morgana + season:8   10

The Lines Betweeen Brotherhood and Blood, by jasmineisland
Summary: “Takes place after Southern Comfort, S8. The Vengeance Specter laid open wounds between the Winchester Brothers. A hunt goes wrong, which only deepens the divide. Just when Dean begins to feel like moving on and splitting up might be the best answer, a Pagan God drags Sam into a mission of absolution that he won't refuse. Dean discovers that his brother has been hanging on by a thread, and the year he was in Purgatory was much worse on Sam than he ever suspected. Cas, Benny, and, worst of all, Crowley see what he has somehow missed -- just how fragile Sam is. With a little help, Dean learns what Sam had been unable to share -- just how far he was willing to go do and what he is still going through, proving to Dean that he is still Sam’s stone number one.”
supernatural  sam/dean  wincest  established  explicit  car.sex  dean/benny.lafitte  castiel  crowley  jody  season:8  length:35001-40000  author:jasmineisland 
september 2017 by morgana
We Can't Seem To Find The Light Alone, by frozen_delight
A retelling of season 8 from Sam's perspective.

{‘ To say that their reunion didn’t go according to plan is an understatement if ever there was one. During the entire drive up to the cabin his mind was blank except for a continuous thrum of *Dean – Dean – Dean,* so Sam’s not entirely certain what he expected. But definitely not this nightmare.

It just got worse and worse with every second that passed – no, Sam corrects himself when Dean furiously hurls a phone at his chest – it’s still getting worse, no end in sight. The anger, the resentment, the mutual misconceptions keep piling up and poison this moment for both of them. Sam really wishes they could rewind back to the instant where he opened the door to Rufus’s cabin, and the lost look in Dean’s eyes, shimmering there beneath all the hardness, tells him that maybe Dean longs for the same thing.

They’ve had more practice with greeting each other after miraculously returning from the dead than 99.9% of the American population, yet that doesn’t mean they’re particularly good at it. The thing is, you don’t ever get used to this, not even when you’ve cheated Death often enough to know which pizza and fried pickle chips the horseman prefers.

Of course, soon enough there’s Kevin and other big stuff, closing-the-Gates-of-Hell big, and Sam would like to blame how badly Dean handles his confession of not looking for him on all the crappy circumstances that accompany it. But truth is, Dean’s great at handling the big stuff, be it Hell, the Apocalypse, or now Purgatory and the Demon tablet. What he’s struggling with is Sam alone. Sam hurt him, and there’s no taking it back, and no making it better.

Likewise, Sam would love to say it’s solely the need to do right by Kevin that chases him back into the front passenger seat of the Impala and the company of demons. But at least to himself he acknowledges that even if there’d been nothing to set right in the world at large, he still wouldn’t have walked away. Not after he stepped into that cabin and hugged his brother and Dean smelled clean and fresh, like a living, breathing, solid thing, and not just because of the Borax.

It’s only later on the road that he realizes he never said goodbye to Amelia. Only to the dog.

He thinks of texting her, saying he’ll be back in a couple of days… or maybe weeks. In the end, he doesn’t. He tries to convince himself he’s being noble, giving her an honest chance with Don. But here’s the thing: You don’t go back to a life you didn’t even bother taking leave of. You just don’t.

Do you stay with the brother who hates you for not trying to save him, though? That’s the big question. ’}
supernatural  sam  dean  gen  angst  season:8  length:5001-10000  author:frozen_delight 
may 2015 by morgana
Under Hill, by cordelia_gray
After Sam heals from the Trials Dean waits for him to move out from the bunker. But instead it seems that Sam is finally making a home.

{‘ Something inside Dean cracks a little at those words, but he can't tell if it's good or bad. "Sammy, I know we've had good times here, but this isn't what you wanted. This isn't the life you dreamed of, I know it isn't. You, you could have so much more-"

Dean's hands are flailing with the effort to describe this nebulous 'more' he could be having. Sam reaches out, impulsively, and grabs his hand. "What I have is actually pretty great, Dean."

"You were talking to Charlie, about college, I heard you. And, I know you wanted out, you wanted safe, you wanted happy." Dean looks down at their entwined fingers, and feels a rush of affection so strong it terrifies him. "I want you to be happy, Sammy," he says. "I want you to be happy, even if it's not with me. I want to have what you want, what you need, whatever that is, and I know I can't be that for you, it's not enough."

"These days, all the colleges have online courses," Sam says, "I can get a library science degree and I don't even have to leave the house. And we are out, or in, as much as we want to be. We take the hunts we want, and pass on the rest, and we have the knowledge know, we're not going in blind. We have backup, Dean, it's not just us anymore. And it's safe here - it's the most heavily-warded building in the world, Dean, and I'm reliably informed that the best hunter in the world sleeps down the hall from me. Doesn't get much safer than that, you know?"

Sam shrugs, spreading his hands out. "I never thought you'd settle down with me, Dean, I never thought I could have both, but here we are. Pretty sure this is it."

Dean looks at him, sitting in this stupid wildflower meadow with his stupid hair and his stupid, hopeful Sammy smile, and he can feel that thing in his chest cracking open, and he thinks it might kill him. He looks down at himself, at his battered, grease-smeared hands and his ratty jeans and his worn-out boots, and says, small, "I think you could do a lot better."

Sam laughs, and there's a bitter edge to it, the one Dean hates. "I'm, uh, not exactly prize material here, Dean," he says. "But I've made my choice, and this is what I want. What do *you* want?"

Dean can feel something warm bubbling up through the crack, blood maybe. "Never a choice for me," he says, and Sam flinches a little.

"No," he says, "no choice for you, is it? You're always going to be looking after little brother."

Dean sighs. He's fucked it up again, already, Jesus.

He lies back in the the meadow, blue flowers cushioning his head, and admires the profile before him, the broad shoulders and the sharp cheekbones and the glossy hair. Sam is hunched forward again, but he still looks good - healthy, sleek, rested.

"You are to me," he says, and Sam turns to him.

"What?"

"You're the prize to me, Sam. Whenever anybody's asked me where I'd rather be, the answer is always 'with Sam'. Always."

Sam settles back into the grass beside him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dean says.

They lie in companionable silence for a moment. Dean says, “What's with all the bluebells, anyway? It's like a frickin' Disney flick around here. I expect cartoon birds to come along any moment and start braiding them into your hair.” ‘}
supernatural  sam/dean  wincest  bunker  season:8  length:1-5000  author:cordelia_gray 
november 2014 by morgana
Half the Man, by quickreaver
Takes place immediately following the end of episode 8.23, “Sacrifice.” Sam begins detoxing the demon blood, literally bleeding it from his pores. Then other strange physical manifestations start taking place, until Dean finally realizes what they’re left with is the version of Sam they would have had if Azazel and the demons had never been involved.
supernatural  sam  dean  gen  kevin  missouri  sam:hurt  sam:powers  bunker  coda:8.23  season:8  length:5001-10000  author:quickreaver 
march 2014 by morgana
One Complication Less, by laurificus
Takes place after the end of season 8, when Sam finds out that Dean cured his post-Trials illness by re-infecting him with demon blood.

{‘ "Fucking turn around," and Dean's voice must be serious enough, because Sam, for once, doesn't argue just for the sake of it. "You were dying, you moron. A dead you is the only you I don't want." He pauses, thinks. "Okay, there are a few other versions. Soulless you wasn't great, and high on demon blood you had a couple notable character flaws. But—dead you is the only thing I can't deal with."

Sam just shakes his head, as if there's anything in what Dean just said that he didn't mean. "I can't always be your problem to fix," he says. His hair is in his eyes, but Dean doesn't need to see to know the expression in them. The one from the church, and the one when he learned what he'd done without a soul. The one Dean's seen too many times, and doesn't want to see again.

"In the first place, you're not, and if you were, I wouldn't care. In the second, you're pretty much the only reason I haven't just given up about a hundred times, so you work out who's doing more fixing than who around here. And in the third place." He pauses, but not for long. He's thought about this, too, and he's sure he's right. "In the third place, we're going to have sex."

Sam gapes at him, his mouth just hanging open, which is a thing Dean's never seen anyone in real life actually do before. Dean doesn't laugh, but it's close, and only avoided because he's pulled the pin on this one huge thing between them, and that's probably going to have consequences.

"What?" Sam says, stepping away from Dean, at least until he realises he's moving towards the bed, at which point he starts to panic. "What—Dean?"

"You heard me." Dean moves towards Sam again, confident now that he's put it out there. And now that he has put it out there, he doesn't have to pretend, doesn't have to back off when he wants to get close. "About the only thing we do more than find new and stupid ways to die for each other is find new and stupid ways to fuck each other up. I'm saying, let's stop doing that."

"By suggesting we have sex?" Sam looks shocked; Dean will give him that. Eyebrows bravely crawling into his stupid hair, and eyes gone wide. Thing is, Dean knows him, and he might look shocked, but he doesn't look surprised. "You think having sex will make things less complicated between us?"

"I do. I've seen you looking at me, and I know you've seen me looking at you." Sam blushes, and there's no way he can deny it. "We've pretended there's nothing going on, and so far, we've nearly ended the world, both gone to Hell, and died — I honestly don't know how many times, but that's pretty revealing, right? I've sold my soul for you, and you've just finished nearly killing yourself so I could have some bullshit happy ending I'd never want without you."

"It's hard to see why some people think we're crazy," Sam says, like the smart-mouthed little fucker he is, even while Dean's having a moment.

Dean ignores him, because he's spent his life learning not to be sidetracked by him. "I don't see how sex can make things any worse. And if it does, at least we'll be getting sex out of it." He's reached Sam, now, close enough that he can grab on. "So do you want me to fuck you, or do you want to fuck me?" ‘}
supernatural  sam/dean  wincest  explicit  first.time  top!dean  dean.makes.first.move  bunker  season:8  length:1-5000  author:laurificus 
january 2014 by morgana
The Art of War, by de_nugis
Takes place after the end of season 8. Dean is recovering from heat exhaustion, and he isn't happy about it.

{' Dean can assess a situation. It’s a useful skill, hey, it’s kept him alive, so it’s not an ability he resents, mostly. That doesn’t mean there aren’t times he could do with a few more illusions. Like now, for instance. A lesser tactician than Dean might think that he still had a chance. Dean knows better. For now his opponent has won. He’s won because he’s still fully clothed, upright and looming, whereas Dean is naked in a sloshing tub of tepid water with two fucking icepacks tucked in his armpits and one draped round his neck. Hard to take the high ground from here.

So Dean knows there’s nothing to gain from resisting. Better to bide his time and wait till the advantage swings his way. He takes the smoothie, even though it probably has mango in it and mango tastes like Pine Sol.

It’s not bad.

“Could be worse,” says Dean. Unlike some, he’s not a sore loser. “Though I asked for a fucking milkshake.”

Sam, ever ungracious, just grunts and turns the cold tap back on.

Looking back, because part of being a strategist is figuring out where you’ve gone wrong, Dean can trace how he reached this smoothie-drinking low point. He lost the moment he got a little light-headed – not fainting, mind you, he didn’t fall down, just took a quick time-out to sit on the floor -- in that fucking sauna of a haunted warehouse. Sam had seized his chance to babble some bullshit about heat exhaustion, make unilateral decisions on the case, and take possession of the car.

Dean has a system for when Sam drives. It’s a complex algorithm of Dean’s own invention and it’s infallible, like the pope. Or not like the pope, because there’s a lot the pope is wrong about. Dean could have told Sam that this was not one of the times he takes the wheel. Sam may have been a mathlete back when, but he’s shit at the algorithm. Only what with the queasiness and the headache and his vision trying to grey round the edges, explaining the algorithm for the umpteenth time was more than Dean was up for. He’d let it go till some other time. Like, the next century, when Sam might take an intelligent interest in how the algorithm works.

That was another mistake. If Dean had stood his ground on driving, Sam might not have got the idea that fucking carrying him into the motel bathroom, stripping him, and dumping him in cool water like an actual wilting flower was something he could get away with. And he has. Dean contemplates his wrinkly fingers and toes through the cool greenish water. He has prune dick. Shrinkage. He glances covertly at Sam’s denimed crotch. Sam’s dick is probably doing just fine.

Yeah, it’s going to take time for Dean to regain his ascendancy here. For a start, he needs to get out of this tub. '}
supernatural  sam  dean  gen  dean:hurt  season:8  length:1-5000  author:de_nugis 
october 2013 by morgana
Rough Riders, by rivkat
Summary: “From two spnkinkmeme prompts seeking a Sam who likes rough sex and a Dean who doesn’t nearly like it nearly as much, but won’t admit that until Sam figures it out. Additional contents: fantasy/roleplay noncon.”

{‘ “I like where this is going,” Sam said gently, the big fat liar. “But last time, you did something for me. How about this time I do something for you?”

Dean just stared at him.

“What would you like?”

“Sex,” Dean said, mulish. “Fucking, I like fucking, what the fuck, Sam—?”

Sam settled his hands on Dean’s waist. “*How* do you want it?”

“You know how!” Dean protested. “My ass, your dick, it’s not complicated.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, and he looked regretful, half-smiling, “I kinda think it is.”

Dean stared at him.

Eventually, Sam sighed and began talking again. “I was furious at myself at first, because I should’ve known better than to assume you’d speak up if there was something you weren’t getting. And then I was furious at you, because you *didn’t* speak up, and it’s insulting. You didn’t trust me to do that for you. You’d rather suffer in silence because being a martyr is easier than telling me the truth. But that’s you, which I already knew.”

That was some bullshit, because Dean knew *suffering,* and taking it up the ass was not it. Okay, maybe Dean hadn’t wanted to find out if Sam wasn’t willing to trade off what he liked best for what worked for Dean. There were some things it was better not to know for sure. Anyway everything had been fine, *fine,* until Dean had fucked it up.

Sam put a hand on Dean’s cheek, drawing their faces closer together. “And the thing is, Dean, all the aggravation, all the shit you pull, I don’t care. You’re it for me. You’re everything. I want to give you what you give me. So fucking open your mouth and tell me what you want, or show me if you can’t say it. *Trust* me. I can’t promise I’ll get everything right, but I can promise to keep trying.”

Dean couldn’t—Sam was so fucking stubborn, that vow was even halfway believable, but the more Dean was work, the easier it would be for Sam to leave again.

“Was it the dirty talk?” Sam asked, *kind,* and Dean’s hands clenched into fists. “Okay, no, or not really.” Damn the kid for knowing him too well. “Was it—did you want to be *seduced*?” His breath caught on the last word.

Dean wanted, more than anything, an honest-to-God Batsignal, so there’d be something to interrupt Sam.

“Maybe it’s some macho thing that’d make me want to smack you if you could actually say it. I love you and I want you, and I can deal with you not being able to talk about this, us, because I do know it’s fucked up. But I need something, man.”

“You don’t have to,” Dean made himself say.

Sam huffed and brought their foreheads together. “I know. What is it I don’t have to do again?” ‘}
supernatural  sam/dean  wincest  established  explicit  top!sam  bunker  season:8  length:5001-10000  author:rivkat 
july 2013 by morgana
When You Wish Upon a Star, by stardust_made
From Dean's POV. Tells his perspective of his relationship with Sam, from the childhood through season 8. Lots of push-and-pull going on between them, lots of demands from Dean (I thought it was unusual because so many authors show Sam as the demanding one), and a lot of arguing. And yet they still need each other.
supernatural  sam/dean  wincest  first.time  non-explicit  season:8  length:1-5000  author:stardust_made 
june 2013 by morgana
One Question Less, by stardust_made
Coda to episode 8.23, "Sacrifice." The author calls it angsty, intense and loving (of the deep and abiding kind), and she's not wrong.

The guys are back at the Batcave, and it begins with Sam having a nightmare and Dean waking him.

{' He nods a few times quickly, weakness overtaking him to prevent anything more, then he starts folding back on himself. Pain floods him with the motion. His knees slide up to his stomach and his chin drops, until the vertebrae at the back of his neck are exposed, like a sacrificial offering to be snapped.

Dean’s body instantly starts moving with his, impossible to remain still while Sam’s isn’t. The hurt switches off just as abruptly as it exploded, in one tiny instant in which Sam deliriously thinks that maybe Dean’s body moves with his because it can’t help it. Because they’re an experiment of Heaven or Hell that went horribly wrong: conjoined twins that somehow got separated, so now they’re destined to go through life twitching grotesquely on their own—the further apart, the worse the twitching, going all the way down to their souls.

He scoots closer to Dean, irrationally imagining how his muscles and joints will relax, his flesh and blood will calm down, stay red and plainly human just for a moment, just to let Sam catch his breath. It must have hitched or he must have made another distressed sound, because there’s suddenly warmth everywhere, as Dean curls around him, hands coming to rest on Sam’s back. Dean’s heart is a loud, unapologetic rhythm next to Sam’s cheek. Sam wonders if this is Dean’s way of letting go for a moment, taking his craved seconds of peace. Sam can’t see his brother’s face, now that he’s almost burrowed in the curve of his torso, but that’s okay. He doesn’t need to see it. Maybe it’s exactly because Sam can’t see him that Dean allows himself to have the face that Sam is sure he has now. Maybe it’s only if he hides Sam, like a protective shell around him, that Dean himself can stop hiding. '}
supernatural  sam  dean  gen  bunker  coda:8.23  season:8  length:1-5000  author:stardust_made 
june 2013 by morgana
Irresistible Force, by liralen (aka fromcainwthlove)
After Dean returns from Purgatory Sam stages a one-man intervention.

{‘ "You're not going to drink yourself into a coma tonight," Sam tells him flatly.

"You know a coma is a fucking luxury in Purgatory?" Dean snarls, still fighting to free himself from under Sam's weight. "If you can find a place that will stop burning or shaking or trying to shred you apart long enough to pass out, you're fucking lucky. Oh, and also *fuck you.*"

"If that's what will make you stop," Sam answers in the most even voice he can, trying not to show the rush of hot-cold desperation flowing just below the surface.

Dean goes still beneath him, sudden and complete as an animal that's spotted a predator it can't outrun. He doesn't move for so long that Sam's almost afraid he's stopped breathing.

"That's really not fucking funny," Dean manages eventually, voice rough as ground glass. Every part of his body is tense and hard.

"It wasn't meant to be." Sam pulls back far enough to meet Dean's eyes, not far enough to let him free. "I can't do this, Dean. I let you do it after Cas, and after Bobby, because I was fucked up and you were fucked up, and I knew you needed something. But I shouldn't have. You can't do this, you can't do it to *me.* I need you here."

Sam swallows, uncomfortable with the hot intensity of Dean's gaze on him, the roll and pitch of all those things in the air he hadn't meant to say. "It's time to make a choice about what you want. About what you really *need*, because you can't have both."

Dean stares at him, silent and dark and almost furious, and just at the moment his hands close on Sam's shoulders, Sam's not sure if he's about to be kissed or punched. Dean's throat jumps, eyes fluttering closed, his muscles shifting and bunching under Sam's arms as he lifts up and catches Sam's mouth in a hard, demanding kiss. ‘}

Note: Author is fromcainwithlove on LiveJournal.
supernatural  sam/dean  wincest  first.time  explicit  season:8  length:1-5000  author:fromcainwithlove  author:liralen 
november 2012 by morgana

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