Dean hadn’t been handling things well since his dad had shown up. Since Dean had almost confessed his undying love and desire for Sam. Since Sam had informed Dean he would be leaving again. Dean knew that even though his departure wasn’t imminent, he would have to face it eventually. And if he didn’t do something to get his incestuous desires under control, and his being in love with his brother to stop, Sam’s leaving would break him.
He had been chewing on how to do that for the better part of the last two hours. Sam had zonked out exhausted next to him on the seat, as they drove towards a potential ghost hunt. Sam’s quiet trust of Dean on full display, as his body curved into a c shape leaning towards his brother in sleep. Dean had tried not to look over at him with longing, had fought himself to stop sneaking peeks at Sam’s smooth face, long neck and shiny hair, as his brother rested. But to no avail.
As Dean caught himself once again gazing at Sam’s lips where they had fallen open in relaxation, he finally hit on a solution he thought might work. Dean decided to go full on into big brother mode. He was going to try looking at Sammy as only his little brother. He was going to try to keep that word firmly in his mind from here on out. Any time any darker thoughts or desires popped up, he would just think about Sam as a little kid, the chubby baby, the into everything toddler, the small child who looked to Dean for all the answers.
This had to work, he desperately needed a solution. So he dove in as deep as he could. One of the things he had loved the most as a kid was tormenting Sam and pulling pranks on him. That would be a sure fire way to keep his mind off of Sam’s body. He would focus on being as annoying and ruthless as he possibly could with the teasing and tricks and that would fix surely everything.
To that end, Dean carefully put a plastic spoon into Sam’s mouth, as it hung open so sweetly, in sleep. After taking a picture of the ridiculousness, he cranked up the volume on Baby’s radio.
Sam flew awake, freaking out over the thing in his mouth, swiping at it in a panicked way that made Dean’s heart swell. Not in an endearing way at all, but a funny ha ha big brother pulling pranks way. Purely innocent.
Dean laughed at his brother, and then even harder at his insistence that they shouldn’t start pranking up again. Sam was so cute when he got angry. In response to his mind trying to go off the rails, Dean cranked up the bro humor by saying “What’s that matter Sammy? You afraid you’re gonna get a little Nair in your shampoo again huh?”
Dean swallowed hard and hid behind his bravado, realizing he had underestimated how hot Sam was when he pursed his lips in determined frustration. This plan had to work. Dean had to just stick with it and remember Sam was his kid brother. Not the hot young man he had been fantasizing about forever. No more of that… ever.
They were on the road in Texas, on a speeding course towards Richardson, where supposedly some teens found a dead body hanging in a ‘haunted house,’ that then vanished before the cops came. The brothers pulled into town with nothing more than information gained from a sketchy sounding local paranormal website.
They interviewed some of the kids involved and none of their stories really lined up. Most of the information was off by important details, but the kids all seemed sincerely freaked out by what they had experienced.
They all had agreed that a young man named Craig Thurston had come up with the idea to go to the house in the first place. So the brothers made their way to the local music shop where Craig worked. Craig informed them of the legend he had heard about a farmer back in the 30s named Mordechai Murdoch who had a bunch of daughters. When the depression hit he lost everything and fearing the girls would starve to death, he killed them by stringing them up one by one in the house and then killing himself. Supposedly now his ghost hangs any girl that enters the house too.
The brothers went to the house to check things out for themselves. As soon as they walked in they noticed an abundance of symbols scrawled on every wall in the house. They were all different and assorted, but Sam began describing them and why they didn’t seem to fit with the legend that was supposed to go along with the house.
Dean turned and watched Sam as he orated his knowledge. Taking in how serious his brother’s demeanor was, and how lost he seemed to be calling up his encyclopedic memory of things he had learned. It stole Dean’s breath. Sam was so gorgeous when he was in his element. Hell he was amazing to behold at any moment in time, but when his brilliant brain was working in this way, he was glorious.
Fuck. He had to rein this shit in, damn it!
Dean put all the snark he could muster behind his voice, laying on the distain as thick as he could, “Exactly why you never get laid.”
He turned and walked away from Sam, trying to catch his breath and calm his betraying dick down.
At least Dean’s brain was on target, noticing a symbol that stood out from the rest as unique. He asked Sam if he had ever seen it before but he hadn’t. Dean’s brain was poking at him, not letting him move on from the image and how familiar it seemed. He knew he had seen it somewhere before but he just couldn’t place where. Upon further inspection Sam realized it was marked in paint, and from the tackiness he determined it had been left there recently.
Dean was about ready to call this case a bust, agreeing with the local cops that the kids were full of bull about it, when they heard a noise from the next room.
The boys busted in, ready for anything and found two dweebie looking dudes who claimed to be paranormal investigators. They handed the brothers their business cards and Sam read both names aloud, “Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spengler,” along with their website, “hellhoundslair.com.”
It happened to be the website Sam had found when researching the case. The one Dean had scoffed at.
They boys let the two ‘investigators’ go on and on about what they did, the tools they used and their experiences, knowing that if the pair ever saw a real ghost it would freak them out so badly they would wet their pants. The two called the Winchesters amateurs and the brothers let it go, leaving the ‘professionals’ to their work since it didn’t seem like the place was truly haunted after all.
The Winchesters did want to follow up with the local history and at least make sure to do their due diligence before leaving town. Sam went to the library and did his research thing, turning up information about a Martin Murdoch who lived in that house in the 30s, but didn’t have any female children, only two boys, with no record that he ever killed anyone.
Dean went to the police station to find out about the supposed dead girl. There were no missing persons’ reports or anything else to substantiate the kids’ stories.
The brothers convened at the Impala and Dean told Sam he thought this case was a bust. That nothing pointed to any danger or actual haunting of any kind and suggested they find a bar and have some beers before heading out of town. He hopped into Baby, not waiting for Sam to agree.
Sam stood outside bending down to watch as Dean turned the engine over. As soon as he did so, the radio blared out loud fiesta music, the windshield wipers flung side to side, with the air on full blast. The commotion startled Dean so badly that he yelled out “OH!” making a face while he reached wildly for the knob desperately trying to turn the radio and everything else off.
With his heart still pounding he asked confusedly, “What the…” before Sam’s laughter made it dawn on him that it was just a little brotherly payback.
Dean complained saying the prank was bush league at best, very weak, trying to hide the shaking of his hands as he reached to put the car in gear.
They spent a couple of hours in a local bar, Dean complaining the entire time that there were no eligible women to hook up with. Sam was relieved but tried hard not to let his smile show, each time Dean brought it up. Usually Dean wanting to get laid like that would have put Sam in a bad mood, but he was still riding high on adrenaline from the successful prank. Not to mention Dean was still talking a little louder than normal because of the ringing in his ears from the supersonic blast of music, which added to Sam’s happiness about the hilarity of what he had managed to get over on Dean.
The fact that Dean would be going home alone that night was the icing on the cake for Sam’s mood.
Dean on the other hand was grouchy. Yes he was happy that the prank had brought out the full on pain in the ass little brother aspect of Sam, so that was a success. In the immediate aftermath of Sam’s achievement, though, he had climbed into the car, and in his eagerness to gloat, he had licked his index finger slowly across the tip of his tongue, marking a number 1 in the air. The movement was innocent and just there to show Dean the score was 1 point for Sam.
But he might as well have leaned over and licked Dean’s dick, for as hard as it had stood at attention in reaction.
He was in such trouble. Not to mention the beautiful way Sam’s triumphant smile had grabbed a hold of Dean’s heart, along with his nether regions. The response had not been something Dean had been expecting to have to deal with when he started this process.
And to top it off, there were no pretty women at all in the bar he had chosen. He needed something to take his mind off his brother. And every time Sam thought Dean wasn’t watching, he smirked quietly to himself about his earlier win. The way Sam’s cheeks dimpled up, and the shiny white of his smile was killing Dean. It was having the opposite effect to what this stupid prank war was supposed to be achieving.
He stayed long enough for his erection to subside, and for him to make sure there was no one he could find to go home with. He did notice that Sam was in a particularly good mood, figuring that it was still the afterglow of his prankster accomplishment. Dean decided the best way out of this mess was just to focus on what his next prank could be. Surely that would get his mind off of Sam’s tongue, leaving his finger just wet enough to gleam in the sunlight, and off of how his smile made Dean’s stomach all warm and tingly. Fuck.
He decided the best medicine was to just jack off quietly in the shower after Sam had fallen asleep that night. He would try again in the morning to be a good brother.
Dean didn’t have much time to plan for an attack, because Sam’s alarm he always set up to hear local police ban radio went off first thing. It indicated someone had died in the house they had incorrectly decided wasn’t haunted. They went to check it out, being told that it was a suicide by one of the civilians standing outside. But the man didn’t seem convinced because he informed them that the girl had been a straight A student with a full ride to U.T. which made her suicide not make much sense.
The brothers came back later that night to try to check the place out more fully to see if they had missed something. But the local cops had the house surrounded, making it impossible for them to get in to investigate. They were stationed in the tall weeds just outside of the yard perimeter, trying to figure out a way past the squad making rounds, when they heard the two paranormal investigators they had met the day before come bumbling up from a different direction.
Dean yelled out and caused the police to see the others, decked out in ghost hunting gear, inspired straight from the movie Ghostbusters. The brothers masterfully used the distraction to sneak into the house stealthily.
As soon as they entered, Dean’s memory began nagging at him again, trying to figure out where he had seen that strange symbol before. They quickly made their way down to the basement, knowing they wouldn’t have much time before the cops came back.
When Dean saw the disgusting jars of some unknown liquids all over the shelves he did his best double dog dares to get Sam into a silly mood, but his brother was having none of it. Even though Sam got him good with the radio earlier, Dean felt he needed to kick this brotherly camaraderie up a notch. Nothing was working to get him out of his desires, it was like they snuck up on him at every turn, no matter how much he was trying to be good and fight it.
They heard a sound off in a corner and went to check it out, but much to Dean’s dismay, it was just rats. He hated rats. But he didn’t much like the ghost that took a swing at them either, especially when it didn’t react to their shotguns full of rock salt.
They fought him off and barreled out of the house almost colliding with the two ghost chasers. The brothers left the idiots behind and took off to reconvene back at the hotel. Sam was trying to figure out why the Mordechai ghost didn’t seem to fit any of the legend they had read from before, and Dean was concentrating on trying to work out where he knew the strange symbol from. When Sam explained that someone was posting different versions of the story about the ghost on the website, which seemed to more clearly match what they had just seen for themselves, it knocked something loose for Dean.
They went back to the music store and Dean showed Sam that the symbol was actually the logo for the group the Blue Oyster Cult on the record he had looked at here. They confronted Craig about it and he confessed that he and his cousin had set the whole thing up as a joke. But he was completely freaked out now since someone actually died because of it all.
They were still at a dead end given what Craig told them, since he hadn’t done any rituals or magical influencing to bring forth this ghost to begin with. And it still didn’t make any sense why the damned thing didn’t act like a normal ghost at all.
Sam took a deep dive into the research while Dean snuck out to get more ammunition for his prank fest, determined to up the ante and somehow get a brotherly wall up around his desire once and for all.
Dean came back to the motel to the sounds of water running in the bathroom. He had found some itching powder and he took advantage of Sam’s being in the shower to completely coat the inside of the jeans, his brother had laid out for himself, on the bed. He hoped that Sam would be so completely frustrated with Dean that he would be all pissy and that would really put a brotherly block between the two.
Dean was so intent on what he was doing, trying to finish with the powder before Sam came out, that he only half listened to Sam through the bathroom door as he explained that he thought the ghost might actually be a Tulpa. Dean’s focus also failed to make him think clearly about what it meant that Sam’s clothes were out here on the bed, and Sam was in the shower in the other room.
The bathroom door swung open and Dean turned guiltily around to hide the powder behind his back. The full weight of what his eyes were beholding crashed against him like a tsunami. There stood Sam, still glistening from his shower, wrapped only in a towel.
Dean’s mouth dropped open before he could get a handle on his autonomic response to the Greek god body his little brother had on full display.
Sam continued to talk about his findings, oblivious to Dean’s desperate attempt to hide his reaction. He explained that a Tulpa was a Tibetan thought form. Dean feigned knowledge of what it was, just so he could escape into the bathroom. He had temporarily forgotten all about the mission of itching powder due to the sudden blood loss from his brain. He all but ran passed his disrobed brother into the bathroom and pressed his back against the door breathing hard. Fuck.
This was impossible. How the hell was Dean supposed to get over his brother if Sam kept pulling shit like that? He managed to pull himself together by splashing cold water on his face and the back of his neck, but he was barely holding it together.
They went to a nearby diner and Sam proceeded to give Dean the rundown about how in 1915 a group of Tibetan monks created a Golem out of thin air just by focusing on the thought of it hard enough. He believed if that was possible from just 20 monks then what could an online group of thousands accomplish by believing in Mordechai that way.
Dean wasn’t sure he was buying it. He asked Sam, if all it took was enough people believing in something all at once, then how come Santa Claus wasn’t real, saying almost poutingly, “How come I’m not getting hooked up every Christmas?”
Without blinking, Sam responded, “Cause you’re a bad person.”
Dean watched as Sam squirmed, barely able to concentrate because of what Dean had done to him, which made him think maybe Sam was right.
Dean hadn’t figured on how Sam’s wriggling would bring to mind other things that might make him squirm. Like what if Sam was fidgeting because his dick got hard and it made his own pants too tight and uncomfortable. That thought made Dean’s own nether regions begin to pay attention.
Sam kept moving around uncomfortably while he spoke but managed to explain the potential difference between St Nick and Mordechai. One of the symbols Craig and his cousin had used to decorate the house, to make it look haunted, happened to be a Tibetan spirit sigil. He said it had been used for centuries, concentrating people’s meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass.
The more Sam floundered, moving up and down on his stool, trying hard to concentrate on what he was saying, the darker Dean’s mind went and more elaborate the direction his thoughts were taking. An even more intense image popped into his mind, of Sam riding Dean’s dick and writhing around on his lap, trying to make sure he hit his prostate with each southern thrust of his hips. Dean froze for a moment, panicking to keep his face neutral.
Sam of course was oblivious to how Dean’s imagination was taking him off the rails. He was doing everything he could to concentrate on the task at hand while desperately trying to find a comfortable way to sit.
Dean’s fantasy brain was causing major distress of his own. He tried to listen to what Sam was saying, looking at the laptop and trying to take in the ramifications of what Sam was showing him. He took a moment to banish the sexual thoughts from his mind as best he could, sipping from his coffee slowly, to hide anything that might be showing on his face.
He asked his brother why they didn’t just take down the sigil thingy, off the wall and off the website. Sam explained that it wouldn’t help to just take down the symbol and remove the website, because once a Tulpa is created, they take on a life of their own.
Sam tried to pay attention to the job at hand but he was miserable. He shifted around, pulling hard on his jeans and pushing against different areas around his crotch trying not to be obvious, but needing some kind of relief from the constant itch in his pants. Dean attempted not to watch as his brother touched himself. His eyes betrayed him, as they followed the line of Sam’s chest all the way to where his brother’s hands were moving to relieve his discomfort. Dean tried to maintain a straight face but he had to wipe the sweat mustache off his own lip that had formed at the idea of Sam touching himself without any clothes on.
Dean pathetically endeavored to get his thoughts back to the problem at hand, asking if this was indeed a thought form, how were they supposed to kill an idea. He watched the laptop as Sam showed him the new posting by the supposed ghost hunters, complaining that their information was actively working against the brother’s ability to kill the monster. Dean was surprised that in spite of his body and mind reacting in ways he never saw coming about the trick he had played on Sam, he might actually have a solution.
Sam’s anguish got the better of him and as they stood up to go, he finally complained that he thought he was allergic to their soap or something. Dean burst out laughing, trying hard to hide his heinous thoughts behind boisterous gloating, overcompensating with pompous amounts of happiness to hide how badly it had backfired. Sam huffed in frustration, realizing his body’s misery was all Dean’s fault. He couldn’t believe his jerk of a brother would stoop so low while they were in the middle of a case. But once he thought about it, he realized he was used to his body being uncomfortable because of Dean, it just usually wasn’t itching that was the problem.
While the brothers came up with a bogus death certificate for Mordechai, they discussed how they were going to play the two ghost hunters, in order to fool them into putting the details on their website to give them a way to kill the Tulpa once and for all. It had been a while since the brothers worked a short con together. They used to do it all the time before Sam left, when they needed money for food or school supplies and John would leave them too long without, while he was gone on a hunt. They had it down to an art form back then, but both brothers were a little nervous going in this time, since it could mean them actually ending the threat at the house and saving people’s lives.
They had nothing to worry about, though, Sam and Dean played off each other like fine musical instruments, their timing was perfect. Harry and Ed ate up their reverse psychology shtick like it was a big fat steak.
The plan to use the ghost hunter’s own behavior against them, gave Sam an idea about how to get back at Dean for being such a jerk earlier too.
While they sat at another diner waiting for the guys to update their website with the phony info they had fed them, Sam acted like Dean’s juvenile behavior, of pulling an obnoxious wooden kitschy noisemaker above their table, was getting on his nerves. It was not a hard act to sell. He was still seething about the asshole move with the itching powder from earlier, but he knew if he played his cards right, he would be the one laughing before too long.
Dean was laying on the rotten brother routine thickly, really trying to get under Sam’s skin. He had been unnerved by how his body had reacted to Sam’s earlier dilemma. It seemed like every prank he tried to pull, to put the brother aspect of their relationship into perspective, and highlight only that area of his own feelings, the deeper he dug his hole of desire for himself about Sam. Dean knew all the things that would get on Sam’s nerves and he was trying to push the line as hard as he could.
Sam tried to hide his excitement about what he was about to accomplish against his brother, behind frustration and anger. Pursing his lips and stabbing his food harshly with his fork. Hoping Dean would buy his annoyed behavior and never suspect what was coming.
Once the information they were waiting for showed up online, Sam closed the laptop, and tilted his beer at his brother to get him to clink his beer against it in triumph. Dean played right into Sam’s trap, picking the bottle up and taking a huge swig as Sam knew he would.
Dean’s face contorted in confusion as he looked at the bottle hanging from the skin on the palm of his hand. Sam couldn’t contain his thrilled laughter, rubbing his success in Dean’s face by showing him the tube of superglue before pulling the string on the noise maker himself, allowing the carved wooden fisherman to join him in gleeful celebration.
The brothers stole the annoying wooden fisherman and used its canned laughter to draw the police stationed at the haunted house away, long enough for them to sneak inside.
They went in with guns drawn, full of lead shot, knowing if Sam’s theory was correct, the ammunition would now easily put an end to Mordechai. They circled around each other, watching their backs, surveilling the area, moving in tandem with each other, like a well oiled machine.
As they headed deeper into the darkened house, Dean complained grumpily, “I barely have any skin left on my palm.”
Sam couldn’t resist, saying “I’m not touching that line with a ten foot pole.”
His insinuation caused both brothers to catch their breaths silently thinking of the meaning, but not realizing it was affecting the other in the very same way.
Dean lit his brother’s face with his flashlight in response, trying hard to act like the annoyed brother he was supposed to be, and not let Sam see what his saying phrases like that really did to him.
The brothers were on edge, in more ways than one. They moved through the house, expecting any moment to see the ghost, but to their frustration they found Harry and Ed instead.
The group heard the sharpening of knives behind a closed door. Before any of them had a chance to step forward and open it up, Mordechai came busting through it, screaming angrily.
The brothers unloaded their guns at it and he disappeared. They searched the area to make sure he was gone, but then he reappeared attacking Harry, knocking his camera from his hands.
Dean angrily asked the men if they didn’t post the story the brothers had given them, but they informed him that after they did so, their server crashed. Sam and Dean both realized that their guns were therefore useless.
The website creators tried to run from the house but Mordechai blocked their exit. Sam taunted the apparition, luring his attention away so that the men could flee out the other door. The Tulpa had Sam up against a wall, trying to choke him out with his ax, and Sam was losing the battle of strength, his feet no longer touching the ground. He called out to Dean who had been busy dousing the house with lighter fluid. As soon as he heard Sam’s plea for help, Dean turned an aerosol can into a make shift flame thrower, in order to free his brother, from the thing’s grasp.
Dean caught Sam by the shoulders, helping him to get to the front of the house. Setting the house ablaze behind them, Dean explained that if Mordechai couldn’t leave the premises then they just had to improvise.
The brothers ran out of the front door, across the yard to watch the fire consume the building from the safe distance of the weeds past the yard’s perimeter. Sam wasn’t sure the solution would be permanent, fearing that people might change the story, saying Mordechai could leave the house. Dean told him with more certainty than he truly felt, that in that case they would just have to come back.
They went to find the ghost hunters the next day, to follow up and make sure they were done with the Mordechai myth. After watching the two gloat and drive off with all their earthly possessions strapped to their car and Airstream, determined to make it in Hollywood with their scary story, the brothers looked at each other, laughing in disbelief at the ludicrous idea.
Sam confessed that he had been the one to do the fake movie producer call that morning to lure the guys away. Dean watched Sam’s face burst into a huge smile, his delighted laughter filled the quiet night. Dean threw his head back in proud happy laughter as well. He chuckled again and then made his own confession, saying he was the one that left a dead fish in the duo’s back seat for their trip.
The brothers stood smiling at each other across the roof of the Impala, and as Sam watched his brother’s eyes crinkle in joy, and his eyes twinkle in the soft lights of the trailer park, Sam asked quietly, “Truce?”
Dean looked at his brother’s calm demeanor, thinking back to every attempt he had made to use the pranks to stop himself from wanting Sam, and how it had backfired on him, his stupid actions having made himself even more miserable. He easily gave in, answering, “Yeah, truce,” but not wanting Sam to realize the internal chaos the last few days had created for Dean, he added, “At least for the next 100 miles.”
Sam sighed before climbing into the Impala next to Dean. The last few days had been fun, aggravating, but very reminiscent to an earlier time when things weren’t so hard between them. The stupid tricks Dean had been pulling had made Sam think a lot about the past. About when Sam used to try so hard for Dean’s approval, hanging on his brother’s every word and look.
He missed the surety he had felt back then that Dean would always have his back, and that no matter what happened or how forlorn he felt over John being brusque or drunk or gone, Dean was his rock, his foundation. Sam didn’t want Dean to find out Sam wanted him incestuously and turn against him in disgust. But he also didn’t want to leave his brother’s side either. He knew it wasn’t good for him to stay. He fought himself constantly about the right thing to do. Before his father had shown up, he had thought that leaving would be the right thing to do, to protect Dean from his constant longing and desire. Now, it wasn’t that he had changed his mind about that, he just wasn’t sure he would ever be strong enough to run away again.
Dean was everything to him, and as they drove off into the night to an unknown next destination, looking over at Dean’s beautiful face as the different colored lights splayed across his gorgeous features, he was petrified of what his body wanted to do if he stayed. But if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t feel he had the strength in him anymore, to leave this situation, and that scared him even more.