The early birds were singing their usual melody outside, their sounds floating in through the open window with the help of the morning breeze that separated the curtain just enough for it. In one of the motel room's beds hazel-green irises opened up sleepily to search for the source of the chirps. Sam took a deep breath and slowly stretched his limbs awake, careful not to jar the arm around his waist, but it just tightened around him. As the boy settled, his eyes landed on the brown collar lying on the nightstand. He felt a sly smile pull up the edges of his mouth, as he remembered the day when he'd found it.
Alright, he'd purposefully looked for it. Happy? That morning he'd woken up to a kiss on his cheek, but he'd just stretched his bent leg out and shifted towards the warmth beside him. He'd instinctively known it had been Dean, who'd been sitting next to him on the side of the bed. However, just as he'd stopped his moving, Dean had disappeared from there then a few seconds later the entrance door had opened and closed.
Sam had looked up blearily and begun pushing himself into a sitting position, when he'd realized that Dean had just gone to get breakfast. Before he'd had a chance to lie back down, his eyes had found the man's duffel bag. The curiosity had woken him up and taken his mind over, so he'd quickly stood up and kneeled next to the bag. Zipping it open, he had buried himself into it, frantically searching for his goal. His fingers had soon wrapped around leather and pulled the collar out.
Sam had examined the item carefully: it was a new piece, its scent fresh and the material silky to the touch. It didn't have any extreme designs, but its plainness made it so magnificent. The buckle was silver decorated with a few diamond-like stones, but Sam could tell that they were just custom, not real ones. He'd noticed surprised that he had been holding it so carefully and tenderly like it was the greatest treasure of the world.
Not able to contain himself anymore, he'd jumped to his feet and run into the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, he'd unbuckled the collar and slowly strapped it around his neck. As he had been struggling to buckle it up, his eyes had involuntarily closed and the slightest of moans had broken out of him. When he had finished with the procedure and looked up, he'd noticed that his pupils had dilated a bit. Well, who would have known he would develop a kink of collars?
Sam had blushed at his thought, but it'd quickly turned into mortification, when the bathroom door had opened revealing Dean in the doorway. The man's pupils had been full-blown from desire, but Sam had seen him trying to control his urges. However, instead of the possessive monster that would have come forth in a situation like this, Sam had seen panic, love, hope and guilt, decorated with the flush of guilty pleasure on the man's cheeks.
"Why did you buy it?" Sam had asked softly.
"I wanted to show you, whom you belong to" Dean had replied shamefully. "I couldn't stop myself… Why did you put it on?" the next question had come from Dean.
"I was curious" Sam had blushed a bit more at his answer, but kept eye-contact. "And I think I'm starting to like it."
"But you know you don't have to wear it, right?" Dean asked hastily. "I'm not going to force you…"
"I wouldn't even let you" Sam smirked coyly. After a brief pause he spoke up:
"You said something about 'whom I belong to'. You want to show it to me?"
After their conversation, Sam couldn't move his head for a day, thanks to the horde of hickeys on his neck. Dean had been able to control himself to not go too far, so they'd just organized a wonderful make-out session, first against the tiles of the bathroom wall then on their bed. When they had finished, Dean had quickly gone out to wash their clothes, getting rid of the sweat and the smell of… intimacy from them. Sam never would have thought that his first orgasm with a man would be from kissing only, because Dean wouldn't have gone lower than the middle of the boy's torso.
Sam smiled happily at the memories, but he was interrupted by a kiss on the back of his neck, as Dean woke up.
"Mornin', Sammy" the man whispered a bit sleepily.
"Morning, Dean" Sam replied, turning towards the man and sharing a sweet kiss with him. They lay there for a few minutes, lovingly nuzzling each other. At last, Dean began getting up with a groan and changed into his usual attire in the bathroom. When he emerged and stepped to the bed to kiss Sam, the boy spoke up:
"What date is today?"
"It's July 22nd" he answered with a frown. "Why?"
"Just curious" Sam answered, sinking into his thoughts. Dean leaned down to kiss him again, causing the boy to smile.
"I love you" he breathed and just before he pulled away, he heard Sam's shy answer:
"I love you, too."
"Hey, Dean" Sam stepped closer to the man, who was just clearing the table from the remains of breakfast.
"Yeah?" Dean glanced at him for a moment and continued his work. Sam took a deep breath then spoke up without hesitation:
"I want to visit my Mom."
Dean's hand froze in the air hearing that. He turned to the boy with a frown, who held his gaze timidly.
"As far as I know… she died" he said quietly.
"Yes" Sam nodded sadly. "But… today is her birthday and I've always visited her so far."
"I see" Dean remarked. "And where are we going?"
Sam was fidgeting in the passenger seat, fingering the leather collar. It was a little tight and made his skin itchy. Maybe because this was the first time he was forced to wear it, since Dean wouldn't have let him go to his mother otherwise and for that the boy was willing to do anything, even to bear the humiliation. The car soon parked before Oak Hill Cemetery in Lawrence, Kansas and Dean got out.
Sam waited well-mannered, his head bowed, for the door to open. It did just that after a minute or two. He carefully got out and stood next to his companion, his eyes locked on the ground the whole time. Dean closed the car door and gave Sam the small bouquet of wildflowers then they started towards the gates.
"Lead the way!" Dean ordered the boy. "You know where to go."
"Yes, Dean" Sam politely bowed just a little bit, so they wouldn't draw too much attention, his submissive nature coming forth for a minute. Dean followed the boy to the end of the graveyard. Finally Sam stopped at a smaller, white marble headstone and kneeling down he laid the flowers onto the ground.
"Hey, Mom" he whispered with a sad smile. "Happy birthday." He tenderly caressed the golden letters with his fingertips.
Dean was standing behind him, frozen in shock. On the gravestone shone two names: John E. Winchester and Mary Campbell. It couldn't be… But, how…
"They're your parents?" he asked at last.
"My biological parents" Sam answered. "I was really young when they died. I barely remember them."
"When did they die?" Dean asked scared, but Sam didn't notice that.
"Dad said I was about two years old, because he adopted me not too long after their death."
Dean's eyes widened: he was six years old, when he went missing, leaving two wonderful parents and a little baby behind, who he loved as his little brother. How could Fate be so cruel to him?
Sam then stood up, dusted his jeans down then turned to his companion, who quickly hid his emotions from his face. They walked to the gates without a word to return to their motel. Sam started to get worried by Dean's silence. Did Sam do something wrong? Whatever, he's going to make it right later.
"I'm gonna go grab some food" the boy offered, when they arrived. "You want anything?"
"No" with that Dean gave Sam some money, who was staring at him with a frown. "I'm sure" the man added and not giving an opportunity of a reply, he went into the motel room. Sam didn't have any other options, so he walked to the diner.
While he was eating his dinner, he was thinking about the past events. What could have happened that Dean was now giving him the cold shoulder? Sam had only asked to go to Lawrence, to Oak Hill Cemetery. He'd even worn the collar as the man ordered – which was still adorning his neck. Or maybe the trouble was that he had told him about his family? Had he offended him? But why? And with what?
He couldn't get an answer to his desperate questions. He paid for the meal and returned to the motel. As he stepped into their room, his heart broke into pieces.
Dean was packing his stuff in his duffel bag. Darkness yawned emptily in the wide open closet; a few drawers of the chest of drawers were pulled out.
"Dean" Sam took a step inside. The pieces of his heart were surrounded by fear. "What the hell are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" Dean asked, conjuring up more of his things from the chest of drawers.
"We're leaving?" the hope and the naivety of youth was practically pouring out of Sam's voice. "S-Should I wait in the car?" Dean froze for a moment, as a picture flitted through his mind: a tiny, adorable puppy snuggling into his owner's chest happily, before it's given to a shelter – for good. He couldn't have found a more appropriate metaphor for this.
"No" he answered with a firm voice despite the chaos storming inside him and kept up his work.
"Then let's put everything back!" Sam's voice now started to shake. "I'll help…"
Dean halted the boy with a glance, who got more nervous from it. Now he started to see clearer. All of a sudden, Sam burst forward and wrapped his arms around the man's neck.
"Please, don't do this!" his words rushed out in terror. "You can't leave, not without me. Take me with you, please!"
Dean just stood there rigid and cold like a statue, as those arms wrapped around him, but hearing the panic-filled voice he began trembling. He slowly reached up and got a hold of the two wrists to pry them off of him. As he pushed them away, the boy started struggling: he tried to twist his hands from the grip and push back to his companion.
"Stop it!" the man ordered softly. Sam obeyed immediately, so Dean could move him away. Soon the bag was filled and the man zipped it up. Lifting it onto his back he started towards the door, but a hand on his arm forced him to a halt.
"Please, no!" Sam sobbed. "I'll do a-anything! Just tell me what did I do wrong and I'll make it right."
"You didn't do anything wrong" Dean whispered. His will began to crumble around his feelings, letting a teardrop break free and roll down his face.
"We were so happy" Sam continued panicked. "We've gone so far, from strangers we became lovers. And you just want to give all this up?"
"I have to" Dean replied firmly.
"But why?" Sam sobbed harder. Dean pulled himself together with closed eyes and wrenched his arm from the boy's grasp. Sam tried to grab it again, but the man turned to him. As Dean stepped closer, the gasps died down in Sam's throat, just staring into the emerald oceans with huge eyes. Dean then leaned closer, cupped Sam's face tenderly and pressed a soft kiss onto the thin lips. Sam merrily answered, because he got the message clear as day: this is goodbye. Dean pulled away and stroked the boy's cheek; reddened, hazel orbs gazed back at him pleadingly.
"Goodbye" Dean breathed then after a brief pause, during which he came to a decision, he added:
Before he could witness any kind of reaction, he stepped away from the boy, out the door and into the night.
He's gone… Left him here… Alone… With a shattered heart…
Sam just stood in his place for a long time and gazed into the nothingness, with the same thoughts repeating themselves in his mind over and over and over again. It's over, the whole period is over… So much had happened and now like it was cut off… One snip and it's done…
Sam looked around with a startle. The motel room looked so empty without Dean's stuff. And that was when he recognized that he doesn't have anything here. Anything that he owns…
The light of the streetlamp glinted on something: a set of car keys. Sam immediately knew it: it was the keys of the Impala. He snatched them up quickly and dashed out of the room. The black beauty was shining darkly in front of the building, just like on her first day despite of the passed time. It seemed that Dean took care of the car.
Sam jumped in, shut the door forcefully and shot out of the parking lot onto the road. As soon as he did it, he drove off with screeching tires, stepping on the gas, almost ramming it through the floor. As he left the town – which didn't took too long, since the motel was on the outskirts of the town – he was greeted by an open road. The speedometer's pointer was climbing the numbers steadily. Closing in on 100 Sam started sobbing, his tears streaming down his cheeks.
"I hate you!" he cried aloud, just drowning out the roar of the engine. "You fucking bastard! Damn you to Hell!"
As the pointer arrived at 100, through the haze of his tears he could only notice some big black shape appearing in front of the car. With a shout of surprise he turned the steering wheel and stepped onto the brake with both of his feet. The car swiveled on the road a few times, as he tried to gain control again, but at one turn the car ran off the road and crashed into an electric post. Pain exploded in Sam's head then he was pulled into the darkness.