Hearfelt thanks to the artistic and generous Lightthesparks who made this story banner for us.
(co-written with Fetish
Pairing: Vamp!Sam/Dean, the Cullen family (from Stephenie Meyer’s “Twilight”)
Rating/Warnings: NC 17; dubious consent
; Slash; bloodplay; Sam and Dean are not brothers in this fic however incest warnings given due to board requirements
Characters: SPN, Twilight and the characters from these t.v. shows and movies/books are not ours, we're just playin' with 'em
Summary: Dean is captured and held by the Cullens in their basement while they find themselves a new home, one where the hunters won't find them. Responsible for feeding and taking care of him, Sam Cullen develops an obsession with Dean. One that Dean foolishly tries to exploit.)
Looking up at the up-high basement window, Dean cursed. Night was coming. The third one since he'd somehow let this vampire nest fucking get the best of him. Three days, he'd been chained in here. Okay, he'd only been chained two days... after he'd tried to escape. But here he was, every day waiting to see which of the bastards would be the first to try to suck on him. They were strong too, damned strong. Stronger than any he'd tangled with. And they all came with smart mouths.
He looked at the chain between his cuffed wrists and wished he had something... anything... a pin, didn't those women wear hair pins in their hair? "Fuck." Just as he let his closed fists fall to the ground, chains clanking, the door opened. He saw a pair of feet, then long jean clad legs as the figure made his way down the stairs. Good, it wasn't the blonde bitch who'd smacked him good.
Sam made his way down the stairs, after having returned from his hunt, his brothers and sisters had filled him in on what was going on and why. Stupid hunter, they had only wanted to be left alone, didn't they get that? It wasn't like they even drank human blood... ever.
Carrying the tray of food, Sam stepped off the last step and headed toward the small cage where they were keeping the guy that his siblings had captured.
Sam hadn't looked up, his eyes on the tray of disgusting food as he walked until now that he stood at the door of the cage. Looking up, slighty slanted golden-hazel eyes took in the sight of the man before him, jaw clenched muscle twitching. Licking his lips, Sam blew out a soft breath, "I brought you something to eat." he shook his head, "I dunno how good it is. We tried to make hamburgers and fries, but..." he shrugged a shoulder, the corner of his lips quirking upward.
"Trying to fatten me up like Hansel? Fuck you!" Dean stared at him. New guy. They kept crawling out of the woodwork. Just how many of them lived here? How many would he have to kill if... when he got out of here? The smile... the friendly look, it wasn't gonna fool him.
Sam sighed before leaning over to place the tray on the floor. Pulling back to his full height, Sam looked at the man and tilted his head to the side, a teasing grin pulling at his lip. "Hansel? What, you think we'd eat you?" he shook his head slowly as he let his gaze slide over the man, slowly making a face. "Sorry, but you don't really, do it for me." He winked and turned back toward the stairs only to stop and look back. "I'd eat that soon if I were you, Ros cooked it, or well, what she thought was cooking it." He pressed his lips together as his eyes went to the food then back to the man, "personally I think I'd go on a diet if I were you. Vampires aren't known for being great chefs."
"No kidding." Like he'd been been able to eat any of the 'meals' they'd offered. "I think she's trying to poison me." His stomach growled loudly even as he resisted the urge to pull the tray over. He waited a while for the vampire to leave, but when he didn't, he reached for the damned thing and opened up the bun, looking up suddenly in disbelief. "You want me to eat a raw meat sandwich? Sonova..." Dropping it down, Dean grabbed the too-few fries, which could have used some salt, and might have been better if they weren't so crunchy he was in danger of breaking his teeth... but other than that, were at least edible.
Sam tilted his head to the side as he watched the human. "Raw meat?" he shook his head, "It was cooked..." he grinned, "the fire alarm even went off, or maybe that was due to the oven mitt she caught on fire." With a shrug he watched the man eat in silence for a few minutes. Something about him... He licked his lips. "You know if you had just left us alone, this would never had happened to begin with," Sam pointed at him, "you brought this on yourself. We only wish to live a life without trouble, fit in, blend with the humans." He shrugged a shoulder, I don't think it is much to ask, do you?" he quirked a brow.
"Yeah, and you don't have fangs and drink blood. And you don't have a cage just hanging around in the basement of your house and chains," he raised his wrists. "You can play human all you like, you're not fooling me. And if you're not fooling me, there are hundreds like me you're not fooling. They're probably on their way, right now." He broke a french fry into two, sucked on it a while trying to soften up the damned thing.
"We drink animal blood, fangs are dental work, nothing more," Sam answered. "As for the cage and chains," Sam quirked a brow, "you telling me you don't have things like that at your home, your... basement or whatever it is you work out of? Sometimes when life hands you the barbaric, you have to follow suit." He narrowed his eyes, giving the man a pointed look.
"Fine... you're a nice vampire. C'mere and let me go. I walk out that door, and its like we never saw each other." Green eyes clashed with hazel. "What's the matter, would that interfere with your dinner plans?" No matter what they said, he was sure he was on the menu. They could pretend to be civilized, but their vampire nature would get the best of them.
Sam was in front of the bars before Dean had time to blink, grabbing hold of the chin between the man's cuffed hands and pulling him over, then raising his arm high so that the man's hands were forced above his head. Sam reached between the bars with his free hand, catching the man's shirt and pulling him against the bars so tightly it forced the man to turn his head to the side. "If I were going to feed from you, little human, you would already be dry," Sam growled between clenched teeth, before curling his lip and showing his fangs.
As his face and body were slammed against the bars, Dean gave a growl all of his own, trying to pull the fuck away. He couldn't. And he was forced to look at the wickedly sharp looking fangs, and the anger flashing in those deceivingly soft eyes. Shit, the bastard was going to pull his arms out of their socket. "So what... you're gonna starve me to death? Pull my arms off, what?" He pulled his head back as far as he could, biting back a groan of pain.
Sam narrowed his eyes a small snarl sounding deep in his chest. "We are trying to feed you, you thankless piece of shit!" Sam released the man's shirt, wrapping his arm around his middle instead, holding him trapped against the bars. Sam's gaze flickered up to Dean's wrists above their heads, before he slowly looked down at Dean and smiled, "Sorry, I forgot that you're short," he told him, lowering his hand a little, but keeping Dean's hands above his head.
Dean had a hard time keeping his mouth shut, but he did. Right now, he was at a disadvantage, and mouthing off was what had gotten him caged and chained. He needed to be smarter... smarter than that, than him... them.
Drawing in a deep breath, Sam stilled, eyes widening before he turned his head quickly away, releasing Dean abruptly as he catapulted away from him as though shot from a sling-shot across the room, his back smacking against the far wall. Sam's head hung, his now suddenly inky black eyes concealed by long bangs as he took in slow deep breaths. The man's scent, he hadn't noticed it at first, but then, when he was so close, and Sam had breathed it in, his body's intense reactions were shocking. Right now, with his teeth aching, his eyes dark, he was every bit the monster that this man, this hunter accused him of being... he wanted so badly to sink his fangs in and drink and... And what?
Sam slowly raised his head, his eyes still hidden by his bangs as he looked at the man from under his brows. "Your name? Tell me your name."
Dean was rolling his shoulders and had retreated from the edge of the cage to the back wall, his eyes suspiciously flicking to Sam. Just what the hell that acrobatic maneuver was about, he wasnt gonna ask. But when he met the vampire's gaze, everything had changed. There wasn't a bit of softness in the now pitch black eyes that looked at him. What the hell? "Hendrix. It's Jimmy Hendrix."
Breath snickered out of Sam as he lowered his gaze to the floor, laughing at the name that the man had given him. Did he think he was a fool? But, Sam wasn't going to argue with him. If he wanted to pretend to be an old 70's African-American guitar player, then so be it.
Slowly lifting his head, Sam nodded, "Alright, Jimmy." He gave a tight lipped smile, "I think I should go. Have a good night." Moving with vampiric speed, Sam fled the basement, the basement door slamming closed moments after he was already in his own bedroom on the second floor.
"Don't let the door hit you..."
Dean went and sat down, leaning against the cold wall. It would only get colder, he knew how it was at night. Damned vampires had a luxurious home but no heat.
He sighed. Yeah... he hated every one of them. But hours of having no one to talk to almost made him hope one of them would come back. Maybe this last one. He seemed.... well there was something about him, different. They were all pretty easy to rile up, but this one seemed... mercurial, but he had a sense of humor. Dean could tell he'd gotten the Hendrix thing, but he hadn't pitched a fit like the blonde would have.
He kept trying to think of some way to get out of this hell hole, but somehow, his mind kept wandering right back to that guy. What had that flying leap been about? And why had his eyes turned colors? He should have kept him down here, kept him talking. Dammit.
* * *
Sam made his way through the darkened Cullen home to the basement, his brothers and sisters, his mother and father having retired to their rooms, though they did not sleep, camping out in their rooms at night helped them pretend to fit into the human world and ways. It was also the time when his brothers and sisters had time along together, intimate time. Just like his parents, or well, the closest thing he had to parents, Carlisle and Esme. Sam was the last single Cullen. Even Edward had found his Bella.
Pushing the door to the basement, Sam made his way slowly down the stairs. The lights weren't on, but Sam could see as well as if the sun itself was shining into the room. Stopping at the last step, he tilted his head to the side as he looked at the man laying curled into a ball on the floor. Okay, now he knew that humans did not normally sleep like that. Why was he curled into a tight ball like that?
Stepping closer to the cage, Sam crouched, peering through the bars. Slowly he reached a hand out his fingertips against the man's bare arm as he frowned, brow creased in confusion.
He'd just started falling asleep when the touch jerked him out of it with a start. "What?!" In a fluid motion, Dean sat up and rubbed his arms, trying to see who it was that had come to check on him now. His eyes adjusted to the darkness. "You. What do you want?" he demanded.
"Why were you huddled in a ball?" Sam asked right back.
"Cause you're fucking freezing me, what do you think?" He pushed up off the floor and stood up, not wanting the guy to have the advantage of height over him. "I need to go for a leak."
Sam slowly pulled to his full height, "You're cold?" he shook his head, "sorry, we didn't notice that it was... cold. I'm the only one around right now, so, I guess I'll have to take you, I understand that my sisters have been taking you up until now?" Sam asked as he crouched down again and uncinched the chain from the lock on one of the bars, so that a long chain trailed from the metal cuffs on Dean's wrists. Standing back up, he he pulled a key from his pocket and reached for the lock on the metal door. His gaze met Dean's, key stilling in the lock. "I don't know about my sisters, but if you try to get away on me, I will hunt you, find you and kill you all before you can draw more than a single breath away from here. Do I make myself clear?" Sam asked him, eyes intent on the pulse point in the man's throat.
"All in a days work, I'm sure," Dean muttered through gritted teeth, refusing to look away. Despite his bravado, he felt a distinct drop in the temperature in the room, just from the frost coming from the vampire's eyes. Yeah... probably not gonna try to run today.
Unlocking the door to the cage, Sam reached inside to grab a hold of Dean's shirt front and all but pull him out with a hard tug. "Stairs, now." Sam told him, giving the guy a slight push toward them, following a step or two behind, careful not to breathe in his scent.
Sniffing, Dean tried to shove him away, but he'd already been released. Fucking chains made noise with every step he took, though at least his feet were free. "What's the hurry?" He took the steps a bit faster, thinking he might get another shove if he didn't. Course it was dark so he couldn't really see the stairs... the moonlight didn't hit this area. His foot slipped and almost tumbling back, he cursed up a storm.
Sam paused, his arm snaking out as he drew the guy up against him. "Careful, wouldn't want you to fall down the stairs," Sam told him, his voice dark and low, rumbling from deep within his chest, before he abruptly released the guy and gave him a slight push forward.
Grabbing the railing, Dean moved faster. He wasn't sure whether the words were a warning or a threat, though the guy did keep him from falling. He didn't want to be grateful, not to any of them.
Holding the human up against him had not been a good idea, the man's scent had worked it's way into him even though Sam had been holding his breath, had danced around his mind and caressed his hunger, his bloodlust, making his teeth ache, his eyes darken. It had been the reason he had released him so abruptly, giving him a push. Setting temptation just a little further away than pressed against him.
At the top of the stairs, Dean opened the door to the main house and stepped out into a hall. Turning to the right, where he knew there was a huge ceiling to floor window, he looked longingly at the tree branches with moonlight streaming through them. Would he ever make it out there? Maybe it was better to take a run, dive through the window and if he was gonna die... die out there.
"That's not the bathroom." Sam told him, standing a couple steps away from him, "you know where it is by now." He jutted his chin in the direction. "Go. I'm right behind you," he said, but made no move to step closer as he waited near the door of the basement, eyes narrowed and intent on the hunter ready for any sudden moves, but unwilling to get closer unless he had to.
Dean looked up into his face. How could monsters have faces like these people? Perfect, normal, beautiful even? Because it was just camouflage, for theeir true natures. Giving the briefest nod, he turned in the other direction and trudged to the bathroom, pushing the door open. "You gonna supervise?" He raised his chin, giving the guy a scathing look. His sister had, and she'd tried to make a few quips about his equipment, which had ended up with him turning toward her midstream. Right... that might be another reason for the bad food.
Sam followed and was now standing at the door watching him. "Do Ros and Alice watch you?" Sam quirked a brow as he folded his arms across his chest, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips, "Would you rather I go get one of them?"
"Jerk." Dean stepped into the bathroom, and kicked the door shut. Unzipping his pants, he stepped in front of the crapper and took care of business. At the same time, he searched around for anything that could be useful. His gaze slipped over the bare counter, too the medicine chest.
"You know, I don't hear anything anymore." Sam called through the door. "And I have very good hearing."
Dean glared at the door as he zipped up and walked to the sink. Leaving the water on, he started going through the drawers and cabinet under the sink. Nothing. Reaching up, he slid open the mirrored medicine cabinet and not so surprisingly found... nothing. Didn't they even have 'props' so they could properly pretend to be humans?
Sam pushed open the door and peeked inside. "Unless you are giving yourself a sponge bath no one takes that long to wash their hands," he grumbled out. Quirking a brow, the corner of his lips quirking up he leaned against the door jam. "Find what you were looking for? Want me to get you a butcher knife?" he chuckled and shook his head, before pointing at the faucet, "turn off the water and let's go."
"Would you?" Cursing under his breath, he washed his hands and then wiped them on his tee shirt. Fuck, just got colder. And they'd taken his jeans off and changed him into some hospital pants or something. "Ever heard of the Geneva convention?" He stepped up to the door, searching the guy's face. Something about him was interesting, but Dean had no time to find out. He was sick of this.... he needed to find a way out, now.
Sam tilted his head as his arms fell to his sides. "Geneva Convention?" he quirked a brow, "I highly doubt this classifies as you being a prisoner of war." He stepped back so Dean could walk out of the bathroom in front of him. "If you're cold, I can bring you a blanket, I guess," Sam mumbled, as he eyed the man before him, "for a price." Golden hazel eyes met green and locked, "I want your name. Real name. At least your first name," Sam shook his head slowly, "Makes no difference about your last name, can be Smith for all I care."
"Why do you care?" Dean pinned him with his eyes, still trying to figure him out. "So you can put it on my grave?"
Sam smiled at him, full blown, dimples showing, before he dropped his gaze and drew in a shaky breath. "Something like that, I guess." He swallowed, licking his lips slowly, but it wasn't the guys blood he was thinking of as he looked at him. Well, sure, it was in there too, but the thought of what it would be like to pull the guy up against him, whispering his name before dipping his head and tasting his lips was the first thought that ran through Sam's mind.
"Peter. It's Peter. Frampton." This time, it was Dean who was grinning. He knew the guy wasn't gonna buy it, but for some reason his playfulness seemed to be catching.
Sam nodded, "Uh-huh, I see. Well, Peter, I hope that your music keeps you warm tonight." Sam nodded toward the basement, "Now move."
Dean was a bit startled by the guy's sudden change in mood. He'd actually expected him to laugh or... something. "Dean," he nodded walking past him. "And what do I call you?" He stopped, turning to find the vampire a little too close for comfort. Damn, he'd barely heard him come up behind him.
Sam stared intently at the man before him, able to feel the heat from his body. Sam could hear the blood pumping through the guy's veins, the steady beat of his heart, smell his scent. It had Sam's eyes darkening even as he looked at him. "Sam." he answered softly, before tearing his gaze away and taking a step backward, reaching out to move Dean along in front of him.
As they passed the sofa, Sam grabbed a decorative throw blanket, tucking it under his arm, but remained quiet as he followed Dean to the basement door. Reaching past Dean to open it caused Sam to lean into Dean a little, as he did. Sam's eyes closed and against his better judgment, Sam drew in a deep breath, filling his lungs with Dean's scent. His eyes turning inky in the process.
He had been about to thank Sam for getting the blanket, so Dean turned his head and caught the expression on his face, eyes closed and breathing him in almost like one might breathe in the perfumed scent of a lover. Nah... had to be his imagination...
The hand on the door moved quickly to wrap around Dean's middle, drawing him up against Sam's form. "Careful, don't want you to tumble down the stairs." Sam told him softly, cold breath ghosting over Dean's ear.
"Wha..." Dean stood stock still. Violence, he knew how to deal with. Getting pulled up flush against another man's body, while wearing thin cotton pants that allowed him to feel every hard plane of the guy's body... that he wasn't so sure what to do with, especially when he was at the guy's mercy. His heart raced a little faster. He licked his lip. "I'm fine. Thanks." It seemed to take another minute before he was released.
Grabbing the railing, he started to head down, his mind a bit of a jumbled mess at this new development. Now why couldn't it be one of the women who had a thing for him, if that's what this was? He'd know how to work that angle, no problem. He reached the cage and reluctantly pulled the door open. This was the part where they usually had to shove him in, or where he pissed them off.
Sam opened the blanket and nodded inside the cage, "Get in and I'll cover you up, tuck you in." He gave a faint smile, careful not to show his fangs, he knew he likely looked like he wanted to eat Dean now, and the hunter would think that was exactly what he was wanting. Sadly, he wouldn't be too far off with that guess, add in a little kissing, groping and manhandling.
Dean's knuckles whitened. Soft words, soft smile... but a cage was still a cage. "I don't want to be inside that thing. What if there's a fire?" he asked, looking at him, wondering if he should just have agreed instead of engaging him in any conversation. That thing on the stairs... it wasn't over, he could see it from the way Sam was still focusing on him. His stomach tensed, but it wasn't really fear.
Sam looked from Dean to the cage and back, shook his head slowly. "No fires," None like you are thinking of anyway. He tilted his head to the side, "I could... sit here, with you... if," he licked his lips, "if it would make you feel better."
Giving him a look filled with suspicion, Dean just walked in and sat on the hard floor, leaning against the wall and looking back up at him. He had his elbows on his knees, a slightly rebellious expression, and was a bit confused. Tell him to stay and entertain him and risk something worse than boredom? "How long?" he asked, eventually as Sam approached with the blanket. He noticed that Sam hadn't locked the chain back to the bars, and wasn't about to remind him.
Sam's eyes widened slightly, "Excuse me?" he asked, pausing in mid stride.
"How long?" Dean repeated, wondering if there was a chance in hell he'd found a vamp with bad hearing. "How long do you plan to keep me?" He didn't say before they killed him.
Sam blinked and licked his lips, giving a rather audible sigh. "I don't know exactly," he shrugged a shoulder, "until we know for a fact that you're no longer a threat." He quirked a brow and gave Dean a pointed look, before continuing forward and kneeling before Dean, covering him with the blanket, his eyes on what he was doing, tucking the ends of the large throw around Dean as best as he could. "So, see, this is all really your own fault, if you think about it." Sam explained, glancing up into jade eyes that he knew he could get lost in, trying not to breathe anymore.
"How do you figure?"
Sam licked his lips, his hands smoothing over the blanket and Dean's body as much as he could,more than necessary as he frowned thoughtfully. "If you had just left us alone to begin with, none of this would have ever happened." His dark eyes lifted to Dean's. And I wouldn't be wanting to push you to the floor right about now.
The smart answer that might have gotten his head banged against the bars died on Dean's lips as he felt Sam's hands run over him. His lips parted... he wanted to say something, but didn't know what. The sensations running through his body weren't unpleasant exactly. Aw shit, he'd been here too long with hardly anyone to talk to. Now even someone touching him felt nice. He looked down, but didn't knock those hands away, like he should have. "Are we talking days? Weeks?" he didn't want to ask about months or years.
Sam bit his lip as he looked at Dean, slowly he shook his head. "Don't make me tell you that. You know it won't be today. I think you're smart enough to know that it won't be tomorrow either." He sighed and looked down, his eyes tracking the movements of his hands. "My father will know when the time is right." He nodded, "When he says so," he looked up again, "that's when we'll let you go. Not before." Sam offered him a small smile, "Warmer?"
"Yeah. Thanks," he forced the last word out, past the resentment that had him wanting to turn away and roll up into a Goddamn ball again. He tried to meet Sam's gaze and found that Sam was looking down. He was still caressing him over the blanket. It was real soothing, except when he ran over Dean's hand and made the chains linked to his cuffs clink together. "You some sort of... masseuse?" That might explain his overly touchy feeliness.
Sam chuckled as he shook his head, "No," he looked up at Dean, dark eyes dancing, deep dimples in his cheeks, "that would be rather odd now wouldn't it? A vampire masseuse? I'd be having to dash out of the room for sips of blood so I didn't drink my customers." He shook his head and looked back down, his smile slowly melting away into a frown. "Naw, the only people I've ever really touched have been my family," he licked his lips and shrugged a shoulder, "for a very long time now anyway."
Looking back up at the hunter he quirked a brow, "Why? Was that some sort of 'hunter way' of asking me to rub your back or something?"
He was still processing what Sam said, unable to decide what parts were real and what parts Sam was making up when Sam's question sank in, making him sit suddenly straight. "Nah that's not..." He shook his head. "And no one's done that since..." Since my father and brother got themselves killed. He cleared his throat, trying not to think of back then. Years had gone by, years... why should he feel a wreck still whenever he thought of them? Feeling his eyes stinging, he looked away.
Sam eyed the hunter in silence for a long while before he lifted a hand and cupped the side of his jaw, his thumb running slowly over Dean's bottom lip as he looked at him. "I didn't mean to make you sad," he told him softly, tilting his head. "You have... nice lips. Like Rosalie's only without all the make-up she cakes on them." The corners of his mouth turned up slightly before his hand fell away and he took a deep breath, tearing his gaze away from Dean's face, feeling his teeth start to ache again. "I should go."
Letting out his breath, Dean nodded. What the hell? What the hell was that? And why hadn't he pulled away? Why had he expected to be pulled into the arms of the enemy and be given a hug? Maybe because no one gives you one these days. Closing his eyes, Dean leaned his head against the wall. "Sam?"
He swallowed. "When you get a chance, maybe a pillow?" Opening his eyes again, he searched the vampire's face. He seemed a lot kinder and more emotional than his sisters.
Sam moved to get up, only to pause in mid motion, his gaze locking with Dean's, his jaw clenched as his teeth began to ache more, the sound of Dean's heartbeats louder now, the blood rushing through his veins, or was it that he was just thinking more about it? Thinking about how it would be to taste those lips and then maybe that blood... how it would be to run his hands over Dean without the blanket in the way.
Giving a small nod Sam looked away and closed his eyes, tried to think about something, anything else. He knew his eyes had darkened to an inky black, knew his fangs were enlongated, knew he could pin Dean to the floor and take what he wanted without even trying. But, he wouldn't, they weren't like that, the Cullens, and he was a Cullen.
Slowly Sam opened his eyes and looked back at Dean. "A pillow?" he asked him, tilting his head. "How much is it worth to you that I try to find you a pillow? What will you give me in return?" he asked, his voice deeper than it had been a moment ago, husky, soft, and yeah, in the way of a vampire, seductive.
"You already got my pants. My shirt..." looking down at his gray tee, he shrugged. "Won't give you my amulet." He could feel it pressing against his chest and knew they hadn't taken it from him. "What do you want, Sam?" He looked down at the silver ring on his finger, then back up. The look in those dark eyes took his breath away something fierce. Hell, he hadn't felt like this since junior high when a high school chick had flashed him.
Sam moved closer, his face inches from Dean's as inky black eyes stared intently into green. Sam slowly shook his head. "What's the pillow and my time trying to find you one worth to you? What are you willing to give me?" Sam asked him, his voice still darkly seductive. His gaze dropped to Dean's lips before he looked back at him. "What's it worth? Tick - tock, time's wasting."
His heart banged against his chest. His mouth burned under Sam's intense stare. He felt himself swaying forward, then abruptly pulled back. "You're barking up the wrong tree, Sam" Yeah? Then why was he disappointed by his own choice? "I'll... I'll tell you anything you want. 'One' thing." He knew it sounded like he was offering nothing. "Hunters have their secrets. We don't... talk much." Not that he was that interesting.
Sam pulled back abruptly, walking out of the cell and closing the door without another word, letting the ring of the metal bars slamming together be his answer to Dean's offer. In the next breath, he was gone from the basement, the basement door slamming closed behind him.
Dean winced at the sound of the slamming doors. Finally letting his breath go, he slumped against the wall again, this time pulling up and bunching a bit of the blanket to put under his head. His heart was still racing. Questions rushed through his mind. Had he read Sam correctly? Of course he had, he'd wanted a kiss. Just the thought made Dean's lips fucking burn. Wrong. Wrong and Wrong. And then, had Sam been angry? He'd left like a bat outta hell, that was for sure. But if that was his temper, then he was much more of a pushover than his sister, Ros. Dean would remember that. Use it. Use Sam... maybe he was his ticket out.
When he closed his eyes, he saw green/gold eyes shifting to ebony and back to green. He'd have to ask what it meant. None of the sources he'd ever looked at spoke about that in vampires. None. But it was... beautiful.
* * *
"Sonova!" Dean clawed his way up from the floor, water dripping from his hair into his eyes and face. Shirt sopping wet and stuck to his chest. Cotton pants wrinkled and clinging to his flesh. "The hell is--" This time he was shoved into the wall, and Ros' face was in his.
"You needed a bath, you got one. Stop whining."
"It was fucking cold. What about a tow--" He was shoved again, this time he tried to fight back and punched her. "Argghh... shit!" his fist felt like it hit a fucking wall.
"Get to your place, before I eat you," she snarled, and shoved him again, hard, out of the bathroom and toward the open door leading to the basement stairs.
Dean was catapulted forward, and there was nothing he could do to keep his balance.
Sam was just coming into the house having been gone the better part of the morning when he heard the yelling coming from down the hall, then the sound of a punch being thrown. Hearing his sister's angry outburst, and Dean's yell, he could only assume he had punched her. Had she punched him, he most likely would be unconscious right now, or dead.
Hurrying into the hallway to the basement door to cut them off, Sam made it just in time to catch Dean on the fifth stair down after he had fallen down the first two and banged the shit outta.... well, some part or another as Sam had heard the sickening thud of human flesh against cement block.
"Rosalie!" Sam yelled at her, "You're gonna kill him! That's enough!" Sam's eyes narrowed on his sister, his arms wrapped around Dean's middle, holding him up against his frame. The water from Dean's clothes steadily soaked through into Sam's but he was barely aware of it as he argued with his sister.
"He was being an ass! He wanted a bath, I gave him one!"
"In his fucking clothes!?" Sam asked her.
Rosalie huffed, "Well, I wasn't undressing that thing! Besides, it's not my problem!"
Sam huffed and took a deep breath trying not to lose his temper. "He's fucking freezing!"
"So the water was a little cool, this is NOT the Holiday Inn and I am NOT some japanese handmaiden, his geisha girl or whatever!" she spat at him coldly.
A snarl tore from Sam's lips. "I've got him, Ros! Just go!" Sam told her, before reaching out and slamming the basement door in her face.
Looking over Dean's shoulder at his face, "You alright?" he asked softly.
His vocal oaths had long turned into silent mental ones as he dealt with the pain radiating through him. If Sam hadn't got him... yeah, he'd have been a lot worse off. He was uncharacteristically silent while brother and sister argued, but he hoped it didn't look like he was hiding behind Sam... even if maybe he was. Just a little. "Great. I'm just awesome. This is better than any Holiday Inn I've never stayed at."
Shivering, he clung to Sam. "I need help getting down there." He needed to see if his knee was busted. "And maybe you can keep her off my ass? Unless you're really trying to get me to an early grave."
Sam nodded, "She won't bother you anymore. When I'm not here I'll tell Alice or Jasper to take care of you. They're a lot better tempered than Ros." Sam turned Dean around in his arms as he spoke. "Lemme see, where did you hit?" Sam asked him as he nearly braced Dean up against the wall before crouching, his golden/hazel eyes roaming over Dean's wet form looking for injury.
"Fucking all over." He gripped the wall with the palm of his hands, and when he saw Sam wasn't about to help him till he answered, he relented. "I dunno, hip... knee. Just," he moved his hand to Sam's shoulder, "... you help me down, I'll check it." He tried to put some weight on one leg and made a sound of pain. "Think I blew out my knee."
Sam clenched his jaw, muscle twitching as he looked up at Dean, anger clear on his face, anger at his sister for being such a bitch to something weaker than she was. Pulling to his full height, Sam reached down and in one fluid motion, picked Dean up, one arm under his knees one at his back and started carrying him down the stairs.
"No... I don't need to be pick--" yeah but who was listening? This vamp was definitely hard of hearing!
"When we get down here, I'll take a better look. If you are injured too badly, my father is a doctor, a splendid surgeon, he can take care of you." Sam told him, not looking at him, his face still a mask of anger, lips tightly pressed together.
Reaching the cage, Sam opened the door with one hand that was under Dean's knees, kicking it open as he took a step back out of the door's way, then entered, crouching down, Sam gently placed Dean on the floor, and reached for the waistband of the hospital scrubs they had given him to wear and began pulling them down.
Dean was moving the blanket so it wouldn't get wet when he felt Sam's hands on his pant. "Ah... what are you..." Before he could get his protest out, his pants were peeled to his thighs. Yeah, he needed to get the wet clothes off but he held onto his shorts with a death grip. When his gaze met Sam's, it felt like he'd been burned, and he looked back down at the damage to his leg. His hip was pretty banged up and red. He thought it might bruise in a few hours.
As Sam pulled Dean's pants off of him, his eyes started to darken, his teeth aching as with each breath he drew in Dean's scent, though he tried to ignore it. Sam's hands slowly slid down Dean's leg to his injured hip and legs.
"Ahh," Dean moved his hand over Sam's as the vampire brushed his knee causeing a sharp pain. Taking a breath, he nodded, and lifted his legs. "Sonova..." Right, his chances of escaping just got worse.
Looking up at Dean's face, jaw set he nodded. "Okay, I'll get my Dad to look at that. Let me go get you some dry clothes, and no, those," he pointed at the boxer shorts, "are comin' off, they're wet too. You can wear a pair of mine. I'm sure I have something..." he frowned harder as he looked down at Dean's knee again. "She knows you break fucking easy, I dunno what the hell has gotten into her," he grumbled.
"Just clothes, that'll be fine," Dean said, unsure if he wanted yet another vampire peering at him. He wanted to make a joke about stretching out Sam's shorts, but the hard look on his face stopped him. Was he that angry at his sister over this?
Sam lifted his gaze to Dean's, "I'll get you another blanket too," he smiled slightly, " bought you a pillow today too." He shrugged a shoulder, "I saw it and well..." he cleared his throat, "Anyway, I'll get it and the other stuff and be right back."
"Didn't you have any pillows?" He raise a brow and seeing Sam shake his head 'no,' he wondered at the fact that the vampire would have gone out of his way to buy a new one. Last night, he'd wanted 'payment.' His stomach muscles tensed at the thought. And no, those were not butterflies he was feeling.
Sam pulled up, walking out of the cage, closing and locking it behind him, before he took the stairs two at a time. Once upstairs, Sam found Rosalie and they got into it again over Dean, their raised angry voices loud enough to wake the dead.
By the time Sam came back down the steps, he nearly had steam coming out of his ears he was so pissed off at his sister. He unlocked the cage door and yanked it open, then crouched before Dean, laying a king size baby blue pillow on the floor beside him, and two more folded blankets, one smaller that was the same color and soft material as the pillow, the other large and thick, obviously a bed comforter.
"I brought an ice pack. I read somewhere that you put this on bumps so they don't swell," Sam grumbled out distractedly, setting the ice pack down on the floor and reaching for the waistband of Dean's boxers.
"I think you told her off a little better than I... hey," once again, his hands settled over Sam's. "I can take it from here. Seriously." No, no, no butterflies. Twenty eight year old hunters didn't get them from being touched by male vampires in their early twenties. They just didnt, dammit. Dean shivered again. "But thanks... for the clothes and ice. Could you," he jerked his chin toward the outside of the cage, gesturing for Sam to turn.
Sam smiled at him. "Shy?" he quirked a brow, "I wouldn't have thought that about you. Huh..." he pulled to his full height, tossing Dean the boxers and sweat pants as he did and stepped outside the cage, closing the door after himself.
"I didn't say you had to go all the way..." he rolled his eyes. "And no, I'm not shy. But you're not about to play doctor." Giving Sam's back a stern look, he started to change. It went excruciatingly slowly, because every movement hurt. How hard had she fucking thrown him? He took a couple of breathes, screwed his eyes closed and made a low groaning sound as he got the shorts past his knees. If he couldn't bend it... it just made it harder.
The noises Dean was making, Sam knew he was in pain and he was being stupid not letting him help. Turning back around and yanking the door open, Sam moved inside, kneeling beside him, faster than the hunter could move to cover himself or stop Sam's progress. His hands on the waistband of the pants to help him, Sam looked Dean in the eye. "Don't be stupid, I'm not going to..." he pressed his lips together, "molest you," he nodded, gesturing toward the pants they both held the waistband of, "just help you so you aren't in here making sex noises while you try to dress, because that's far more awkward."
"Sex noises." Offended, Dean didn't even fight as Sam pulled his pants the rest of the way off, then started to help him into new shorts. "Believe me, if I make sex noises you'll know. More like..." Several fake moans worthy of any woman who'd had to fake an orgasm broke out of him before he realized what he'd been doing and snapped his mouth shut. Clearing his throat, he moved his arm over his groin area, half covering himself as Sam pulled the shorts all the way up.
He'd expected pain, but Sam was so gentle, there was none. He'd even lifted him up, so Dean didn't have to make the effort of pushing up on one leg. But by the time Sam had the shorts up, he was leaning over Dean, so fucking close, it reminded Dean of last night. His pulse racing, he started to pull up on his wet tee shirt.
Kneeling directly over Dean's lap, Sam reached for the hem of the wet tee, his gaze never leaving Dean's as his hands slowly slid the wet cotton up over his slick flesh. "I don't think you'd sound like that at all," Sam told him softly, his darkened hazel/gold eyes searching Dean's face, "I think I have a pretty good idea on my own what you might sound like," he frowned, "and you do a poor imitation of yourself."
His hands slid up Dean's sides and back down, the cotton clinging to itself where he had pushed it up, just under Dean's chin. Sam's eyes darkened as he gazed into Dean's, his teeth starting to ache as he continued to run his hands along Dean's flesh. Moving his hands higher, he ran a thumb over one nipple, then back across again. "I didn't bring a shirt," Sam smiled, but it didn't look as friendly or as flirtatious as it was suppose to with his fangs elongated. He shrugged a shoulder, "guess I forgot. What's it worth to you for me to go get you one, Dean? What are you willing to trade for it?" Sam licked his lips slowly, his tongue running along his bottom lip as his gaze dropped to Dean's mouth then returned again to his eyes. "Oh, and the price went up from what the pillow would have cost." He smiled again and this time, meant it when he showed fang.
Dean shivered. Once again, it wasn't only because he was cold. The way Sam had touched him... barely touched him... made him warm in all sorts of ways it shouldn't. His eyes met Sam's, tension coiling in his stomach, then dropped to his mouth where his straight teeth were framed by longer fangs. "What would... what would the pillow have cost," he asked, a little lightheaded, but he hadn't hit his head. "What... what did you want for it?" When he looked up again, his heart stuttered at the predatory look in Sam's dark eyes... but he didn't sense any danger, not of death at least.
Sam slowly shook his head, "We aren't negotiating for pillows now. Doesn't matter what I would have wanted for it," he nodded toward the pillow without looking away from Dean's eyes. "You have it now, that's what matters, right?" he smiled slightly, head tilting, "What are you willing to part with for the shirt, Dean? What that you think I might want are you willing to give me in exchange? Make me an offer."
He should tell Sam to pound sand. To take the fucking pillow and the clothes and cram 'em up his ass. He should. But he wanted to survive this, didn't want to die of freakin' pneumonia. That's what he told himself as he worked up the nerve to make an offer. "Longsleeved shirt. Warm." His eyes met Sam's. Something shifted in his gut... tightened. His heart was ramming against his chest so hard he could hear it. Licking his lips, he forced the words out. "You can kiss me." Shit! He pointed at him. "After I'm all dressed."
Sam's lips slowly curved into a smile, "Long sleeved, warm, and a tee," he shrugged a shoulder, "in case you get hot." He licked his lips, "And I kiss you now."
"You're pushing it." Dean shivered, struggled to keep his teeth from chattering.
The silence was unnerving.
He took a breath. "Okay." The single word was almost inaudible.
Sam pressed his lips together, his gaze dropping to Dean's mouth. "It's not a death sentence, it's just a kiss." Sam told him, voice soft, as he slowly leaned in, his eyes flickering closed as his mouth slanted over Dean's.
Sam's tongue darted out to run along Dean's bottom lip, tried to press between his tightly pressed lips, but ended up drawing back, the kiss ending with Sam nipping at Dean's bottom lip as his eyes slowly opened. "That was nice... if you were my Grandma," Sam huffed the last bit, as he pulled up to his full height and turned, walking out of the cage. "I'll send Alice back with the shirts," he mumbled as he walked to the stairs and out.
"Grandma..." Dean's chest rose and fell as he gasped for air. "My grandma would probably have fainted thinking about two men kissing."
The instant Sam was gone, he reached for the sweatpants and struggled to get them on. At least no one was there to hear his grunts of pain. When he was done, he leaned against the wall, pulled the blankets over hand placed the icepack on his knee, hoping to hell it would heal fast. If Ros got to him one more time, he wouldn't even be able to balance, or ... yeah.
He looked up again at the stairs. No one. These people were trying to freeze him to death. He closed his eyes, and warmth crept stealthily into his thoughts. A warm flush had passed through him at the touch of Sam's mouth, even though he'd sealed his lips tightly against any sort of tongue invasion. But there had been tongue. Dean licked his lips, where Sam had, tasting him there. His mouth started to burn.
"Oh God... I think I'm going nuts." He shouted at no one in particular, taking a couple more deep breaths. This was not the time to hyperventilate.