Sam really wants to be a good boy for Dean. He moved with him like he was Dean’s shadow, never exactly wandering off without him unless he had his unspoken approval. This was one thing the two had in common: they communicated with each other in a secret, wordless language. A single glance from Dean was enough to pull Sam back to serve his role as the obedient little brother.
At one point, it becomes troubling for witnesses who observe this behavior being displayed. Sam is doubtful of the many people who might view this as troubling, but he does recall the hushed whispers of frustration that were shared from Bobby to his dad when they were staying over at his house. “You’re not givin’ these boys any grace if whatever they have goin’ on continues to happen, John. Ya’ gotta make ’em quit each other.”
And it makes Sam wonder what it would be like to know who he is without Dean, even though he’s not sure he’ll like what he finds. And how could he? Dean is so good to him—and him only, not to anyone else. That means a lot, is something that Sam desperately tells himself when he hears the sound of his heart drumming from an anxiousness that sparks within him. There is nothing for Sam to be afraid of, though. When Dean is angry, Sam is still the only person in the world to whom he’s the kindest. So what seems to be the matter? Sam frantically thinks to himself, is he scared of Dean? Should he be?
He has always been Sam’s true north. Without Dean’s voice telling him which way to go, Sam’s afraid he’ll just wander in circles, lost and useless. So he does something that fills him with much dread, which is to keep himself away from his big brother. Sam wasn’t trying to start a conflict; he feared what would happen if he didn’t listen. He reassured himself that this breaking of an unsaid vow only counts for normal couples, and since they were most certainly anything but “normal”, he wasn’t going against Dean.
But he notices, of course, that Sam is starting to drift away. Dean confronts him, his gaze holding anger and accusation, that Sam has not been honest with him. And that is when he hesitantly spills to Dean the thoughts of fear that have been consuming him. “Are you ever going to hurt me if I say “no” to you?” The clinched body language of Dean shifts at this unexpected question. At first, his eyes bore right into Sam’s, his expression completely blank, until he softly laughs, like he’s been waiting, looking forward even, to Sam asking, like it’s funny that after all this time the boy hasn’t questioned this by now. “Don’t ask me stupid questions, Sammy.” He ruffled Sam’s soft brown hair and left it at that.
Maybe it’s wrong that Sam would give himself a daily affirmation that Dean isn’t a scary guy. But maybe he is when he flings Sam against the wall, which sends a sharp pain through the lithe back of his shoulders. He was angry at a hunt not following through on what was initially planned, even though Sam had nothing to do with it. Still, Sam is always on the receiving end of Dean’s wrath, with the outcome of new marks on his skin that will be purple the next day.
Yet Dean would always lay a gentle kiss on it, but Sam feels the impulse to say that he doesn’t have to and that he likes it even. The monsters may have left silver lines and rough scars from the previous hunt, but those meant nothing to Sam. The only marks that mattered were the dull yellow and green shapes on his ribs—the ones his big brother made. A quiet whimper would escape, partly from the sharp sting, but mostly from a dark, heavy rush of pleasure. Sam didn’t want to be healed. He wanted the ache. Pushing harder into the yellowing skin to keep it from fading, Sam’s mind felt suddenly calm; his head gently fell back on the bathroom tiles as the steamy water ran down his naked skin. He was completely aware of the fact that he deserved to be punished by the only person who owned him.
There are other situations where this arises, one instance being the time Dean came rushing in, slamming the motel door shut. Still furious from the scolding filled with rage he’d just received from their father about the hunt.
His wild green eyes fell onto Sam, who was sitting perched on the edge of the mattress. Barely having any time to look up, Dean came lunging at him across the small room. Sam was met with a heavy fist crashing straight into his jaw. It was the rings, the metal rings on his brother’s fingers that cut sharply into his skin, the jewelry that knocked him sideways to the ground, the accessories wrapped around Dean’s fingers that made him cry out not in pain, but a soft, heavy moan of blissful pleasure that emerged from his mouth. And in an instant, Dean recognized that sound—having spent his free time with random girls getting their backs blown out by him, he knows exactly what kind of moan Sam let out.
He froze and looked down at his baby brother. And in that moment, the room went completely still as the older brother stared down at him, the anger fading into something much darker.
After this scenario, Sam spiraled. He thinks that even Dean wonders how he got to be like this—if he was destined this way, more so for him. And if this wasn’t the case, there is an obvious awareness that they hunted things that were twisted and unnatural, and Sam terrified himself with the thought that he was becoming just like them. He worried that in Dean’s eyes, his sinful desires made him no better than the monsters they tracked down. He’d replay that tiny smirk, wondering if it actually meant his brother thought he was a complete freak. Sam told himself that monsters were born broken, but he had let himself become broken, right under his brother’s watch.
But there isn’t anything to fret over because Dean doesn’t say anything. In fact, he makes it better. Because now he gives Sam a slap that is harder than the others. And though Sam peers at him with tears openly rolling down his darkened crimson cheeks, he bites his lips to hold back a smile from spreading. At the end, the kindness Sam knows radiates from Dean because he kisses his cheeks with such sweet tenderness and rubs his fingers all across the bruises that are decorated on his skin and presses on them, making Sam cream in his pants until he is full-on sobbing.
When they attend a new school, Sam is noted of the whispers and rumors that spread from the other students who eye the purple finger prints that circle his throat. And all Sam wishes is that the marks that stain his neck are permanent, so he could wear them as a collar from being the property of Dean.
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