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verucasalt123Fic Title: And The Road Swallows Their Names
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
verucasalt123
Fandom/Genre: SPN, Wincest, case fic
Pairing(s): Sam/Dean
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 6,588
Warnings: consensual sibling incest, language, light angst, reference to underage sex
Summary: The Winchesters follow a story from the Roadhouse to Singer Auto Salvage, then to a case that’s tougher - and much scarier - than it looks.
The Roadhouse never changes.
Mostly.
Sam plays pool against himself. Jo makes heart-eyes at Dean. Dean pretends he doesn’t notice.
Ellen wipes down the bar, then she hands over a folder with some handwritten notes and newspaper clippings.
It’s been a tough week. The Winchesters are recovering from a raging fight about something neither of them can even remember.
“This one’s new. It’s only a couple hours northwest of here, else I probably wouldn’t have gotten the intel so quickly.” A hunter headed south had left it; he was after a couple of werewolves and didn’t have time to work another job before the next full moon.
Dean takes the articles, Sam reads over the notes Ellen wrote down when the lead came in.
“First ones were college kids. Isn’t it strange that it was a week before anyone reported it? I mean, those kinds of kids usually have - ”, he stops when he feels the tension coming from the next barstool.
Sam’s mouth is set in a hard line. He tries to hide the sudden awareness of that low-simmering heat that’s still in the background almost all the time. Sam knows his brother doesn’t mean anything by it. It’s a normal conclusion - most college students do have parents waiting for them to come home when school’s out for the summer.
He’s got the answer anyway. It’s best to let this pass, throw it on the smouldering pile and wait for it to turn to ash.
“Notes say they told their parents they were staying on campus for a bit after classes ended, but told their friends they were going home. Looks like they were aiming for some uninterrupted private time”, Sam says without looking up.
Ellen breathes a sigh of relief. She hasn’t known John’s boys for long, but a person doesn’t have to be psychic to read them.
Dean carries guilt and regret on his shoulders; Sam conceals wrath and pain behind a boyish dimpled smile.
There’s something around them that looks like a forced distance. Ellen has no desire to referee any arguments today (or really on any day, especially between these two), so she breaks the silence.
“The second set of hitchhikers disappeared six weeks after the first one. A guy and a girl, they aren’t much older, early twenties maybe. They hadn’t been in Chadron long. Lots of transients in college towns. But these two left clothes and other belongings behind in the room they’d been renting.”
Sensing the tension drain next to him, Dean looks at Ellen then tosses a quick glance toward Sam. “I don’t know, Ellen, doesn’t this seem like police business? Maybe a wacko kidnapper? A serial killer?”
“Yeah, I don’t see how this is our kind of thing”, Sam agrees, closing the folder.
Ellen had anticipated this - it really didn’t sound like anything supernatural at first glance. “Only reason it got Hal’s attention was a local who mentioned a string of similar hitchhiking disappearances twenty years ago almost to the day. Not two, but three”, she says, gauging the reaction of the men in front of her.
They both nod at her, then send inquiring glances at each other.
“How similar?”, Dean asks.
“First set was two teenage girls, second was a man and woman, third was two guys. All six weeks apart. No bodies ever found. Those were east of town on US 20, these are on the same highway but west of town.”
Sam clears his throat. “Might as well check it out, right?”
“Sure”, Dean says, “might as well. Last ones went missing, what, about a month or so ago?”
“Yeah, just about”, Ellen replies. “Gives you at least a week to look into it, assuming the pattern holds.”
“What do you say we hit up Bobby, see what he can find? He’s practically a switchboard operator, I’m sure he hears everything”, Sam says with soft smile. He feels close to Bobby even after so many years without contact. Bobby’s a childhood memory abruptly interrupted, like so many others, by his father’s tendency to alienate anyone who criticized him.
Dean catches the smile, relaxes a bit. “I’ll give him a call. Pay the lady for the beers, will ya Sammy?”, he says while he walks away from the bar.
Sam rolls his eyes but reaches for his wallet. Ellen fixes him with a look that causes him to reconsider before he gets his hand into his pocket.
Less than five minutes later, the Winchesters are ready to leave.
“Y’all sure you don’t want to crash in the guest room?”, Ellen asks, already knowing the answer.
“Thanks, but we’re going to get on the road”, Sam says, with no trace of the earlier strain behind his eyes.
Dean flashes her a thousand-watt grin. Assures her, as always, that they’ll be just fine. “We’ll keep you posted, Ellen.”
Ellen wants to hug them. She’s not much of a hugger, generally speaking, but she can’t help it with these two. Only a few years older than her Joanna Beth, out there hunting on their own.
She doesn’t hug them, though. They are most certainly even less like huggers than Ellen is. She just nods, tells them to be safe (even though there’s no such thing as safe and she damn well knows it), and waves from the door as they get into that monster of a car and drive away.
They can make it to the salvage yard in four hours give or take. That’s not going to happen tonight. In Creighton, they find Stubby’s Motel. The place is tiny, but hard to miss with its large neon signs.
Sam goes in to get a room, where he meets the most cheerful and happy late-night middle of nowhere motel clerk he’s seen in his many years of late-night check-ins at middle of nowhere motels.
“We’re almost booked up on account of the wedding this weekend, sugar, but as long as you don’t mind a room with one bed, we can put you up for the night”, she says, her pink sparkly lip gloss shining with her smile. Sam hands over a Visa card and the clerk slides a key across the counter with a matching pink sparkly manicure.
She’s almost flirting. She’s not Sam’s type, and she’s not Dean’s type either. It’s not like they’re monogamous, they both hook up with women from time to time. Sam’s not in the mood for that kind of thing tonight, and he’s pretty sure Dean just wants to stay inside.
Dean wants to bitch about there only being one bed in the room. He’s still not crazy about it, even if they always sleep in the same bed anyway. Dean knows it’s completely irrational. Sam knows that Dean knows it’s completely irrational, so he just lets Dean huff and puff until he gets it out of his system.
The room is pretty basic. No kitchenette, but they won’t need one. There’s cable and wifi (pay by the minute wifi, covered by Dean Forrester’s credit card) and a very clean bathroom.
Sam strips down to his boxers; Dean changes into a pair of sweatpants Things seem calm and relaxed right now, so Sam leans down toward Dean, who’s already in bed, for a kiss. It’s gentle and soft, exactly what Dean likes, and he encounters no resistance.
Dean pulls away just for a second. “Come on, Sammy, get in bed”, he says to his brother who’s crouched down beside the bed .
No way Sam’s going to argue with that.
After a bit more kissing and touching, Dean rolls over top of Sam and starts making his way down until he can grab Sam’s dick out of his boxers.
Sam shudders at the first touch. He knows where this is headed and he lets out a deep moan when he feels Dean’s lips around him.
Dean holds his brother’s hips down to keep him from bucking up.
Sloppy, wet blowjobs with spit and precome all over the place are Sam’s thing. Dean is methodical and efficient. That’s not to say his blowjobs are boring or lacking passion (they are most decidedly not). He’s just a bit more controlled than Sam is.
Sam is breathing heavily and sweating. He’s held out for as long as he can and manages to get out a stammering I’m gonna - Dean - holy shit, I’m gonna before he’s coming into Dean’s mouth.
Dean swallows every drop with enthusiasm. He’s already got his own dick in his hand when Sam pulls him up and bats his hand away. “Let me”, Sam whispers, and Dean does.
“Already so close, Sammy, yeah, God, so close”, Dean tells Sam, and he’s not wrong.
“Yeah, I know, so damn needy for me, aren’t you?” In less than two minutes, Dean comes all over Sam’s hand and onto his own belly.
Once they catch their breath, Dean cleans himself up with a t-shirt while Sam goes into the bathroom to wash his hands, leaving a mumbled so fucking gross in his wake.
When Sam comes out, Dean’s already lying down. They kiss once more, then Sam curls up on his side and falls almost immediately to sleep.
Dean stays awake for a few moments thinking about how lucky he is to have this back, to have Sam back, with him, like this. He wasn’t sure at first. Sam had been so terribly broken after Jess. Dean didn’t push. He made himself available in subtle, quiet ways and waited for Sammy to come to him when he was ready.
When they were teenagers, what they had was like 4th of July fireworks every single day. Now, it’s more like a rolling boil - still incredibly hot but sustainable and steady.
He sneaks a look at his brother and closes his eyes.
Singer Auto Salvage never changes.
Mostly.
Bobby drinks whiskey and offers the boys beer. Sam stares at the spines of books, wondering about their contents. Dean fidgets to keep himself from touching anything.
There’s some brief idle chit-chat about Ellen, about the car, about any particularly interesting cases Bobby’s heard about. But then it’s right to business.
The information Dean and Sam have with them is fairly sparse. Bobby takes notes while the Winchesters tell him the details of the prior disappearances twenty years ago.
“Well, it ain’t much, is it?”, Bobby asks, seemingly to himself.
Dean says, “We have time before the next one, if the pattern is solid. We can figure this out.”
“I can go to the library, see if I can find anything on the first set of disappearances”, Sam offers, knowing Dean will bitch like hell about being bent over microfiche readers for five minutes, let alone the several hours Sam knows it will likely take.
Bobby agrees, and Dean hands over the keys to the Impala. “All right, boy, start a pot of coffee. Might as well get yourself some caffeine, because you’re gonna be spending a good long while with those”, he says, motioning to a stack of books to the left of the desk.
The librarian is a sour-faced man who appears to be approximately eighty seven years old, but Sam manages to get his permission to search for information in old newspapers. He first finds the Rapid City Journal, where he locates exactly one article referencing first instance of missing hitchhikers in the 1980s. It’s painfully light on details, and says only that the last pair to disappear were well known for hitchhiking, petty larceny, and car theft.
He has better luck with the Chadron Record, but not by much. After the first two disappearances, there was a page four write-up. The first ones to go missing, the two young girls, were suspected to have run off to follow Van Halen on tour. Everyone fully expected them to turn back up soon, but Sam sees no follow-up articles about the girls. The male/female couple were alleged to have been members of the Church of Scientology who were heading to Utah. They were loners, had no family in town, and no one expected to see them again. The tone of the article made it sound like a strange coincidence, but nothing suspicious.
A few weeks later, the story moved up to page two when the third set of hitchhikers went missing. These two were locals, and they were trouble, as the Rapid City paper had noted. There is a mention of police possibly looking into the situation, but scrolling six months ahead in both newspapers turns up no evidence of an investigation or that any of the missing people had returned.
Sam slides his chair back and closes his eyes, rubs his temples. His eyes are strained from staring through the viewer for - holy shit, more than three hours. He’ll be fine, he thinks, grateful that today isn’t a headache day. He stands to his full height and stretches his arms and legs and shoulders. The pages he needs are already printed. He folds them and leaves without looking at the librarian.
Back at Bobby’s, the research continues. Dean has gotten a bit more information online regarding the recently missing hitchhikers. It’s much more detailed, and there’s a ton of background information on all four people who’ve gone missing this summer. Unfortunately, it’s not much help.
“I just can’t pin down anything these folks have, or had, in common”, Bobby says, handing the printouts from the microfiche and the web back to Dean.
Dean agrees. “There’s nothing here that looks like they would be targets for some...whatever this is. Maybe it’s just repeating the pattern from last time - two women, then a man and a woman, and next time it’ll be looking for two guys.”
“That’s how it looks to me, too”, Sam says.
“Either way, my head is spinning and I’m starving”, Dean announces in his usual tone which implies he’s literally starving.
By the time dinner is finished and the dishes are all cleaned up and put away, all three men are out of steam. They decide to pick it up in the morning with rested eyes and a different angle.
There’s a guest bed upstairs and a sofa in the living room. Rock beats scissors, so Dean sleeps on the couch with his oft-spoken promise never to settle anything in that manner again.
Chapter 2
Author:
verucasalt123Fandom/Genre: SPN, Wincest, case fic
Pairing(s): Sam/Dean
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 6,588
Warnings: consensual sibling incest, language, light angst, reference to underage sex
Summary: The Winchesters follow a story from the Roadhouse to Singer Auto Salvage, then to a case that’s tougher - and much scarier - than it looks.
The Roadhouse never changes.
Mostly.
Sam plays pool against himself. Jo makes heart-eyes at Dean. Dean pretends he doesn’t notice.
Ellen wipes down the bar, then she hands over a folder with some handwritten notes and newspaper clippings.
It’s been a tough week. The Winchesters are recovering from a raging fight about something neither of them can even remember.
“This one’s new. It’s only a couple hours northwest of here, else I probably wouldn’t have gotten the intel so quickly.” A hunter headed south had left it; he was after a couple of werewolves and didn’t have time to work another job before the next full moon.
Dean takes the articles, Sam reads over the notes Ellen wrote down when the lead came in.
“First ones were college kids. Isn’t it strange that it was a week before anyone reported it? I mean, those kinds of kids usually have - ”, he stops when he feels the tension coming from the next barstool.
Sam’s mouth is set in a hard line. He tries to hide the sudden awareness of that low-simmering heat that’s still in the background almost all the time. Sam knows his brother doesn’t mean anything by it. It’s a normal conclusion - most college students do have parents waiting for them to come home when school’s out for the summer.
He’s got the answer anyway. It’s best to let this pass, throw it on the smouldering pile and wait for it to turn to ash.
“Notes say they told their parents they were staying on campus for a bit after classes ended, but told their friends they were going home. Looks like they were aiming for some uninterrupted private time”, Sam says without looking up.
Ellen breathes a sigh of relief. She hasn’t known John’s boys for long, but a person doesn’t have to be psychic to read them.
Dean carries guilt and regret on his shoulders; Sam conceals wrath and pain behind a boyish dimpled smile.
There’s something around them that looks like a forced distance. Ellen has no desire to referee any arguments today (or really on any day, especially between these two), so she breaks the silence.
“The second set of hitchhikers disappeared six weeks after the first one. A guy and a girl, they aren’t much older, early twenties maybe. They hadn’t been in Chadron long. Lots of transients in college towns. But these two left clothes and other belongings behind in the room they’d been renting.”
Sensing the tension drain next to him, Dean looks at Ellen then tosses a quick glance toward Sam. “I don’t know, Ellen, doesn’t this seem like police business? Maybe a wacko kidnapper? A serial killer?”
“Yeah, I don’t see how this is our kind of thing”, Sam agrees, closing the folder.
Ellen had anticipated this - it really didn’t sound like anything supernatural at first glance. “Only reason it got Hal’s attention was a local who mentioned a string of similar hitchhiking disappearances twenty years ago almost to the day. Not two, but three”, she says, gauging the reaction of the men in front of her.
They both nod at her, then send inquiring glances at each other.
“How similar?”, Dean asks.
“First set was two teenage girls, second was a man and woman, third was two guys. All six weeks apart. No bodies ever found. Those were east of town on US 20, these are on the same highway but west of town.”
Sam clears his throat. “Might as well check it out, right?”
“Sure”, Dean says, “might as well. Last ones went missing, what, about a month or so ago?”
“Yeah, just about”, Ellen replies. “Gives you at least a week to look into it, assuming the pattern holds.”
“What do you say we hit up Bobby, see what he can find? He’s practically a switchboard operator, I’m sure he hears everything”, Sam says with soft smile. He feels close to Bobby even after so many years without contact. Bobby’s a childhood memory abruptly interrupted, like so many others, by his father’s tendency to alienate anyone who criticized him.
Dean catches the smile, relaxes a bit. “I’ll give him a call. Pay the lady for the beers, will ya Sammy?”, he says while he walks away from the bar.
Sam rolls his eyes but reaches for his wallet. Ellen fixes him with a look that causes him to reconsider before he gets his hand into his pocket.
Less than five minutes later, the Winchesters are ready to leave.
“Y’all sure you don’t want to crash in the guest room?”, Ellen asks, already knowing the answer.
“Thanks, but we’re going to get on the road”, Sam says, with no trace of the earlier strain behind his eyes.
Dean flashes her a thousand-watt grin. Assures her, as always, that they’ll be just fine. “We’ll keep you posted, Ellen.”
Ellen wants to hug them. She’s not much of a hugger, generally speaking, but she can’t help it with these two. Only a few years older than her Joanna Beth, out there hunting on their own.
She doesn’t hug them, though. They are most certainly even less like huggers than Ellen is. She just nods, tells them to be safe (even though there’s no such thing as safe and she damn well knows it), and waves from the door as they get into that monster of a car and drive away.
They can make it to the salvage yard in four hours give or take. That’s not going to happen tonight. In Creighton, they find Stubby’s Motel. The place is tiny, but hard to miss with its large neon signs.
Sam goes in to get a room, where he meets the most cheerful and happy late-night middle of nowhere motel clerk he’s seen in his many years of late-night check-ins at middle of nowhere motels.
“We’re almost booked up on account of the wedding this weekend, sugar, but as long as you don’t mind a room with one bed, we can put you up for the night”, she says, her pink sparkly lip gloss shining with her smile. Sam hands over a Visa card and the clerk slides a key across the counter with a matching pink sparkly manicure.
She’s almost flirting. She’s not Sam’s type, and she’s not Dean’s type either. It’s not like they’re monogamous, they both hook up with women from time to time. Sam’s not in the mood for that kind of thing tonight, and he’s pretty sure Dean just wants to stay inside.
Dean wants to bitch about there only being one bed in the room. He’s still not crazy about it, even if they always sleep in the same bed anyway. Dean knows it’s completely irrational. Sam knows that Dean knows it’s completely irrational, so he just lets Dean huff and puff until he gets it out of his system.
The room is pretty basic. No kitchenette, but they won’t need one. There’s cable and wifi (pay by the minute wifi, covered by Dean Forrester’s credit card) and a very clean bathroom.
Sam strips down to his boxers; Dean changes into a pair of sweatpants Things seem calm and relaxed right now, so Sam leans down toward Dean, who’s already in bed, for a kiss. It’s gentle and soft, exactly what Dean likes, and he encounters no resistance.
Dean pulls away just for a second. “Come on, Sammy, get in bed”, he says to his brother who’s crouched down beside the bed .
No way Sam’s going to argue with that.
After a bit more kissing and touching, Dean rolls over top of Sam and starts making his way down until he can grab Sam’s dick out of his boxers.
Sam shudders at the first touch. He knows where this is headed and he lets out a deep moan when he feels Dean’s lips around him.
Dean holds his brother’s hips down to keep him from bucking up.
Sloppy, wet blowjobs with spit and precome all over the place are Sam’s thing. Dean is methodical and efficient. That’s not to say his blowjobs are boring or lacking passion (they are most decidedly not). He’s just a bit more controlled than Sam is.
Sam is breathing heavily and sweating. He’s held out for as long as he can and manages to get out a stammering I’m gonna - Dean - holy shit, I’m gonna before he’s coming into Dean’s mouth.
Dean swallows every drop with enthusiasm. He’s already got his own dick in his hand when Sam pulls him up and bats his hand away. “Let me”, Sam whispers, and Dean does.
“Already so close, Sammy, yeah, God, so close”, Dean tells Sam, and he’s not wrong.
“Yeah, I know, so damn needy for me, aren’t you?” In less than two minutes, Dean comes all over Sam’s hand and onto his own belly.
Once they catch their breath, Dean cleans himself up with a t-shirt while Sam goes into the bathroom to wash his hands, leaving a mumbled so fucking gross in his wake.
When Sam comes out, Dean’s already lying down. They kiss once more, then Sam curls up on his side and falls almost immediately to sleep.
Dean stays awake for a few moments thinking about how lucky he is to have this back, to have Sam back, with him, like this. He wasn’t sure at first. Sam had been so terribly broken after Jess. Dean didn’t push. He made himself available in subtle, quiet ways and waited for Sammy to come to him when he was ready.
When they were teenagers, what they had was like 4th of July fireworks every single day. Now, it’s more like a rolling boil - still incredibly hot but sustainable and steady.
He sneaks a look at his brother and closes his eyes.
Singer Auto Salvage never changes.
Mostly.
Bobby drinks whiskey and offers the boys beer. Sam stares at the spines of books, wondering about their contents. Dean fidgets to keep himself from touching anything.
There’s some brief idle chit-chat about Ellen, about the car, about any particularly interesting cases Bobby’s heard about. But then it’s right to business.
The information Dean and Sam have with them is fairly sparse. Bobby takes notes while the Winchesters tell him the details of the prior disappearances twenty years ago.
“Well, it ain’t much, is it?”, Bobby asks, seemingly to himself.
Dean says, “We have time before the next one, if the pattern is solid. We can figure this out.”
“I can go to the library, see if I can find anything on the first set of disappearances”, Sam offers, knowing Dean will bitch like hell about being bent over microfiche readers for five minutes, let alone the several hours Sam knows it will likely take.
Bobby agrees, and Dean hands over the keys to the Impala. “All right, boy, start a pot of coffee. Might as well get yourself some caffeine, because you’re gonna be spending a good long while with those”, he says, motioning to a stack of books to the left of the desk.
The librarian is a sour-faced man who appears to be approximately eighty seven years old, but Sam manages to get his permission to search for information in old newspapers. He first finds the Rapid City Journal, where he locates exactly one article referencing first instance of missing hitchhikers in the 1980s. It’s painfully light on details, and says only that the last pair to disappear were well known for hitchhiking, petty larceny, and car theft.
He has better luck with the Chadron Record, but not by much. After the first two disappearances, there was a page four write-up. The first ones to go missing, the two young girls, were suspected to have run off to follow Van Halen on tour. Everyone fully expected them to turn back up soon, but Sam sees no follow-up articles about the girls. The male/female couple were alleged to have been members of the Church of Scientology who were heading to Utah. They were loners, had no family in town, and no one expected to see them again. The tone of the article made it sound like a strange coincidence, but nothing suspicious.
A few weeks later, the story moved up to page two when the third set of hitchhikers went missing. These two were locals, and they were trouble, as the Rapid City paper had noted. There is a mention of police possibly looking into the situation, but scrolling six months ahead in both newspapers turns up no evidence of an investigation or that any of the missing people had returned.
Sam slides his chair back and closes his eyes, rubs his temples. His eyes are strained from staring through the viewer for - holy shit, more than three hours. He’ll be fine, he thinks, grateful that today isn’t a headache day. He stands to his full height and stretches his arms and legs and shoulders. The pages he needs are already printed. He folds them and leaves without looking at the librarian.
Back at Bobby’s, the research continues. Dean has gotten a bit more information online regarding the recently missing hitchhikers. It’s much more detailed, and there’s a ton of background information on all four people who’ve gone missing this summer. Unfortunately, it’s not much help.
“I just can’t pin down anything these folks have, or had, in common”, Bobby says, handing the printouts from the microfiche and the web back to Dean.
Dean agrees. “There’s nothing here that looks like they would be targets for some...whatever this is. Maybe it’s just repeating the pattern from last time - two women, then a man and a woman, and next time it’ll be looking for two guys.”
“That’s how it looks to me, too”, Sam says.
“Either way, my head is spinning and I’m starving”, Dean announces in his usual tone which implies he’s literally starving.
By the time dinner is finished and the dishes are all cleaned up and put away, all three men are out of steam. They decide to pick it up in the morning with rested eyes and a different angle.
There’s a guest bed upstairs and a sofa in the living room. Rock beats scissors, so Dean sleeps on the couch with his oft-spoken promise never to settle anything in that manner again.
Chapter 2
