In 1782 Dean Winchester was born on a ship traveling from England to America. He was the first and only child of his family, his mother never recovering from childbirth and passing before she could see her new home. Dean’s father never remarried. Instead he was raised primarily by a governess who kept the house while his father built a small fortune in the sale and purchase of land.
Dean never built a strong relationship with his father, he learned to read and write in school and at the age of sixteen his father turned an eye from his work so he could teach his son the family business. It was the life Dean was meant to have, just as he was meant to marry a woman of at least middle class and raise a family of his own.
It was not, however, the life Dean wished for himself.
Perhaps if his father had taken time to look up from his papers at meals, learn about his son, he would have seen the impending end. At seventeen Dean ran away from home, taking with him just enough money to start fresh in the city. He had thought it would give him the life he had always wanted, but Dean had never really known what that would be.
Dean worked for some time in a factory, rapidly escalating from main line to a supervisor position. It wasn’t easy, the hours were long, but his home was empty and Dean had no where else to be. He took the company of men, because women had never caught his eye, in secret clubs that were down dark alleys, never spoken of aloud.
Though his life might have been lonely at times, Dean would rather have lived there then with a father who never cared, married to a woman he knew he could never truly love. Dean never anticipated finding a man he would wish to see longer than a night, until he came into the picture.
Everything happened so quickly. Dean still had trouble recalling the details, even years later. It was a fortnight of some of the most intense sensations and feelings that Dean had ever experienced. Dean had never really known love until he was in the arms of the man, caught up in the feeling like he never had been before.
Then the man left, disappeared just as quickly as he had arrived. The Dean he left behind, however, was nothing like he had been before.
It took only a day for Dean to learn that sunlight burned his skin. He crouched in a corner of his home, hiding from sunshine and shaking with a plague-like illness. For days his body had ached and Dean wasn’t sure he would ever pull through. How he did, he was never sure.
It took a month for Dean to fully realize food would no longer satiate him. By then he was little more than weak, pale and shaking. Dean had stumbled out into the night. He hadn’t realized what it was he craved until a man had stopped to see if he was alright. Dean had lunged forward, drawn by the strong scent of him, the thrumming of his heart, and he hadn’t fully realized his actions until the taste of blood pumped down his throat and Dean suddenly felt alive once more.
When the man dropped to his feet, lifeless, Dean stumbled back into the far wall and everything had changed. He didn’t know who he was, what he had become, and it would be years until he found out.
And nearly two hundred years until he felt anything like love for another man again.
“Bobby, when was the last time you cleaned this place?” Dean laughed as he stepped over a stack of books just inside the doorway. It was the only notice he gave the man that his home was suddenly going to be full of vampires, but Dean knew it wasn’t an issue. And, it wouldn’t technically be full of vampires, Dean had left half his clan on a mission he knew they could handle anyway.
Bobby came around the corner and Dean was hit, for just a moment, with how old the man looked. His hair was nearly completely grey, his skin more wrinkled than when Dean saw him last. It couldn’t have been that long since his last visit, though he would admit to occasionally losing track of time.
“Dean.” The man’s features lit up as he stepped forward into the embrace Dean easily gave. “Been wonderin’ when you’d turn up again. I guess you got my message then?” Bobby stepped back from Dean and turned slightly, nodding at the vampire who was a step behind Dean. “John, good to see you.”
“Hey, Bobby. How’s things?” John stepped up just behind Dean and smiled warmly.
“Life o’ the livin’,” Bobby drawled and shrugged, laughing as he stepped back to give them more room. “Not that you’d know. You lot are pushing it, sun’s only been down a couple of hours.”
“Now Bobby, I know I taught you how to drive in the sunlight without seeing out the window.” Dean laughed, a running joke between them. Most things were, it was their way of testing each other. Dean would test that Bobby’s memory was still in tact, Bobby would test that Dean was still the vampire he had become to be.
They were things developed and relied upon over a nearly life long friendship.
Dean glanced back over John’s shoulder as Mary and Jo squeezed their way into the front hall. “John, get your ass in here. Bobby’s place isn’t worth a line.”
“Gee, thanks Dean.” Bobby’s eyes rolled as the vampire clapped him on the shoulder and laughed, heading down the hall. Bobby glanced toward the door opening again, eyeing the vampire who followed Jo in then looking at John. “Jo find a mate?”
John’s eyes wrinkled as his smile widened. “She did, they’re a good match. He fits in well and she’s so much happier. You know - happier.” Raising at eyebrow he tilted his head slightly toward Dean.
“John, you better not be implying anything,” Dean called over his shoulder, lifting a book from Bobby’s desk. “And Jo, why don’t you two take the guest room upstairs. Bobby, we good to stay for a few days?”
“Yup, still got the wooden shutters, all the rooms are ready. Jo, you’re free to go on up.” Bobby smiled at her, nodding at the quiet man behind her. As Mary stepped closed he smiled, reaching out for her hand. “Mary, as stunning as always.” He stepped forward to kiss her cheek.
Mary’s slender fingers curled over Bobby’s shoulders for a few moments as she kissed him back then ran a hand over his cheek. “Oh, Bobby, if I were a hundred years younger.”
John’s laughter was low and gentle. “Hey, Bobby - should I be worried?”
“As if I’d be foolish enough to go up against you John.” Bobby’s laugh was carefree and Dean sighed, glancing back at them.
“Bobby? You call us here for a reason?” Something tense rippled through Dean and he tilted his head to the side, rolling it slowly to ease out his tight muscles. He needed a good feed, or a good fuck, or a good hunt. Something.
Bobby blinked back at Dean then at John. “Jesus Dean, can’t even let us share some pleasantries for a while? It’s been almost two years since I’ve seen you last.”
“Two years?” Dean grunted and looked down at the books once more then shrugging out of his coat. “John, thought you were supposed to be keeping track of things like that.”
John’s smiled faltered and Mary’s hand slipped into his as he spoke. “Dean? I did try to tell you ‘bout a year back that we needed to come and see Bobby. You didn’t want to-”
“You asked in the middle of a hunt and people were being killed,” Dean snapped, shooting his gaze to John and scowling. “Bobby, get the pleasantries out of the way. I gotta get the phone from the van and call Ash to check in.” The irritation was growing in Dean, getting worse like it had been for months now, maybe longer. He shoved the screen door open and let it fall with a clatter behind him.
Bobby’s eyes were wide when he looked from the door to John. “Fuck. He really is as bad as you said on the phone. Is it getting worse?”
John’s scratched at his dark beard and glanced over at Mary warily. “Yeah Bobby. It certainly ain’t been a walk in the park.”
“We’ve been doing what we can,” Mary said softly. She leaned against John and gazed up at him. “John tries really hard to keep the peace.”
“He even mention the idea of looking for someone? Only a year before he reaches two hundred.” Bobby’s frown deepened and he stepped back, gesturing to the kitchen. “Come on, you know him, might very well stop out front to listen to us before coming in.”
John twined his fingers through Mary’s as they headed into the kitchen behind Bobby. John kept his voice low. “We’ve tried suggesting it, I don’t know. He won’t talk to me anymore, Bobby. I’ve been trying to get him here for a long time so you could talk to him.”
Mary pressed her small hand against John’s chest. “And you know how much we respect Dean. It’s just - it’s hard with the young ones.” Frowning, she rested her head on John’s shoulder.
“Oh, hadn’t even thought...” Bobby trailed off and sighed, turning to pour himself a cup of coffee. “That why there’s only the four of you here? Honestly, I’m a little surprised to see Jo. Last I heard Dean was still waiting for her to prove herself.” He leaned back against the counter and sipped from his coffee, gesturing toward the fridge a moment later. “Got some blood on hand, fresh from the hospital if either of you are hungry.”
John pressed his lips together and curled his arm protectively around Mary. “We’d better not until Dead decides what we’re doing. Bobby? I’m really not exaggerating, I’m not sure how much everyone can take.”
Sighing once more, Bobby set his mug on the counter and rubbed at his temple. “Well, I’ll try talkin’ to him. But if you couldn’t get through to him, not sure I will.”
“Bobby, you could sell honey to bees,” Mary teased.
Laughing, Bobby shook his head. “Mary, darlin’, you’d think I’d have enough years to be used to your charm.” Looking through the kitchen out into the hall, Bobby grasped his mug again and nodded. “Alright. You two go get settled upstairs, I’ll try and have a talk with him.”
When Dean tugged the screen door open his eyes lifted to the stairs. He could hear the sound of John and Mary’s soft conversation, then Bobby’s mug clinking on the counter top in the kitchen. He knew what this was, his own personal vampire intervention. It wasn’t like he hadn’t expected this to happen the moment they got here.
His clan was worried, his little band of misfit vampires, all working for the good side when their nature alone should have suggested they kill innocents. And Bobby, of course Bobby was worried. Dean thought the man was the closest thing to family he’d ever really had.
So he couldn’t really put off the conversation, because he knew Bobby would upset if he did, and Dean didn’t really like upsetting the man. Walking slowly along the front hall, Dean stopped just inside the brightly lit kitchen, leaning against the door frame. “So they pawned the task off on you huh?”
If Bobby was surprised by his sudden appearance he didn’t show it. Too many years had passed for him not to have adjusted to the quiet nature of vampires. “You know it’s not that way. You wanna have a seat?”
Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Quit talking to me like you’re my dad. What do you want to say Bobby? Gonna lecture me about what I’ll become?”
“No, clearly you already know.” Bobby gave Dean a rather unimpressed look, his brows lifting challengingly. “Not gonna stand for you being a complete ass in my house though. So you’re gonna listen to what I do have to say and not give me any shit about it.”
It took actual effort for Dean to not roll his eyes once more. Most of the time he couldn’t control it, the harsh burn of anger, irritation. The desire to snatch a helpless human and drain them completely. Dean shuddered at the flickering thought and crossed the kitchen, dropping down onto a nearby chair. Maybe listening to Bobby wouldn’t hurt.
Bobby took the seat across from him and they sat in a familiar silence for a few minutes. Dean knew the man was preparing for what he wanted to say, how to word it in the best way. At least Dean could respect the man’s attempt to keep the peace.
“Gonna be two hundred soon Dean and you’ve seen first hand what that does to a vampire. I know you don’t want to become that... that soulless thing.” Bobby sighed and scrubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “You need to start looking. For all we know, you might need this entire year to find whoever fits.”
Dean curled his fingers into a fist because he could feel the urge to snap at Bobby. It used to come in waves but more and more, it was almost all Dean felt. He knew what Bobby meant, they all did. If a vampire reached their two hundredth year without a mate, the balance inside them seemed to vanish completely. Dean didn’t understand the reason behind it, they had never been able to break down the lore to find where it began, but he had seen it happen.
The creature that had once been a vampire – the creature the vampire became after the two hundred year mark had been worse than a monster. Within three nights he had massacred nearly an entire town, men, women, and children, and it had taken Dean, John, and more than half of the rest of the clan to finally bring it down.
No part of Dean wanted to be that thing.
“You know what you’ll have to do if I don’t find my mate.” Dean shrugged, the problem seemingly easy to fix. Or maybe, part of Dean wanted to reach that point if only because it would be the end of his life. They would have to kill him. Whatever modern idealistic images of vampires might portray, it wasn’t so glamorous to live forever. “You can’t force who your mate is.”
Bobby’s lips twisted in a scowl. “Maybe not, but you could be out there lookin’. Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doin’ Dean. You really just gonna leave your clan? All these people who look to you for guidance and support and you’ll just force them to kill you.”
“Not them. You. You’d kill me.” Dean met Bobby’s gaze, unflinching when Bobby’s scowl intensified. “I know you’d do the right thing if it came down to it.”
Bobby’s hand landed hard on the table. “You want that? Wanna make me kill you Dean? Never thought you’d get so selfish.”
Shoulders tensing, Dean glared at the man. “Why don’t we just talk about the hunt now. John, Mary, you wanna come in from the hall?” Dean didn’t turn to look over his shoulder. Why his second in command actually thought he could spy on their conversation was beyond Dean. And he was gladly take the distraction. “Now,” he said with more force, making it an order instead of a request.
Mary slipped into the room ahead of John. “Dean, we just came down the stairs and didn’t know whether to interrupt.” Smiling slightly she stayed back by the door as John moved around in front of her.
“Dean. It’s been a long day, are you going to let us all rest now?” John tilted his head slightly, shoulders squared.
“Think we should hear what Bobby has for us first.” Dean finally glanced over at them, pushing out of his chair and walking to the far side of the kitchen. “Bobby?”
Bobby looked uncertainly over at John and Mary before shaking his head and shrugging. “Bodies disappearing. There’s been at least a dozen empty graves in the last month. Wouldn’t have called you lot if the bones hadn’t turned up on the other side of town, gnawed on. Never seen anything like it.”
“So you need some extra leg work. Maybe some time underground.” Dean nodded, looking over at John to see what he suggested.
“Sounds like a Ghoul,” John said quietly. He rubbed at his shoulder and looked over at Mary with a slight frown. “Dean, we’ve been on the go a long time. We need a good rest before we take something like this on.”
“You don’t wanna help? I’m not making you.” Dean narrowed his eyes at John, annoyed that the vampire kept insisted they were tired. They’d been traveling for a few days, yes, but there had been times when they stopped to rest. “I can handle it on my own-”
“No, you can’t,” Bobby interrupted, shaking his head. “Damnit Dean, give them the rest of tonight and tomorrow. You lot can head to town to feed tomorrow then see if you can follow up some leads. Right, John? That sounds plausible?”
John’s teeth were clenched so tight the muscle in his jaw was twitching. Mary’s arms snaked around his chest and she peered around his arm. John’s shoulders relaxed and he sighed. “Yeah, sounds plausible but whatever Dean thinks. Dean, you know if you need to go out tonight I’ll be there with you.”
Dean struggled for a long moment over what he wanted to have happen and what he knew should. Even less than a year ago he wouldn’t have hesitated, he would have granted John his request to rest and been relieved by it. Dean didn’t like the slap of reality over how he once was and how he was changing. “Fine, go. Rest.” Dean waved them off, turning away from them.
Frowning, Bobby stared at Dean’s back then looked back at John. “You wanna check in on Jo, make sure she got the shutters in place?”
John’s gaze darkened for a moment and then Mary was tugging on his arm. “Thanks Bobby,” she said. “We’ll check. Night Dean.”
“Night,” John murmured.
Dean didn’t return the words, his body slumped against the wall. It was quiet for some time but he knew Bobby was there, waiting.
Finally Dean stepped away from the wall and turned to him, slowly nodding. “I will look. As much as I can. But you need to promise you won’t let me turn into a monster if I don’t find him.”
Bobby’s adam’s apple dipped with a hard swallow but he dropped his head in a nod. “Yeah, Dean, I promise. Won’t let you turn into a monster.”
“Good,” Dean breathed, turning to head for the hallway. “See you tomorrow Bobby,” he called over his shoulder then took the stairs two at a time to claim the last guest bedroom.
In 1936 Dean had met John. He looked back on the era with fond memories, mainly because he’d had a collection of fedora’s that he never got tired of wearing until they finally went out of fashion. By then Dean had experienced enough of the world to understand the only way to blend in was to appear to belong.
John had been a young vampire, changed and taught that humans were free game to be fed upon. Dean had been planning on killing the vampire, saving a town in the process, but after a three hour fight without a clear winner, Dean decided there was something more to the vampire than he’d thought before.
It had taken three weeks with John chained up in a loft drinking only pigs blood to make him stop long enough to actually listen. The vampire was alone as Dean was, and that was really where the idea had first begun.
His clan had only grown from there, though he’d never intended on building one. John was mostly responsible for the collection of misfits that joined them with time. They found vampires that didn’t have a place to belong, that were lost and confused, that didn’t want to be the stereotyped evil being that were meant to be.
Dean was their leader without meaning to be. He was the oldest amongst them and now that Jo had chosen her mate, he was the only one unmated. They respected him, looked up to him, which possibly made Dean falling apart at the seams even more difficult to handle.
It was the reason John didn’t seem to want to leave his side. On most occasions when the clan would split up for some reason, Dean would take some of the more experienced that he truly trusted and John would stay back with the others because he too, knew how to lead.
This time Dean had left Ash in charge because John had made it clear he wasn’t letting the eldest vampire go off on his own. Not even to Bobby’s, who had known Dean for the same amount of time.
Dean knew his friend was worried, he actually hadn’t seen him look this worried since the sixties when he’d first met Mary. John had thought Dean would fall apart without their close partnership, Dean had taken some time to warm up to Mary but he never would have denied the man that connection. Just because Dean was certain there was no soul mate for him out there didn’t mean he would deny the people he cared for that happiness.
Now though, it seemed Dean wasn’t being given much of a choice. Why he had thought he would be able to master the two hundred year curse was beyond him. Maybe because he had only ever killed one human, that first innocent man before he had known what he was. Or maybe because he’d saved thousands of lives, so he thought he deserved a break from the normal rules.
Things at Bobby’s were quiet during the day. Dean knew everyone was sleeping, catching up on the rest Dean had denied them as they traveled. They moved in a series of motor homes, windows covered in the back so they could move around. Dean had paid an absurd amount of money for the windshield that would allow them to see out while filtering out the harmful rays of the sun. It made traveling easier, sleeping? Not so much.
Not that Dean did a lot of sleeping anymore. He kept it secret from everyone though, because not sleeping was only another sign that he was one step closer to losing his mind, his logic, the part of him that knew the difference between right and wrong. Maybe even his soul, if you believed the undead still had them.
When the sun finally set Dean was itching to feed and he could feel the desire thick in the house, the rest of the clan just as hungry.
Dean was hardly three steps out the front door when the screen creaked again. He knew John’s presence, was familiar with calm ease the man carried. “Bout ready to go out?” He asked without turning around.
“Yeah,” John’s voice was still deep and thick with sleep. “Everyone’s up. Mary’s getting them going. Did you rest?” Stepping up beside Dean, John rested his hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“I’m fine.” Dean looked over at him and forced a small smile on his lips. “You think we should hit up that club locally? Or you wanna drive over to the city?”
“What about that town we went to last time we were here. Just on the north side of town?” John smiled. “Seems to me you found a couple fellas to your liking their last time.” John’s smiled widened when Dean’s shoulders actually relaxed slightly.
“Yeah, seems like a good place. If I remember correctly, you and Mary were pretty pleased with your choices too.” Dean laughed softly and turned toward John. “John. I know I’ve been... well. Just, you’re doin’ good, keeping things together. You’ll be just fine if I never find...” Dean trailed off, shrugging as he reached up and patted John’s chest.
"I remember you tellin' me once about hope. Even while I was in such a mess that I coudln't even see straight because I was so angry; you told me that there was always a way." John looked out over Bobby's lot and took a deep breath of the fresh night air. "I never would have found Mary if you'd given up on me."
“That’s-” Dean wanted to say it was different for him but that wouldn’t fly with John, Dean knew he shouldn’t even try. “Just sayin’ John, only got a year, there’s over six billion people in the world. Even if you figure only half are male, lot less than that speak English, still way too many people. We found Mary on a whim, don’t think we’re lucky enough to have it happen again.” Or well, Dean didn’t think he was lucky enough.
"Well, if there's any justice in this world... in the way things are..." John shook his head and bumped his shoulder against Dean's in a rare gesture of playful affection. "C'mon, I can hear Mary bitching at Jo. Bobby gave me these." He jangled keys in front of Dean. "She's all shined up and over there."
John gestured toward a Black Impala glistening in the moonlight. “Drivin’ her always cheers you up, and you know it.”
Dean rolled his eyes but he snatched the keys, a little relieved by the thought of driving something that wasn’t twenty feet long. “You tell ‘em all I’m leavin’ in five whether they’re in the car or not.” He punched John’s arm lightly then turned to head for the Impala. It would be good to go out, find a burning hot guy and get a fix in more ways than one.
And going out was an excuse not to think about the impending end of his life.
Dean thought there was a surprising number of people in the club considering the size of the town. Most of them were likely too young to legally be there but fake IDs went a long way and Dean didn’t care much about age anyway. Sure he usually gravitated to someone a little older, only because he found the young ones too easily attached. It wasn’t often he frequented a place twice but on the off hand chance he did, the last thing he wanted was some seventeen year old trailing after him like a lost puppy.
The clan broke off immediately to head in different directions. Dean liked to hunt alone, safe in the knowledge that he could still sense his clan members should they need him. He scanned the people as he worked his way through the crowd, ignoring the pairs of interested eyes that met his. When Dean chose his man for the night it was hardly ever anyone who shot him needy little looks that were already full of begging.
It was a taste Dean had developed over the years. The strong, confident man. The kind of guy who knew he looked good but didn’t parade himself like a piece of meat. Sure it was a bit selective but there were always one or two in a club, you just had to look a little harder for them.
By his second pass through the club Dean was a little disappointed. It was like, twink night or something. He could see the appeal in the skinny little boys in tight jeans and even tighter shirts, and if push came to shove he’d probably take one in back just to feed, but Dean liked the guys he fucked to have a little more meat. Maybe because he liked to be a little rough.
Just as Dean was about to give up and snag one of the skinny boys who’d been eye fucking him from the moment he stepped inside, something warm seemed to wash through him. Dean stopped, surprised, confused at the sensation. He couldn’t really put his finger on the feeling, or why it suddenly felt like that building anger and irritation was fading away.
Dean turned slowly, eyes scanning each person, trying to pinpoint the one that was generating the unfamiliar peace. His eyes landed on black boots first, one kicked over the other. His gaze drifted up the black jeans covering miles of muscle formed legs, ending in a thin tapered waist where the jeans hung low enough Dean could seek the hint of well defined abs.
The man’s shirt was a dark red, loose enough to hide what Dean knew had to be a chiseled chest and miles of smooth skin. There was a fine dusting of hair visible beneath the v-neck of the shirt and by the time Dean was finally looking into the man’s eyes he was already half hard.
The man had a firm jaw, high cheek bones, and slanted eyes. Dean was crossing to him without much thought. He could easily imagine slipping his hands through the man’s golden hair and Dean thought he was the kind of guy that shouldn’t be at a place like this. He should already have some devoted partner that did everything in his power to keep this guy at his side.
“Hey.” Dean stepped up to the bar where the man was leaning, trying to judge if he was even gay. Not that Dean didn’t fully think he was capable of making someone switch teams, at least for the night.
Sam's eyes narrowed slightly as he looked down at the stranger beside him. He was used to men looking at him, in fact, he had learned long ago to just ignore it. He wasn't used to being approached by people who looked as confident as the man beside him. "Hi," Sam answered.
“Whatcha drinkin’?” Dean liked to ask a few base questions usually, figure out what method worked best to hook a man in. He thought this one might actually be a challenge but manly because he was losing himself to the ease hum in the air, like Sam was sending of ripples of pleasure that Dean was going to drown in. He’d definitely never felt anything like this before.
Sam stared for a few moments, a bit mezmerized by the bottle green color of the stranger's eyes. The slightest shiver whispered down his arms and his lips twitched into a small smile. "I'm drinkin' a beer." He held the bottle up and raised an eyebrow before taking a drink.
Dean dipped his head in a nod and looked up, catching the bar tender’s eye and holding up two fingers and gesturing to the guy’s beer. Turning, Dean leaned back against the bar, his eyes drifting over the crowd then back to the man. “I’m Dean.” He didn’t think this guy would appreciate someone throwing themselves all over him, so he tried his best to play it cool even though part of him felt compelled to tug the man close and kiss him hard.
"Sam." Turning just slightly, Sam watched Dean look around the bar. His profile was striking, strong jaw, high cheek bones but his eyes were where Sam's gaze kept lingering. Huge, green orbs with thick black lashes and Sam could already imagine what they might feel like staring right into him. Laughing softly, he shook his head and took another drink of beer.
"You're not from town," he said. Sam knew that he would remember Dean if he'd seen him before.
“No, I’m not.” Dean let his gaze settle on Sam. If the man was going to initiate conversation, Dean was going to go along with it. “I’ve got a friend who lives around here. Just thought, you know, a small town like this, I had to find out what it’s nightclub was like.” Dean laughed softly, shifting a little closer to the man. God, how long had it been since he casually flirted with someone?
Nodding, Sam turned to lean his hip against the bar behind him. Seeing as Dean didn't appear to be going anywhere, Sam thought he might as well enjoy the view. Dean's lips were full, two gentle curves of wine-red on his pale face and Sam's teeth caught his bottom lip as he stared. "It's not all that great," Sam finally managed to get out. "Busy 'cause people come from miles around on Friday nights."
“Half these kids aren’t even old enough to drive.” Dean smirked and shook his head. “I’m too old to play around with a bunch of teenagers. The crowd always like this?” Dean glanced toward the bar tender and smiled as she set the beers down. He slipped out a few bills and slid them over before sliding the extra beer to Sam. “For when you run out.”
Nodding, Sam dragged his gaze away from Dean’s face. “Well, weekends it is. If I’m lookin’ for … well,” he shrugged and tilted his head slightly. “Sometimes I had to the city. Just here tonight checking out the scenery.”
Looking at Dean out of the corner of his eye, Sam drained his beer and set the empty bottle on the bar beside him. “You’re old enough to drive,” he said. “What are you doing still hanging around a crowd like this?”
“Well, I was thinking about leaving.” Dean glanced around the club, catching sight of John and Mary, still standing beside each other but talking to others. They often pretended to be a couple that liked to swing, like they had an open relationship. They never went as far as Dean went with his feeds, but he liked to leave the person with a good memory the morning after.
Gaze settling on Sam again, Dean’s lips lifted in a small smile. “Then something caught my eye. Figured I could stick around for a little while longer.”
"Yeah?" Sam's heart thumped just a little harder in his chest and he caught the side of his bottom lip under his teeth again. "Guess you're not leavin' right now. Seeings as you just bought me a beer and all." Turning around Sam reached over Dean's body to curl his fingers around the bottle on the far side of the man. He could feel heat crawling slowly up his neck as their chests pressed together. He knew perfectly well that the beer closer to him was the one Dean had intended for him to take.
“That would just be rude,” Dean said quietly and when Sam straightened up he reached out to curl his fingers over Sam’s hip. It could have been a gesture to make sure the man didn’t fall or something but they both knew Sam wasn’t that unsteady. “So you live around here then? Local boy?”
"Local enough now. Moved here a couple years back; needed a bit of a break from....where I was. You visitin' someone I might know?" Sam was having a difficult time ignoring the weight of Dean's hand on his hip.
Dean wet his lips, weighing the pros and cons of telling Sam the truth. It wouldn’t matter really. Sam didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d show up and beg for a second date if they had one good night together. And really? He was feeling a little lightheaded, like Sam was somehow making him drunk. “Bobby Singer?” He finally answered, taking a sip from the beer and trying not to scowl at the bitter taste. “He runs the junkyard.”
“Know of him,” Sam said over the increasing volume of the music. Leaning a little closer he brushed his hair back as he spoke against Dean’s ear. “I’ve heard he keeps to himself. Small towns are odd.” Dean smelled like the night air somehow, fresh and Sam breathed slowly.
“Yeah, that’s Bobby.” Dean’s fingers slipped up under Sam’s shirt, the man’s skin burning against his naturally cold finger tips. Usually when Dean had plans to start a case he kept his hunting short, some fumbling in a back alley, drinking his fill and getting the guy off. Then he’d send the man staggering on his way with a lust drunk grin and what appeared to be a hickey on his neck. Sam though? Dean could picture a a lot more than that happening. “So what are you doing in a town like this anyway? I mean, work wise, can’t imagine it’s the type of place to pay the big bucks.”
Laughing softly, Sam licked his lips. Dean's fingers were cool on his flesh, and the tingle of it was distracting. "I, uh, I write. Novels, just enough readers to keep me goin' but it's what I like doing. What about you?"
A writer huh? Dean wouldn’t have guessed that. There was something even more thrilling though, know that Sam took care of his body because he wanted too. It meant the man put appreciation into himself and that spoke of the confidence Dean always sought out. Sam was shaping up to be a very ideal candidate. “I travel a lot. Work random jobs here and there. Help people who have nowhere else to turn.” Dean’s hand slid around Sam’s side and pressed flat against his back. His pinkie came to rest at the top of Sam’s jeans, pressing with enough force to make his intentions understood. “What do you write?”
Goosebumps wound their way up Sam's flesh, darting around his body and he swallowed before managing to speak again. "I guess, horror - you know, things that go bump in the night. Throw in some sex to liven up the story." Smiling Sam found himself swaying a little closer.
“Sex always livens up the story,” Dean murmured and tucked his pinkie just barely under the jeans. The desire was growing in him, even more so as his finger pushed further still and came in contact with no other clothing. Fuck, knowing the guy was bare under his dark jeans made Dean want to pin him to the bar right there. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so caught up in a person. “Hmm, Sam? You come here with a goal in mind?” He tilted toward the man and let his lips brush the soft velvety skin under his ear. “Sure seems like you mighta been lookin’ for someone.”
Sam's breath faltered at the feather-touch of the man's lips. "Wasn't but think I might have found someone." Turning his head slightly, Sam felt his stubble rasp against Dean's smooth cheek. There was nothing about the man that didn't just cut right through Sam's defences. Sure, he'd picked up men before, but Dean was a little different. He felt almost, dangerous.
“Seems like it,” Dean breathed and dragged his lips along Sam’s jaw. “Got somewhere we could go?” He knew he was nearly growling the words but Dean figured there was no harm in showing Sam exactly what he wanted. “Kinda feeling like, livening up the night.” Dean chuckled at his lame line and caught Sam’s wrist, turning his hand hidden by the bar and pressing it flat against the bulge in Sam’s jeans, pretense be damned.
Letting out a low moan, Sam smiled weakly. "Yeah, I -" His blood was racing through his veins and he couldn't resist pressing closer to Dean. Something in the back of his mind tried to remind him that it probably wasn't the greatest idea to take a complete stranger back to his place but he shoved it aside. "Yeah, my place. My ride or yours?"
“Yours. I gotta couple friends somewhere around here, don’t want to leave them stranded.” Dean curled his fingers over the back of Sam’s neck and brought him in so their lips brushed just barely. “Meet me out front in five, just gotta hand over my keys.” Dean stepped back, his eyes dropping to Sam’s crotch and nearly leering before he met Sam’s gaze once more. “See you out front?”
"Okay," Sam nodded and pulled his keys out of his pockets and took a few steps backwards. "Out front," he said again, just in case there was any doubt.
Dean nodded, watching Sam for a minute more before spinning and heading quickly across the club. Jo and Nick were dancing, Dean knew Nick was still a little nervous about the feeding thing so they would build up to it. John and Mary had left the people they were talking to, no doubt, seeking out a more suitable couple.
He stopped beside John and held up the keys to the car, slight smirk on his face. Out Sam’s space, Dean felt different, more... twitchy. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. “See you in the morning,” he called over the music, dangling the keys between his fingers.
“Found someone to play with?” John’s eyes sparkled in the club lights and he pulled Mary in closer against his body.
“Safe to say it’s gonna be a good night.” Dean grinned, glancing over to where Sam still stood by the bar, finishing his beer. Looking back at John he shrugged and laughed. “Mighta got the best lookin’ guy in the place.”
Mary followed Dean's gaze. "Dean Winchester. You have good taste in men." Laughing she patted John's chest when he bristled slightly.
John looked over at Dean. "You're not actually happy are you?" Cocking a eyebrow John tried to cover his smirk.
“Jesus, you make it sound like a crime.” Dean rolled his eyes and laughed again, half stepping back. “Remember the rules, play safe. Watch Jo and Nick, the guy still hasn’t got the hang of things.” He stepped forward again to kiss Mary’s cheek then pat John’s arm. “Don’t push it too late yeah?”
"Yes Sir," John quipped. Shoving at Dean's shoulder he nodded. "We'll be fine. For once, have a good time without worrying."
“Okay, I will.” Dean laughed as John’s eyebrows lifted then turned, weaving through the crowd once more and stepping outside. The prospect of spending a night with Sam was more than appealing, because Dean was more than enjoying the way the man made him feel, even if he thought he should be unsettled about why he felt that way.
Dean stepped along the wall, watching as the door swung open a minute later. He knew it was Sam, could feel that rush of sensation intensifying, and Dean reached out without thinking. His hand slid to curl around the back of Sam’s neck and he dragged the man in, crushing their lips together. The kiss sparked and burned in a way Dean had never felt before.
Sam's knees buckled and he grabbed onto Dean's leather jacket as his mouth opened to deepen the kiss. Dean's fingers tightening on the back of his neck sent a shudder rolling down his body and Sam's hand slid up the cool silk of Dean's shirt. The kiss, tinged with the fear of for once not being sure sent heat racing through Sam's body.
Dean kissed with enough force to make it clear how he felt about being in charge. As he pulled back he caught Sam’s lower lip between his teeth and dragged slowly out, body pressing flush against the man’s. “You ready to get out of here?” He murmured, sliding his hand down along Sam’s back.
Sam's back arched slightly and he opened his eyes slowly as he nodded. "Car's over there." Once he'd pried his fingers off Dean's jacket and stumbled back slightly he waved over his shoulder. "Let's go," he said.
A slight smirk danced across Dean’s lips and he trailed after Sam, admiring the man’s red GTO as they stepped closer. “Nice, she’s beautiful.” He ran his fingers appreciatively over the smooth finish. “V8? She still got her original parts?” Dean had lived in a time where cars were more than a rarity, almost non-existant, so his appreciation for them was well founded.
Crooked smile on his lips, Sam opened the door. "Pretty much. Some custom stuff. You like cars?" Before Dean could answer Sam slipped inside and reached over to unlock the passenger door.
Dean pulled the door open and dropped down on the seat, closing the door after him. “Love cars.” He pointed out the window as they backed up, gesturing to the shiny black of his own car. “That’s mine. ‘67 Chevy Impala. Still as gorgeous as the day I got her.” Of course, back then, the car was brand new but he didn’t tell Sam that.
Sam had seen the sleek black Impala on his way in and found it a little hard to believe that such a great car belonged to someone as hot as Dean. Fishing for a little bit of information Sam started up the car and pulled out of the parking lot. "You must really trust your friend letting him drive your car."
“Yeah. John, he’s, well I guess you could say he’s my best friend. Known him a long time. His girl Mary, she keeps him grounded, so I’m positive she’ll make sure they get home safely.” Dean laughed softly and scooted across the bench, laying his hand on Sam’s thigh. “You live far from here?”
"Just on the outskirts of town." Sam shifted his hips slightly. He'd been half hard since Dean's fingers had slipped under his shirt. Even though he was as uncomfortable as fuck he wouldn't change it for anything. It had been entirely too long since he'd felt so turned on and he planned to get what he could out of it. Dean didn't seem like the kind of guy who would be back for a second date.
Dean shifted closer until he could brush his lips along Sam’s neck. God he could smell the man, could feel the race of his pulse. Dean couldn’t wait to drink from him, he was going to taste amazing. “You the kind of guy who doesn’t do this?” He murmured against the man’s warm skin, slowly laving his tongue over the sweet, salty skin.
Clearing his throat, Sam's finger curled so tight on the steering wheel that his knuckles whitened. "Gonna...drive off the road if you do that."
Even as he spoke, Sam slid his hand over Dean's thigh and pressed his palm against the hard line in the man's jeans. Dean only hissed softly against Sam's flesh and his breath felt strangely cool.
“Good,” Dean breathed slowly, rocking his hips up against Sam. He laughed softly after a moment and shook his head. “Not that you’re going to drive off the road. You live alone?” Dean could feel the lengthening of his teeth as Sam’s pulse picked up speed and he couldn’t help letting them graze slowly over the man’s skin. He couldn’t wait to feed from him.
"Jesus," Sam whispered. "Yeah, alone. I live alone. God. Right over here." Sam yanked the steering wheel to the right and headed down the long driveway to his house. He'd chosen the small house when he moved there because it was secluded, far enough from town to keep people away. Sam liked his time by himself.
By the time he pulled up in front of his porch Sam was so hard he was aching and he was reaching for Dean even as he slid the transmission into park. “Fuck,” he murmured.
In one swift motion Dean was twisting Sam, pressing him flat against the door and once more crushing their lips together. His hands moved over the man’s chest, rucking his t-shirt up, palming roughly a moment later over his crouch. His tongue thrust forward hard and Dean wasn’t sure he’d ever been so out of control with someone. It was like Sam brought out the desire to dominate.
Sam's body was on fire; he wasn't used to someone being able to actually shove him around. It was hot. Moaning into the kiss; Sam slid his fingers up Dean's neck into his soft hair. His foot fell to the floor with a dull thump and he twisted his hips up wanting more of the pressure of Dean's hand. Sucking on Dean's Tongue Sam's free hand slapped out to the side and grabbed onto the steering wheel.
Dean tore back from the kiss and worked his lips across the man’s jaw. He couldn’t wait anymore, that needy, burning desire was definitely more intense than Dean could ever remember it being. His lips moved down over the man’s neck until he felt the racing pulse against the outward flick of his tongue. Moaning low in his throat, Dean pressed harder forward and sank his teeth into the silky smooth skin, surging harder forward so he could latch onto the punctured skin and pull in mouthful after mouthful of rich, coppery blood.
An icey fire shot down Sam's neck; painpleasure and his body jolted up off the seat. His hands clawed their way around Dean's shoulders to cinch tight and press the man closer. Rocking up against the firm body Sam moaned, hips twisting as he writhed with pleasure. Wave after wave of heat and pleasure spiralled down his body. "Dean," he whispered.
Biting someone didn’t usually cause them pain but Dean was certain he had never felt anyone respond quite like this. It felt almost like he could make Sam come from this alone and that was far too hot for his brain to handle. He needed the man naked, he wanted to bite and mark every inch of him.
Flicking his tongue over the wound to close it, Dean swallowed the last of the blood and shuddered, pulling back slightly. “Inside,” he growled, his hand pressing hard against Sam’s crotch.
Bleary-eyed, Sam panted softly into Dean's hair for a few moments. His head was spinning, and he did what Dean said without even thinking about it. Slapping his hand behind him he fumbled with the door handle and when the door finally unlatched he half crawked back out of the car and stood there, chest heaving, watching as Dean climbed out of the car.
“Still with me Sammy?” Dean asked softly, shutting the door of the GTO then stepping forward. His arm slid around the man’s waist and he tilted up to gently kiss over his jaw. “Usually prefer my men to be conscious when I fuck them.”
"Oh God," Sam moaned. Another shudder made it's way down his body and he gripped a handful of Dean's hair as the man pushed him back toward the porch steps. Stumbling, he felt Dean catch him as they moved up the stairs. Sam's lips moved over Dean's forehead, along his cheek and down to the corner of his mouth as they moved.
It took far too long in Dean’s opinion for them to get inside. But the minute they were he was turning Sam and pushing him up against the oak surface, hand shoving hard up under Sam’s shirt. He nearly tore the fabric pulling it over the man’s head then he was dipping down, mouthing over Sam’s pecs, sinking his teeth into the skin right above the man’s heart. He wanted Sam to look at himself tomorrow and know how thoroughly he’d been claimed.
"Jesus," Sam murmured. Pain darted along his skin and morphed into pleasure as he flinched. Dean's skin was cold and smooth, his muscles rippling under Sam's palms. Sam pushed his shoulders back so his body arched off the door; his crotch ground against Dean's thigh as the man's mouth kissed and lapped at his chest.
Dean slid his tongue over the wound, knowing that Sam seeing any blood would likely bring everything to grinding halt. He wet his lips as he stepped back and slid out of his coat, letting it drop to the floor. His eyes locked on Sam’s lust blown gaze as he pulled off his shifrt and dropped it beside his coat.
A slow smirk tugged at his lips as he undid his belt, flicked his button open and dragged the zipper down. “You got a bedroom?” He murmured, slipping his hand under his briefs to adjust himself.
Trembling, Sam rubbed at his chest and winched slightly. He walked forward. "You like it kinda rough," he murmured. He was already moving back toward Dean, circling around to his side almost automatically. Running his nose through Dean's hair, he dipped his head down and brushed his lips over the man's cheek. "Bedroom's at the end of the hall," he whispered.
“Too rough for you?” Dean murmured and hooked his arm around Sam’s waist, pulling him slowly backward down the hall. His hands slid along Sam’s bare back, fingers dipping under the back of his jeans. It was a little surreal, the way he just wanted to devour Sam. Dean kept thinking he should stop to really think about why it was like this but he couldn’t be bothered.
His shoulder bumped into the door frame of Sam’s bedroom and their lips slid together. “M’gonna be rough,” he whispered into the kiss, trailing off in a silent unless you tell me not too.
Nodding, Sam bit down on Dean's bottom lip as he pushed off the wall to guide them the rest of the way through the door frame. "S'good, I-" Sam sucked in a sharp breath as Dean's fingers slid lower under his jeans. Pulling back slightly he slid his hands down Dean's chest until he could hook his thumbs over the dark denim of the man's jeans and push it down.
Kicking out of the jeans and briefs, shoes and socks, Dean framed Sam’s jaw with his hands and drew him forward, their lips collided once more. They fumbled back for the bed and Dean dropped his hands, tugging Sam’s jeans open in two quick movements. “God, I want you,” he gasped into the kiss, pushing Sam back onto the bed.
Gasping for air Sam crawled back as he kicked out of his jeans. "You got a promise to keep," he whispered. Reaching down he pulled on Dean's arm until Dean crawled up over him. There was something almost predatory about the dark gaze that held his and Sam leaned up to lick his way along Dean's full bottom lip.
Moaning into the kiss Dean settled himself over Sam, rocking his hips forward as his tongue slid forward to map along the inside of Sam’s mouth. Miles of muscled skin and Dean knew he could spend all night worshipping it and still not get his fill. His hips lifted and his hand moved down between their bodies, sliding along Sam’s cock, grazing across his balls, tucking back to caress Sam’s hole once. “Give me something to use,” he growled into Sam’s mouth.
Arm curled around Dean’s cool neck, Sam reached out blindly and snatched at the drawer handle on the night stand. Somehow, he managed to get the drawer open and curl his fingers around a bottle of lube.
“Here.” He spoke into the kiss, tongue sweeping forward to taste Dean’s mouth. Pressing the lube in his hand he felt the top come off and the slick liquid coating his fingers. Sliding his hand down between them he caught Dean’s hand for a moment as he lurched up into the kiss.
The man’s entire body was cool, smooth and Sam shivered and pressed closer. As soon as Dean’s fingers were back, pressing forward for entrance he curled his still slick fingers around Dean’s cock and stroked slowly.
“God, you want it too don’t you?” Dean groaned into the kiss and shoved three fingers hard and sloppy fast up into the man. Sam let out a call that sounded caught somewhere between pain and pleasure. His fingers spread wide, stretching Sam as his hips jerked forward into the slick circle of fingers around his cock.
“Gonna let me take you now? So you’re still tight around me?” Dean growled and thrust his fingers up hard, aiming for that sensitive bundle of nerves that he knew would drive the man insane.
A burst of pleasure made Sam throw his head back. His spine arched up off the mattress and his nails dragged down Dean's chest. A small whimper escaped his lips and he gasped in a deep breath of air and let out a long, low moan. "Yes," he murmured. "Yes, I want it - want you, Yes."
All his words tangled together as Dean thrust his fingers forward again and another wave of pleasure ricocheted through Sam's trembling body. Pulling himself up he crashed his mouth against Dean's and the coppery taste of blood burst across his taste buds as his lip stung. "Please," he murmured in between urgent kisses. "Fuck me. Please, I want it."
“Jesus Christ,” Dean hissed and tugged his fingers free. He thought about flipping Sam onto his stomach but he didn’t want that. He wanted to see Sam when he claimed him. He grabbed Sam’s legs and brought them up to his shoulders, bending the man’s body as he lined up.
The smooth silky heat of Sam drew him in, too tight around Dean and he groaned, sinking down in one deep thrust. Sam’s breath hitched and Dean fell over him, kissing him surprisingly soft and tender considering how roughly he’d just fucked into him. “Shh, it’s good, so good Sam. You like it,” he murmured into the man’s lips.
"Yes," Sam hissed. One had was gripping Dean's hair tightly and Sam's entire body trembled as he breathed through the burn that ripped through him. Letting out a long slow breath, Sam blinked his eyes open and stared up at Dean's dark gaze then rocked his hips up slightly. Dean's cock was thick, and Sam felt so full and thoroughly taken. Then Dean's hips moved forward and Sam let out a low moan.
Dean didn’t waste any time building up to more. His hips drew back and fucked hard forward, eyes fluttering as muscles rippled tight around him. Shifting to the other side of Sam’s neck, Dean watched the flutter of the man’s racing pulse under his skin before he was moving in, tongue working over the skin moments before his teeth sank in. Dean moaned at the rush of blood flooding over his tongue as his hips snapped roughly down, making him feel dizzy and perfect.
The breath that Sam drew in smelled of Dean's hair and he cirlced his arm around the man's neck as he turned into the soft golden brown strands. There was another jolt of pleasure along his neck. "What ... what you doin' to me," Sam almost slurred.
Without waiting for an answer he twisted weakly and tried hard to match each of Dean's hard thrusts. Panting against Dean’s ear, moaning softly then letting his head fall back Sam could already feel the tight coil of pleasure building within him. Each time Dean sucked on his neck Sam’s entire body shuddered.
The blood pulsed swift and thick along Dean’s tongue and it was so much better than he remembered blood tasting. God, it couldn’t possibly have been that long since he last fed. Sam though, he was making his mind spin in a way no one ever had before. He forced himself to stop drinking, not wanting to make the man pass out. He flicked his tongue over the wound and drew up, thrusting hard down into Sam.
“Fuck, close, Sam,” Dean groaned and shoved a hand between them, grasping Sam’s cock and stroking hard and fast. “Come for me,” he hissed, blinking his eyes open to stare down at Sam.
Sam dug his nails into the back of Dean's neck and held on tight. The man's words were like a command that his body already knew to follow. He let out a small sound; a soft keen more than anything else and then he was coming. His aching flesh slipped through Dean's grip and Sam felt each spurt of come that splashed between their bodies.
Watching Sam fall apart had more of an effect on Dean than he’d anticipated. The flush of color on his cheeks, the way his eyes rolled back, the soft noise falling from his lips and Dean thrust hard forward one, twice, before he was coming. His release slammed hard through him and Dean moaned as he worked his hips forward through the waves of pleasure.
Minutes later he collapsed on top of Sam, panting into his neck. He could still smell the coppery tinge of blood and Dean nipped gently on the skin, lapping gently at the small beads of blood.
Smiling softly, Sam curled his hand over the back of Dean's neck and pressed him closer. Dean's lips were gentle on his throat, less urgent and Sam felt a little like he was floating just above the mattress rather than sinking down into it. “S’good?” he asked softly.
“Incredible,” Dean whispered, closing the wound and gently pulling his hips back. He flopped onto his back beside Sam, his hand draping over the man’s chest. “Been a while since it felt like that,” he breathed, satiated in a way he actually couldn’t remember ever feeling.
"Same," Sam murmured. Taking a deep breath he used the last of his energy to roll toward Dean. His fingers slid over the man's chest and he frowned. "You're cold." Flailing his hand over behind him he pulled up the blanket and folded it over them, rubbing Dean's chest gently.
Mouthing the man’s shoulder, Sam smiled. “Better?”
“Yeah, better,” Dean breathed and he finally felt like the sleeping he’d been missing out on was catching up to him. He felt... safe. Warm in a way he couldn’t be anymore. He felt like he could sleep for a year and his arm slid around Sam once more. “Who are you?” He whispered, wishing he could understand how Sam made him feel like this.
“Lucky stranger,” Sam whispered. His mind was cloudy with pleasure and he was exhausted. There was no way he could keep his eyes open so he simply trailed his fingers along Dean’s collar bone. “Stay tonight?”
“Okay,” Dean almost sighed the word. He knew he’d only be able to stay until the sun was threatening to rise and for maybe the first time in his undead life, Dean regretted the fact. He turned to brush his lips over Sam’s temple before sinking down into the sleep pulling at him.