Chapter Text
When Dean said that they’d found their own batcave, he hadn't really anticipated just how right he was. Between the insanely cool war room, library, living quarters, and gun range, he estimated that there were probably at least a mile’s worth of hallways, closets, and weapons stores left untouched below ground.
He was a little afraid of getting lost, if he was perfectly honest, so keeping it short-range while Sam wasn't home was the current plan.
Which reminded him, how long does it take the boy to get groceries? It wasn't rocket science.
Anyway, the thought was distracted away by the allure of the contents of the first room he had decided to explore. It looked a bit like an apothecary store, with floor to ceiling shelves lining the walls. Each shelf was packed to the brim full of dusty jars, boxes, and he was pretty sure he saw an odd taxidermy creature and an articulated skeleton or two among the cobwebs as well.
“Whoa,” he breathed, shining his flashlight around the room slowly. He glanced behind him and saw a light switch, and flicked it on. With a hum, the bulbs came on, casting a dim, eerie light on the room.
“Welcome to Hogwarts,” he chortled, clicking off the flashlight and stepping further into the room.
~*~
After calling out to Dean, to let him know he was back, Sam put all the groceries away. The process took him longer than necessary, only because Dean had been in the cupboards and fridge, and that meant Sam had to straighten things back out. He’d also left a bunch of old fast food in the fridge, and Sam got rid of that, shaking his head.
Leaving the kitchen, he walked down the hall and opened the door to Dean’s room. His brother wasn't around. ”Dean?”
Still, there was no response. If Sam hadn't taken the Impala, he’d have though Dean took off. But there was nothing around for miles, so Dean wouldn't have walked off. That left exploring.
Heading down another hall, one that they’d started exploring, he called out again. Then, in the distance, he saw some light pouring out of a distant doorway, and headed for it. When he reached it, in stood in the doorway, “Dean.” He sounded just a little exasperated, but his brother’s gleeful expression had Sam taking a second look around the room. ”The skeleton? You’re amused by the skeleton?” he rolled his eyes.
~*~
Dean turned at the sound of his name, seeing Sam standing in the doorway.
"First of all, don’t pretend you’re not geeking out over all this stuff too," Dean pointed an accusatory at Sam with raised eyebrows, "Second of all, this is awesome! This answers half the problems we have with getting ritual ingredients for the next ten years!”
Dean turned back to the rows of shelves ahead of him, peering curiously at the neatly labeled rows of jars and boxes, “Dude, have you even heard of half this stuff?”
~*~
Sam tried to feign disinterest, but as he started walking around and took a look at the shelves upon shelves of ingredients, jars filled with strange thing, he couldn't hide his own enthusiasm. Picking up a jar, he shook it. ”What are these mini maple leave lookin’ things.” Then he read the label and made a face. ”Dried lizard feet.”
He walked over to some stacked barrels, and looked at some bits and pieces sitting on top of them. ”It’s like some antique store,” he said, this time taking a look at an ancient looking magnifying glass. ”An apothecary, I guess.” He was picking up a thin, leather bound book, when he turned his head to glance at Dean. ”What’s that, behind you. Looks like some sorta door,” he mused. It was a short wooden door, with cast iron hardware, and looked like it belonged in some castle somewhere.
~*~
Dean turned away from a jar of what appeared to be ghoul blood to look where Sam had indicated. He raised his eyebrows curiously as he spotted the door as well, and moved toward it.
"Hm," he said thoughtfully, trying the door handle. Locked.
"Well, one way to find out," he shrugged at Sam, pulling the lock pick kit from his back pocket. He had figured he’d meet a few locked doors if he started poking around down here, and apparently his preparedness had paid off.
After a few moments of tricky poking and jabbing at the old lock, Dean heard the satisfying click of the tumbler falling into place.
"Ah-ha," he murmured triumphantly, straightening back up and trying the handle again, pulling the heavy door open. The smell of stale air and dust seeped out, and Dean peered curiously into the darkness of what appeared to be…
"A closet?" he postulated out loud, pulling the door the rest of the way open. Sure enough, more rows and rows of neatly stacked boxes and jars lined the closet shelves.
"Well that’s a disappointment," he shrugged, stepping closer to the shelves and squinting at the faded handwriting.
"Why do you think it was locked?" Dean turned his head to ask Sam, "If it was just more jars of stuff?"
~*~
"Any skeletons in the closet?" Sam asked dryly as he watched Dean lean inside the closet. "Maybe that skull’s body?"
At his brother’s question, Sam gave a shrug and walked over. Pulling his small flashlight from his pocket, he shined the light inside, moving it from one shelf to another.
Pushing Dean aside, Sam reached into the closet and took one of the jars, read the tiny writing, then picked up another. ”Looks like the lethal stuff’s in here,” he said. ”Night Shade, white baneberry, hemlock… Jeez.”
Moving to the next shelf, he started reading the labels, but gave a shrug. None of them were familiar. The next shelf had a label on it.
"Spells. We might find something useful here, assuming we’re not dabbling with dark magic," Sam said. He directed the light onto the scraps of paper and some of the jars that were next to them.
~*~
"Yeah, maybe," Dean agreed absentmindedly, only half paying attention now that he had started taking a better look at the shelves for himself, pulling out his pocket flashlight as well.
He scanned over boxes and jars filled with stuff he couldn't even begin to pronounce, let alone guess what they were used for, and slowly became aware of a quiet humming sound.
He frowned, cocking his head to listen. That was weird. He turned off his flashlight, just to make sure it wasn't that, and no, there was that hum still.
"You hear that?" he asked Sam, looking around the closet. He started slowly shuffling toward the back, listening hard for the sound. It seemed to be growing steadily louder, and Dean craned his head, trying to find the source.
"What the…?" he murmured, when what appeared to be some kind of glowing light caught it his eye, hidden behind some boxes. He reached up, shuffling things aside carefully, until a simple, glass mason jar was revealed.
As soon as Dean’s hand closed around, warmth flooded through him in a rush and he gasped, eyes going wide as the glowing intensified with it, practically illuminating the entirety of the tiny room.
Dean pulled it down carefully, an almost drowsy feel coming over him contently.
"Wow," he murmured, peering at the jar hazily. There didn't seem to be anything of substance actually in it; just glowing light and that quiet hum that reminded him of a softer version of Baby’s engine.
Open it… open it… open…
The idea swam lazily around Dean’s head, settling right in with the warm feeling the jar seemed to be pulsing into him.
Somewhere in the back of his head, the rational, hunter-trained part of him was ringing out alarm bells, but it was almost like an out-of-body experience; Dean could see his hand go to the lid of the jar and begin to twist it open, even as that warning tried to fight its way through.
The second the lid cleared the jar, the light exploded.
~*~
"Hear what?" Sam asked, engrossed in reading the elements of a spell written in Latin. Noticing Dean turn off his flashlight, Sam finally looked up and watched as Dean retrieved a jar.
"Huh. It almost looks like those soul jars Abaddon is collecting," he said, frowning a little. The light was beautiful, and the sound… to him it sounded like a heart beat.
His fingers itched to touch the jar. He started reaching for it, when it hit him. Something outside him, some force, was at work, supplanting his own volition. ”Dean…”
Even as he tried to make sense of what he was feeling, his brother started to open the jar. “Dean, stop!” The words were out of his mouth, but Sam found there wasn't a thing he could do to move his limbs, to physically stop Dean.
Instead, a voice whispered in his ear. Do it. Open it. Open it.
Sam held his breath. His heart beat faster, matching the rhythm of the sound coming from the jar, then a burst of red light, as vibrant as the light in a laser pointer, blinded him.
Reaching out, he grabbed a shelf to steady himself. ”What…” The light slowly dissipated, but a strange warmth pressed around Sam, seeping into his skin. ”Dean?”
~*~
Dean grunted as he was momentarily blinded, eyes scrunching shut reflexively. Just as fast as it happened, it was gone, plunging the room back into its previous dim light.
"Dean?"
Dean’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of Sam’s voice, his breath leaving him in a quiet gasp as the sight of his brother felt like hooks being sank somewhere right inside his abdomen.
The jar and lid fell from his limp hands, by some miracle not shattering, but rolling away and under a shelf. Dean barely noticed, the deep-seated compulsion to reach out and touch Sam overwhelming everything else for a few disorienting moments.
He got as far as fisting his hands in Sam’s shirt and stepping close, the hot shock of Sam’s body against his sending sparks of electricity up his spine before some kind of sense kicked in, and he froze.
"Sammy?" he asked uncertainly, panting a little as he fought the impulse to shove Sam back against the shelves.
Sam Sam Sam, pulsed through his head, and Sam’s smell, so close and intimate, wasn't making things any easier.
Shit. What the fuck had he done?
~*~
Dealing with trying to figure what that voice in his head was, and why his skin felt so hot, Sam’s attention was only drawn to Dean when Dean grabbed him by the shirt. Automatically, Sam put an arm around Dean, to steady him.
"You alright?" he whispered, his gaze moving up to Dean’s face. His brother was slightly flushed. His chest was rising and falling, like he’d just run a couple miles, and there seemed to be a secret message in his eyes. It made his mouth go dry, though he didn't understand his own reaction.
Cocking his head to the side, Sam lifted his hand, running his palm over Dean’s face and forehead. ”What just happened. Dean, you’re hot. Burning hot,” he said, pressing into him as he reached behind Dean for the paper next to the jar, hoping for an explanation.
He could feel his brother’s heart beating against his chest. Stepping back, he looked Dean over again, his gaze sliding slowly over his brother, his brows furrowed. Alarm bells were ringing in his head, but he couldn't make sense of this.
~*~
Dean’s hands tightened in Sam’s shirt as his brother moved, reaching for something, but it whatever it was didn't seem important right now. Whatever it was was absolutely infinitesimal compared to how much Dean needed Sam’s hands on him.
Dean groaned when Sam’s hand pressed against his forehead and trailed down the side of his face, and his brother was saying something, but Dean couldn't focus on it.
Sam stepped back, and Dean groaned, trying to reach out for him again.
"Sammy, I can’t- I don’t…" Dean couldn't focus, couldn't make his mouth work properly, not with the pull in his guts telling him that kissing Sam is the only thing he should be doing with his mouth right now.
Suddenly, that was exactly what he was doing, without really knowing how he got there.
~*~
"Can’t what?" Sam’s breaths were coming out in pants. He tried to read the paper. His eyes focused on one Latin word. "Amatorius." He licked his lips. "Dean, something about eroti—"
Before he finished, he found himself tugged up against Dean. He opened his mouth to speak, and Dean’s tongue was invading his mouth. He put his hands between them, intending to push Dean away, to explain what was in the jar. But the way Dean took his mouth, the way he kissed him, took Sam’s breath away.
Heat lanced through him. He closed his arms around Dean, groaning into his mouth. His mind yelled at him, telling him he had to bring a stop to this. But his body… God he was hard, hard for his brother. ”Dean…” he whispered huskily, as the battle raged inside him.