it.

It’s not like he never jerked off while Dean was in the same room, sleeping or pretending to. Dean had acted the same way occasionally, but that had been years ago! They both still had been children. It had been an innocent child’s play, a simple trying out how far one could go. Doing the same now wouldn’t be possible. There was no innocence left between them. And Dean wouldn’t just lay in his bed listening. He would crawl over to him, perhaps lend him a hand or even let that sinful tongue of his move over his most sensitive parts.

Oh God! He imagined what Dean would feel like, what he had felt like only hours before. His tongue, hot and sticky, stroking him, while he gently fucked his mouth.

Too much! Too much!                                          

Sam couldn’t take it any more. Slowly, without trying to make any sound, he guided his hand down under the blanket searching for the source of his heat.
Just a soft touch and he was shivering all over, a small moan escaping his throat.
Just what he needed! 
Why couldn’t he control himself? Probably because he had had sex with his brother only hours before, and probably because of the alcohol still in his blood.

Shit, beer always worked on him like fucking Viagra.

He bit his lower lip and closed his eyes.                
There was a total silence in the room.
He didn’t dare look over to Dean to see how he reacted. Had he even heard him? Hell yeah!
How could he not have?

Dean’s question hung in the air like a sweet, heavy perfume.

Sam opened his eyes again and finally gazed over to his brother.
All they did was look at one another, eyes glued in the darkness.

“Are you alright?”

Sam struggled to find a answer. No he wasn’t fucking alright! He was going to jerk off thinking of his brother.

“Where were you?”

“Doing research.”

“Yeah right! ” Dean bit his lip, in order not to say anything foolish.

“Dean I really did do some research,” Sam protested. “And guess what? I even found out who laid the spell on you.”

“Then how come you smell of beer, tequila and smoke?”

“You can smell that?” Sam asked unbelievingly.

“Good nose. And the way you stumbled in here. And . . .” he lost his voice for a moment.

“Dude, I can tell when you’re drunk. Remember when you were 16 and you had your first beer? Man you were a mess!”

Sam sat up in his bed, slowly slipping his hand out of the blanket. It didn’t escape Dean’s notice. Hell, he knew what he was just about to do, what he had almost done. He felt like a little boy, having been caught stealing the cookie jar.

“I’m not drunk. But I was in a bar, the same one we were in yesterday actually, and guess who turned up as well?”
Dean wasn’t in the mood for guessing games.

“Your pool partner. Heather is her name, just in case you didn’t get it.”

“I did, but thanks.” The sarcasm in Dean’s voice was clear.

“And you talked to her? Drank a couple of beers with her and then what? You made out?”
Now he was trying to be ironic, or simply bother the hell out of Sam.

“No, we didn’t make out! What are thinking about? Why are you so pissed anyway? Can’t you just hear me out?”
Dean was being an ass, but he didn’t care about that right now. If he couldn’t have Sam than no one should, and sure as hell not Heather in some sleazy bar.

“Look Dean. I talked to the bartender and she told me Heather is known for doing a little hocus-pocus every now and then. “

Dean didn’t seem to pay much attention.

“Oh the bartender? What, so you flirted with her?”

Sam shot up and walked over to Dean.

“Stop it okay? Didn’t you hear me? Heather is the town witch here, so I’m guessing she put the spell on you. She probably wanted more from you and did a little love spell. Only that is didn’t work on her, but on me. Tough luck.”

Dean glanced at Sam, standing only inches away from him. The heat that radiated from his body seemed to fill the entire room.

“Dean, did you hear what I said?” Sam asked after minutes of silence.

Dean nodded.

“Look, we have to get her to break the spell. I mean just look at you! You’re jealous of me talking to a girl! Dean, you’re not yourself.”

Dean sighed.

His little bro was right, of course. Still he was lead by his heart.

“I know what you mean Sammy, but I just don’t know if I can live without those feelings.” 
Sam felt a sting in his heart. How he wanted these feelings to be true, but they weren’t.

“Dean, they’re not your feelings, not really.”

Sam almost fainted.

“But yours are true,” Dean replied bluntly.

Sam’s mouth fell open but he couldn’t think of anything to say.
Yeah they were, and it tore him apart to see his beloved brother this way now – broken, battered.

“Sammy, before, after you slipped into bed you ...”

Sam turned around and blushed.                

“Dean, don’t, please!” he begged, looking away from the older Winchester. But Dean needed to know.

“Was it because of me? Just tell me! Was I the reason?”

The question tortured Sam.

Instead of answering he headed for the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Dean thought of following Sam, but decided not to. His little baby brother could be quite stubborn if he’d put something into his head.

“Sammy you ‘kay?” he asked, leaning outside the bathroom door.

God, how he’d wish he could enter and give Sam what he needed, what he craved for. But at the same time he was afraid of him flipping out like this morning after they’d . . . fuck! This whole freaking day was getting on his nerves! It had all been solely filled up with images of Sam and no matter how hard he tried, there was no banishing them. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d craved anyone or anything this much, simply because he never had.

“Oh fuck you Sam!” he began to shout against the closed door.

“You just stay in there and bottle it all up inside you. Do you think that will do any good?”

He waited for a response, but when none came, he continued.

“Sam, you really think you’re the only one who feels something? Man I might be under a spell, but no spell in the world could play with my emotions like this. You hear me? This is still me Sam!”

After letting out some of the anger he had built up over the day, the door opened up and Dean slowly leaned forward. Sam was standing by the door, both hands against the walls to steady himself. His face was red with tears as he tried to look at his brother.

“Dean,” he said chokingly, trying to hold back the tears.

Dean took a step forward and reached for his brother. God, it nearly killed him to see him like this.
Grabbing his arms, he wrapped the larger, but somehow fragile appearing body around his own.

“It’s okay Sammy. I got you. It’s alright. I’m here for you. I always will be.”

Sam let himself fall into the strong arms of his brother, who carried him out of the bathroom. Gently he laid him on his own bed.
Then he sat by his side for a moment and began to stroke his face smoothly.

“Oh Sammy”

He wanted to say something to comfort Sam, but couldn’t think of anything that might help. Instead he stroked his cheeks, brushing away the tears that still spilt over his face. Then he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Sam’s forehead.
All feelings of anger, lust or hate had vanished and left a heart full of love.

Looking upon Sammy now, he recognised that he felt so much love for him, so much that he was afraid his heart would break under the weight of it.

Sam slowly stopped crying as Dean placed more kisses on his forehead, on his cheeks and close to his mouth.

Sam fell silent and began to breath heavily. Dean caught the scent of him, felt the warmth of his body.
It was like a sweet torture. But now there was no more room for thoughts, no more place for guilt. This was his Sammy and he needed him right now.

As their lips touched, Sam’s body shifted lightly, tensing up beneath Dean who stretched the whole length of his body upon him.

Their lips parted and their tongues touched each other with gentle strokes.

Sam let himself fall again and relaxed beneath his brother, enjoying the kiss full of love.

It lasted for a couple of minutes, before Dean pulled back, his lips slightly red and throbbing.
He wanted more, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t put Sam through that sort of emotional torture again. So he slipped out of the bed and placed one more kiss on Sam’s forehead.

“Think we should try and get some sleep now?”

Sammy nodded, already closing his eyes.

“Sleep tight Sammy.”

Moving over to Sam’s empty bed, Dean laid himself down.
Minutes later he was slipping into a pleasant dream, the scent of Sammy all around him.

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