Star-Crossed

It had been six months since the night of the demonic bar fight. The same fight that had played in Sam's head ever since. He lost his reason for living that night, his love, his brother. He knew his feelings were wrong, he should love Dean like he did, but he couldn't fight it. Sam shook his head, fighting back the tears that were forming in his eyes. The tears that just kept coming ever since. He had stopped everything. He hadn't went hunting (demon hunting). He hadn't seen Bobby, Pastor Jim, or anything. He stopped caring about himself. The one person that had ever truly loved him was gone. Nothing even showed that he was still alive. Bobby hadn't heard anything, though he seemed to be getting suspicious of the affection Sam seemed to show for Dean. Dean had not called once since that day. Not a “How are you doing, or Hey bubba what is going on” Nothing. Again Sam had to shake away the tears, the pain that was just building within him as he sat on the crunchy motel bed just where he had been for six months. The same room him and Dean had last shared together. Still it was just him in all alone in Lawton, Oklahoma, with nothing or no one to help him. The only thing that kept him hoping for the best was his love for Dean, the love that would never leave him.

Sam's phone rang, the name showing up as Bobby.
“Damn,” he cursed. “hello?” he said as he answered the phone.
“Sam, you need to cut the bullshit. Dean is fine, you need to get back on the horse and help people. You need to move on and detach from your brother. What is up with you too anyway?” before Bobby could ask another question the phone hung up. Sam set there with tears in his eyes, unable to fight. He just cried waiting for Dean, waiting for his love to return, his reason for life.

Dean sat at the bar, his whiskey tasting more and more bland and dull with each swig. He hadn't felt this horrible and disgusting in years. His face was covered by a bush of fur. He had lost all reason to live, reason to care. He missed his Sammy, HIS Sammy. He missed the long locks filling around his nose as they slept, or the muscles that conformed to his body when he was being held. He missed the way that Sam's lips meshed with his perfectly. How Sam knew things about him that even he didn't. How his knees locked during sex, or how when he had an orgasm his toes curled. All of the things that Sam notice about his dysfunctional self, how Sam looked at him and called him 'beautiful, stunning, perfect' and how Dean looked at Sam and the exact words came to mind. He missed his brother, he missed his world. Dean took another swig of whiskey before the phone in his right cheek pocket rang. He dug inside looking at the name before answering.
“Damn,” he whispered. “hello?” he said though it was more of a question.
“Dean I know about you and Sam...Now I don't 100% approve of it, but I want you to know that I am more concerned about yours and his well being than any type of fucked up relationship. Go to him, he needs you. And by the way you look I would say you need him too.” Bobby said.
“Wait...how do you know what I look like?” Dean asked quickly eying the back of his shoulders.
“You igg, I am right here.” Bobby yelled into the phone. Dean looked to the right of him and a few tables down set the old grizzly man of an uncle that Dean called...Bobby. Bobby stood and walked over the the right of the bar, setting next to Dean and ordered a Jack and Coke.
“Wow Bobby, you seem to have lost your touch. You drinking that pussy shit?” Dean asked, a cheeky grin emerging on his face.
“Fuck you,” Bobby retorted. “Amanda says I can't drink like I used to.”
“Wait...who is Amanda?” Dean asked, taking another swig of whiskey.
“My wife,” Bobby answered flatly. “You guys miss a lot in six months. But I don't care, I care about my nephews. I care about you Dean...and Sam and if that...this is what you choose than I have no write to condemn you. But I do have the right to say that you just leaving like that hurts him everyday. You know Sammy,”
“Don't call him that.” Dean spat, quickly taking another drink to hold back his tongue.
“Sorry, forgot you are the only one that can call him that. You know that Sam is sensitive. I know he loves you Dean, I mean LOVES you. You need to see him. I have him going on his first hunt in six months. You should meet him there.” Bobby suggested.
“Where?” Dean asked reluctantly.
“Nashville.” Dean took another swig and layed his glass down. “Dean be careful.”

Sam sped down the highway towards Nashville, Tennessee. His eyes catching only glimpses of the trees that sped past him. He almost found himself shifting into the seat, trying to match Dean's contours, his lines. Trying to find anything that could pull Dean back to him. He turned on the radio syncing his Ipod to the car. He expected that if Dean ever returned he would be pissed.

Dean had just turned into 123rd and Oxford, which held the haunted house. It supposedly held a poltergeist and a nasty one at that. Dean paid his driver $50 and got out, going up to the door and knocking heavily. The door opened revealing a thin redheaded woman about 24 and a small boy about the age of 6.
“Hi, you must be Dean Winchester. Bobby called and said you would be coming. Come in.” she said as she opened the screen door wider, gently pushing her son away with her calf.
“Yes, um...” he trailed off. “Did he inform you that I would be working in a pair.” the woman nodded.
“Yes he said that you and your brother Samuel would be working together.” Dean chuckled at the name. No one had called him Samuel since forever. “Now I don't wanna be here when you guys start, plus I have some work at the office. I am taking Alex,” she said pointing to her son. “over to his grandmothers. You and your brother can just do your thing.” she said, as she wrapped a coat around her and her son. Dean nodded and began going upstairs as the door shut.

Sam pulled into the the empty drive way of 123rd and Oxford. The site of a poltergeist, from what Bobby had said. Sam got out of the car, making his way to the door. He knocked heavily and waited. Soon the door opened revealing....Dean. Sam pulled a knife out of his pocket placing the knife at Dean's neck and throwing him against a small end table at the base of the stairs.
“So its not a poltergeist, its a trickster?” Sam spat, trying to force the knife closer against Dean's throat.
“I'm Dean, Sam. Get off of me.” Dean choked.
“Psh, yeah right. My Dean left me. My Dean is gone.” Dean gasped as the words hit him hard in the chest. The pain he had fought for six months to get rid of rushing back. The tears poured from his eyes. Sam looked down on him, his face twisting into recognition. “Dean?” Sam said softly.
“Yeah Sammy.” Dean answered back trying to choke back the tears. Sam felt his own eyes tear. His Dean was back. Sam couldn't fight it, the knife fell to the floor, as his lips collided with Dean's. Their lips fighting for six months of wasted time, yet quickly remembering the curves and full spots. Dean nipped at Sam's lips, until the thick taste of copper felled his mouth. Sam just caressed and held Dean not releasing, not loosing his grip. He wasn't about to let go. Sam just kissed, and with each kiss allowing himself to be come happier, and happier. Finally Dean broke the kiss, Sam's lips now raw and bloody. Sam and Dean just looked into each others hazel eyes that mimed each other. Dean layed one more gentle kiss on Sam's lips.
“Wow,” they said in unison.
“What are you saying wow for?” Dean asked.
“I mean wow....what the hell is one your face....it tickles.”