This has become a place to share my somewhat obsessive love of Sam and Dean Winchester. Jared Padalecki & Jensen Ackles are such pretty men. No hate. Only love. she/her 🌈 (header by me)
Sam is flipping through Men's Health magazine in Dr. Ellicott's waiting room. Men's Health is a real publication, and this is a real edition from July/August 2005.
a wincest fic rec list with a variety of word count, genre, vibe, and spanning seasons 8-15!
s8 - 9
Last Temptation by merle_p [M 3k words]
Sam is running a fever again, the kind of fever no Ibuprofen or cold compress will bring down, the kind of fever that is eating him up alive, eviscerating him from the inside. He is too hot and too cold and too pale, delirious and shaking, resonating with whatever divine energy the trials are subjecting him to, and Dean is not sure how much longer he can stand to see him be in this state.
Because Sam is quite possibly dying, and there is nothing Dean can do to stop it. Because Sam is dying, and he just. Won’t. Shut. Up.
Redshift by road_rhythm [E 27k]
They're still reeling from Dean's stint in Purgatory, the Trials are tearing them apart, the world hangs in the balance (again)—and Dean wants to get a pool table and have a sex marathon. Of course he does.
this bullet inside me by missroserose [E 5k words]
Dean Winchester is happy as can be. He and Sam are together again, and more importantly, working—they've got one successful trial beneath their belt, they've sorted out their latest case with a minimum of mayhem, they're on the way back to the bunker to figure out their next move. It's been a rough road, but things are looking up.
So of course now's when Sam gets into one of his moods...
should i stay or should i go by deadlybride [E 5k words]
Sam's tired of missing Dean when Dean's right there beside him.
Not a goddamn thing by Goshen (applecrumbledore) [E 15k words]
"When I had the unparalleled pleasure of torturing her, Meg shared some tasty, terrible things about her time in Sam's head, back in the day." Crowley leaned over the table in the dungeon, his chains jingling. "And, as we've all been forced to acknowledge and exploit over the years, your sad little family drama is just rife with secrets. Your main export. Isn’t that right, Moose?"
Sam's palms were sweating. He stared at Crowley, who was staring back at him with this wry smile—and then, almost imperceptibly, Crowley's eyes flicked over to Dean.
Bile rose in Sam's throat. He knew.
Burn It Out of My Veins by embersdevine [E 28k words]
While chasing a case of mysterious deaths, Sam and Dean manage to find themselves trapped in a pocket world they can only leave during a full moon. Staying in one place never did a Winchester much good.
Wake by minchout [M 20k words]
Gadreel has had Sam for four years, and Dean, lost in guilt and obsessed with finding a way to get his brother back, has isolated himself in a cabin in the Missouri Ozarks with nothing but the woods, a stray dog, some chickens, and all the books the Men of Letters had to offer to keep him company. Then Sam shows up one day without his passenger, and Dean learns quickly that it doesn't matter that Sam is with him again - there is still a lot of work to be done before they can find their way back to each other.
s10
the edge of a blade, and a time, and a place by sciencefictioness [E 7k words]
Sam watches Dean die, and is not the one who brings him back.It isn’t the first time. It isn’t even the second, but losing his brother had never felt like this; like Dean wants to be lost.
Like he’s choosing anything but Sam.
Five Things Dean Gave to Sam by lovetincture [E 1k words]*
Five things Dean gave to Sam, whether he wanted them or not.
[a favorite, note: deals with consent issues]
Blood sacrifice sex magic type of thing by applecrumbledore [E 8k]*
"'Sacrificial'? What are you sacrificing?"
Dean's black eyes glittered in the fluorescent lights. Sam's head was pounding from blood loss, his wrist ached where the knife went in and and he was freezing, wearing just his robe in the dungeon. He sighed.
"A quart of blood and most of my dignity."
Always by frozen_delight [E 4k words]
If this is the only happily ever after they’re going to get, life sucks. Angsty schmoopy curtain!fic set in a miraculously Mark-free post-10x14 universe.
every night i fall again by deadpoet (kafkaesques)
After all this time, they're finally on the same page. They have to be.
Let Me Take You Far Away by orphan_account [E 10k words]*
Season 10. It's exactly what they need. A vacation. That's how Dean can make everything else go away. Cas was right. That's all they need. A nice, little vacation.
Corpse reviver by applecrumbledore [E 14k words]
Dean’s hangover was a physical entity: pounding head, dry mouth, cold sweat on his upper lip. “How many bougie cocktails and demon curses does it take to whack off in front of your brother?”
Sam put his head in his hands. He looked almost worse than Dean. “If you’re looking for a punchline, I don’t have one.”
Legal in New York by Wallissa [E 1.8k words]*
The downside of your big brother getting de-aged is that hooking up feels just a tad sleazy. The upside is that the car isn't that tight of a fit.
soft sighs, dreams of peach schnapps and the jingling zipper of a ratty hoodie
capitulation by deadlybride [E 8k words]
When they don't manage to turn Dean back into his adult self, Sam spends a month researching how to fix it.
209b - deny by ani_coolgirl [M 1.2k words]
Cain explains to Dean who he is. Dean tries to deny it, but can't. Being around Sam doesn't help.
from now until the end of the world by Marcia Elena (marciaelena) [M 4.8k words]
Darkness. Light.
The Butcher by nigeltde [E 33.8k words]
The end is the end. No point making a fuss.
AU from 10x23 (Brother's Keeper).
s11
Camp by LaughableLament [E 19k words]
He’s in a motel room, reading about himself, in a motel room, reading about himself, reading—Dean’s head hurts—Wincest.
Our Fire Eternal by cheezusrice [E 9.6k words]
"He’s long since compartmentalized his weird brother-protector-lover feelings out of absolute necessity. Otherwise, he’d chub up every time Dean so much as rested his hand on the small of his back. He’s got his body tightly under control but God forgive him if the aftermath isn’t the same every time. He springs up from the sparring mat, pats Dean on the shoulder and then goes back to his room where he jerks himself dry and hard like it’s some form of punishment. It probably is."
Sam has needs that can never seem to be met. As usual, Dean seems preternaturally adept at providing for his little brother.
Bullet for my Valentine by merle_p [E 8k words]
Stupid. He is so goddamn fucking stupid. Running his mouth like a fucking idiot, not knowing when to leave well enough alone.
Bad enough that he just practically talked dirty to his little brother, which, Christ – he must be more stressed than he thought if his self-control mechanisms have started malfunctioning that badly.
But no, no, he came up with a scenario straight out of a bad slasher film, as if that is something normal people talk dirty about, as if that is something Sam would seriously enjoy. As if –
As if Dean hadn’t hunted his own brother through the maze of the bunker, eyes black and hammer raised to strike, not even a full year ago. As if Sam hadn’t, just a few weeks back, knelt at his feet, neck bared, waiting for Dean to deal a fatal blow with a fucking scythe.
Pillow Talk by waywardelle [E 5k words]
A collection of Samdean pillow talk.
Chosen by killabeez [E 2.4k words]
This might be their last night on earth, so Sam figures, what the hell.
Acid by applecrumbledore [E 14.9k words]
Sam said, "You know I wish you just wanted to fuck me? That would be easy, they've got words for that kind of messed up."
That just made Dean's pits sweat. He felt like Wile E. Coyote running into a tunnel painted onto a mountain face, little birds circling around his head. "Uh."
"What do you know about Jeffrey Dahmer?"
He'd been having a good day.
the blood in your mouth by hathfrozen [E 5k words]
Dean wishes he could sink his hands right through Sam’s skin, his ribs, wishes he could touch straight down to Sam’s heart. He’d feel the strong muscle of it, the clench and release of every beat, the thick heat of blood.
He could take a bite, all for himself.
(In which Dean starts experiencing cannibalistic thoughts about Sam, and Sam just needs his brother. Season 11.)
pale country by urchinesque [M 31k words]
When Sam disappears from the Bunker one day, Dean takes off looking for him. But there's something strange happening to the world- something they might not want to outlast, this time.
s12
Good Clean Fun by nigeltde [E 6k words]
Loose lips sink ships.
a skeleton terribly restless by remy (iamremy) [T 20k words]
Mary knows she doesn't fit right in this strange new world she's woken up in, with these grown men masquerading as her sons, but she tries her best. She really does. She closes her eyes to all the things she does not want to see, and she lies to herself until she's convinced.
Until she can't.
With Your Dreams Untold by waywardelle [E 10k words]
For the past ten years, Dean has been bookmarking porn on the laptop for Sam to watch. Sam figured it would never go further than that, until one night, not long after killing Hitler, Dean decides to be brave. One thing is for sure: Dean is never going to let Sam live down the fact that porn is what brought them together, in the end.
Set between 12x06 & 12x07, but not necessarily a coda.
Yesterday, minnesota by Goshen (applecrumbledore) [E 29k words]
Any initial awkwardness filtered away over a hundred miles of highway as Sam thumbed through the missing witch’s diary again. Some people had secret coke habits or secret second wives, and some people had passionate, pitch black, no-kissing sex with a family member every four to six months and never talked about it. You had to find ways to cope.
The Exodus by waywardelle [E 14k words]
So. Dean left with Cas over a week ago on some sort of recon mission, and yeah, Sam has been trying to bury himself in research, but he's just not coping all that well with the long-term separation. He wakes up early one morning, expecting the day to be like all the rest, except it's even worse than all the rest, because he's completely and totally alone on his (brother-less) thirty-fourth birthday. His bleak outlook quickly changes with an unexpected phone call, and he has to admit that maybe someone, somewhere answered his embarrassingly needy birthday wish, despite his lack of candles to blow out.
“Yeah,” Sam breathes, trying to convince himself he’s not dreaming. It’s just-- Dean is only sweet like this, open like this in Sam’s best dreams, so… how on earth could this be real?
“I missed you,” Sam adds, breathing it shyly into the air between them, watching how the words affect his brother.
An Anchor by themegalosaurus [E 7k words]
“I can’t stop thinking,” Sam says, and the joke’s almost at Dean’s lips before he catches it, swallows it. Not now, not with Sam hovering fretful and indecisive and asking for something, the outline of which Dean is just starting to recognise through the fog of everything unspoken.
Post-imprisonment, Sam gets some bad news and doesn't take it too well. Dean tries to work out how to help.
Memory Box by smalltrolven [E 12k words]
Sam’s powers return while he’s locked-up in solitary for six weeks. He uses them to communicate with Dean. They have a lot of time to practice, a lot of things left unsaid actually get said through the unusual method Sam comes up with. All that and an escape plan too.
Through These Walls by non_tiembo_mala [E 3k words]
When Ketch put a bug in the bunker, he was looking for usable intel. What he got? Well, that is something else entirely.
Until you come back home by waywardelle [M 4.8k]
Cas wonders, as he often does, if he should tell Sam that he knows what it really is that he needs. He decides that tonight, after all these years, he finally will. They’re not getting any younger, after all, and he’s mainly stayed out of it because he didn’t truly believe that two people so singularly and utterly devoted could be that stubborn and obtuse. It’s maddening, and it almost seems purposeful, how they ignore each others’ signals, like they each have that secret locked down so tight (out of shame, probably, or guilt), each other’s light can’t get through. It’s tragic, almost, if he’s being completely honest."
Coda to 12x11: Regarding Dean.
Blaze of Glory by merle_p [E3.8k words]
“Is this how you pictured it?” she hears Sam asking quietly, his voice far too resigned for her taste. “The end?”
“You know it’s not,” Dean responds, and he too sounds strangely calm, almost amused, as if there’s a secret joke they are sharing between them, one that she has no chance to ever understand.
“I always thought,” Dean continues, wry amusement more obvious now in his voice, “We’d go out like … Butch and Sundance style.”
Toni rolls her eyes, hard, even if there is no one around to see it. Oh God, she thinks contemptuously, Americans, always so bloody sentimental. Next, they will probably start singing Sweet Home Alabama or Country Roads, or whatever unofficial hillbilly anthem Americans consider conducive to improving morale among the troops.
If It's a Make-Believe (I Say It Ain't) by eugara [E 10k words]
Season 12. It's Sam's fault, really. Dean testing out all his ridiculous pick-up lines on him was torturous enough. Knowing they were going to be used on other people stung a bit more. But even despite all of that...he still should've kept his damn mouth shut.
A Lifetime or Two by nigeltde [E 18.3k words]
Dean's been living too long on the surface.
s13
One Too Many by ameliacareful [E 7k words]
Sam's been taking a lot of hits to the head. After A Most Holy Man, he suffers a brain injury.
together by remy (iamremy) [not rated 1.3k words]
“And if we die, we’ll do that together, too.”
There’s really nothing more to be said, is there?
Wrong.
-
Sam and Dean talk some more.
don't thank me by hathfrozen [E 3k words]
“I know,” Sam says. “I’ll always call out for you, man. I can’t help it. That doesn’t mean you always come after me, that you always can.”
Dean shudders, eyes filling up with embarrassing tears he resolutely does not let fall. “Yes, it does,” he insists. “Yes, it fucking does.”
The Obituary Mambo by nigeltde [E 9k words]
It’s called a near-death sex miasma, Sam, and it’s a beautiful thing.
s14
The Snap by LaughableLament [E 4k words]
“You can let me do this alone,” Dean said, “or you can help me.”
Sam never stood a chance.
back door run by peculiarstate [M 23k words]
An ache long-borne.
I'm the Damage Done (Your Scar of Yesterday) by eugara [E 8k words]
Coda to The Scar (14x03). It's been weeks, and Sam doesn't have it in him to wait for Dean to sort through this mess himself.
Relapse by ani_coolgirl [M 21k words]
Based on the AU glimpsed in 14.13 “Lebanon.” Sam hasn’t seen his brother in fifteen years. He's forcibly shoved off the wagon.
Deal Me Up Another Future by eugara [E 34k words]
Canon Divergence from Lebanon, (14x13). The needle skips. A different choice is made. The song plays on.
what comes after certainty by deadlybride [M 23k words]
After getting Dean free from Michael--after everything--Sam wants some time alone with his brother. He finds a case, in a nameless town.
rarely pure and never simple by road_rhythm [M 5k words]
The memory won't leave Dean alone: Sam's eyes going unfocused; the glimpse, through the slitted lids, of something unraveling in his brain. It really doesn't matter that the physical evidence has been removed.
//
Coda to 14x17.
To Have and To Hold by fallingintodivinity [E 3k words]
It’s while standing in the middle of the vegetable aisle at a Wal-Mart, a slightly wilted head of lettuce in one hand and a six-pack of beer in the other, that Dean Winchester realizes he’s married.
And Baby You Can Sleep While I Drive by merle_p [T 8k words]
“So,” Dean says, hesitantly. “This is a dream then?”
Sam blinks, confused. “Well, obviously.”
“Huh,” Dream-Dean says and scratches his neck. He shifts awkwardly from his right to his left foot but otherwise stays where he is.
Sam rubs his face. He isn’t entirely sure why they are having this conversation. He isn’t entire sure why Dean is still here.
“So if you didn’t come to kill me,” he asks, “then what do you want?”
Dream-Dean frowns. “I don’t know,” he says slowly. “I guess I just wanted to make sure you are okay.”
Vegas, Baby! by sunbitten [E 17k words]
“I mean Vegas, Sammy! It’s about time for our annual Vegas trip, and I’m thinking instead of the usual gambling, strippers, and the odd magic show I indulge you with, we just shack up in a motel and get a lot down and dirty,” Dean says, vulgarly humping the air.
s15
Lucky Streak by merle_p [M 6k words]
“Two out of three?” Dean asks and pours each of them another glass of bourbon. He sets down the bottle on a table nearby and cracks his knuckles, a little obnoxiously. “And let’s play for something. Make it interesting.”
He lifts his glass and waits for Sam to do the same, then clinks their glasses together and downs his shot.
Sam watches him drink, fixated on the way his throat works when he swallows, and Sam has no idea where his next thought is coming from – all he knows is that he’s drunk and horny, he is in love with his brother, God is out to kill them, and today is supposed to be his lucky day.
Any Witch Way by merle_p [T 6k words]
“Let me get this straight,” Dean says, and takes another sip from his cup. He needs way more coffee if he’s expected to deal with this so early in the morning.
“You – magicked up a chicken.”
“Look, I don’t know either, man.” Sam throws up his hands, helplessly. “It’s just – I haven’t been sleeping and I’ve been trying to get some more practice, and … I don’t know, conjuring up poultry seemed safer than experimenting with dark blood magic at four in the morning, you know?”
“Well, can’t argue with you there,” Dean concedes, and tilts his head to contemplate the chicken. The chicken stares back, unfazed.
Pulling at Threads by orphan_account [E 16k words]
“We keep each other human.” Set during season 15, a canon-compliant AU from 15.06 onward. Sam is having frequent nightmares of him and Dean killing each other. They become increasingly graphic and vivid, driving Sam to the edge. One particularly gruesome and realistic vision drives Sam to end things, but Dean stops him. After a lifetime of running from death and hiding from each other, Sam and Dean reach a level of intimacy and honesty they’ve never had before. They grow closer and closer as the end gets nearer. Now connected to each other as never before, they take on Chuck as a team, using Sam’s blossoming witch powers and their bond to pave a new future for themselves.
no one thing is everything by Canon_Is_Relative [T 6.8k words]
Text from: Jody
Morning, sunshine. Diner on Main & 2nd, meet me for breakfast? I want to talk to you about something, tell Dean I have some super boring ancient mythology crap to go over with you.
Set sometime in the years between 15.19 and 15.20. Small spoilers for "Inherit the Earth" but none at all for "Carry On".
Baton Rouge by elsi (Prince_of_Elsinore) [E 7.5k words]
Things had been good between him and Sam. Better than ever. They got back from their “we beat God” celebra-cation, they got into a routine. They went on hunts. They worked on personal projects: Sam in the archives, Dean in the garage. Things were good. And then, fresh off cleaning out a nest of ghouls in Milwaukee, they weren’t.
Sam and Dean drive into the heart of a storm.
hunting high and low by margaryes [E 1.5k words]
They move out of the bunker as soon as the leaves outside start turning yellow.
Sweet as Sugar, Easy as Pie by merle_p [T 6k words]
“Just hurry,” Sam says, his face still illuminated by the afterglow of his laughter. “If I have to wait too long, I might just eat all the pie without you.”
Dean frowns. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Only one way to find out,” Sam says lightly, and sticks his plastic fork into the rhubarb pie.
“You are going to be sick if you eat all that,” Dean points out, just in case Sam is serious about his plan.
“And it would be worth it just to see your face,” Sam grins, and his face is still so impossibly bright, content in the moment, open, affectionate, that Dean is afraid he might be blinded if he doesn’t look away.
all of the things i'd do by according2thelore [M 8k words]
“What are you wearing?”
The sentence is so incongruous with the jumble of Dean, home, soon swirling dizzyingly in Sam’s sleep-addled brain that he takes a second to process the words. What?
Sam blinks. He looks down at his jeans and t-shirt.
“A sexy maid costume.” He says, flatly.
Or: Post-Chuck, Dean leaves on his own to help Jody with a case. They deal, with the assistance of a phone call.
Yours, Sam by fictionallemons [M 867 words]
Sam forgot it was Valentine's Day.
vague late season or spanning multiple seasons
dissecting the bird by nigeltde [E 7.8k words]
Nobody sets anybody free anymore
More than anything by Canon_Is_Relative [E 1.3k words]
Sam rests his hand on Dean’s belly, rubbing slow circles. “Shh,” he says when Dean lets out a surprised little sound, almost a moan, as Sam’s thumb strokes along the sensitive skin of his groin. “You better be quiet, or she’ll catch us.”
Blame it on the Booze by bloodwrites [E 5.8k words]
After they create a new demon blade Sam and Dean celebrate by getting blind drunk. Inhibitions lowered and spirits high they act on desires they've both held for years.
Hot singles in your area by applecrumbledore [E 14k words]
In the video, the camera crawled up the kid’s body like a pair of lascivious eyes. The pan upwards revealed a sweet, pointed nose, and a mole to the left side of that nose. Dean froze, watching. The kid’s eyes opened when the camera was still on his face, pupils darting nervously away, and those eyes were hazel green. A specific kind of hazel green that Dean had spent exactly thirty-six years looking at.
Only Natural (Be My Hands) by orphan_account [E 17k words]
Dean leaves Sam alone for all of twenty minutes, and the idiot manages to break both of his wrists. It's up to Dean to take care of him. Which he's been doing since forever. Really, nothing could go wrong.
Nubere by jinkieswouldyoulookatthis [E 16k words]
They'd been hunting down a magic ring, one with a deadly curse, so Sam had no good excuse for why he'd put on the first ring he'd found, except that it really didn't match the description of the one they'd been looking for. But now there was an identical ring on Dean's hand, that was stuck just as firmly as the one on Sam’s, and the brothers seemed to be getting closer than they ever thought they should. To remove the rings and free themselves, all they’d need was an act of unparalleled devotion. Piece of cake.
Whatever This Is by jinkieswouldyoulookatthis [E 10k words]
Sam receives a sext from Dean, along with a nude selfie, and then tries to deal with not only knowing that his brother is open to the idea of being fucked but can't stop obsessing over who he'd meant to send the messages to. What he finds out is more than he'd ever thought possible.
Remnants of Remnants by Sharabha [E 12k words]
Sam Winchester has been possessed angels, archangels, and demons. He's been dead, soulless, been in Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. Some of those things more than once. Is it any surprise some of those experiences left behind remnants?
Let's not forget where we crawled from cheezusrice [E 16k words]
"When Dean kisses him, it doesn’t feel like the culmination of 18 years of waiting and longing. It’s much different than he expects. It kind of feels like being thrown back in time, like being seventeen again. He’s bigger and broader now, but the way Dean’s hands roam over his forearms, the way he’s pulled up from the chair, the way those strong, firm arms circle his waist…it all makes him feel impossibly young. It’s exhilarating."
It's been a long time, and everything is different. But this? This is exactly the same.
[Sequel to Gotta make this last of it makes me sick which is so so good and I would recommend reading beforehand, it’s pre-series w/ a great oc]
[sadly this user deleted their account but keeping this for the sake of posterity, rip legend hope all is well]
the archivist by deadlybride [E 11k words]
Sam's been taking pictures for a long, long time. He has only one subject.
he’s barely asleep; even though the impala is pulled over far enough away from the highway that dean can only faintly see the headlights, the rumble of semis keeps jerking him out of restless slumber.
the woman in white had been more than he’d been expecting. it wasn’t a hard case, but the work had felt…more than usual.
dean, as soon as it was over, chest still smarting from her ghostly claws (lady, i got no one to be faithful to), had lain heaving for breath in the impala’s front seat and fantasized that he’d actually gone to get sam.
it had been a nice thought, anyway.
two days ago, he’d gotten as far as the san francisco city line before he turned the car around. sam doesn’t want to see him. dean doesn’t even know what he’d say. he can’t imagine a string of words that would get sam back. he’d had four years to think them up. dad's missing. dad's gone. dad left. dad hasn't been home in a few days. yeah right.
the ringing continues, and dean muzzily fishes his phone out of his pocket. his heartbeat kicks up a notch. dad?
but his screen is dark and silent. dean blinks at it uncomprehendingly, a crick in his neck from being pressed against the impala’s side panel making itself known.
then, dean is throwing himself across the bench seat and scrambling for the glove box because oh shit. it’s one of dad’s phones.
he flips through them frantically, discarding them as soon as he can see if they’re ringing or not. on what must be the last ring, he finally finds it, an old motorola that’s held together with gauze tape and not much else.
“h’llo?” he asks. he winces, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes. that’s something he’s noticed since dad fucked off. he goes hours, sometimes days, without talking. his voice comes out croaky and disused when he finally breaks his silences. this one makes his throat hurt, and he looks around dazedly for an old bottle of cola he knows he left somewhere.
he squints at the little clock on the dashboard--it's still in PST, he's pretty sure, so...5:18 AM? 4:18, maybe?
“is this dean winchester?” a woman’s voice, neutral and plain.
dean freezes.
his body flushes completely cold, ice sharp in his veins and prickling across his scalp.
there is not a single contact in these phones that should know his real name. not anyone that sounds like that, anyway. dean gapes, staring into the middle distance as his mind whirls. maybe an old hunting friend of dad’s? dean can’t think of a single woman besides annie, and her contact name would’ve pulled up. who—
“hello?” the woman asks, still carefully, unflappably neutral.
“wh—yes. yeah. that’s um. that’s me.” dean flounders, startled into honestly. hackles raised, he adds, “who’s askin’?”
“i’m calling from st. florian’s medical center in palo alto, california. you’ve been listed as the next of kin for samuel winchester. is that correct?”
time
stops.
“what.” dean croaks, numb.
“is that correct?” the woman repeats blandly. dean can barely hear her over the ringing in his ears, getting louder and louder as his heartbeat pulses in his throat.
“sam. is he—i’m his big brother. is he—…” his throat closes around the words, too fucking horrible to say. sammy. sam. dean's kid, eighteen years old, fury and righteousness and hatred, slamming the motel door behind him. four years of complete radio silence.
dead. dead. dead. deaddeaddead. dad gone, sam dead--a strangled noise squeezes out of dean's throat and he struggles for breath, time moving too quickly around him now, the woman back in his ear as dean begs his heart to stop so he can hear every syllable.
“samuel’s apartment building caught fire tonight, and he was brought in by an ambulance. we don’t have a lot of information at this time. samuel was severely injured, in a lot of distress, and had to be sedated. he's in critical condition. are you willing to come and make medical decisions on his behalf?”
numb. numb, numb, numb down to his toes.
he knows his hands are shaking because the phone is vibrating on his cheekbone, knows he must be breathing because there is a trapped, animal wheeze echoing in the car, knows the world must still exist because another semi rattles down the highway in the distance.
dean asks to confirm the only thing that matters, needs to hear it explicitly, or the world will end on a shitty no-name county road, and dean will die, aged twenty-six. "he's alive?"
"yes. are you--"
dean doesn’t remember much after that. he doesn't remember anything at all until he hits city limits.
the ventilator whirs, and sam's chest rises in an inhale. his eyes are taped shut, long lashes folded awkwardly underneath the bandage tape. to keep his eyes from drying out, the nurse had said, when dean asked.
"you're a goddamn fucking idiot," dean says, in the second pause where sam's chest stops, before the machine exhales for him. sam says nothing, and the ventilator exhales. "why'd you go back inside?"
the question comes out like a plea, but sam does not answer him.
it's a silent treatment, dean thinks, for not coming to get him. for not calling. for letting him leave in the first place.
police officers had come in and out of their room--of sam's room--over the past few days. dean doesn't know why. a medically-induced coma means he's not fucking awake, goddamn it.
they ask dean questions he can't answer. why wasn't sam home when the fire started? did he run into the building to save his girlfriend? to save something else? did sam smoke? was anyone else in the apartment? did anyone in the apartment smoke? sam received a call thirty minutes before the fire started--who is brady johnston?
they show him yearbook photos and glossy print-outs of a blonde girl. jessica moore. twenty-one years old, dead. burned to death. they show him photos of jessica and sam feeding each other slices of pizza, and looking tipsy and in love at some kind of formal, and wearing matching giants baseball hats.
how long were they dating? did sam ever introduce her to you? who were their friends? what was his major? what was her major? how did they meet? were they having any problems? could sam have started the fire?
dean had reacted so explosively to that question that they threatened to arrest him. dean had only quieted down when he realized it meant they'd take him away from sam's bedside, which he hadn't left.
why did sam assign you as his emergency contact if you don't know anything about him?
dean gives them the same answer: i don't know.
he doesn't say, but i do know his allergies. i do know his fears. i do know he loves the red m&ms and hates the brown ones even though they all taste the same. i know his feet always get cold and his favorite month is november and he used to be scared of the dark and that scar on the knuckles on his right hand was from saving my life. i know that i have his initials carved into my left leg with a knife. i know that he's the only thing that ever truly belonged to me. i know that i only breathe right now because he does.
for the fortieth time that day, dean reaches his hand out and catches himself just before he can put a hand on sam's arm. it's covered in bandages. all of him is. even up to his neck, sam is covered in bandages that ooze pus and smell like rot. when dean looked, the hospital gown barely touches sam's knees, but those are wrapped too. second and third degree burns. 30% of his total body. extensive smoke inhalation damage to his lungs, his throat, his mouth.
the cops tell him sammy pushed past the firefighters to get into the collapsing building. that they'd had to go in and haul him out. his arms had been the worst, almost burned entirely through, in some places.
his surgeons--because sammy has multiple, and they come and steal him for hours at a time and dean can't watch or wait by the door in case sam needs him--tell him they don't know if sam'll be able to move his arms again.
he might never write or flip through a book or dress himself ever again.
there's a bald spot behind his left ear, where he must've landed on something metal, because his skin is warped and melted in a triangle shape. just that one spot. a lot of his hair was burnt--and the gagging odor of singed hair had followed him even after dean and a nurse gently combed water through it--so they shaved it off. sam's hair has always grown too quick for his own good through, and it's started to grow thicker.
he looks young. terribly, horrifically young.
his eyes are sunken and his wrists are thin and his bones are too prominent, like his skin has been shrink-wrapped to his skeleton. the skin that dean can see is pale. dean is constantly fighting off the urge to chafe it, to breathe in his palms and press it to sam's skin, because he looks so fucking cold.
but he's not allowed to touch sam because 1) it'll hurt him and 2) it could kill him. dean is a danger to him, as much as the flames. he's severely immunocompromised now that his skin barrier is gone, the doctor told him, one of the ones that dean likes, because she tells him things straight even if dean has to look it up later. don't touch him, don't breathe on him, don't try to move him. we'll wear gloves when we come to turn him.
"was it for your girl?" dean asks, voice cracking with disuse. "you went in to get her out?" sam doesn't reply. "you're a fucking idiot." sam's chest rises. pause. sam exhales.
dean doesn't know why he's here.
most of the medical decisions have come down to doctors saying "we think sam's best chance is--" and dean agreeing to whatever it is before than can get the rest of their words out. his best shot. yes. whatever it is, dean'll do it.
he doesn't think sam would want him here.
it was probably a left over from a school form or maybe even back when sam had gotten his only real driver's license. sam just hadn't gotten the chance to change it. he would want other people here, other friends.
none of them have shown up, yet.
dean was told jessica's body hadn't even gone to the hospital, it had gone straight to the morgue. the funeral was a few days ago. sammy had only been under a week and a half, but things move quickly, dean guesses, when it comes to dead bodies. he wouldn't know. he only ever deals with them when they're bones. sammy's going to be real torn up he missed the funeral. he's going to be real fucked up that she's dead. he went in that building for nothing. burned himself almost to death for nothing.
dean's going to have to tell him. no, dean will tell him. it needs to come from him, not these doctors that don't know him, who don't even know what color his eyes are because they've been taped shut for a week.
dean doesn't know what to do with himself, with his body. he can't touch sam, he can't ask sam any of the thousands of questions he has. he ignores the texts he gets from dad, what look like coordinates. he calls dad and tells him sam's in the hospital, but he doesn't call back.
one of the ICU nurses brings dean a cot that dean has been sleeping in, tucked into the corner away from sammy's machines so he can't mess anything up. there's a shower in sammy's bathroom that dean has been using, and all the nurses call him by name. they talk to sam like he's awake, which dean appreciates. they don't talk around him, like the surgeons do.
dean has never felt this helpless in his life.
he's been having nightmares, when he can sleep, of being four years old and the baby in his arms bubbling and melting and turning to ash. he has nightmares of trying to haul sam out or screaming at him, and sam can't hear him.
he can't do anything. he's completely useless. there aren't bones to burn or artifact to find or magic potion to take. this is entirely sam's battle, his cells working overtime to heal each other and keep him alive.
dean wonders how many of those cells they have in common, and knows his must be working themselves on overtime in sammy's blood, under his skin, in his lungs. sam has to want to live, and dean doesn't know if he's enough of an enticement.
suddenly, sam's eyelid twitches. dean sits up straight in his chair. he gets as close to sam as he feels comfortable, and--there it is again, a single pulse, like his eyes are swiveling underneath his taped lids. dean's heartbeat punches up into his throat.
sam hasn't moved once, since they got him here. what does that--
there's a noise, and sam's monitor, which has been ticking steadily, beeps loudly. dean's eyes flick up to the monitor, and one of the numbers pulses red. it jumps from 62 to 88 to 101 to 120.
"sammy?" dean asks, but sam has fallen still once more. quick footsteps, and a nurse sticks his head in. before dean can ask what's going on, sam's monitor lets out a long, trilling beep that makes him flinch.
"can we get a doctor in here?" the nurse calls, and the footsteps get louder. the numbers on the monitor are changing, and dean doesn't know what any of them mean, but suddenly, the room is full of people. someone has hands on dean's shoulders, and he's being moved.
v-tach, they say, how long? what's his pressure? they ask, someone call a code blue, they shout.
no longer sam, just the patient, and dean is no longer dean, he's mr. winchester as people continue to move him, as he's shoved out of sam's room, as he fights to get back in, as an orderly holds him back, as he shouts what's happening, what's happening, someone tell me what's going on, please, sammy, sammy, sammy, sammy, sammy--
Okay, posting here to see if anyone else knows what fic this is...
I swear I remember reading a Swesson/It's a Terrible Life fic where Zachariah returned the boys' real memories while they were in the middle of fucking on the floor, I think, in Dean Smith's apartment???
Inopportune by averycoolguy was suggested, and while it's really close, it doesn't feel like quite the fic I remember... but maybe it is??? Idk. I really think read one were they were on the floor not on the desk.
Anyway, anyone else know of any Swesson fics where they get their memories back mid-fuck?
origamiaround
turnnoffyourmind
janainaart
snowghoul
yousharknotpass
annaxmalina
jacobvanloon
