Devilc's Den 2.0

Title: Introductio in Analysin Daemonium Infinitorum pt 4
Fandom: SPN-FNL
Pairing: Sam/Tim (Sam/Tim/Dean in a few places)
Rating: Adult (Here there be smut!)
Length: 50k words

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Author's Note: This is the cleaned up master version of a story I began writing for MiniNano back in November 2007. Sam Winchester is racing against time to save his brother Dean's life, and he's got Tim Riggins along for the ride ... and a bit more. ;)

The plan was to finish it and post it before the end of S3 of SPN and S2 FNL -- obviously that didn't happen.

Thank you to tartysuz and ixchel55 for their swift beta.

Legalese: SPN and FNL are copyright their respective copyright holders. This work is a labor of whatiffery, not a labor of lucre.





At lunch time, Sam dropped the bomb. "I think Dean and I should take Tim when we go." Landry and Tyra shot each other a loaded glance, Dean took a long guzzle of his beer, and Bobby set his knife and fork aside and looked Tim up and down appraisingly before he grunted and headed for his study.

"A little warning, Sam?" Dean said as he stood and followed Bobby down the hall.

Sam gave Tim an "I tried" look and went after.

Bobby shut the door after Sam entered. "Do you have any idea what you're getting into? What you're getting him into?" He said in a low, tight voice.

Dean spoke before Sam could, "Come on, Bobby, it's a teenaged boy, how bad can he be?"

"He doesn't think!" Bobby hissed. "He means well, he's got a knack for the basics, he's got a good heart, but for him there's all too often no difference between thinking and doing. Tim can resist anything but temptation. He doesn't mean to, but he's got a knack for creating havoc that rivals a trickster at times. He's not -- I checked."

"And he's bored, starting to get angry, and going stir crazy, Bobby," Dean said, catching Sam by surprise. "Sure he says it's over between him and Tyra, and maybe he'd like to think it is, but do you think he's going to keep sweet sleeping on your couch with no outlet for the next several months? We'll bring him into the field and he'll learn and get it right, or he'll Darwinize himself." Sam half wondered if Tim and Dean had talked, because Dean's championship of Tim caught him by surprise and it wasn't like Dean to go out on a limb like this.

Bobby scowled, "Or maybe get one of you killed because he couldn't say no to a pretty face."

Dean shrugged, hands spread. "Dead man walking, here, Bobby."

Sam wanted to slap the crap out of Dean, but he swallowed his rage down and replied, "He's not your speed, Bobby. You've done right by him. You've done more than right by him, but he's chafing here, and Dean's dead right about what's going to happen now that Tyra's here. Let him come with us. He'll sink, or he'll swim. And if he's sinking, we'll put him on the bus and get him back to you."

Bobby snorted and shook his head. "But would he stay on it? He's seen way too much for a kid his age, but in other ways, he's got no clue."

Dean scratched idly at the edge of his jaw. "Bobby, you can't mother-hen him forever."

Ouch, but Sam knew it was a calculated blow to Bobby's pride.

"Fine." Bobby bit out the word. "But don't say I haven't given you warning. Tim's a handful -- no, he's a double handful -- and you don't dare let go. I mean it when I say keep him on a short leash, Sam."

They found Tim slouched on the couch, arms crossed. "So?" His voice was soft, hesitant.

Dean grinned at him. "Obi-Sammy here's going to teach you the fine art of hunting down a case."

Both Sam and Tim looked at him, blinking.

"What?" Dean asked. "Star-Wars. You're like his Jedi Master, Sam."

Tim chewed his lip for a moment and shrugged. "Okay, but I'm not putting my hair in the little dork braid."

Dean laughed and said, "You're not getting a pony either."

Tim crossed his arms and got a stubborn look on his face. "Don't want a pony," he sulked. Then a mischievous grin flashed across his face as he looked up. "I want a puppy."

An equally wicked twinkle entered Dean's eye as he replied, "Sure thing, as soon as we find one that doesn't shed or shit."

They all laughed over that, and inwardly, Sam heaved a sigh of relief. It would be different having three people in the car again after so long with just him and Dean, but it would be good, too.

(And some how, some way, as soon as possible, there would be him, Tim, and a bed.)

~oo(0)oo~

"So, when are you planning on leaving?" Tyra asked Sam later that afternoon, when Bobby made it official.

"As soon as we find a case," Sam replied. "I've got a few ideas on where to start looking -- are you interested in learning, too?"

She shrugged and pushed a lock of hair back, tucking it behind an ear. "A bit. But Landry and I are going to be working on a project, so I think I'll let Bobby start showing us what to do.

"I always wanted to get out of Dillon, get out of West Texas, but this isn't what I had in mind at all. I mean, I don't really think I want to Hunt. Being tech support for Hunters? I ... maybe I could do that. You know, have a job and do this on the side. I think it's what Landry's cut out for, and I'm thinking maybe me, too." She chewed her lip in thought.

"Nothing says you have to do this, you know." He kept his voice light and mild. "Bobby's going to get you and Landry back in school come spring, and --" Sam swallowed hard. "Once upon a time I was planning to be a lawyer. But ... well, fate kind of forced me back in to Hunting. But, nothing says you can't get a scholarship or a grant and find a life that has nothing to do with this. You weren't raised in it like I was."

She smiled a little sadly. "Yeah, but Landry ... "

"You love him, don't you?"

Tyra paused, then piffed air through her bangs. "Yeah," she finally said. "He's never taken me for granted. Never saw me as Tyra Colette. Landry's seen things in me that no other guy has, things I didn't even see in myself." She folded her hands and sat down. "I mean, at first, he was just this annoying dork that hung out with Matt, my friend Julie's boyfriend. I didn't even bother to learn his name. But then I learned ... in a lot of ways, he's the bravest, kindest guy I've ever met, and I realized I should stop being so shallow, and that I should take this good thing that's right in front of me, because it was one of the few good things that was ever going to be there just for the taking."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "What about Tim?"

"What about him?"

"You tell me."

"You ... haven't been around him the way I have and, well, he never let me in. And," she sighed heavily and ran both hands through her hair, "I was with him because I was shallow. I wanted him because he was so good looking, and because he was Jason Street's best friend, and I forgave Tim a lot of things because of those two things. I needed him. I needed to be the regular for the hottest guy in school, and I needed him because that got me close to Jason. See, if Jason broke up with Lyla Garrity, maybe he'd finally see me, so I was all set to swoop in and mend his broken heart and ... well, that didn't happen. Except that Tim slept with Lyla." Her voice turned bitter. "He'd been in love with her for years -- only he didn't realize it."

"Oh."

"Yeah. But things happened and I had a moment that woke me up and I realized that Tim Riggins would always be Tim Riggins, and if we kept on breaking up and getting back together, it would be out of force of habit, and that I didn't need to have a man to have something in life.

"Also … Tim's broken in ways that I can't fix. Or he won't let me fix. Or maybe he'll fix himself when the right person and right time and place come along. Or maybe that will never happen. But I just know that I'm not the person for Tim. Not that way. So, we're friends now, and actually, that's worked a hell of a lot better, because he's let me be there as a friend, and he's been there for me, too, a few times.

"But now," she smiled, "I've got Landry, who's a dork, and a motormouth, and I don't have a plan in the world for fixing him, and he makes me happy in ways I never thought I could be happy. Ways I didn't really know existed until I started to get to know him. And I'm babbling." She laughed.

Sam just nodded and smiled.

"You should totally take Tim Hunting," Tyra said brightly. "I think he needs it more than anything right now. Tim ... needs to feel needed, wanted. He needs to be useful and good at something. That's what football was to him. Besides getting him beer and just about any girl he asked, he knew that he was a good fullback. That Smash got all those yards because he was there, clearing the way. He just ..." her voice trailed off, but when she spoke again, there was steel in it. "If he fucks up, tell him, but don't be cruel about it, don't ride him. And let him know when he does right, let him know that he's earned his place on your team, because if you make him feel like he belongs, he'll give you everything he's got, and it's actually a hell of a lot more than people give him credit for."

He's already given me everything. I don't quite know why, but, he has, Sam thought. He nodded thoughtfully as he rolled what she'd just told him about Tim over in his mind. They sat in silence broken only by the ticking of the old clock on the sideboard. "Anything else?" Sam asked after a few minutes passed.

"Well ... he's a slave to his dick," she began, but then dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "but sometimes, it's not just about sex for him, y'know."

Sam choked.

Tyra winked at him and said, "I know Tim." She rose and headed down the hall.

~oo(0)oo~

"So, uh ..." Tim scratched idly at his hair. "How do you find a case?"

"It's a process of looking for things that just don't seem right, and then following up to see if you can find a pattern." Sam opened up his laptop. "Dean's a bit more old school than I am, but he's not that different. I subscribe to some RSS feeds and some mailing lists devoted to different kinds of news: news of the weird, strange fires, animal mutilations, and the like. Most people, they're just on it for laughs, or because they get their kicks vicariously, or they're researching some strange phenomena, but as a Hunter, you'll start using that sixth sense, and read and just start thinking that there's got to be more to the story, that something's not quite right.

"And then you start following up on those stories that make you ... tingle, I guess. And a lot of the times, it's nothing, but every now and again, you find a pattern of things that others have overlooked or written off.

"Like this." Sam pointed to a link. "Livestock mutilations down in southeastern Colorado. It might be some bored teens causing trouble, but I've done some more digging, and it's started suddenly in the past two months --" Sam pointed to several other tabs in his browser, "I'm thinking it's a chupacabra."

"Chupa-what?"

"Chupacabra," Dean said from behind them. "Vampire bats from hell." Dean smiled as he wiped his hands dry with a dishtowel. "Did you know that Landry's trying to cobble together a theodolite?"

"What?"

"A theodolite," Dean repeated.

"That's a surveyor's tool, Dean, you know that, right?"

Dean grinned. "I think he's got this idea about slaying demons with trigonometry."

Tim said, "He's just trying to help Tyra see how math is useful. Also, he thinks that Bobby's property lines are a little off." At Sam and Dean's looks, he continued, "He talked to me about it a little bit before Tyra came. Told me surveyors make good money and that it would keep him sharp, and that I might learn something useful, too." He rolled his eyes. "But Tyra, she's starting to actually learn all that fancy math. Unless I beat something to death with the textbook or the tripod? I don't think it would do me a lick of good." He laughed. "Besides, better the two of them trooping through the rain, and wet leaves, and snow."

Sam idly scratched at his jaw line and wondered if Landry really did have plans to use math to do magic somehow. After all, according to Bobby, he had found a way to use a quadratic equation for something other than determining peak efficiency. He made a mental note to find out more about that later. He pointed back to the computer. "Anyhow, Tim, I think there are three more possible cases in here. I want you to start reading and seeing if you can find them, too, so we can get an idea of where to go after Colorado."

Tim groaned. "I hate reading."

Dean leaned down and said, "Part of being a Hunter is putting in the hours of boring research so that you can have your ten minutes of sheer terror."

~oo(0)oo~

"How 'bout we leave on Friday?' Dean said after dinner.

"Why Friday?" Tim asked.

"It will give us time to tie up a few loose ends," Bobby replied. "Also, that's when your new ID will get here."

"Oh. Um ... what's my name and where am I from?"

Bobby got a slightly wicked grin in his eye and said, "You're John Riggins from Caliente, Nevada." Pause. "Yes, you're 21. And I picked Nevada because they're pretty damn paranoid about 21 and over ID."

"Yeah, don't I know it," Dean griped. "It's the most paranoid state I ever lived in about that."

"Really?"

"Yeah, they use completely different looking licenses." Sam said. "We lived there one winter when I was a freshman in high school, and Dean was pissed about it because there was no way to alter it to make him pass as 21."

"Under 21, and they took your picture in profile," Dean explained. "And if that wasn't enough, they put 'Under 21' in huge red letters across the top. So even if you got the laminate pried open and did a re-touch on the lettering, the photo was a dead give away. You really needed to get your hand on a blank template to get a good fake Nevada driver's license."

"It's a little bit different now," Bobby said. "Underage drivers get a three-quarter profile photo taken, but they've still got the really prominent 'Under 21' on it. I know, because I also got one made for Landry, with his real age on it."

"Do I get a credit card, too?" Tim asked.

"No!" The three of them replied as one.

"Well, that sucks." Tim's expression turned mock pouty.

He perked up when Dean said, "But I've got a Beretta just for you. I also just sawed the barrel off a 20 gauge -- it fits good under a coat. Can't tell it's there."

"Speaking of which," Bobby said, "a jacket for you came in the mail today. Now, up here, it's ordinarily a late fall jacket, and you'll have to get something longer and looser to hide the 20 gauge, but ...." he reached over and grabbed a large bubble wrap envelope and handed it to Tim.

Tim took it and turned it over wonderingly a few times in his hands before almost gingerly tearing it open. His eyes grew bright with emotion as he saw what lay inside. "It's ... I don't know what to say." He held out a shearling-lined Levi jean jacket.

"Tyra and Landry said that you had one just like this back in Texas -- I ordered it before I knew you were going Hunting. I thought you might like a little bit of home."

"Yeah." Tim gave that Mona Lisa smile of his, the one that meant that he was so touched he didn't dare show it. He stepped forward and wrapped Bobby in a bear-hug so tight that the older man grunted. "Thanks, Bobby. This ... you didn't have to."

"But, I did." Bobby actually blushed. "Now try it on, let's make sure it fits right."

Later, as they were in the bathroom getting ready for bed, Sam said, "Would've thought you had a letterman's jacket."

Tim wiped his face dry and shook his head. "Nope. Not really my style. Big banner in the front yard was good enough." He squirted toothpaste on his toothbrush, studied it for a moment, then said softly, "Besides, they cost a lot of money. Billy asked, because he had one in high school and he loved the hell out of it, but ... I wasn't going to wear it much if I got it."

"But it was nice of him to ask," Sam pointed out. He had lettered in soccer, even got a trophy for a championship, but dad never offered. They moved too much and he wasn't going to spend $200 for a jacket that would be no good in a few months.

"Yeah, it was," Tim said, then shrugged, and brushed his teeth.

~oo(0)oo~

Sam forced himself to wait 30 minutes then five more to be really sure that Dean had nodded off before he tapped Tim on the shoulder and pointed towards the kitchen. Even in the gloom and shadows, he could see the eager gleam in Tim's eyes.

Yeah, the laundry room was like midnight in a mineshaft, and cold to boot, but having Tim twice in a day? So very worth it.

They were frantically, hungrily kissing, when the door opened.

"Is this a private party, or can I come too?" Dean asked.

~oo(0)oo~

For a split second, Sam's heart leaped into his throat. He tried to speak, but his mouth had gone cotton dry.

Tim leaned in and whispered huskily, tone sending shivers up Sam's spine, "It's your call. It's not my first three-way. With siblings, even."

(OhGod.)

Because, on the one hand, Jesus fuck, yes! It was ... it was a way to have Dean and not have him, to connect with Dean in a completely new, incredibly intimate way.

But.

A part of Sam didn't want to share Tim.

But Tim, not understanding the reason for the pause, or perhaps understanding it completely, whispered again, "It's cool, really. If you want to."

Right.

Sam responded by wrapping an arm around Tim and pulling him in close, while he reached with his other arm and pulled Dean into the room, facing him, but pressed against the washing machine. He then spun Tim to face Dean and pressed them together.

Despite the dim light, Sam could read the expression on Dean's face. He knew, Sam realized with a feeling of mixed joy and despair. Dean had figured it out and ... was still doing this. As long as it was shared through Tim. He saw that in Dean's eyes, and nodded his understanding. This far, but no further.

"We leaving the door open?" Tim asked.

"Don't see why not," Dean murmured in reply. "Yeah, somebody might come in for a midnight snack, but they might as well get an eyeful as well as an earful, too."

At least, we'll be able to see a little of what we're doing, Sam thought as he began sucking kisses on the back of Tim's neck, causing him to stiffen and gasp in appreciation.

~oo(0)oo~

There was an unspoken rule between him and Dean: touch Tim all over, but don't touch each other. Any time they happened to brush hands, both withdrew with lightning speed.

And, as much as part of Sam wanted to grab Tim and just go for it, something made him hold back, waiting, watching, smelling, and listening.

He ran his hands under Tim's shirt, sliding upward, teasing the hard nubs of his nipples as Dean's hands smoothly and surely ran across Tim's taut stomach and over the sharp blades of his hips, before hooking in the waistband of his shorts and pulling down, the two of them making Tim writhe between them, and Sam was as hard as a steel pole while Dean moaned his appreciation of whatever Tim did with his mouth at the junction of neck and collarbone, before Dean seized Tim, reaching around to cup his ass -- Sam jumping back out of reach -- clenching him, making Tim hiss in delight, and with a strangled noise of his own, began grinding against him.

Part of Sam wanted to chafe up against Tim, start thrusting and rocking his own way to orgasm. (With the added bonus of Dean's knuckles rubbing against his pelvis.)

(No. Can't. Not going there. Not crossing that line. It would destroy us. Shared intimacy, not shared flesh.)

Instead, Sam made himself step back, bending his hips out of the way -- cock throbbing with need -- as he leaned forward from the waist and buried his head deep in the side of Tim's neck, kissing, sucking, nipping, causing him to add a whole new chorus to the shivers and breathy cries to that which Dean had already wrung from him. Sam closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, drinking in the smells of Tim and sex. (And Dean.)

Only, Tim seemed to be forgetting himself, lost in the rush of oncoming climax, because he got noisier, so much so that Sam ran his right hand up and over those full, lush lips -- so soft and still throbbing ever so slightly from getting and giving kisses -- and, fingers probing, questing, demanded entrance, until Tim opened his mouth and sucked them in, tongue tangling around them, stroking, sending such a jolt through Sam's body that he gasped as his cock twitched and spurted a fresh flood of pre-come.

Full body shivers started to overtake Tim now, Sam could tell that he was close, Dean too, by the raspy hitch in his breathing, and the choked, bitten off nature of his obscenities.

Sam reached his other hand up to Tim's face, shuddered and moaned inwardly when Tim sucked those fingers in, took his other hand away, and swiftly reached down and back -- Tim faltering, body stiffening in surprise -- ghosting his fingers there, teasing -- Tim ripped his head away from Sam's other hand, voice ragged. "Jesus, Sam, what are you --" pushing one finger in to the first knuckle, pulling it out and quickly pushing it back in, all the way. "Oh, Jesus!" Tim gasped, full body flexing in response.

Dean gave a long, drawn out groan and Sam got in two more strokes before Tim gave a short, almost shocked cry, his entire body arching in climax before his knees buckled a moment later and he started going down, dragging an almost equally noodle legged Dean with him.

Sam caught Tim under the arms and hauled up, but it was like trying to get a rag doll to stand.

Dean managed to catch himself on the edge of the washer, half-laughing and saying something about the last time he came so hard the world went away, and between the two of them, they finally got Tim mostly upright, but he was so dazed that several seconds passed before he could speak, and when he did, all he could say was, "Jesus Christ, Sam. Jesus Christ."

Sam laughed along with Dean, but he had hit the point where he couldn't wait any longer. He pressed Tim against Dean, screwed his eyes shut and pushed forward, pretending it was Tim's ass he was fucking, not his thighs, and it was so, so good when he finally came.

They left the laundry room door open to help air it out, and cleaned a still shaky Tim up with paper towels and the incredibly cold water from the tap, and as Dean swiped at the come all across Tim's lower belly -- the sight of that making Sam twitch-tingle a bit despite the cold -- Sam noticed something else in the moonlight.

At some point, Tim had sucked a hickey on to Dean's neck.

Crap.

When he saw the damage the now fully recovered Tim closed his eyes and winced. It was faint now, but would be bright burgundy-red by morning. "We are so fucked," he whispered. "Sorry."

Dean shook his head and reached over and ruffled Tim's hair. "Nah. Don't worry. I'll just say got dressed again, hit a bar, and picked up some chick."

"And if you think they'll believe that, I've got this bridge in Brooklyn I'd like to sell you," Sam muttered darkly.

Dean hissed, "Look, we'll be fucking busted for sure if we slink around, acting all guilty, like we've got something to hide."

Tim cleared his throat. "Bobby got me this shirt that zips way up in front, kind of like a turtleneck. It's in my dresser. I can just sneak in and get it. Well, not really sneak in, because Landry doesn't sleep much, but he probably won't ask questions or think something's up."

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. He liked to think that Bobby would just grumble and accept this, the same way he had grumbled and accepted so many other things about them. But he also knew that luck was a fickle bitch, and not to push her more than they already had.

In the end, they didn't need Tim's shirt after all. Dean buttoned his flannel shirt all the way up, and that covered the hickey just fine, and since Bobby was notorious for being a heat miser ("You aren't the ones stuck paying the bills.") they doubted anybody would think twice about it.

---

Part Five