Keep This Secret: Part Two
Jun. 20th, 2019 01:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ellerkayMasterlist
Part One
***
Half an hour later, he was pounding on Sam’s door.
“Sammy,” he shouted. “You awake?”
The door opened to reveal Sam, rumpled and red-eyed. Dean blinked at him.
“Dude, did you sleep?” he demanded.
“A little,” Sam muttered. “Come in.”
Dean went in and shut the door behind him. Sam’s room had dark wood paneling and dark red wallpaper, except interrupting that normality was the curve of several large silvery-gray tree trunks that seemed to be part of the walls. The trunks had deep recesses which formed shelves. They somehow looked natural and didn’t appear to be affecting the health of the trees. These shelves were filled with old books. The window curtains were heavy and a green that was almost black. Sam’s bed was a four-poster in wood nearly as dark as the walls. It looked to be at least as big as a California king, which Sam should really be appreciating after a lifetime of too-short motel queens. Dean thought the room’s color scheme was kind of depressing, but maybe the books were keeping his dork brother happy.
Sam already had jeans on, but he pulled off yesterday’s shirt and threw it on the bed. Dean watched him rummage through his duffel for a new one.
That was weird. Usually Sam was the one to unpack like a prissy motherfucker the second they arrived in a motel room.
“Dean,” Sam said.
Dean realized he’d been gazing at Sam’s chest, spaced out as he thought. “Yeah?” he said, meeting Sam’s eyes. Sam was looking at him intently, like Dean was a puzzle he was trying to solve.
“What?” Sam said.
“What?”
“You were staring.”
Dean laughed. “I was just thinking, man. Put your damn shirt on, would you? I’m starving. And I want coffee. Do you think fairies have coffee?”
Gilda’s door opened just as they were approaching it to knock. She smiled brilliantly at them, looking perfectly put together.
“Morning,” Sam said politely.
“Any idea where we can get some breakfast?” Dean asked.
“I called for someone to show us the way,” she said. A man in livery came around the corner as she spoke.
Five minutes later, they were seated at a long table with a deep purple cloth. The table was piled high with fruit, pastries, eggs, breakfast meats, juices, and – Dean was deeply happy to find – really, really good coffee. Everything was really good, in fact.
“Oh my god,” Dean moaned, as best he could around the huge amount of food currently in his mouth. “This is amazing.”
He noticed that Sam had taken hardly any food and was now picking at it, although he seemed to be drinking his coffee well enough.
“What’s wrong, dude?” he asked. Sam’s leg was jiggling, even though there was no way the caffeine had hit him yet.
“I’m fine,” Sam said. “I have to talk to you when you’re done.”
Dean tried to read his face, but Sam was staring into his coffee cup. “Did you figure out the secret?” he asked.
A muscle in Sam’s jaw clenched. “Maybe,” he said. “I don’t know.”
Dean put his fork down. “Dude, is it really that bad? You’re freaking me out.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Sam said. “It’ll be worth it if we can get Adam out of the Cage.”
Dean shrugged and resumed eating, keeping half an eye on Sam. He tried to ignore the worry gnawing at his stomach. He’d find out what was up soon enough. There was no reason to let a meal like this go to waste.
“Where’s the salt?” he asked, craning his neck to peer down the long table. A hush fell over the crowded table. His eyes widened.
“Salt is carefully controlled in our realm,” Gilda said softly. She motioned to a servant standing nearby and he came over. He was holding a salt shaker delicately, as though it might explode. Dean tried to take it from him, but he pulled it away.
“What requires salting, sir?” the servant asked. Dean stared at him, then looked at Sam, who shrugged.
“Uh, the eggs,” Dean replied.
“Very good.” The servant positioned the salt over Dean’s eggs and looked away. “Tell me when.” He looked away before turning the shaker over, gently sprinkling salt until Dean told him to stop.
Dean looked at Gilda as the servant walked away. She had turned away too. She didn’t look at him until she heard the servant’s retreating steps.
“What the actual fuck was that?” Dean demanded.
“Their salt thing,” Sam said, sound fascinated. “Right?”
“Yes,” Gilda said. “We must count each grain if it is spilled in front of us. So we are cautious with it. And its transport here is heavily regulated. It must be spelled in a specific way to be brought into this realm.”
Dean snapped his fingers. “That’s why mine disappeared!” In all the drama, he’d forgotten his empty pocket from the previous day. Gilda nodded. Dean rolled his eyes. “Awesome.”
“What about sugar?” Sam asked. “It’s the same deal with counting the grains, isn’t it?”
“It’s forbidden,” Gilda replied. “We use substitutes – honey, syrup, nectar…” She smiled. “We find ways. Fairies have a sweet tooth.”
“Yeah, I sure as hell can’t complain about these,” Dean said, snagging another cheese Danish from the plate in front of him.
***
In Dean’s room after breakfast, Sam sat on the edge of the bed. HIs elbows rested on his knees and his hands were clasped between them.
“So?” Dean said, after a long silence. “You gonna tell me what you think it is?”
Sam sighed and shut his eyes. When he opened them again, he looked into Dean’s face with a determined expression. “Dean, why did you sell your soul for me?”
Dean blinked, nonplussed. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Please,” Sam said quietly. “Just answer the question.”
Dean shrugged and spread his hands. “Dude, it was years ago.” Sam just kept looking at him expectantly. Dean sighed, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know, man! We’ve been over this. I was just – I couldn’t do it. Maybe it’s how Dad raised us with me being in charge of taking care of you all the time, but whatever it was, I couldn’t just let you stay dead. I couldn’t, Sammy.” Dean remembered the sight of Sam lying on that bed, cold and empty. His eyes prickled with hot tears and he swallowed hard. “I couldn’t keep going without you.”
He finally looked back at Sam, who nodded slowly, his expression sad. “I get it,” he said. His voice was thick with emotion. He took a deep, shuddering breath. When he spoke again, he sounded more normal. “I think I know what the secret is.”
“Great,” Dean said, although he still felt too confused to be really enthusiastic. “What is it?”
Sam shook his head as he got up from the bed. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’m going to see if Gilda knows who we talk to about seeing Wayne.”
He was out the door before Dean knew what was happening. Dean followed and waited impatiently while Sam spoke to Gilda. She invited them into her room and touched a mirror hanging on the wall. The surface shimmered. After a few seconds, the face of one of the liveried servants appeared.
“Sam and Dean are ready for their meeting,” she said.
“My lord will be ready to see them at seven p.m., a day after their initial conversation, as agreed,” the man said crisply. His face disappeared from the mirror.
“Dick,” Dean muttered. He turned to Sam. “Great, so, we have time. Tell me what it is.”
For a second, Sam looked panicked. Dean’s guts twisted. What the hell did he think it was?
“No,” Sam said, his expression turning to pure stubbornness. He glanced at Gilda. “Thanks for your help. I appreciate it.”
He strode out of the room. Dean followed him. “Dude! Come on, you gotta tell me so we can make sure it’s the right one.”
Sam’s mouth was set in a grim line. “It’s the right one,” he said. “I was up all night and I can’t think of anything else. But hey, you feel free to try, if you want to. I’m going to see if I can nap until it’s time to meet with Wayne.”
“That’s hours from now,” Dean protested as Sam went into his room and shut the door. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Whatever you want,” Sam said. Dean heard the lock on Sam’s door click. He glared at the door and considered pounding on it, but it was clear Sam was going to be an asshole about this for some reason. He just hoped Sam had the right fucking idea. Who knew what the hell would happen to them or how they’d ever get Adam out if they couldn’t make this deal.
***
Dean slammed the door of his room shut, looked around, then yanked the door open again and stepped back out into the hall. No way was he going to spend the next nine hours cooped up in his room while Sam slept or pretended to sleep. Dean felt jittery with nerves. What the fuck could have Sam so wrecked?
Dean wandered down the hall looking at the art lining its walls: paintings, tapestries and statues. He hadn’t paid much attention to it before. He thought of fine art as Sam’s thing, but he kind of liked fairy taste. Almost all the figures were naked and gorgeous, even if sometimes it was in a weird way. They had skin in every color of the rainbow – not just human skin colors, but orange and green and violet and everything – and all different body types and weird animal parts incorporated in them. There was something compelling about them all, even when they were outside his usual type. Even way outside, like the woman with the scorpion tail. She had beautiful nut-brown skin and a fantastic rack and Dean found himself staring long enough to see her cover a giggle with a hand on her mouth.
After that, Dean resolved not to look for more than a few seconds anymore.
He kept walking, glancing at the art. He was about to turn a corner when one of the Tinkerbell fairies came whizzing around the bend, screeching. It stopped short when it saw him, hovering a few feet in front of his face.
“Dean Winchester?” it demanded.
“Uh, yeah,” Dean said.
“BLOOD VENGEANCE!” screamed the fairy, dive-bombing at Dean’s face. Its tinny voice and the sound of jingling bells which accompanied its movements rather undercut the fierce words, but Dean felt a hot line of pain on his cheekbone. He slapped at his face reflexively, but the fairy was already gone. Dean’s fingers came away wet. He saw blood smeared on them.
“OW!” he said. “What the hell?!” The cut was shallow, but somehow the surprise and insult of being injured by this little being made it feel a lot worse. Dean peered into the light and saw a tiny man, naked from the waist up. He had sea green skin, purple hair spiked up into a fauxhawk, and iridescent wings like a dragonfly’s. He was re-sheathing a rapier the size of a needle with a self-satisfied air.
“My revenge is complete,” the fairy said. He bowed. “Barnabas, at your service.”
“Revenge?” Dean said. “What the hell did I ever do to you?”
“Not to me! To my sister!” Barnabas glared at him. “You microwaved her!”
“That little – ” Dean caught himself, but glared right back. “She was attacking me!”
Barnabas humphed. “It’s the principal of the thing! But, the vengeance is done.”
Dean brushed another drop of blood from his cheek. “Yeah?” he asked cautiously. He didn’t want to point out that a little scratch on the cheek was not exactly the same as exploding someone in a microwave, but he didn’t want any more surprise cuts, either. Or worse.
Barnabas waved a hand. “Yes, blood for blood. It’s all right. She was on my top ten list of most annoying siblings, anyway.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “Top ten? How many siblings do you have?”
“About a hundred.”
Dean blanched. “Motherfuck – are they all gonna want to cut me?!”
“No, no, I was put in charge of this. We can’t all seek revenge for every sibling that gets swatted or microwaved or flies into a car window while on a trip to your world,” Barnabas said cheerfully. “So! What brings you to our realm? Here to give your service to Oberon?”
“No!” Dean said. “I’m – it’s family stuff.”
Barnabas looked intrigued. He flew an inch closer. “Do tell!”
“It’s none of your business,” Dean growled.
Barnabas pouted. “Fine,” he said, in a resigned tone. “But if you’re here as a guest of my lord, you will tell me if there’s anything I can do for you, won’t you?” He looked hopeful. “I’m free all day.”
“No, I’m – ” Dean stopped. He did need some way to occupy himself besides brooding over Sam. “Well, so am I, actually. We’re meeting Wayne at seven, but until then I have fuck all to do. What do you people do for fun around here?”
Barnabas did a gleeful backflip in the air. “Hooray! Do you like sex? We could fill our time that way!”
Dean blinked at him. “I – what? Together?”
“Of course!”
“How would that even work?”
Barnabas flew still closer. Dean saw him wink. “I am very creative! You aren’t my first large person.”
Dean stared at him for a moment, wondering what exactly the little man had in mind. He quickly snapped himself out of it. “Um, look, thanks, but, uh – how about you just show me around the castle or something?”
Barnabas sighed dramatically. “Very well. But do let me know if you change your mind.” He swooped in and kissed Dean’s cheek. The sting from the cut disappeared. When Dean looked in the mirror later, he found that it was completely healed.
Barnabas zoomed away. “Follow me!”
Dean followed the speck of light and the sound of bells, shaking his head. “Fairies, man,” he muttered.
***
Barnabas turned out to be a surprisingly good tour guide, regaling Dean with stories about various goings-on in the castle. Many of the tales were violent, pornographic, or a terrifying combination of both. Dean couldn’t help but be enthralled. He didn’t have a proper lunch, but there were mountains of delicious food seemingly everywhere, so Dean grazed (or more than grazed) to his heart’s content.
The hours flew by, and Dean was actually surprised when Barnabas announced that it was almost time for Dean to meet with “my esteemed lord.” He guided Dean back to his room. Dean stuck out his hand without thinking about it, and Barnabas enthusiastically shook Dean’s index finger.
“I’m sure I’ll see you again!” he trilled. “Your sanctuary lasts another two days, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah…” Dean muttered. He was remembering everything he’d managed to put out of his head all afternoon; the deal with Wayne, the thing with Oberon.
He shook his head slightly and steeled himself. “Yeah, I’ll see you around, man. Thanks for keeping me company today.”
Barnabas waved cheerily and flew away. Dean took a deep breath and knocked on Sam’s door.
Sam opened it immediately. He looked like he’d showered, but he was pale and haggard, his eyes still red and puffy. Had he been crying? Dean felt a sinking dread.
“Hey, Sammy,” he said uncertainly. “You, uh…you okay?”
“Yeah,” Sam said. He came out into the hallway and shut the door behind him. “Let’s go.”
He started to walk off, but Dean grabbed his arm. “Hold up,” he said. Sam flinched. Dean let him go and looked at him searchingly. “Listen, man, you look like hell. If this thing is eating you up so bad, maybe – maybe we shouldn’t take the deal.”
“No,” Sam said.
“It’s okay. I’ll go tell Wayne we couldn’t come up with anything and we’ll find another way. We always find a way, right?”
A pained expression flashed across Sam’s features. He shook his head emphatically. “No, Dean,” he said. “We’re doing this. We have to get him out.”
He set off down the hall again, head high but shoulders tense. Dean pressed his lips together and shook his head, but followed after Sam.
In a few minutes, they were entering the parlor where they’d talked to Wayne the day before. Gilda was already there. She and Wayne were sitting in the same chairs they’d taken yesterday, chatting politely. On the table in front of them was a small crystal orb and a clear flask. Dean sat down on the sofa again. Sam took a chair – an uncomfortable-looking one which was obviously too small for him – instead of joining Dean. Dean frowned in Sam’s direction, but Sam wasn’t looking at him.
“Greetings!” Wayne said, smiling smarmily at them both. “I hope you’ve been comfortable in my home?” Dean rolled his eyes.
“Yeah,” Sam said. “Thank you for your, uh, hospitality.”
“And have you worked out the secret?” Wayne said, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. Sam nodded. Wayne clapped his hands together. “Excellent! Excellent.”
He pointed at the flask on the table. “Now, when I speak the spell, and you tell your secret, this will collect it.” He pointed to the orb. “This will glow white if you’re telling the correct secret, and red if you’re not. Sound good?”
“Fine,” Sam said. He took a breath. “I’d – look, if it’s all right, I’d like to say it alone. Can we have the room? You and me?”
“What?” Dean spluttered.
Wayne was shaking his head. “I’m sorry, dear boy, but your brother must be present in order for the truth ball to work correctly.”
“Truth ball?” Dean muttered, shooting a look at Sam. The smile dropped from his face when he saw Sam’s expression. He looked like he was going to throw up.
“Okay,” Sam muttered. “Okay.” He looked at Gilda. “Gilda, I’m sorry – can you give us some privacy?”
“Of course,” Gilda said softly. “Please feel free to come to me later if you would like to talk, or if I can do anything to help.” She rose and glided out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
“Are you ready?” Wayne asked. Sam took a deep breath and nodded. Wayne picked up the flask and spoke a few words in a strange language.
Dean glanced at Sam, who was avoiding his eyes. He was starting to feel as sick as Sam looked.
Wayne put down the cup and nodded at Sam.
“The secret…” Sam shut his eyes for a second, then opened them again. “The secret is that Dean and I are in love with each other.” He swallowed hard, tears showing bright in his eyes. “More than brothers, I mean. Romantically. S…sexually.”
When he stopped talking, Dean laughed out loud; a short, incredulous bark of laughter which seemed to burst from his mouth. Finally, Sam looked at him. Dean raised his eyebrows.
“Come on, Sammy,” he said. “You can’t expect a lie that ridiculous to work. He’s got that orb thing – ” Dean gestured towards the truth ball, looking at it as he did.
It was glowing white.
Dean stopped talking abruptly. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t. Sam must have done something; some spell to fool it.
“Delicious,” Wayne murmured, smiling. He picked up the flask, which was now filled with a thick, shimmering, multi-colored liquid, or something that looked like a liquid. Green, red, and black swirls collided with one another. After examining the contents for a moment, Wayne placed it back on the table. He rubbed his hands together.
“I’ll be fulfilling my end of the bargain post-haste,” he said. “I’ll need some time to prepare, but I think you can reasonably expect to have your brother back in, hmm, between fifteen and eighteen hours, if I don’t run into any trouble.”
“Thank you,” Sam said, rising. “See you then.” He beat a hasty retreat towards the door. Dean jumped to his feet and charged after him.
Sam was already halfway down the hall. His shoulders were still tense and his head was down now. Dean ignored the alarms going off in his head which said to be careful. He had to know what Sam had done. He jogged to catch up with him.
“Dude,” Dean said in a loud whisper, when he reached Sam. “How did you do that?”
“Do what?” Sam said, avoiding Dean’s eyes again.
“Make the truth thingy say you were telling the secret! And hey, way to come up with a juicy lie. I was hanging out with a fairy today and believe me, if Barnabas is anything to go by, that was the perfect way to sell it.”
Sam stopped in his tracks and stared at Dean for a long moment. “I didn’t do anything to the truth ball,” he said. “I didn’t even know that was how Wayne was going to determine we were telling the right secret.”
Dean fought the sinking feeling in his stomach. Of course Sam couldn’t admit to what he’d done; Wayne might have spies or listening spells in every corner of this place. “Right, right, right,” he nodded. “Of course! You had no way to trick him. That was totally the secret.” He grinned and winked at Sam.
All the color drained from Sam’s face. Dean was horrified to see tears fill his eyes again. Even worse was the resigned look, the slumping of Sam’s shoulders.
“Yeah,” Sam said, voice barely a whisper. “Sure, Dean.” He turned and started practically power-walking away. Dean stood frozen for a second, then chased after him.
He couldn’t think of what to say as they walked back to their rooms side-by-side. He felt like he wasn’t really processing what was happening here. Sam was not a good enough actor to be selling this story so hard. Which meant Sam was really upset. Which meant that he thought he was in love with Dean, at least. Which was fucked up, but well, they could talk about it. They’d gotten through so much crap before, they could get through Sam’s weird crush.
Except Wayne said this was a shared secret. So Sam thought Dean was in love with him, too. And that stupid orb had agreed. But that was a ludicrous idea. Sam was his brother.
No, Dean thought quickly, it couldn’t possibly be true. Something had to be wrong with the truth ball thing. It had to be. There was no other reasonable explanation. Never trust a glowing orb, that’s what he always said.
But Sam was upset. Something had to be done.
So when they reached their doors, Dean cleared his throat. “So, uh, you wanna…talk about this?” He waited, half-hoping Sam would say no.
Sam looked at him appraisingly. Dean did his best to appear like he wasn’t completely freaking out in his head. Finally, Sam nodded. He unlocked the door to his room and motioned Dean inside.
Dean started pacing while Sam sank down onto the bed, his eyes fixed on Dean.
“So!” Dean said, too loudly and way too cheerfully. He winced and shook his head slightly. “Uh, so. You think you’re in love with me?”
Sam’s brows drew together. “We,” he said. “We’re in love with each other. That’s what the secret was.”
Dean waved a hand. “Whatever, that truth ball was definitely not working right.” Sam’s gaze was steady and sad. Dean stopped pacing. “Dude, I’m not in love with you!”
Sam sighed. “Yes, you are, Dean,” he replied. “I think we’ve both been in love with each other for a very long time.”
“Jesus, Sam, we’re brothers!” Dean shook his head incredulously. “That’s so fucked up!”
“Yeah,” Sam said, a slight edge to this voice. “Because our lives are always so normal, and never fucked up at all.” Dean blinked at him. Sam shrugged. “Look, I struggled with it, too. I still do. But it hardly seems like the worst thing that’s ever happened to us.”
Dean felt suddenly furious, which was a bit of a relief. Familiar territory, at last. “Okay, let me get this straight. Let me see if I understand this correctly.” Sam looked wary at Dean’s hard tone. “You loved me so much, and for so long, but you still didn’t bother to look for me when I was in Purgatory?”
Sam looked so sad and lost at the accusation that Dean regretted it immediately, but he shoved the feeling aside. This would convince Sam that he was being absurd.
Sam looked down at his hands. “It was after you disappeared that I figured out how I felt,” he said quietly. “I…I freaked out. I missed you so much, and I wanted to look for you – ” Dean snorted. “ – I did, Dean – but I was upset, just like you are now. I was afraid to see you again. I never, ever thought you’d feel the same way. I tried to run from what I was feeling; straight into a relationship where we were both trying to hide from the past.” Sam looked up at Dean again, eyes pleading. “I’m so sorry. I wish I’d made a different choice. But can’t you understand what I was going through? Same thing that you are now.”
Dean took a step back, fury rising again. It overrode the sympathy and the urge to make it better that always came up when Sam gave him those eyes. “I am absolutely not going through the same thing!”
“Dean, after what just happened, you can’t honestly deny – “
“Oh, I can deny it,” Dean interrupted. “I can deny it all goddamn day long. And you know why, Sammy? Because it’s not true. It’s fucking sick and insane and maybe you’re that fucked up, but I’m certainly not.” The pain in Sam’s face cut Dean like a knife, but he ignored it. He whirled around and headed for the door. He suddenly felt like he couldn’t even breathe the same air as Sam. Not when Sam was going to accuse him of all kinds of stupid shit that was absolutely one hundred percent impossible.
“Dean, please,” Sam said. He sounded desperate, like he was begging, but Dean forced himself to keep going. He left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Dean turned towards his own door, but quickly thought better of it. The last thing he wanted was to be cooped up thinking about Sam in the next room with just a wall separating them; wondering what Sam was doing, how he was feeling…god, he had sounded so wrecked…
No. No. He was not going to enable Sam’s delusions. Dean set off down the hall, popping into various common areas he’d visited that afternoon until he found the little glowing light he was looking for.
“Barnabas!” he called. The tiny fairy flew to him immediately, hovering at talking distance in front of his eyes.
“Dean!” he said happily. “Have you reconsidered my offer of sex?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “No,” he said. “But I thought you would probably be the best person to direct me towards some booze.”
Barnabas did a happy backflip, which Dean had quickly realized was his habit when he was excited. “Of course! Follow me!” He flew away. Dean walked rapidly after him.
***
Part Three
Part One
***
Half an hour later, he was pounding on Sam’s door.
“Sammy,” he shouted. “You awake?”
The door opened to reveal Sam, rumpled and red-eyed. Dean blinked at him.
“Dude, did you sleep?” he demanded.
“A little,” Sam muttered. “Come in.”
Dean went in and shut the door behind him. Sam’s room had dark wood paneling and dark red wallpaper, except interrupting that normality was the curve of several large silvery-gray tree trunks that seemed to be part of the walls. The trunks had deep recesses which formed shelves. They somehow looked natural and didn’t appear to be affecting the health of the trees. These shelves were filled with old books. The window curtains were heavy and a green that was almost black. Sam’s bed was a four-poster in wood nearly as dark as the walls. It looked to be at least as big as a California king, which Sam should really be appreciating after a lifetime of too-short motel queens. Dean thought the room’s color scheme was kind of depressing, but maybe the books were keeping his dork brother happy.
Sam already had jeans on, but he pulled off yesterday’s shirt and threw it on the bed. Dean watched him rummage through his duffel for a new one.
That was weird. Usually Sam was the one to unpack like a prissy motherfucker the second they arrived in a motel room.
“Dean,” Sam said.
Dean realized he’d been gazing at Sam’s chest, spaced out as he thought. “Yeah?” he said, meeting Sam’s eyes. Sam was looking at him intently, like Dean was a puzzle he was trying to solve.
“What?” Sam said.
“What?”
“You were staring.”
Dean laughed. “I was just thinking, man. Put your damn shirt on, would you? I’m starving. And I want coffee. Do you think fairies have coffee?”
Gilda’s door opened just as they were approaching it to knock. She smiled brilliantly at them, looking perfectly put together.
“Morning,” Sam said politely.
“Any idea where we can get some breakfast?” Dean asked.
“I called for someone to show us the way,” she said. A man in livery came around the corner as she spoke.
Five minutes later, they were seated at a long table with a deep purple cloth. The table was piled high with fruit, pastries, eggs, breakfast meats, juices, and – Dean was deeply happy to find – really, really good coffee. Everything was really good, in fact.
“Oh my god,” Dean moaned, as best he could around the huge amount of food currently in his mouth. “This is amazing.”
He noticed that Sam had taken hardly any food and was now picking at it, although he seemed to be drinking his coffee well enough.
“What’s wrong, dude?” he asked. Sam’s leg was jiggling, even though there was no way the caffeine had hit him yet.
“I’m fine,” Sam said. “I have to talk to you when you’re done.”
Dean tried to read his face, but Sam was staring into his coffee cup. “Did you figure out the secret?” he asked.
A muscle in Sam’s jaw clenched. “Maybe,” he said. “I don’t know.”
Dean put his fork down. “Dude, is it really that bad? You’re freaking me out.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Sam said. “It’ll be worth it if we can get Adam out of the Cage.”
Dean shrugged and resumed eating, keeping half an eye on Sam. He tried to ignore the worry gnawing at his stomach. He’d find out what was up soon enough. There was no reason to let a meal like this go to waste.
“Where’s the salt?” he asked, craning his neck to peer down the long table. A hush fell over the crowded table. His eyes widened.
“Salt is carefully controlled in our realm,” Gilda said softly. She motioned to a servant standing nearby and he came over. He was holding a salt shaker delicately, as though it might explode. Dean tried to take it from him, but he pulled it away.
“What requires salting, sir?” the servant asked. Dean stared at him, then looked at Sam, who shrugged.
“Uh, the eggs,” Dean replied.
“Very good.” The servant positioned the salt over Dean’s eggs and looked away. “Tell me when.” He looked away before turning the shaker over, gently sprinkling salt until Dean told him to stop.
Dean looked at Gilda as the servant walked away. She had turned away too. She didn’t look at him until she heard the servant’s retreating steps.
“What the actual fuck was that?” Dean demanded.
“Their salt thing,” Sam said, sound fascinated. “Right?”
“Yes,” Gilda said. “We must count each grain if it is spilled in front of us. So we are cautious with it. And its transport here is heavily regulated. It must be spelled in a specific way to be brought into this realm.”
Dean snapped his fingers. “That’s why mine disappeared!” In all the drama, he’d forgotten his empty pocket from the previous day. Gilda nodded. Dean rolled his eyes. “Awesome.”
“What about sugar?” Sam asked. “It’s the same deal with counting the grains, isn’t it?”
“It’s forbidden,” Gilda replied. “We use substitutes – honey, syrup, nectar…” She smiled. “We find ways. Fairies have a sweet tooth.”
“Yeah, I sure as hell can’t complain about these,” Dean said, snagging another cheese Danish from the plate in front of him.
***
In Dean’s room after breakfast, Sam sat on the edge of the bed. HIs elbows rested on his knees and his hands were clasped between them.
“So?” Dean said, after a long silence. “You gonna tell me what you think it is?”
Sam sighed and shut his eyes. When he opened them again, he looked into Dean’s face with a determined expression. “Dean, why did you sell your soul for me?”
Dean blinked, nonplussed. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Please,” Sam said quietly. “Just answer the question.”
Dean shrugged and spread his hands. “Dude, it was years ago.” Sam just kept looking at him expectantly. Dean sighed, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know, man! We’ve been over this. I was just – I couldn’t do it. Maybe it’s how Dad raised us with me being in charge of taking care of you all the time, but whatever it was, I couldn’t just let you stay dead. I couldn’t, Sammy.” Dean remembered the sight of Sam lying on that bed, cold and empty. His eyes prickled with hot tears and he swallowed hard. “I couldn’t keep going without you.”
He finally looked back at Sam, who nodded slowly, his expression sad. “I get it,” he said. His voice was thick with emotion. He took a deep, shuddering breath. When he spoke again, he sounded more normal. “I think I know what the secret is.”
“Great,” Dean said, although he still felt too confused to be really enthusiastic. “What is it?”
Sam shook his head as he got up from the bed. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’m going to see if Gilda knows who we talk to about seeing Wayne.”
He was out the door before Dean knew what was happening. Dean followed and waited impatiently while Sam spoke to Gilda. She invited them into her room and touched a mirror hanging on the wall. The surface shimmered. After a few seconds, the face of one of the liveried servants appeared.
“Sam and Dean are ready for their meeting,” she said.
“My lord will be ready to see them at seven p.m., a day after their initial conversation, as agreed,” the man said crisply. His face disappeared from the mirror.
“Dick,” Dean muttered. He turned to Sam. “Great, so, we have time. Tell me what it is.”
For a second, Sam looked panicked. Dean’s guts twisted. What the hell did he think it was?
“No,” Sam said, his expression turning to pure stubbornness. He glanced at Gilda. “Thanks for your help. I appreciate it.”
He strode out of the room. Dean followed him. “Dude! Come on, you gotta tell me so we can make sure it’s the right one.”
Sam’s mouth was set in a grim line. “It’s the right one,” he said. “I was up all night and I can’t think of anything else. But hey, you feel free to try, if you want to. I’m going to see if I can nap until it’s time to meet with Wayne.”
“That’s hours from now,” Dean protested as Sam went into his room and shut the door. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Whatever you want,” Sam said. Dean heard the lock on Sam’s door click. He glared at the door and considered pounding on it, but it was clear Sam was going to be an asshole about this for some reason. He just hoped Sam had the right fucking idea. Who knew what the hell would happen to them or how they’d ever get Adam out if they couldn’t make this deal.
***
Dean slammed the door of his room shut, looked around, then yanked the door open again and stepped back out into the hall. No way was he going to spend the next nine hours cooped up in his room while Sam slept or pretended to sleep. Dean felt jittery with nerves. What the fuck could have Sam so wrecked?
Dean wandered down the hall looking at the art lining its walls: paintings, tapestries and statues. He hadn’t paid much attention to it before. He thought of fine art as Sam’s thing, but he kind of liked fairy taste. Almost all the figures were naked and gorgeous, even if sometimes it was in a weird way. They had skin in every color of the rainbow – not just human skin colors, but orange and green and violet and everything – and all different body types and weird animal parts incorporated in them. There was something compelling about them all, even when they were outside his usual type. Even way outside, like the woman with the scorpion tail. She had beautiful nut-brown skin and a fantastic rack and Dean found himself staring long enough to see her cover a giggle with a hand on her mouth.
After that, Dean resolved not to look for more than a few seconds anymore.
He kept walking, glancing at the art. He was about to turn a corner when one of the Tinkerbell fairies came whizzing around the bend, screeching. It stopped short when it saw him, hovering a few feet in front of his face.
“Dean Winchester?” it demanded.
“Uh, yeah,” Dean said.
“BLOOD VENGEANCE!” screamed the fairy, dive-bombing at Dean’s face. Its tinny voice and the sound of jingling bells which accompanied its movements rather undercut the fierce words, but Dean felt a hot line of pain on his cheekbone. He slapped at his face reflexively, but the fairy was already gone. Dean’s fingers came away wet. He saw blood smeared on them.
“OW!” he said. “What the hell?!” The cut was shallow, but somehow the surprise and insult of being injured by this little being made it feel a lot worse. Dean peered into the light and saw a tiny man, naked from the waist up. He had sea green skin, purple hair spiked up into a fauxhawk, and iridescent wings like a dragonfly’s. He was re-sheathing a rapier the size of a needle with a self-satisfied air.
“My revenge is complete,” the fairy said. He bowed. “Barnabas, at your service.”
“Revenge?” Dean said. “What the hell did I ever do to you?”
“Not to me! To my sister!” Barnabas glared at him. “You microwaved her!”
“That little – ” Dean caught himself, but glared right back. “She was attacking me!”
Barnabas humphed. “It’s the principal of the thing! But, the vengeance is done.”
Dean brushed another drop of blood from his cheek. “Yeah?” he asked cautiously. He didn’t want to point out that a little scratch on the cheek was not exactly the same as exploding someone in a microwave, but he didn’t want any more surprise cuts, either. Or worse.
Barnabas waved a hand. “Yes, blood for blood. It’s all right. She was on my top ten list of most annoying siblings, anyway.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “Top ten? How many siblings do you have?”
“About a hundred.”
Dean blanched. “Motherfuck – are they all gonna want to cut me?!”
“No, no, I was put in charge of this. We can’t all seek revenge for every sibling that gets swatted or microwaved or flies into a car window while on a trip to your world,” Barnabas said cheerfully. “So! What brings you to our realm? Here to give your service to Oberon?”
“No!” Dean said. “I’m – it’s family stuff.”
Barnabas looked intrigued. He flew an inch closer. “Do tell!”
“It’s none of your business,” Dean growled.
Barnabas pouted. “Fine,” he said, in a resigned tone. “But if you’re here as a guest of my lord, you will tell me if there’s anything I can do for you, won’t you?” He looked hopeful. “I’m free all day.”
“No, I’m – ” Dean stopped. He did need some way to occupy himself besides brooding over Sam. “Well, so am I, actually. We’re meeting Wayne at seven, but until then I have fuck all to do. What do you people do for fun around here?”
Barnabas did a gleeful backflip in the air. “Hooray! Do you like sex? We could fill our time that way!”
Dean blinked at him. “I – what? Together?”
“Of course!”
“How would that even work?”
Barnabas flew still closer. Dean saw him wink. “I am very creative! You aren’t my first large person.”
Dean stared at him for a moment, wondering what exactly the little man had in mind. He quickly snapped himself out of it. “Um, look, thanks, but, uh – how about you just show me around the castle or something?”
Barnabas sighed dramatically. “Very well. But do let me know if you change your mind.” He swooped in and kissed Dean’s cheek. The sting from the cut disappeared. When Dean looked in the mirror later, he found that it was completely healed.
Barnabas zoomed away. “Follow me!”
Dean followed the speck of light and the sound of bells, shaking his head. “Fairies, man,” he muttered.
***
Barnabas turned out to be a surprisingly good tour guide, regaling Dean with stories about various goings-on in the castle. Many of the tales were violent, pornographic, or a terrifying combination of both. Dean couldn’t help but be enthralled. He didn’t have a proper lunch, but there were mountains of delicious food seemingly everywhere, so Dean grazed (or more than grazed) to his heart’s content.
The hours flew by, and Dean was actually surprised when Barnabas announced that it was almost time for Dean to meet with “my esteemed lord.” He guided Dean back to his room. Dean stuck out his hand without thinking about it, and Barnabas enthusiastically shook Dean’s index finger.
“I’m sure I’ll see you again!” he trilled. “Your sanctuary lasts another two days, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah…” Dean muttered. He was remembering everything he’d managed to put out of his head all afternoon; the deal with Wayne, the thing with Oberon.
He shook his head slightly and steeled himself. “Yeah, I’ll see you around, man. Thanks for keeping me company today.”
Barnabas waved cheerily and flew away. Dean took a deep breath and knocked on Sam’s door.
Sam opened it immediately. He looked like he’d showered, but he was pale and haggard, his eyes still red and puffy. Had he been crying? Dean felt a sinking dread.
“Hey, Sammy,” he said uncertainly. “You, uh…you okay?”
“Yeah,” Sam said. He came out into the hallway and shut the door behind him. “Let’s go.”
He started to walk off, but Dean grabbed his arm. “Hold up,” he said. Sam flinched. Dean let him go and looked at him searchingly. “Listen, man, you look like hell. If this thing is eating you up so bad, maybe – maybe we shouldn’t take the deal.”
“No,” Sam said.
“It’s okay. I’ll go tell Wayne we couldn’t come up with anything and we’ll find another way. We always find a way, right?”
A pained expression flashed across Sam’s features. He shook his head emphatically. “No, Dean,” he said. “We’re doing this. We have to get him out.”
He set off down the hall again, head high but shoulders tense. Dean pressed his lips together and shook his head, but followed after Sam.
In a few minutes, they were entering the parlor where they’d talked to Wayne the day before. Gilda was already there. She and Wayne were sitting in the same chairs they’d taken yesterday, chatting politely. On the table in front of them was a small crystal orb and a clear flask. Dean sat down on the sofa again. Sam took a chair – an uncomfortable-looking one which was obviously too small for him – instead of joining Dean. Dean frowned in Sam’s direction, but Sam wasn’t looking at him.
“Greetings!” Wayne said, smiling smarmily at them both. “I hope you’ve been comfortable in my home?” Dean rolled his eyes.
“Yeah,” Sam said. “Thank you for your, uh, hospitality.”
“And have you worked out the secret?” Wayne said, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. Sam nodded. Wayne clapped his hands together. “Excellent! Excellent.”
He pointed at the flask on the table. “Now, when I speak the spell, and you tell your secret, this will collect it.” He pointed to the orb. “This will glow white if you’re telling the correct secret, and red if you’re not. Sound good?”
“Fine,” Sam said. He took a breath. “I’d – look, if it’s all right, I’d like to say it alone. Can we have the room? You and me?”
“What?” Dean spluttered.
Wayne was shaking his head. “I’m sorry, dear boy, but your brother must be present in order for the truth ball to work correctly.”
“Truth ball?” Dean muttered, shooting a look at Sam. The smile dropped from his face when he saw Sam’s expression. He looked like he was going to throw up.
“Okay,” Sam muttered. “Okay.” He looked at Gilda. “Gilda, I’m sorry – can you give us some privacy?”
“Of course,” Gilda said softly. “Please feel free to come to me later if you would like to talk, or if I can do anything to help.” She rose and glided out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
“Are you ready?” Wayne asked. Sam took a deep breath and nodded. Wayne picked up the flask and spoke a few words in a strange language.
Dean glanced at Sam, who was avoiding his eyes. He was starting to feel as sick as Sam looked.
Wayne put down the cup and nodded at Sam.
“The secret…” Sam shut his eyes for a second, then opened them again. “The secret is that Dean and I are in love with each other.” He swallowed hard, tears showing bright in his eyes. “More than brothers, I mean. Romantically. S…sexually.”
When he stopped talking, Dean laughed out loud; a short, incredulous bark of laughter which seemed to burst from his mouth. Finally, Sam looked at him. Dean raised his eyebrows.
“Come on, Sammy,” he said. “You can’t expect a lie that ridiculous to work. He’s got that orb thing – ” Dean gestured towards the truth ball, looking at it as he did.
It was glowing white.
Dean stopped talking abruptly. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t. Sam must have done something; some spell to fool it.
“Delicious,” Wayne murmured, smiling. He picked up the flask, which was now filled with a thick, shimmering, multi-colored liquid, or something that looked like a liquid. Green, red, and black swirls collided with one another. After examining the contents for a moment, Wayne placed it back on the table. He rubbed his hands together.
“I’ll be fulfilling my end of the bargain post-haste,” he said. “I’ll need some time to prepare, but I think you can reasonably expect to have your brother back in, hmm, between fifteen and eighteen hours, if I don’t run into any trouble.”
“Thank you,” Sam said, rising. “See you then.” He beat a hasty retreat towards the door. Dean jumped to his feet and charged after him.
Sam was already halfway down the hall. His shoulders were still tense and his head was down now. Dean ignored the alarms going off in his head which said to be careful. He had to know what Sam had done. He jogged to catch up with him.
“Dude,” Dean said in a loud whisper, when he reached Sam. “How did you do that?”
“Do what?” Sam said, avoiding Dean’s eyes again.
“Make the truth thingy say you were telling the secret! And hey, way to come up with a juicy lie. I was hanging out with a fairy today and believe me, if Barnabas is anything to go by, that was the perfect way to sell it.”
Sam stopped in his tracks and stared at Dean for a long moment. “I didn’t do anything to the truth ball,” he said. “I didn’t even know that was how Wayne was going to determine we were telling the right secret.”
Dean fought the sinking feeling in his stomach. Of course Sam couldn’t admit to what he’d done; Wayne might have spies or listening spells in every corner of this place. “Right, right, right,” he nodded. “Of course! You had no way to trick him. That was totally the secret.” He grinned and winked at Sam.
All the color drained from Sam’s face. Dean was horrified to see tears fill his eyes again. Even worse was the resigned look, the slumping of Sam’s shoulders.
“Yeah,” Sam said, voice barely a whisper. “Sure, Dean.” He turned and started practically power-walking away. Dean stood frozen for a second, then chased after him.
He couldn’t think of what to say as they walked back to their rooms side-by-side. He felt like he wasn’t really processing what was happening here. Sam was not a good enough actor to be selling this story so hard. Which meant Sam was really upset. Which meant that he thought he was in love with Dean, at least. Which was fucked up, but well, they could talk about it. They’d gotten through so much crap before, they could get through Sam’s weird crush.
Except Wayne said this was a shared secret. So Sam thought Dean was in love with him, too. And that stupid orb had agreed. But that was a ludicrous idea. Sam was his brother.
No, Dean thought quickly, it couldn’t possibly be true. Something had to be wrong with the truth ball thing. It had to be. There was no other reasonable explanation. Never trust a glowing orb, that’s what he always said.
But Sam was upset. Something had to be done.
So when they reached their doors, Dean cleared his throat. “So, uh, you wanna…talk about this?” He waited, half-hoping Sam would say no.
Sam looked at him appraisingly. Dean did his best to appear like he wasn’t completely freaking out in his head. Finally, Sam nodded. He unlocked the door to his room and motioned Dean inside.
Dean started pacing while Sam sank down onto the bed, his eyes fixed on Dean.
“So!” Dean said, too loudly and way too cheerfully. He winced and shook his head slightly. “Uh, so. You think you’re in love with me?”
Sam’s brows drew together. “We,” he said. “We’re in love with each other. That’s what the secret was.”
Dean waved a hand. “Whatever, that truth ball was definitely not working right.” Sam’s gaze was steady and sad. Dean stopped pacing. “Dude, I’m not in love with you!”
Sam sighed. “Yes, you are, Dean,” he replied. “I think we’ve both been in love with each other for a very long time.”
“Jesus, Sam, we’re brothers!” Dean shook his head incredulously. “That’s so fucked up!”
“Yeah,” Sam said, a slight edge to this voice. “Because our lives are always so normal, and never fucked up at all.” Dean blinked at him. Sam shrugged. “Look, I struggled with it, too. I still do. But it hardly seems like the worst thing that’s ever happened to us.”
Dean felt suddenly furious, which was a bit of a relief. Familiar territory, at last. “Okay, let me get this straight. Let me see if I understand this correctly.” Sam looked wary at Dean’s hard tone. “You loved me so much, and for so long, but you still didn’t bother to look for me when I was in Purgatory?”
Sam looked so sad and lost at the accusation that Dean regretted it immediately, but he shoved the feeling aside. This would convince Sam that he was being absurd.
Sam looked down at his hands. “It was after you disappeared that I figured out how I felt,” he said quietly. “I…I freaked out. I missed you so much, and I wanted to look for you – ” Dean snorted. “ – I did, Dean – but I was upset, just like you are now. I was afraid to see you again. I never, ever thought you’d feel the same way. I tried to run from what I was feeling; straight into a relationship where we were both trying to hide from the past.” Sam looked up at Dean again, eyes pleading. “I’m so sorry. I wish I’d made a different choice. But can’t you understand what I was going through? Same thing that you are now.”
Dean took a step back, fury rising again. It overrode the sympathy and the urge to make it better that always came up when Sam gave him those eyes. “I am absolutely not going through the same thing!”
“Dean, after what just happened, you can’t honestly deny – “
“Oh, I can deny it,” Dean interrupted. “I can deny it all goddamn day long. And you know why, Sammy? Because it’s not true. It’s fucking sick and insane and maybe you’re that fucked up, but I’m certainly not.” The pain in Sam’s face cut Dean like a knife, but he ignored it. He whirled around and headed for the door. He suddenly felt like he couldn’t even breathe the same air as Sam. Not when Sam was going to accuse him of all kinds of stupid shit that was absolutely one hundred percent impossible.
“Dean, please,” Sam said. He sounded desperate, like he was begging, but Dean forced himself to keep going. He left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Dean turned towards his own door, but quickly thought better of it. The last thing he wanted was to be cooped up thinking about Sam in the next room with just a wall separating them; wondering what Sam was doing, how he was feeling…god, he had sounded so wrecked…
No. No. He was not going to enable Sam’s delusions. Dean set off down the hall, popping into various common areas he’d visited that afternoon until he found the little glowing light he was looking for.
“Barnabas!” he called. The tiny fairy flew to him immediately, hovering at talking distance in front of his eyes.
“Dean!” he said happily. “Have you reconsidered my offer of sex?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “No,” he said. “But I thought you would probably be the best person to direct me towards some booze.”
Barnabas did a happy backflip, which Dean had quickly realized was his habit when he was excited. “Of course! Follow me!” He flew away. Dean walked rapidly after him.
***
Part Three
