I’m On the Dark Side of the Road

Categories:  Supernaturalfic

This is a remix of another author’s story, Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright. A pretty interesting and unique experience for me as a writer. The Kamikazeremix LJ community has many others if you want to read more.


Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam/Dean/Jo

There’re no stars tonight. But he sees just fine in the shadows of their camp where two bodies writhe and moan together, rutting like animals just ten feet from his sleeping body. Sam opens his eyes right after Jo’s finished screaming his brother’s name. He blinks in the late evening haze that always seems to hang in the air, but lays still. He listens to their post-coital whispers – can hear them as clearly as if he were hovering above their heads.

I think he’ll wake up soon. You should go check the salt lines.

I don’t think he wants me here.

Dean doesn’t disagree with her. You’ve got no place else to go. We all need each other now.

Sam doesn’t begrudge them the comfort of each other’s bodies, but he’s glad Dean’s alone when he finally stirs.

The wind from the west flaps the loose walls of the tent off to Sam’s left. The moon hides behind pollution and debris, but wild animals howl to the north. Everything is primal and feral, just like him. Sam hears his own voice whispering – taunting. And he remembers. Remembers that, as much as the world’s tilted on its axis the last few months, it’s nothing compared to how his life – their lives – will change as his brother’s time counts down.


Memory began returning after the last time it happened. He’d awaken and known how long he’d been out. Known exactly what had been going on while he was away from the conscious world.

Dean and Jo don’t seem to have noticed that he’s stopped asking how long when he wakes up. Wrapped up in day-to-day survival, not to mention the demons that plague them almost hourly when he’s asleep, it’s slipped right by them. When he pries his eyes open and rubs away the sleep crust, rolls his shoulders and arches his back, working out the soreness of non-movement for three days and nights, he’d had a demon inside of him. Or so it felt, and he would know.

But, the thoughts are not demonic, but his own. The desire and the action – his will. She can’t have him. Not without you. His own voice goading him inside his head. So, he times it perfectly and while Jo is grunting like an animal beneath him, crying out his name, his brother comes back and watches. Dean never says a word. Doesn’t say anything to either of them, but Sam could feel him, standing just outside the ring of light from the fire pit, staying deep in shadow, but close enough to watch his brother fuck Jo, making her come twice, three times before taking his own release.

Sam doesn’t go back to sleep that night. Is scared of what his own voice will tell him to do next. Instead, he sits in the warmth of the flames eating the stale Honey Bun they’d thrown in with the mix from the truck stop. Water tastes brackish, but safe, and Sam watches Dean watching Jo over the rim of his cup.

When Jo takes her turn at the salt lines the next day, Sam comes to himself while standing over his brother, fists clenched and aching from Dean’s jawbone.

Sam. Dean reaches out, without accusation or anger, and Sam takes his hand, hauls him to his feet and into his arms. He wants to laugh at the irony. Now that he’s regaining full memory, full cognizance of his time asleep, his waking hours are splotched with blank patches and Sam’s wondering if it’s all just one big dream – or nightmare.

But this? He’ll never forget this. The heat from Dean’s neck, pressed into his lips while he licks a wet strip of skin from clavicle to jaw line. Missed you, too. Don’t leave.

Don’t want to, Sam. Never wanted to leave you.

When Dean opens Sam’s pants and pulls him out, Sam throws back his head and lets the cool breeze reassure him. Lets his own voice calm the panic. We can keep him, Sam. He doesn’t have to go. Hell doesn’t really want him.

And when Dean takes Sam into his mouth and pulls him in, wet and hot and fierce, Sam nudges Dean so he’ll look up, into Sam’s eyes. Not letting you go. And he’s not sure if he’s spoken aloud or not, but Dean’s eyes slide shut and he works harder at Sam’s dick until he’s swallowing everything Sam has to give him.

Fuck me, now, Sam begs his brother when he judges it time for Jo to return. She’s not so good at the stealth as Dean – instead, gasps in the dark and steps into the light just as Dean’s voice catches on Sam’s name. Sam waits for the bright shine of her eyes to reach him and smiles from under overlong bangs of dirty hair.

He really doesn’t mind that she’s here, but it remains that the only thing that matters in his life is Dean.


The next week, it’s only been two days, but feels like a month. Forty-eight hours and nothing but chaos. Not an hour’s rest. The negotiations are brutal. Demons don’t need to rest. They just keep pounding at him and his defenses. Sam crawls out of unconsciousness just to get some peace. To give Dean and Jo a break.

He joins them outside just in time to watch the wings fade over the horizon. When Dean turns, searches Sam’s face and seems satisfied with what he sees, Sam wraps an arm around his waist and pulls Dean in. Kisses him deeply. When he pulls back, there’s a clean stripe of skin amidst the sooty dirt of battle just at the corner of Dean’s mouth. Jo continues to inspect the skyline as if they’re not even there.

They won’t be back. At least a few days.

They both watch Sam when they think he’s not looking. Five nights later — seven until Dean’s time is up — Sam drifts off and feels them shrug with relief. And while his body breathes steadily, chest rising and falling in peaceful slumber, he watches Jo crawl across the packed dirt and lay her head in Dean’s lap.

When Dean stands to check the perimeter, Jo doesn’t move, just lies on the other side of the fire while Sam mulls over her place in their world.


Sam wakes up with 37 hours to spare. He’s alert and refreshed and full of charged energy. His conscious and subconscious have finally come to an agreement. The demons have finally accepted his terms.

Sam. I’m sorry. Dean’s eyes plead with Sam for forgiveness and Jo stays well back from them both. We don’t have much time.

Tonight is fight or flight time and Sam knows which one he’s choosing. I know. Come with me.

Dean’s arm flexes in Sam’s grip. Sam’s long fingers span out around his bicep and he pulls Dean from their camp, out into the night. Where are we going

To Hell and back.


Jo follows them to the edge of the circle, starts gathering wood and debris for a fire. When the flames are licking out into the darkness, hissing and popping with the damp, she watches the brothers step over the salt and disappear just feet from where she stands watch.

The irony doesn’t escape Sam when he catches her heartfelt whisper follow after them, God watch over you.

If all goes as planned – if the demons keep their promises – and how stupid is he really being to believe them? – God won’t have much use for them ever again.

Sam reaches out, takes Dean’s hand and bumps shoulders together. And that’s how they walk into Hell to set Dean free.


The world hasn’t really changed, but they have. The sky is still thick with foul smelling dragon’s breath and the rot of what used to be. The demons don’t come around so much anymore, but the occasional band of marauders will straggle by, thinking they can take what they want with their larger numbers and hand-made weapons.

Sam watches Jo out of the corner of his eye, knows she can’t stop staring at the remains of the last group that thought they could take the Winchester clan. Dean’s scrubbing the gore off his face with an old bandana and checking their packs for supplies.

Dean and Jo, they’re his now. His to protect. The three of them and no one else, watching each other’s backs. This is his family and it’s time to settle down.

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