Fic: Echo Limits (Sam/Dean, R) Part 1 of 2

[smalltrolven]

Title: Echo Limits

Author: smalltrolven

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Rating: R

Wordcount: 7,762

Warnings: Nonspecific non-con

Author’s Note: Not my characters, only my words. Written for the 2021 spn_meanttobe fic challenge. Based on and inspired by prompt #59: Pushing the Limits

No one knows what happened the night Echo Emerson went from popular girl with jock boyfriend to gossiped-about outsider with "freaky" scars on her arms. Even Echo can't remember the whole truth of that horrible night. All she knows is that she wants everything to go back to normal. But when Noah Hutchins, the smoking-hot, girl-using loner in the black leather jacket, explodes into her life with his tough attitude and surprising understanding, Echo's world shifts in ways she could never have imagined. They should have nothing in common. And with the secrets they both keep, being together is pretty much impossible. Yet the crazy attraction between them refuses to go away. And Echo has to ask herself just how far they can push the limits and what she'll risk for the one guy who might teach her how to love again.

Summary: A curse hits both the brothers while they’re attending the same high school. The night Sam can’t remember is also the one he’s guessing that Dean can’t either. Sam knows everything changed that night. He knows that there was a then and there’s a now, and it’s all different. He can’t explain it to himself, and Dean is just as messed up as he is and won’t even talk about it.

Read it over on the AO3 right here.

(((*0*))))

In Sam’s opinion it sucks absolute balls because this was supposed to be the start of a good school year. It had started that way, Dad had left them enough money to get through the next couple of months on their own. Sweet relief to have a break from him being there looming over everything Sam thought or said or did. But even more importantly to Sam—finally he and Dean were in the same school again. Sam had skipped up a couple grades due to all his hard work and all the transfers moving from place to place as Dad dragged them around the country over the last ten years.

Sam’s a freshman and Dean’s a senior this year and Sam had really been looking forward to being in the same school with Dean. It had always been one of the best parts of school for him. At least he remembers it that way. It was something that they did together that didn’t involve Dad. But his hopes for this year had gotten dashed pretty quickly.

It had started going downhill fast when Dean began the year playing up his bad boy image at school. The very first day going in looking oh-so-freaking cool in his leather jacket and tight jeans, skipping so many classes he might as well have not been going at all. The worst was that he was almost instantly known as the hottest, most smoking dude in the whole school. Sam wouldn’t argue that point of course. But seeing him from afar, smoking cigarettes or blunts all over campus, with girls hanging on him like they owned him, it was annoying as hell. Sam was over it, and it wasn’t even the middle of September yet.

That wasn’t even the worst part though, this whole issue of the night they can’t remember, it was putting a distance between them that Sam couldn’t explain, and Dean refused to talk to him about that in particular, and most things in general. The scars on Sam’s arms reminded him, every day when he took a shower. Something really really bad had happened, and he didn’t have an explanation. Dean would shrug and look away whenever he asked about that night or if he ever caught a glimpse of the scars on Sam’s arms.

Sam couldn’t remember the last time Dean had met his eyes. It was like Dean was trying to hide in plain sight from him, and Sam didn’t get it. He knew he could be annoying, he was a little brother after all, but usually Dean would make room for him, in his life, in his car, on the couch next to him, at the kitchen sink doing dishes. It was all avoidance now, shying away from ever touching Sam even in the most incidental way. Had he done something wrong? He tried asking one time, and Dean had just scoffed and walked away, leaving Sam to finish up washing the sink full of their dirty dishes. The ones they were supposed to do—together.

Sam tried to ignore it as much as possible, he put his head down and got into as many extra curricular activities as he could sign up for at school. He was surprised to find that by jumping in and getting to know people, he ended up making himself into an actually popular person at this school. He felt like he was finally coming into his own as a separate person.

Dean had even noticed and commented on it, telling Sam to stop growing so much and getting so much attention from the ladies. He had seemed pleased and strangely jealous which gave Sam mixed messages he hoped meant one thing even though he knew it was completely totally impossible that his brother had the same wrong and very very illegal feelings that he was always working so hard to ignore. He’d had to check that they were in fact illegal, and except for New Jersey, Rhode Island and Ohio, it totally was. Of course they weren’t in any of those states right this very second, but if they were, he was going to be considered of age in just a month. Not like he could just casually bring that up in normal conversation. Pointless really to even think about it.

Before that one night, the one that they both can’t quite remember, Sam had been working on shutting his desire for Dean off, consciously trying to make himself loathe Dean’s stupid leather jacket, and his embarrassing love for the Impala. That’s why it had been so confusing when he woke up completely naked except for said leather jacket in the backseat of the Impala the morning after that night they can’t remember. There was no way Dean didn’t see him back there. But somehow he didn’t, and Sam didn’t call attention to himself.

The whole thing was just too weird and then it got even weirder. Dean just started the car up, put it in gear and drove home. He got out and went in the house without a word. Sam wrapped the coat around himself as he got out of the car, the thing was huge on Dean so it covered him more than well enough. The morning dew on the scrubby lawn mixed with the bare dirt turned his bare feet muddy. He scraped it off on the front step and opened the front door, not sure what to expect when Dean saw him come in the door like that.

But nothing happened, the shower was going and Dean was locked in there, usually they didn’t lock the door (just in case) and Sam was not sure what to do. He hurt everywhere, all over his body, there was a deep ache in all his muscles and bones like he’d been taken apart and put back together slightly wrong. He wanted a hot shower too, so he banged on the door before Dean used up all hot water.

“Dean! I need to take a shower while it’s still hot!” Sam yelled through the door. There wasn’t much of a reply, more like a grunt. And the shower didn’t turn off. Then he heard a bitten off cry of his own name. The door lock was easy to jimmy, and he had it open in seconds. Dean was leaned up against the grotty tiles in the shower, the water pounding down on his spread thighs. Sam couldn’t look at anything besides Dean’s cock in his hand, still hard in his loose hold. Dean didn’t move or acknowledge him, so Sam backed out of the doorway and closed the door as quietly as he could.

That was—he wasn’t sure what it was. Dean had been whacking it in the shower, and Sam was one hundred percent sure he’d heard his brother say his name, bitten off like he’d said it while he was coming. He bit the side of his hand and tried his hardest not to think much past that. He shuffled into their bedroom, shrugged off Dean’s coat, leaving it in a puddle near Dean’s bed on the floor. He pulled on a t-shirt and some of the sweats he liked to sleep in. Sam tried his hardest to fall asleep before his brother came in. But he failed.

Dean stumbled into their room a few minutes later and flopped down on his own bed with an audible oof sound. Sam slitted open one eye and saw that his brother was absolutely buck-ass naked. Dean never slept in the nude—ever. It was one of Dad’s rules, the just-in-case of emergency footing they had to be on all of the time forbade it. Dean’s snores filled the room almost instantly and Sam opened both eyes wide, taking in the sight of Dean’s beautiful body laid out on his bed, his legs stretched open wide. His cock was still halfway hard, and Sam could see the head of it was wet with something that glistened in the morning light coming in the window. He had to bite the side of his hand again to stop himself from getting up and going over there to lick it off. There was this grinding pit opened up in his stomach when he realized that this was going to be a permanent entry in his spank bank, like forever.

He got up as silently as possible, and found some of Dean’s sweats, with the thought that at least he could cover him up. Sam got the sweats pulled up to Dean’s knees without too much trouble. It was a lot harder though to put his hands on the bare skin of Dean’s hips as he tugged them up around his brother’s ass. He hesitated as he covered up Dean’s groin, telling himself that he couldn’t, he shouldn’t, he wouldn’t touch him there, not like this, not when Dean was out of it like this, it wouldn’t be right. He’d never forgive himself for taking advantage like that.

As he settled the waistband up around Dean, he had to pull the rest of the sweats up from behind, and almost fell down into him. His long hair brushed Dean’s bare chest, and his brother moaned, so quietly he almost missed it. He stroked Dean’s chest with his hair a few times, letting himself enjoy the response he was getting. He struggled to stop, but eventually he did. With his luck, at some point, Dean would wake up and shove him off and yell at him. He didn’t want that, not after everything.

He moved away from his brother’s bed and got back under the covers on his own. He pulled them up over his head to block out the morning light. He fell asleep to the comforting and familiar sound of Dean’s regular snores and occasional snuffles. His last conscious thought was that this was the real soundtrack of his life, not the music in the car or his dad yelling at him, it was this, Dean safe and asleep in the same room.

(((*0*))))

Later that morning, Sam woke up and groaned with pain. He hurt everywhere, but there was a hot blaze of searing pain on both of his forearms that blotted the rest of it right out. In the late morning or maybe it was afternoon light, he lifted his arms up out of the tangled bedclothes to see what was causing him such pain. There were three long lines on each forearm, furrowed and angry red. They weren’t bloody or anything, but they pulsed hot and insistent, like a reminder that he was supposed to be doing something or that he needed to be somewhere else.

He heard Dean rattling around out in the kitchen and his first thought was that he wanted to go show the scars to Dean, maybe he’d know how Sam had gotten them. But when he got out there, his brother was silent, barely acknowledging him except to plop a haphazard PBJ down in front of him. Sam shifted on the hard kitchen chair, realizing that his ass really hurt, not on the outside, but way deep inside. The thought of what might have cause that particular pain paralyzed any further thoughts about pressing the arm scars issue with Dean. He tugged his flannel shirt sleeves down to cover them and ate his PBJ, matching Dean’s silence.

Dean got up from the table, pushing his chair back so abruptly it almost tipped over. He caught it and scooped up his empty plate. Sam couldn’t look at his face, not without thinking of how it had looked this morning in the shower. He felt his cheeks heat up all red and embarrassing.

Dean stomped out of the house, throwing back a muttered “I’m going to work,” over his shoulder just as the door slammed shut.

Sam slumped at the table and put his head in his hands, tears came on him suddenly and he didn’t hold them back. There wasn’t anyone there to see them. He cried in frustration, fear and the endless ache of want he never could escape.

The crying jag ended and Sam was left with the feeling that he must have screwed up—big time, for Dean to just leave like that. Last night, the night Sam couldn’t remember at all was important. Why wouldn't Dean talk to him? Did he remember last night or not? He was guessing that Dean couldn’t remember either. That was probably what was making Dean mad or whatever. Sam knew everything changed last night. He knew that there was a then and there was a now, and this now, it was all just…different. He couldn’t explain it to himself, and Dean was just as messed up as he was and wouldn’t even talk about it.

Sam got up from the table, which reminded him of the strange deep aching pain in his ass again, and washed the two dishes and the peanut-butter covered knife. He looked out the window and saw that the Impala was still in the driveway. Dean was sitting in the car, and even from this distance, Sam could see that he was crying, his face was all red and he was gripping the steering wheel so hard it looked painful. Sam rushed out the door and slipped into the passenger door before Dean could pull away.

“You really going to work?” Sam asked.

“No,” Dean said, head turned away from Sam, the back of his hand rubbing against his eyes. He turned the Impala off and the silence without her familiar rumble felt ominous.

“Did I do something wrong or what?” Sam asked.

Dean turned to look at him, finally meeting his eyes for what felt like the first time in weeks, even though it’d just been part of a day. Sam felt starved for it, for the attention, for the chance to look into those eyes.

“No, it’s not you. It’s all me,” Dean said with a grimace.

“Can I help or something?” Sam asked, hating down to his core that there was a thing that he didn’t know about his brother.

“It’s just something I have to…have to try to forget,” Dean said.

“So, you’re going to a bar then?” Sam asked.

“Why would you assume that?” Dean asked.

“Duh, because that’s what Dad does,” Sam said.

Dean frowned and grumbled under his breath. “True, but no, I’m not going to a bar, not tonight. You got your homework done for tomorrow?”

“Yeah, of course, why?” Sam asked.

“We could go for a drive or something,” Dean said.

“Okay, sure. I have to go grab my hoodie,” Sam said.

“Can you get my coat? I couldn’t find it earlier,” Dean said.

Sam vaguely recalled dropping it somewhere on the floor of their room earlier that morning. Back when it had been the only thing he’d been wearing. Back when he’d been naked, clothed only in that coat. The one that his brother wanted to wear now. “Yeah, I saw it in our room, I'll…uh, I’ll grab it. Don’t go anywhere,” Sam said as he got out of the car.

Dean looked at him a little strangely and then put his hands up, exaggeratedly wide fingers off the steering wheel. He had one of those little smiles that always lit some internal fuse inside Sam. He tried to return it the best he could and ran back to the house. The ache in his ass reminded him he needed to take it easy with that sharp stabbing pain again. As soon as he slowed down, it went back down to tolerable. That was definitely not something he wanted to talk to Dean about.

Whatever happened last night, it had definitely not involved something in his ass, that was not an idea he was entertaining at the moment, thank you very much no thanks.

The leather coat was crumpled up on the floor, almost under Dean’s bed. He grabbed it and caught the smell, it was how he smelled right now, plus Dean too. And it triggered another small earthquake in his gut. This was the smell that would happen if they ever—no, he was not going there or thinking that. He whirled around to his own bed and snatched up the new hoodie Dean had bought him for his first day at high school. “Here squirt, it’s what all the cool kids will be wearing.” Dean had said with that strange smile. It was almost pride, parental or something else, maybe just an undefinable thing between them.

They weren’t normal brothers, Sam knew that was the truth down in his deep core. If anyone else at school knew what they’d gone through, just in the last few months—they still wouldn’t be able to understand. It was just a thing that existed. They were them, Sam and Dean. Dad hoped that he’d trained them to be a real team, even a fighting unit. But Sam thought they were more like a partnership. Which sounded almost relation-ship-ish, totally weird, but they filled all the roles for each other, always had, out of necessity.

Sam raced back to the driveway, relieved that the Impala was still there. He slid into his spot in the passenger seat, folding Dean’s coat in his lap, trying not to take deep breaths of that smell or even think about it. He didn’t think he could possibly hide it well enough to fool Dean. He’d figure it out, or ask and then what the hell would Sam even be able to tell him, he shook his head at himself in frustration and looked out the windshield at the trees whipping by.

They drove and drove some more, winding up one of the two lane roads, and Dean parked them on a promontory overlooking the town. Sam was guessing that it was the place the older kids came to smoke out and fool around. No wonder Dean knew this place. It was early evening so no one was parked there. It was just the two of them and the lights beginning to wink on in the town below. Not their town, just a town, Sam thought. He hoped that someday, they’d have a fixed place to call home…someday.

“Earth to Sammy,” Dean said, flicking his finger in Sam’s ear.

Sam squawked with pain and surprise. He hadn’t meant to space out like that. Not when he needed to get some damn questions answered. “Hey! Cut it out!” He batted Dean’s hand away and tried to get himself prepared to ask some hard questions.

Dean just laughed at him and got out of the Impala, scrambling up to his usual spot on her hood, still on the driver’s side, leaning back against the windshield. Sam looked at him for a long moment, the widening expanse of his back, tapering down to that small waist and the curve of his—No, stop, I’m not doing this now, answers, I need answers, remember, Sam asked himself as he got out of the car to join Dean.

“You talking to yourself now, dude?” Dean asked.

Sam elbowed him in the ribs, hard, which stirred up the smell again from the leather coat that he was still holding. Answers, he needed answers. “Why was I wearing your coat this morning?”

“What? Why the hell would I know that? Why would you be wearing my shit?” Dean asked, grabbing the coat from Sam kind of roughly. He shrugged into it and popped the collar like some ridiculously handsome movie star from the nineteen-fifties.

“I woke up, in the backseat of the Impala, wrapped up in it. You got in, drove us home and like…just ignored me.” Sam didn’t think he could be blamed for leaving out the part about being naked.

“Was this a dream you had or something?” Dean asked, voice strained with a touch of something strange that almost sounded like fear.

“No, there was some…uh, physical evidence this morning,” Sam said. He figured he’d just push his hoodie sleeves up and show Dean the scars then, but Dean’s face went an awful greenish-gray and his mouth hung open. Sam left his sleeves where they were.

“What?” Sam asked, when Dean didn’t say anything for more than a full minute. He knew it was a minute because he counted, trying his hardest to give Dean a chance to give him an actual answer.

“I…I thought, oh shit, I can’t—it didn’t…no,” Dean said, his face crumpling up into something almost unrecognizable. He covered his face with both of his hands, and Sam could hear him breathing in and out, noisy and harsh with a little hiccup of pain.

Sam put his hand on Dean’s shoulder, squeezing lightly to let him know he was here, no matter what. “You can tell me.”

“No, I really really can’t. I’m so sorry, Sammy,” Dean said.

“Sorry? What the hell is going on, Dean? Why are you so—why are you being so weird?”

“All the…uh physical evidence, that was me,” Dean said, a big hiccup of pain stifled on the last word.

Sam pushed up the sleeves of his hoodie. “Really? You did this to me?”

“What the hell? That wasn’t what I…wait, when did you—what happened?” Dean asked.

Sam thought Dean would want to examine the scars on his arms, and Dean’s hand moved like it was about to wrap around and hold his wrist, but then Dean withdrew it like Sam was electrified and untouchable. He struggled with how to answer Dean’s question, it was all so vague. “I don’t know, I can’t remember anything about last night. I just told you, about waking up this morning in the Impala. But everything else is a blank slate from last night.”

“Is there anything else? I need to know,” Dean asked, his voice hollow and grey.

Sam considered lying, but he needed answers as much as Dean did. “My ass…it hurts…uh, you know, inside.”

“Were you bleeding?” Dean asked, voice choked with emotion he was obviously struggling to hold back.

“No, I don’t think so,” Sam said, “why?”

“I thought I was just dreaming…that we were—doing it,” Dean said.

“You mean you were dreaming about me…about us—having sex?”

“But if you’re hurt, then it was really actually happening, and I didn’t know, and I can’t remember. Shit—Sammy…I can’t—I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t you, you would never do something like that,” Sam said, stifling himself from adding on the little tidbit that he would be an all-too-willing participant if Dean ever asked. “And I can’t remember it either.”

“Why can’t we remember, what the hell is this? Did someone drug us?”

“Was it a curse or a spell or something? Maybe you pissed off a waitress again like back in Tampa,” Sam suggested, thinking about the truth spell that Dean had been hit with, all because he got a little carried away with trying to get her phone number.

“This feels like something else. Tell me again, what’s the first thing you remember?” Dean asked.

“Uh…I guess it was waking up in the backseat of the Impala, naked except for your coat. You were in the driver’s seat, you didn’t see me or acknowledge that I was there. Before I could say anything you’d started the car up and you just drove back home. Then you got out and went inside and took a shower.”

“Shit…I don’t remember any of this, not a single thing,” Dean said. “What happened next?”

“I came inside, and pounded on the locked bathroom door, you didn’t answer me, and I heard you making noise, so I picked the lock,” Sam said, stopping himself, unsure whether he should tell the whole truth here or not.

“Tell me everything, some part of it might be a clue, I can take it,” Dean said.

Sam took a deep breath and tried to describe in as clinical a manner as possible hearing and seeing the end of Dean’s jerk-off session in the shower and then putting sweats on him when he fell asleep naked in his bed. Dean didn’t interrupt him while he told his tale, or try to push him for more, he just listened and kind of sank into himself.

After a long bout of increasingly uncomfortable silence, Sam gave up on getting a response of any kind from Dean. That and he was cold in just the hoodie. He slipped off the Impala’s hood and got back in on the passenger side. Dean stayed there for another ten minutes, not moving or doing anything but staring off into the dark. It was unnerving as hell, his brother acting so strangely. After everything he’d told him tonight, Sam had a feeling Dean was going to try and pretend none of it had happened.

Unfortunately, he was right.

To Part 2