InsaneJournal

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Fanfic: Supernatural, Possession (1/4), Dean/Sam, PG-13
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Possession
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: PG-13 (though I'm not entirely sure. Mentions of blood and masturbating - nothing graphic though)
Spoilers: Vague spoilers for 'Dead Man's Blood' Season One.
Word Count: 500
Warnings: Wincest.
Notes: Written for the vamps_win (@ LJ) drabble challenge. Like vamped Winchesters? You should check the place out.
Feedback: Yes please! Even if it's just to recommend an asylum.
Summary: 'The plan' goes to hell. They don't get the Colt back and Dean gets left behind.
Disclaimer: All fictional. I own nothing.



Possession:
1. The fact of possessing or the legal right to possess something: dominion, ownership, proprietorship, title.
2. One’s portable property.
3. Something, as lands and assets, legally possessed.
4. An area subject to rule by an outside power.
Antonyms: lack, want, need.

--

There’s nothing debatable about it. The fact is engrained deep into his being for as far back as his memory can stretch.

Sammy belongs to him.

He’s looked after him, cared for him, protected him – hell, he practically brought him up and led him by the hand through the twisted road their father dragged them down. Every memory stored away in his mind is intertwined with Sam’s existence; the ones before he was born are blurred, distorted and not worth keeping. He’s sought through his gritty, pathetic excuse of a life for some sort of purpose that doesn’t involve his brother, but he can only find Sam and hunting each time he searches.

Just like the average person shrugs off the belief of the supernatural altogether; vampires, laughably, are thought to be extinct by hunters. His whole life and death seems to revolve around things that aren’t accepted - the only difference now is he can’t seem to find any boundaries that apply to him anymore.

He can’t seem to remember why hunting monsters is right and yet killing people should be wrong; doesn’t remember why jerking off to thoughts of Sam should fill him with shame and he can’t find a reason why he shouldn’t slaughter his father for running away with the only thing he’s ever needed. He’s done everything his father ever asked of him, sacrificed everything he’s ever had for the sake of one man’s revenge and yet as soon as he changes the man betrays him. That’s loyalty for you. At least his father didn’t kill him; unfortunately, he knows that will change once they’ve stopped mourning.

Vampires never forget a scent and Dean thinks that even before he died that he could never have forgotten what his little brother’s scent was like: cheap motel soap with the musty smell of Sam (flesh, blood and the satisfying smell of dirt and sweat after an difficult hunt). The smell fills his dreams and clouds his thoughts, sweetened with the alluring, sharp, metallic smell of blood that he yearns for. Dean feeds because he has to and the random victims he hunts down are just too easy; there’s no adrenaline rush, there’s no fear, no satisfaction when the life he chases goes out. Sam would be different.

He clings to Sam’s scent because it’s the only thing that matters. It’s the very thin thread that will lead him back to what has always been and always will be his.

John ran away with his property when the whole ‘get-the-colt-back-from-the-vampires’ plan went to hell. He still remembers the way Sam fought and yelled as John tried to drag him away: the shock, anger and tears all mingling together on his face. At the time, Dean was still changing. He vaguely remembers thinking of Sam’s stubborn protests that he wasn’t going to leave him behind dead or alive were something bad. Now, he looks back on his brother’s struggles in his last moments fondly. Sam knows who he belongs to.