Actions

Work Header

All That I'm Living (Dying) For

Work Text:

FBI Agent Miller stood before the eldest Winchester with a shit eating grin on his face and arms crossed over his chest. They’d been waiting patiently and now they had them.

"Dean, we finally have you and Sammy. Quite the killing spree you've done over the years. You have a very thick file." He slammed said file down on the table and flipped it open. "We've had an entire behavioral unit working on you... trying to help us understand your motivation and track you down. Your past speaks for itself. You were raised by a paramilitary psychopath who trained his sons to be soldiers... murderers. But your Daddy paid special attention to you... didn't he, Dean? You have some pretty serious daddy issues... "

Dean didn't even blink, just stared at the agent with a look of boredom. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you do," the agent laughed and made a tsk-ing sound. "He trained you. Daddy's special little boy. And you took it... and eventually ate it up with a spoon. You did it to protect your brother... Sammy. And oh boy, don’t get me started on your fucked up relationship with your baby brother. You should see what we have about him in this file. Curious?"

Dean smirked, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on the table. "Well, you seem to be on a role there, Agent Mulder. Why don't you just give me the condensed version? Save me the eyestrain."

Agent Miller didn’t even need to crack the thick file. He’d studied it a thousand times over, waiting just for this moment in time. His grin was feral as he ticked off the more interesting points of what he knew about Dean and his family. "John Winchester trained you... you trained your brother. You were everything to him... brother, parent, friend... and lover, Dean? Trained him up to please you... to obey you. But he got away, escaped. And when he was just starting to get his life together... settle down with a good woman... you got jealous. You tracked him down, burned his girlfriend alive and then took Sam."

Dean laughed, his feet making a loud clunk in the confined space of the interrogation room as he put them back on the floor. "And people say I'm twisted. You’ve got one hell of an imagination, my friend. If you know me nearly as well as you *think* you do, you'd realize I've left hundreds of broken female hearts behind me."

"Overcompensating for your own self-hatred. Afraid to admit you’re a homosexual," Agent Miller answered and tapped the file with his pen. "You killed that poor girl... Jessica. Just for making the mistake of loving your brother. You killed her just like your mother was killed. You would have been four when she died? Old enough to watch your father kill your mother. He made you watch, didn't he, Dean?"

Dean leaned forward in the chair, hands fisted up on the tabletop. "You didn't know my father and you don't know anything about my family. I suggest you shut your mouth before I shut it for you."

"Or what, Dean? There's nothing you can do to me. But if you help me, I can help you. You want to see your brother again? I can arrange that." Agent Miller tried hard to keep himself from smiling. He just had the feeling, from what he’d managed to glean from all the files, that Dean would do anything to keep his precious Sammy safe.

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. "I don't need help from someone like you."

Miller knew he needed to get more of a reaction out of Dean before a bargain could be reached. He intended to close this case with both brothers behind bars, regardless of anything else or anyone else who stood in his way. "I bet you don't like him being away from you. Our profiles say you've controlled that boy from a young age. You took out your anger you felt for your father on him. He must be so sweet and submissive to follow you obediently on your murder spree. But then again... that's what you like about him. I bet he's lost without you."

Dean’s temper made itself present pretty quickly. "You shut your mouth about my brother, ya hear me!?" He shoved the file folder to the floor with a grand sweep of his arm. "Why don't you and your team of psychobabble psychiatrists find another more dangerous person to head shrink, alright? You don't know shit about my family. Nothing!"

"Mmm, hitting too close to home? Maybe you should think about Sammy. About what will happen to him. If you talk... maybe, just maybe, he can avoid the death penalty. Tell us about the deaths we don’t know about. How many are you responsible for?"

Miller watched as Dean ran a hand back through his head, a very shaky hand. It was only a few seconds but he watched the cool mask that Dean had put in place earlier slide easily back onto his features. "What's the best you have on me, huh? A shitload of circumstantial evidence? I'm sure you all found the body in St. Louis, the one who looked like me?" Dean grinned. "You won't be able to make the charges stick."

Miller gave a short bark of laughter. “What? You going to try to say that all these heinous crimes where committed by your long lost, evil twin brother?"

Dean’s lip turned up in a smirk. "Believe me when I say stranger things have happened. Look, you either charge us or you let us go, alright? I know my rights. If you’re gonna charge me, then I want a lawyer. I'm not saying a damn thing until then."

*******

"Sammy Winchester... Bonnie to your brother's Clyde..."

Sam sat staring for a few seconds at the agent before taking a deep breath. "Do you all have to take some kind of a course on analogies to get into the FBI?"

Agent Swanson didn’t even bat an eye at his comment. Instead, she took a chair in front of him and sat down. "It's in your file. I can't help if you come off as Dean's wanna-be wife.”

Sammy figured playing it just as cool would be his best bet at this point. He leaned forward just slightly in his chair. "Are you charging me with something, Agent?"

Swanson smiled at him. "Murder," she answered and leaned in close. "On how many counts has yet to be decided. That depends on you, Sammy. Are you really that much of his bitch that you'll take the fall with him?"

Sam’s eyes narrowed and he unconsciously shifted father back in his chair, his hands coming up to rub at his temples for a moment. "The name... is Sam. You must have had a sad life as a child that you wouldn't realize that *family* sticks together through thick and thin."

"How often does he hit you... Sam?" The agent opened the file and pulled out some papers. "We have the medical reports. He broke your arm, didn't he?"

Sam’s eyes had fallen closed and he sucked in a painful sounding breath. "I fell."

"You know how many abused women say that?" Swanson pulled out another stack of older medical reports. "You must have fallen a lot. We found these from when you still used your real name. It seems to be a history of abuse dating back to when you were a child. When did he start hitting you, Sam? Was it before or after he started touching you?"

"Dean has never hit me in my life. Sorry to disappoint you."

"You're lying," the agent told him and tapped her nails on the table. "I can tell. Do you want to talk about your girlfriend instead?"

Sam’s face had paled slightly but the mention of Jessica brought back an angry red flush to his cheeks. "She's got nothing to do with this."

Swanson pressed a little harder for a better reaction. "Oh, but I think she does. You left Dean. Went to Stanford. And then she suddenly died in a fire... just like your mother. Did Dean make you watch while he killed her? Did he make you help?”

"Do you honestly think I'd have gone with Dean if he'd killed my girlfriend, Agent?” Sammy pushed away from the table and walked a short distance to the glass wall. “How twisted do you think I am?"

"Twisted enough to let your brother fuck you."

Sam spun around and pointed a finger in Swanson’s direction. "Either charge me or turn me loose."

She ignored him and pressed on. "Would you rather talk about your father? Do you feel grateful to Dean for protecting you from your old man? Must have been hard on him taking your mother's place."

"I want a lawyer,” Sam snapped, sitting back down in the chair and refusing to look her in the face.

"One's on his way... doesn't mean I can't keep talking and you can listen.” Swanson’s tone became almost secretive as she continued speak to him. “We want to help you, Sam. We understand you must be very afraid right now. But we can protect you from him. We won't let him touch you again."

"Dean is the only person I've ever trusted. You wouldn't understand. You couldn't."

Swanson’s voice softened a bit more and she reached out to pat Sam's hand. "I do understand. You didn't want this life."

Sam snatched his hand back, almost as if he’d been burned. "Don't try to pretend that you know anything about me and my family, or even what we've gone through."

Crossing her arms, Swanson stared back across the table at Sam. "Why don't you try to explain it to me then?"

Sam shook his head. "No, because you'll just try to use it against me. I know what game you're playing..."

"I don't play games, Sam. All I'm trying to do is get you to realize exactly what kind of mess your brother has gotten you into. You don't need to live like this. You could be a lot happier by coming clean and giving us what it is we need on your brother.” She paused for a moment, letting Sam take in everything she’d said before trying out another tactic. “I can get you immunity."

Sam just ignored her and looked down at the table. He felt desperate and hadn't seen Dean since they had been captured. The agent got up and closed the file. "I think we're done here for now." She left with nothing but the sound of the door closing behind her and Sam tried to keep from crying. He didn't know how long he was in there alone when the door reopened.

Sam’s voice was strained as he tried to keep himself under some kind of control. "I don't want to talk to anyone. I want a lawyer."

"Not even your brother, Mr. Winchester?" Swanson asked as she made her way into the room. Dean was standing behind her in handcuffs, escorted by two other agents.

Sam could only stare for a few moments at the sight of his brother looking a bit worse for wear. The eldest Winchester finally broke the awkward silence when he shrugged off the hand of one of the agents. "You okay, Sammy?"

"D-Dean?" Sam stuttered, almost not believing his eyes. "I want to see him alone."

Swanson smiled and motioned at the others to bring Dean closer. "Sure. You've got some time before your lawyer gets here." She started to head back out but Sam’s voice halted her.

"Take his cuffs off," Sam demanded in a hard voice. "Now."

Getting a nod of consent from Swanson, one of the agents moved forward and took the cuffs off of Dean before they all exited the room. The door had barely closed before Dean was moving to the table. "How's your head, man?"

Sam didn't answer. Instead he was up in an instant and grabbed Dean, pulling him into his arms. He buried his face against Dean's neck. "Dean..." That one word filled with so much pain and intensity.

"Easy, Sammy." Dean gave Sammy a rather manly thump on the back. "I'm sure this place has a ton of crickets chirping around in here."

"I know," Sam mumbled against his skin, not really caring if the room was bugged or not. "They said things..."

Dean put his hands on Sammy's chest, giving a soft, light sweep of fingers down hard muscle before pushing his brother back a few inches. "I need to sit down. Police brutality is a bitch." Dean rubbed absently at his side where he'd been struck earlier before they’d thrown him into the back of one of the agent’s cars.

"No," Sam shook his head. "I need..." Sam didn't finish talking, just moved closer to kiss Dean.

"Sam!" Dean hissed through clenched teeth, his hands gripping Sammy's biceps hard to keep him from closing the distance. "We're in the rabbit hole as it is, Alice, let’s not give the people on the other side of the looking glass more ammo, alright. Later."

"No," Sam snapped. He leaned in close and hissed into Dean's ear. "The yellow eyed demon is destroyed. It's over. We avenged Mom and Dad. But I saw..." He stopped and took a deep breath, close to sobbing. The visions had been tormenting him in the holding cell, making it that much harder on him since the agents had already split them up. He kissed Dean again, clinging to him. After a second he pulled away, whispered into Dean's ear. "We don't make it. They'll separate us and they'll kill us for sins we didn't commit."

Dean took a handful of Sammy's hair and forced his brother to look him in the eye. "We're not going down. I'm telling you that right now, you hear me? We didn't go through hell and back... literally...to have it all end because a few pigs got lucky."

"We don't make it," Sam insisted, tears starting to stream down his face. "Lethal injection. I saw it."

Dean screwed his eyes closed and let out a breath trying to control his anger. "Damn it, Sammy! Don't talk like that! We've made it through worse than this. Humans are nothing compared to what demons can do. We're gonna get out of here, you hear me!?"

Sammy grasped Dean's face in his hands. "They think you control me, but it's the other way around, isn't it Dean?"

Dean sighed and looked away for a moment before turning a very serious gaze back to his brother. "I made a promise, Sammy, to you and to Dad. He told me to watch out for you and I damn well am gonna make sure I do that job. I've done everything for you. So, yeah, maybe you do control me but, I never had a problem giving that control up to you either."

Sam gently traced Dean's lips with his thumb. "Tell me you love me."

For once, Dean didn’t try to make light of the moment and let his brother touch him with a tenderness they only usually reserved for the most private of moments. He didn’t care who was watching. They where already damned. "Never thought I'd have to tell you that. Figured you could just see it."

Sam rested his forehead against Dean's. "You don't have to hear it. I know... I just want to hear it. Need to hear it from you this time."

"Fucking hell, Sammy." Dean leaned in just enough to rest his lips gently on Sam's, rubbing their lips together in an almost kiss. "I love you." The words were no more than a whisper of breath against Sam's skin and Dean's hands move up to rest along his younger brother's jaw line. "Love you so fucking much."

Sam echoed the gesture and his hand's moved to Dean's jaw, caressing the faint traces of stubble. "There's no end for us. You've always been mine and I'll never let you go. I love you!" He locked eyes with Dean and kissed him fiercely. His fingers tightened and cradled Dean's head.

Dean shifted a bit, pulling back just enough to look Sam in the eyes. For the first time since his mother died, he didn’t feel like they where running anymore. They were trapped, but freedom felt so dangerously close. “I wanna hear you say it."

Sam knew what Dean wanted to hear. Not merely 'I love you', but deeper, more possessive words. "You're mine."

"Always yours, Sammy." Dean leaned in again, sweeping his tongue along Sam's lips, letting his eyes fall closed, his body relaxing. "Always."

The crack resonated through the small room, followed by Dean's slumping body and Sam's screams of pain. It had been quick. Sam had twisted Dean's neck in one swift motion. He clutched at Dean's body and fell down to the floor having felt Dean's life slip away with his own soul.

Burying his face in Dean's chest, he let the tears fall, not caring as the noise outside the room increased with volume. He didn't look up when the door flew open, didn't listen to the yells for him to move away from the body *not Dean* on the floor. Voices loud and demanding, hands on his shoulders and arms trying to yank him away from his dead brother's *not Dean* form. One hand could feel the cool metal of Dean's ring as he threaded his fingers with the matching hand of his brother... the hands that had kept him safe all of his life, touched him in love and anger. Those hands would never touch him again, not in this lifetime.

"You sick fuck, let him go!" The agents had their guns drawn and were prowling around him, weapons at the ready.

Sam stayed where he was, protecting what was left of his brother. His shoulders shook with the force of the sobs racking his body. Lifting his head up, he was met with a glimpse of himself, hair disheveled and face streaked with tears in the double glass partition.

Swanson had a hand gun leveled at him, pointed directly at his head. "Why did you do it?"

Sam’s voice was steady as he answered her question, but his hands shook as they kept up a constant sweeping touch on Dean’s body. "Because you do what's best for your family. He taught me that. Family first. No one else can ever hurt him, not you," nods to the other agents in the room. "Not them."

"You're just as sick as he was!" Swanson spat. "We're not going to shoot you. That would be giving you what you want."

Sam's answering grin was icy at best, a parody of a smile as he looked at her. "I always get what I want."

It started with a hairline fracture in the observation window. In the top right corner, it started to creep down and spread like a psychotic spider web. The wall started to shake and the cracks grew bigger in the glass. "And I want this..." The glass shattered, sending shards flying into the room.

The agent watched in horror as one large piece of glass hovered directly in front of Sam, his eyes locked on the sharp point that was literally just inches from his eyes. His gaze flickered once to her face, a smile of satisfaction making her blood freeze in her veins. She watched in morbid fascination as his eyes flashed a dirty golden colour before the shard of glass backed off a few more inches, shaking. She should have known it was coming, but couldn't help the scream of surprise as Sam's eyes closed and the shard twisted upwards before impaling itself downward, right into Samuel Winchester's chest.

“Damn! Call for a doctor!" Swanson yelled, her weapon still locked on Sam. “I won’t let you get away this easily.”

Sam laughed, blood bubbling up and seeping down the side of his mouth. "I don’t...th-think it's gonna..." He coughed up more blood, splattering it onto her Prada shoes. "...do much good. I got what I wanted." Sam hauled Dean's body into his lap with his trembling hands.

Swanson moved forward, but stopped short when the glass on the floor started to dance and shake.

"I wouldn't come…" Sam wheezed quietly, "…any closer if I w-were you."

Swanson gritted here teeth and bit back the bile rising in her throat. “You're both going to rot in hell. For murder... incest..."

Sam's laugh was loud and clear for the amount of blood that was trickling down his chin. “Been in...hell all our...lives. No more... judging... no more... hunting evil. Just... us."

Sam shifted Dean in his arms, bringing him closer. The glass shard was jarred deep, but not deep enough. Nowhere deep enough. Sam kissed Dean, thinking about how his blood smeared beautifully across Dean's skin. Closing his eyes, he concentrated with his mind and drove the shard even deeper, driving it into his heart.

He spoke one last time, letting his head fall awkwardly forward onto the top of Dean's. "For once... I got t-to...take care...of h-him."