RockStarPeach

For ash_carpenter. Because I'm kind of her bitch.

It's creepy and wrong, like I know you like, baby, but it's... I don't know. I seriously don't even know what this is. I blame my middle finger :P


Title: Woven From Your Hair
Rating: PG
Pairing: Dean/Sam (one-sided non con), Dean/others, Sam/others
Summary: The story of Dean Winchester, told in the style of a fairytale, starting with his juvenile hero-worship of his father and ending with his creepy, demony obsession with his little brother.
Word count: 1700
Warnings: Rape, creepy as fuck Dean




Once upon a time there was a boy named Dean.

He was a good boy, smart and happy, loved. He looked up to his father, his hero, followed him everywhere. On his fourth Christmas he asked for his very own socket wrench and leather jacket, wore his father's Ted Nugent t-shirt, much too large on such a little boy, every day for 3 weeks until John wrote across one of Dean's own plain shirts with a magic marker.

Dean wore that new shirt proudly, under his coat of leather and he promised himself that he would be just like his father, one day.

He would grow to be brave and strong and marry a beautiful woman, kind and gentle and she would sing to his children, bake them cookies and keep them warm and safe. For as much as Dean worshipped his father, he cherished his mother. Took care of her when his father worked late and couldn't come home, comforted her when father raised his voice.

He loved his mother without question, without condition. Loved her even more when she brought home little Sammy, a baby brother for Dean, and placed him in Dean's arms.

Mine Dean had thought, looking down onto chubby red cheeks.

“You take good care of him,” his father had said, hand clamped down on Dean's shoulder.

Dean had nodded, once, lower lip bitten lightly between his teeth as his little arms struggled to support Sammy's head. Dean would, he would take care of him. Always.

***

Dean's mother died, six months later.

It was tragic but it wasn't an accident. A fire, a demon, Sam in his arms and Don't look back! and Dean carried Sam to safety, protected him where his father failed to protect his mother. Protected him because that was his job, look after Sammy, because he loved Sam and Sam was his.

It was simple. It made sense. Dean's life had a purpose, just like his father's.

It wasn't until later, much later that John would come to know the truth, to share that truth with Dean.

It wasn't until later that his father would entrust Sam to him almost entirely, to train Dean, teach him to fight, explain that vengeance is a long game and that what they do on the way there is just as important as the final victory.


His father was a hero, not just his but the world's. He saved lives, hunted monsters, kept people safe.

It was the family business and Dean threw himself into hunting just as surely as he had fixing up cars when he was small.

He backed his father up and he cooked Sammy supper, taught him to read and he stayed behind when his father told him to. And if he ever resented Sam, if he ever wished that he wasn't around so he could go with Dad, so he could hunt down the yellow-eyed son of a bitch that took his mother and knock down anything supernatural he met along the way, well, he never said.

Because Sam was perfect. Sweet and gentle and way smarter than Dean ever was and when he smiled at Dean, when he said 'thanks' and when he offered Dean the prize in the box of Lucky Charms, it was all worth it.

Sam was going to be just like Dean, someday.

***

Dean grew up just like he'd imagined, passed his teens and into his twenties, grew up strong and brave and handsome. Became a hero himself, a fighter and a lover but he'd long lost his silly boyhood notion of ever meeting the perfect woman, settling down to have the perfect children in the perfect house. There was no such thing, not for a Winchester.

They had the road and they had each other, they had their quest. That was all that mattered.

Family.

Dean grew up and as he did, family meant more and more each day.

And as Dean grew, so too did Sammy.

It snuck up on Dean, he didn't see it happening until it was right there, slapping him in the face.

Sam was a man. He was taller than Dean, now and lanky and his muscles were starting to fill out and he still couldn't beat Dean in a fight, probably never would. But then, Sam had never quite put the same stock in the family business that Dean did.

Sam was a man, independent and defiant and beautiful. The fairest in all the land, stunning, his dimples could make a man weep. He was just as pretty as their mother, just as gentle and Dean swore all over again that he'd take care of Sam, honour him, provide for him.

He did his best, encouraged Sam in his personal quest for knowledge, supported him when he'd rather do his English homework than target practice. He didn't agree, not for a second, but Sam was his. Keeping Sam happy was what mattered the most.

It mattered right up until Sam broke his father's heart, broke Dean's heart and announced he was leaving them, leaving for an education. Got on a bus to California and didn't look back.

Dean let him go, tried to keep his father together.

***

Dean's father disappeared, went missing on a hunt and Dean went for Sam, pulled him back in because he tried, he tried to want something else but it was all wrong. He fell in love, once. Wanted a life with a pretty little thing, once. She ran, screaming and he was alone, knew he'd always be, but not if he had Sam.

Sam needed him, he needed Sam and with Sam's own broken heart at the devastating loss of his college sweetheart, the supernatural loss, it made sense to take Sam back with him, back where he belonged.

***

Sam's beauty grew by the day, his confidence along with it. Grew through the death of their father, Dean's own potential demise at the trade of his own soul for Sam's life.

Sam was beautiful, never anything but beautiful to Dean, despite the demon blood running through his veins. He did what was right, always and without question, Sam did what was right. He helped people, he defended those who couldn't defend themselves. He was a hero.

He didn't grow up to be just like Dean; he grew up to be more, to be better than Dean could ever hope to be.

Dean would never have a wife, would never have children, no matter that he wanted them more than anything. It wasn't a possibility. What he could have, was Sam. He could have Sam, just as beautiful as a wife, just as strong and brave, by his side, forever.

***

Sam strayed, over the years.

It wasn't unreasonable, Dean never wanted to stand in his way. They needed sex, they were virile young men, afterall, but where one night stands turned into hell-raising demons is where Dean drew the line.

They fought. They fought tooth and nail and Dean dragged his Sammy back to his side, where he belonged. Through demons and angels and the very depths of Hell itself, Dean went after Sam, brought him back and took care of him, like he was always taught.

Took care of Sam, because it felt right.

Because the yellow-eyed bastard that killed his mother was already ten feet under and take care of Sammy was all he had left.

***

Dean had a family.

Once, Dean had a family.

It was a dream come true, his wife was pretty and perfect and his son was eager and loved baseball and cars.

It didn't last longer than the news that Sam wanted him back.

***

Sam left his own paradise when Dean shot out of purgatory, when he stopped sticking his dick inside a vampire and an angel long enough to melt around Sam, to fuse them back together.

***

Back and forth, they've always been back and forth and Sam hated him, hated him when he let an angel set up shop inside Sam.

Sam has hated him so many times, but this was the worst because Dean deserved it.

He deserved it but he wouldn't change a thing, wouldn't do it any differently because Sam would have died and he needed to protect Sammy, needed to protect him with his life.

Needed to protect him, needed to save the world, even if it pulled him under, turned him into the demon he always suspected he was.

Even if he woke up one day, when he should be long dead, undeniable hunger pumping through his body, he needed to protect Sam.

Even if there was a demon in his way, even if Sam looked at his flat, black eyes in absolute horror, even if he flinched and cowered when Dean steped into his bedroom, crawled onto his bed with Sam pinned beneath him.

“You're mine,” Dean might have said, fingers gripping tighter around Sam's wrists. “I won't hurt you, Sammy, if you just understand that you're mine.”

Sam didn't answer, never has. He didn't answer but he went lax and he was so fucking pretty, so fucking pretty and Dean couldn't help himself.

He kissed Sam. For the first time, he took Sam's lips under his own, stuck his tongue between them and Sam opened up to him, maybe he whimpered. Dean didn't pay attention, didn't care, just ate at Sam's mouth, harder and harder.

“No,” Sam gasped, wet and breathy when Dean backed off a little. “No, you don't want this, Dean. Please, you don't want me like this.”

Dean blinked and thought and he crowded Sam closer.

Yes, yes he did want this, Dean decided.

He wanted his strong, beautiful, perfect brother underneath him, always.

“Shut up, Sammy,” he said. “Shut up and admit that you love me.”

Sam didn't admit it, not with his words but he whimpered and he opened his legs and he let Dean settle in on top of him.

He welcomed Dean's kisses, opened up wide and by the time Sam was spread open and naked and dripping Dean's come from his tight hole, Dean believed him.

***

Dean loves Sam.

Sam loves Dean.

That's all that matters, that's enough.

It's enough for Sam to hitch and weep and fall into Dean's arms, to promise him yes and forever, when Dean hurts him just right.

He means it. Of course he means it. He sold his soul to the king of Hell to get his big brother back.

They're together again, finally and Dean's going to make sure they stay that way.

Happily ever after.

END