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Entry tags:
Touch My Brother And You Die (Sam/Dean), R
Title: Touch My Brother And You Die
Gifter:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
runedgirl
Giftee:fridayblues
Pairing/Characters: Sam/Dean
Word Count: 2800
Rating: R
Warning: Show levels of violence
Summary: Michael captures the Winchesters. He knows just how to get Dean to talk – and it’s not by touching Dean.
Author's Note: Outsider POV. For the prompt, “touch my brother and you die" as a gift for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
spn_j2_xmas. I tried to make the violence not very graphic as you requested, hope I succeeded!
Scott has seen violence before. Not in his life before Michael and the apocalypse changed everything; then he was content to be a shop clerk in one of the last remaining record stores in his small town, touting vinyl everything and catering to the mix of leftover hippies and twenty-somethings trying to be cool. The worst thing that happened to Scott before Michael was that time some drunk dude fell into one of the display shelves and shattered a dozen rare collectible vinyls including two Queen LPs, three Bowie from the Ziggy Stardust era and even a Mott the Hoople that he knew right away he’d never be able to replace.
Everything changed with Michael and the angels, and then Scott saw things he never imagined. Brutal, painful, soul-destroying things. Some of those things happened to his mom and his little brother, while Scott and his dad tried frantically to get to them. They got there in time to see the aftermath, before the light went out of his mom’s eyes but not before Benji went cold and silent.
So Scott knows violence, and that’s what’s happening here, in an abandoned barn in rural Kansas. Scott was one of the fortunate few who made it through the portal the Winchester brothers created, thanks to his impulsive joining up with the resistance forces trying (and failing) to stop Michael. To stop more deaths of mothers and little brothers. Sam and Dean welcomed them (mostly) into their home, the underground fortress they called the bunker, and Scott and the others have tried to be useful. Michael is here in this world now, so that’s where Scott’s fight is too.
This wasn’t supposed to be a showdown with the archangel itself. It was one part training mission, one part see who’s been killing people two towns over mission, with Scott and three others from the other universe watching and learning from Sam and Dean.
Scott is ashamed to say he froze when Michael himself appeared, in a vessel that wasn’t quite whole, full of fury. He’s pretty sure his companions did too. Not Sam and Dean, though. They lunged right at him, equally full of fury, only to be tossed to opposite sides of the room. They’re both restrained now, tied to supports posts in the dilapidated old barn they were lured to (Scott is now realizing).
Michael approaches Dean first. He’s breathing hard and bleeding from a gash on his forehead, but his eyes are full of nothing but hatred and determination. “We had a deal, you fucker,” he snarls, and from across the room Sam says under his breath, “Dean.” A warning.
Michael just smiles, even his clothes unsullied, his hands clean. “Did we?” he asks, and he unsheathes his blade, twirls it so the fading sunlight streaming through the barn windows glints across its metal surface.
Dean eyes the blade momentarily, then raises his eyes and his chin in defiance. He’s not afraid, though Scott’s insides are turning to acid and he thinks he might vomit. He’s seen how Michael likes to play with his prey.
“So tell me,” Michael says, and he’s right in front of Dean now. “Where can I find the girl with the spear? Tell me and I’ll be merciful.”
Scott snorts. He doesn’t mean to, it just happens. For a split second, Michael inclines his head in Scott’s direction, but he turns back when Dean speaks.
“Yeah, sure. I totally believe you.” It’s a sneer, dripping with sarcasm.
Michael shrugs. “You don’t have to believe me, just tell me.”
And with that, the point of the blade breaks the skin of Dean’s chest, traces slowly down his middle, shredding shirt and sending buttons popping, a thin trickle of red in its wake.
Dean draws in a shaky breath, but doesn’t make a sound.
Sam, on the other hand, immediately yells “Stop!”
Michael does, his hand hovering.
Dean snaps his gaze to Sam, shakes his head. His eyes look desperate.
Michael smiles again, pulls the blade away and holds it up. Scott watches the drip drip drip of blood fall to the floor, time standing still.
“What was I thinking?” Michael says, and the way he says it sends goosebumps racing over Scott’s whole body. “I can cut you and cut you and cut you, and it won’t make a difference, will it? It won’t make you talk.”
Dean looks frantic now, still shaking his head but pointedly not looking at Sam.
“There’s a better way to make you tell me what I want to know. I’ve been in your head, Dean. I know what you’re afraid of, what keeps you awake at night, what your nightmares are about.”
“No,” Dean insists, his whole body strung tight now, more on edge than when the knife blade was slicing him open. “No.”
Michael smirks and spins, and Scott knows instantly what he meant, what he’s about to do. He knows how Michael works, watched as his father’s will to live drained away as he saw what they did to his wife and child.
Michael takes two steps toward Sam, and Dean yells so loudly it echoes in the empty barn.
“Touch my brother and you die!”
“Oh yes, please tell me about how you’ll accomplish that,” Michael agrees, and sinks the blade into the base of Sam’s throat, a little deeper than he sliced into Dean. Sam’s eyes narrow, and his breath comes fast, but he doesn’t make a sound.
“No!” Dean yells again, and he’s fighting against the ropes binding him so hard that the support beam is shaking and Scott wonders if the whole barn will fall down on top of them and just kill them all.
The knife slides down, shredding Sam’s shirt too, the blood pooling up more thickly from the deeper cut. It goes on and goes on and goes on, it seems like hours to Scott that it goes on, each time an inch to the right or the left, and Sam’s panting now, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes though he’s still defiantly silent. Michael whistles as he works. Slow. Methodical. Careful.
“Where is she?” Michael asks, but he’s not talking to Sam. He turns his head, looks over his shoulder at Dean.
“I don’t know!” Dean spits, and Scott’s not sure he’s ever seen someone so enraged. Dean’s face is as red as Sam’s blood; his eyes look otherworldly there’s so much rage there.
“Think harder,” Michael advises, and turns back to Sam. Scott can’t see clearly what he’s doing now, but it’s something worse, he can tell by Sam’s reaction, the way he’s shaking. Going into shock, Scott’s brain informs him. He knows how this works.
Michael’s movements are almost delicate, and there’s a smile of satisfaction on his face as he works.
Scott’s stomach heaves; he swallows it back down. He’s shaking so hard that the ropes binding him are chafing his skin, but it’s nothing – nothing – compared to what’s happening to Sam.
Soon Sam can’t keep quiet, though he’s still trying valiantly, but soft groans and gasps escape him with every twist of the knife. His body jerks and twitches, involuntary movements as he tries and fails to shrink away from the pain.
Tears are streaming down Dean’s face now too, and his body jerks hard every time Sam’s does, like they’re wired together and he can feel everything that his brother is feeling. He’s cursing Michael with every breath, threats and insults and incoherent almost-groans as Sam starts to lose it, sobbing for real.
Beside Scott, George starts to puke. George was a cop before the Apocalypse, but he probably never saw anything as gruesome as this.
Michael’s lackeys bring him bucket after bucket of cold water to rouse Sam. Twice Sam passes out; twice, Michael wakes him and starts on a new body part. Sam is shaking violently now, soaking wet and only the ropes keeping him upright. The floor beneath him is a puddle of red water.
Minutes – hours? – ago, Dean told Michael her name was Kaia and that’s all they knew, but Michael doesn’t stop. Scott’s fairly sure he wouldn’t have stopped anyway; he’s enjoying this. Enjoying Sam’s agony, but Dean’s too. Scott can barely look at Dean, there’s so much pain in his eyes.
When Michael makes the deepest cut yet, perhaps the one he thinks will end this, Sam finally calls out for his brother.
“Dean!” he screams, the agony dripping from his voice.
“Sammy!” Dean screams back, equal agony. “Sam!”
Michael keeps going and Dean keeps saying Sam’s name, over and over and over, like it’s a mantra to let Sam know he’s not alone. So if Sam is going, he’ll know Dean is there with him til the end.
Scott doesn’t know when he started crying too.
The blinding light that illuminates the entire barn when the other angel suddenly appears is such a shock that for a moment, Scott thinks he’s finally had a heart attack and died. There’s a roar of anger, and the angel they call Castielappears. He wields a spear that makes Michael stumble backwards, and Scott would swear that he saw fear in Michael’s eyes, though he’s sure that can’t be right.
Just like that, Michael is gone. The spear lances all three lackeys within seconds, and Castiel turns to Dean.
“Sam!” Dean gasps, and the angel goes to Sam instead. His head is down, his body wrecked, the shivers stopped. It’s too late, Scott thinks, and the heaving he’s been holding off won’t be held off any longer.
Castiel puts his hands on Sam, clasps his head and closes his eyes. There’s another bright light, and Sam makes a low noise, a moan that’s barely audible.
“Sammy!” Dean yells, “Sam, it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay,” though it doesn’t seem to Scott that can possibly be true.
Castiel touches Sam again, more tenderly than Scott thought an angel could ever touch a human.
“Cas!” Dean says, pulling on his ropes with renewed energy, desperation written all over his face.
That’s all he says, but the angel seems to understand. He leaves Sam and goes to Dean, puts his hands on Dean’s forehead where the gash has dried to caked blood. Dean shakes his head angrily.
“Leave it, I’m fine, get me outta here goddammit, now now!”
Castiel once again obeys, and the second Dean is half freed, he tries to run to Sam, tripping and falling with his feet still tangled in the half undone ropes.
“Easy,” Castiel says and he’s still being so uncharacteristically gentle for an angel. He tries to help Dean up, but Dean throws him off, half crawls to his brother and staggers to his feet
“Sammy, hey, hey,” Dean says, softly, slicing through the ropes with infinite care until Sam slumps forward into his arms. “It’s okay, it’s okay now, I gotcha, I gotcha.”
He pushes Sam’s torn and bloodied shirt back, hands patting over his chest and stomach to check his wounds. Sam is red everywhere, but from where Scott is he can see that the wounds themselves are gone, mysteriously closed over by the angel’s touch.
Castiel approaches to untie him, but Scott shrinks back, untrusting of such power – of an angel.
Cas shakes his head patiently, waits until Scott allows him to undo the ropes, then frees the others.
“Cas?” Dean asks, still exploring Sam’s body all over.
“He’s healed,” Castiel answers, understanding the unspoken question. “It’s all right Dean, we got here in time.”
“The fuck you did!” Dean snarls, and Sam rouses to admonish “Dean” softly.
“I’m okay, thanks Cas,” Sam says, and Sam puts his hand on the side of his brother’s face and strokes him gently. “I’m okay, Dean.”
“Fuck,” Dean answers, his hand on top of Sam’s where it’s still on his face. “Fuck, Sammy.”
“We should go,” Castiel says. “Michael will be back.”
“Can you walk?” Dean asks Sam, and Sam nods. Dean slings Sam’s arm around his shoulders and helps him anyway, the two of them heading out the open barn door to make their way across the field to where their car waits.
Scott and the others help Cas pick up the weapons and supplies scattered about, and then they leave too. Scott is the last one out, going back to retrieve his cell phone because the last thing he wants is for Michael to know who he is. He starts across the field, but stops when he hears a sound, cautious. His eyes adjust to the dark little by little, and he can see that it’s Sam and Dean, stopped beside another old building on their way to their car. Cas and the others are up ahead, taking the other path to where they parked their truck.
At first he thinks the Winchesters need help, about to speak up and offer a ‘what’s wrong?’
Sam is slid down the side of the building, sitting on the damp grass. Dean is curled over him, gripping Sam by both sides of his ruined shirt, almost shaking him.
“Couldn’t get to you Sammy, couldn’t do a fucking thing, just had to watch while that bastard…” Dean breaks off and makes a twisted, hurt sound, slams one fist into the side of the shed they’re crouched against with enough force to splinter the wood.
Sam grabs his brother’s fist, cradles it in his own protectively. “Shh shh, it’s okay, I’m okay.”
“Sam,” Dean says again, brokenly, and Sam brings Dean’s clenched fist up to his lips and kisses it.
It’s an odd thing to do, and a chill runs up Scott’s spine, a sense that something is happening that’s not quite right. It’s a sense he’s felt before.
“I’m here,” Sam says, soft, but it’s clear in the silence of the night. “Hey, I’m here, Dean.”
From where he stands in the thicket of trees, Scott can see that now Dean’s the one who’s shaking. His shoulders tremble violently and he keeps shaking his head, like he can shake off the shivers – or maybe the memory of what was done to his brother.
Sam kisses his fist again, and Dean opens his hand and lays it against Sam’s face, the same way Sam did to him before.
“Sammy,” he whispers, and then they both lean in and their mouths slot together. They don’t hear Scott gasp, they’re cradling each other’s heads, hands over ears while their mouths work hungrily, desperately. Every few seconds, Sam pulls away to stroke his fingers over the cup of Dean’s ear, through his cropped hair, and whisper “It’s okay, I’m okay.”
Finally they stop, pulling back just enough to look each other in the eyes. Sam stands up and pulls Dean with him; Dean leans his forehead against Sam’s, no longer trembling.
“Let’s go,” Sam says, voice gruff, “And I’ll show you just how okay I am.”
Dean huffs, and one of Sam’s big hands comes around and grips his ass, fingers digging in like they’ve been there before and know the way. Like a button has been pushed, Dean crowds in, all up against Sam, wraps one leg around Sam’s hip so Sam can really get a good handful of him.
“Oh yeah?” Dean answers, and Scott can hear the smile in his voice.
Sam gives his ass a good squeeze and brings their mouths together again. Despite the erotic position they’re in, it’s quick, more chaste.
“Yeah?”
Dean nods, puts his foot back on the ground. They hang onto each other as they make their way through the woods, unwilling to stop touching for even a second.
There’s a fluttering sound, and suddenly the angel Castiel is standing right in front of Scott, looking stern and imposing.
“I—“ Scott stammers, unsure of what to say.
Castiel narrows his steel blue eyes. “It’s nobody’s business,” he says finally, voice like gravel. “No one else would understand.”
Scott nods. “I won’t say anything,” he assures the angel quickly. “I would never, none of my business.”
Castiel regards him for another long moment, assessing.
“They’re waiting for you at the truck,” he says. Then, with another flutter of invisible wings, he’s gone.
Scott hurries to the truck and climbs into the back seat, everyone patting each other on the back in relief.
He thinks that Castiel is wrong.
Scott has seen a lot, too much. He thinks maybe he does understand.
Through the trees behind them, Scott can hear the rumble of the big old car as she takes her boys home.
Gifter:
runedgirlGiftee:
fridaybluesPairing/Characters: Sam/Dean
Word Count: 2800
Rating: R
Warning: Show levels of violence
Summary: Michael captures the Winchesters. He knows just how to get Dean to talk – and it’s not by touching Dean.
Author's Note: Outsider POV. For the prompt, “touch my brother and you die" as a gift for
spn_j2_xmas. I tried to make the violence not very graphic as you requested, hope I succeeded!Scott has seen violence before. Not in his life before Michael and the apocalypse changed everything; then he was content to be a shop clerk in one of the last remaining record stores in his small town, touting vinyl everything and catering to the mix of leftover hippies and twenty-somethings trying to be cool. The worst thing that happened to Scott before Michael was that time some drunk dude fell into one of the display shelves and shattered a dozen rare collectible vinyls including two Queen LPs, three Bowie from the Ziggy Stardust era and even a Mott the Hoople that he knew right away he’d never be able to replace.
Everything changed with Michael and the angels, and then Scott saw things he never imagined. Brutal, painful, soul-destroying things. Some of those things happened to his mom and his little brother, while Scott and his dad tried frantically to get to them. They got there in time to see the aftermath, before the light went out of his mom’s eyes but not before Benji went cold and silent.
So Scott knows violence, and that’s what’s happening here, in an abandoned barn in rural Kansas. Scott was one of the fortunate few who made it through the portal the Winchester brothers created, thanks to his impulsive joining up with the resistance forces trying (and failing) to stop Michael. To stop more deaths of mothers and little brothers. Sam and Dean welcomed them (mostly) into their home, the underground fortress they called the bunker, and Scott and the others have tried to be useful. Michael is here in this world now, so that’s where Scott’s fight is too.
This wasn’t supposed to be a showdown with the archangel itself. It was one part training mission, one part see who’s been killing people two towns over mission, with Scott and three others from the other universe watching and learning from Sam and Dean.
Scott is ashamed to say he froze when Michael himself appeared, in a vessel that wasn’t quite whole, full of fury. He’s pretty sure his companions did too. Not Sam and Dean, though. They lunged right at him, equally full of fury, only to be tossed to opposite sides of the room. They’re both restrained now, tied to supports posts in the dilapidated old barn they were lured to (Scott is now realizing).
Michael approaches Dean first. He’s breathing hard and bleeding from a gash on his forehead, but his eyes are full of nothing but hatred and determination. “We had a deal, you fucker,” he snarls, and from across the room Sam says under his breath, “Dean.” A warning.
Michael just smiles, even his clothes unsullied, his hands clean. “Did we?” he asks, and he unsheathes his blade, twirls it so the fading sunlight streaming through the barn windows glints across its metal surface.
Dean eyes the blade momentarily, then raises his eyes and his chin in defiance. He’s not afraid, though Scott’s insides are turning to acid and he thinks he might vomit. He’s seen how Michael likes to play with his prey.
“So tell me,” Michael says, and he’s right in front of Dean now. “Where can I find the girl with the spear? Tell me and I’ll be merciful.”
Scott snorts. He doesn’t mean to, it just happens. For a split second, Michael inclines his head in Scott’s direction, but he turns back when Dean speaks.
“Yeah, sure. I totally believe you.” It’s a sneer, dripping with sarcasm.
Michael shrugs. “You don’t have to believe me, just tell me.”
And with that, the point of the blade breaks the skin of Dean’s chest, traces slowly down his middle, shredding shirt and sending buttons popping, a thin trickle of red in its wake.
Dean draws in a shaky breath, but doesn’t make a sound.
Sam, on the other hand, immediately yells “Stop!”
Michael does, his hand hovering.
Dean snaps his gaze to Sam, shakes his head. His eyes look desperate.
Michael smiles again, pulls the blade away and holds it up. Scott watches the drip drip drip of blood fall to the floor, time standing still.
“What was I thinking?” Michael says, and the way he says it sends goosebumps racing over Scott’s whole body. “I can cut you and cut you and cut you, and it won’t make a difference, will it? It won’t make you talk.”
Dean looks frantic now, still shaking his head but pointedly not looking at Sam.
“There’s a better way to make you tell me what I want to know. I’ve been in your head, Dean. I know what you’re afraid of, what keeps you awake at night, what your nightmares are about.”
“No,” Dean insists, his whole body strung tight now, more on edge than when the knife blade was slicing him open. “No.”
Michael smirks and spins, and Scott knows instantly what he meant, what he’s about to do. He knows how Michael works, watched as his father’s will to live drained away as he saw what they did to his wife and child.
Michael takes two steps toward Sam, and Dean yells so loudly it echoes in the empty barn.
“Touch my brother and you die!”
“Oh yes, please tell me about how you’ll accomplish that,” Michael agrees, and sinks the blade into the base of Sam’s throat, a little deeper than he sliced into Dean. Sam’s eyes narrow, and his breath comes fast, but he doesn’t make a sound.
“No!” Dean yells again, and he’s fighting against the ropes binding him so hard that the support beam is shaking and Scott wonders if the whole barn will fall down on top of them and just kill them all.
The knife slides down, shredding Sam’s shirt too, the blood pooling up more thickly from the deeper cut. It goes on and goes on and goes on, it seems like hours to Scott that it goes on, each time an inch to the right or the left, and Sam’s panting now, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes though he’s still defiantly silent. Michael whistles as he works. Slow. Methodical. Careful.
“Where is she?” Michael asks, but he’s not talking to Sam. He turns his head, looks over his shoulder at Dean.
“I don’t know!” Dean spits, and Scott’s not sure he’s ever seen someone so enraged. Dean’s face is as red as Sam’s blood; his eyes look otherworldly there’s so much rage there.
“Think harder,” Michael advises, and turns back to Sam. Scott can’t see clearly what he’s doing now, but it’s something worse, he can tell by Sam’s reaction, the way he’s shaking. Going into shock, Scott’s brain informs him. He knows how this works.
Michael’s movements are almost delicate, and there’s a smile of satisfaction on his face as he works.
Scott’s stomach heaves; he swallows it back down. He’s shaking so hard that the ropes binding him are chafing his skin, but it’s nothing – nothing – compared to what’s happening to Sam.
Soon Sam can’t keep quiet, though he’s still trying valiantly, but soft groans and gasps escape him with every twist of the knife. His body jerks and twitches, involuntary movements as he tries and fails to shrink away from the pain.
Tears are streaming down Dean’s face now too, and his body jerks hard every time Sam’s does, like they’re wired together and he can feel everything that his brother is feeling. He’s cursing Michael with every breath, threats and insults and incoherent almost-groans as Sam starts to lose it, sobbing for real.
Beside Scott, George starts to puke. George was a cop before the Apocalypse, but he probably never saw anything as gruesome as this.
Michael’s lackeys bring him bucket after bucket of cold water to rouse Sam. Twice Sam passes out; twice, Michael wakes him and starts on a new body part. Sam is shaking violently now, soaking wet and only the ropes keeping him upright. The floor beneath him is a puddle of red water.
Minutes – hours? – ago, Dean told Michael her name was Kaia and that’s all they knew, but Michael doesn’t stop. Scott’s fairly sure he wouldn’t have stopped anyway; he’s enjoying this. Enjoying Sam’s agony, but Dean’s too. Scott can barely look at Dean, there’s so much pain in his eyes.
When Michael makes the deepest cut yet, perhaps the one he thinks will end this, Sam finally calls out for his brother.
“Dean!” he screams, the agony dripping from his voice.
“Sammy!” Dean screams back, equal agony. “Sam!”
Michael keeps going and Dean keeps saying Sam’s name, over and over and over, like it’s a mantra to let Sam know he’s not alone. So if Sam is going, he’ll know Dean is there with him til the end.
Scott doesn’t know when he started crying too.
The blinding light that illuminates the entire barn when the other angel suddenly appears is such a shock that for a moment, Scott thinks he’s finally had a heart attack and died. There’s a roar of anger, and the angel they call Castielappears. He wields a spear that makes Michael stumble backwards, and Scott would swear that he saw fear in Michael’s eyes, though he’s sure that can’t be right.
Just like that, Michael is gone. The spear lances all three lackeys within seconds, and Castiel turns to Dean.
“Sam!” Dean gasps, and the angel goes to Sam instead. His head is down, his body wrecked, the shivers stopped. It’s too late, Scott thinks, and the heaving he’s been holding off won’t be held off any longer.
Castiel puts his hands on Sam, clasps his head and closes his eyes. There’s another bright light, and Sam makes a low noise, a moan that’s barely audible.
“Sammy!” Dean yells, “Sam, it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay,” though it doesn’t seem to Scott that can possibly be true.
Castiel touches Sam again, more tenderly than Scott thought an angel could ever touch a human.
“Cas!” Dean says, pulling on his ropes with renewed energy, desperation written all over his face.
That’s all he says, but the angel seems to understand. He leaves Sam and goes to Dean, puts his hands on Dean’s forehead where the gash has dried to caked blood. Dean shakes his head angrily.
“Leave it, I’m fine, get me outta here goddammit, now now!”
Castiel once again obeys, and the second Dean is half freed, he tries to run to Sam, tripping and falling with his feet still tangled in the half undone ropes.
“Easy,” Castiel says and he’s still being so uncharacteristically gentle for an angel. He tries to help Dean up, but Dean throws him off, half crawls to his brother and staggers to his feet
“Sammy, hey, hey,” Dean says, softly, slicing through the ropes with infinite care until Sam slumps forward into his arms. “It’s okay, it’s okay now, I gotcha, I gotcha.”
He pushes Sam’s torn and bloodied shirt back, hands patting over his chest and stomach to check his wounds. Sam is red everywhere, but from where Scott is he can see that the wounds themselves are gone, mysteriously closed over by the angel’s touch.
Castiel approaches to untie him, but Scott shrinks back, untrusting of such power – of an angel.
Cas shakes his head patiently, waits until Scott allows him to undo the ropes, then frees the others.
“Cas?” Dean asks, still exploring Sam’s body all over.
“He’s healed,” Castiel answers, understanding the unspoken question. “It’s all right Dean, we got here in time.”
“The fuck you did!” Dean snarls, and Sam rouses to admonish “Dean” softly.
“I’m okay, thanks Cas,” Sam says, and Sam puts his hand on the side of his brother’s face and strokes him gently. “I’m okay, Dean.”
“Fuck,” Dean answers, his hand on top of Sam’s where it’s still on his face. “Fuck, Sammy.”
“We should go,” Castiel says. “Michael will be back.”
“Can you walk?” Dean asks Sam, and Sam nods. Dean slings Sam’s arm around his shoulders and helps him anyway, the two of them heading out the open barn door to make their way across the field to where their car waits.
Scott and the others help Cas pick up the weapons and supplies scattered about, and then they leave too. Scott is the last one out, going back to retrieve his cell phone because the last thing he wants is for Michael to know who he is. He starts across the field, but stops when he hears a sound, cautious. His eyes adjust to the dark little by little, and he can see that it’s Sam and Dean, stopped beside another old building on their way to their car. Cas and the others are up ahead, taking the other path to where they parked their truck.
At first he thinks the Winchesters need help, about to speak up and offer a ‘what’s wrong?’
Sam is slid down the side of the building, sitting on the damp grass. Dean is curled over him, gripping Sam by both sides of his ruined shirt, almost shaking him.
“Couldn’t get to you Sammy, couldn’t do a fucking thing, just had to watch while that bastard…” Dean breaks off and makes a twisted, hurt sound, slams one fist into the side of the shed they’re crouched against with enough force to splinter the wood.
Sam grabs his brother’s fist, cradles it in his own protectively. “Shh shh, it’s okay, I’m okay.”
“Sam,” Dean says again, brokenly, and Sam brings Dean’s clenched fist up to his lips and kisses it.
It’s an odd thing to do, and a chill runs up Scott’s spine, a sense that something is happening that’s not quite right. It’s a sense he’s felt before.
“I’m here,” Sam says, soft, but it’s clear in the silence of the night. “Hey, I’m here, Dean.”
From where he stands in the thicket of trees, Scott can see that now Dean’s the one who’s shaking. His shoulders tremble violently and he keeps shaking his head, like he can shake off the shivers – or maybe the memory of what was done to his brother.
Sam kisses his fist again, and Dean opens his hand and lays it against Sam’s face, the same way Sam did to him before.
“Sammy,” he whispers, and then they both lean in and their mouths slot together. They don’t hear Scott gasp, they’re cradling each other’s heads, hands over ears while their mouths work hungrily, desperately. Every few seconds, Sam pulls away to stroke his fingers over the cup of Dean’s ear, through his cropped hair, and whisper “It’s okay, I’m okay.”
Finally they stop, pulling back just enough to look each other in the eyes. Sam stands up and pulls Dean with him; Dean leans his forehead against Sam’s, no longer trembling.
“Let’s go,” Sam says, voice gruff, “And I’ll show you just how okay I am.”
Dean huffs, and one of Sam’s big hands comes around and grips his ass, fingers digging in like they’ve been there before and know the way. Like a button has been pushed, Dean crowds in, all up against Sam, wraps one leg around Sam’s hip so Sam can really get a good handful of him.
“Oh yeah?” Dean answers, and Scott can hear the smile in his voice.
Sam gives his ass a good squeeze and brings their mouths together again. Despite the erotic position they’re in, it’s quick, more chaste.
“Yeah?”
Dean nods, puts his foot back on the ground. They hang onto each other as they make their way through the woods, unwilling to stop touching for even a second.
There’s a fluttering sound, and suddenly the angel Castiel is standing right in front of Scott, looking stern and imposing.
“I—“ Scott stammers, unsure of what to say.
Castiel narrows his steel blue eyes. “It’s nobody’s business,” he says finally, voice like gravel. “No one else would understand.”
Scott nods. “I won’t say anything,” he assures the angel quickly. “I would never, none of my business.”
Castiel regards him for another long moment, assessing.
“They’re waiting for you at the truck,” he says. Then, with another flutter of invisible wings, he’s gone.
Scott hurries to the truck and climbs into the back seat, everyone patting each other on the back in relief.
He thinks that Castiel is wrong.
Scott has seen a lot, too much. He thinks maybe he does understand.
Through the trees behind them, Scott can hear the rumble of the big old car as she takes her boys home.
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Merry Xmas to meeeeeeee <3 <3 <3
I love it soo much. The love, the angst and the gore is what I love about SPN from the start. They love each other so much and its so clear. Micheal is no fool he's going to use this fact getting what he wants. Ah and badass!Cas *cries* I miss badass!Cas so much.
Thank you again. Happy holidays to you <3<3<3
xxx
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Thank God for Castiel! His perfectly-timed arrival on the scene made me gasp. Too late, in Dean’s opinion, which I totally get — the torture was so brutal it was hard to read — but so welcome! This is the angel I miss and wish we had more of on the show!
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Happy Holidays, my dear, and thank you for this gorgeous Christmas gift! ♥
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I love outsider point of view. And I miss your writing. m. :)
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Outsider POV and the boys bleeding so deliciously ... bad-ass Cas (who is as much of a conundrum as the Winchesters themselves) ... and, oh yes, THE WINCHESTERS THEMSELVES. I could see them like a movie.
My. Favorite. Flavor. Right. Here.
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Some lines that knocked me out:
They got there in time to see the aftermath, before the light went out of his mom’s eyes but not before Benji went cold and silent.
He’s not afraid, though Scott’s insides are turning to acid and he thinks he might vomit. He’s seen how Michael likes to play with his prey.
...and he’s fighting against the ropes binding him so hard that the support beam is shaking and Scott wonders if the whole barn will fall down on top of them and just kill them all.
Michael keeps going and Dean keeps saying Sam’s name, over and over and over, like it’s a mantra to let Sam know he’s not alone. So if Sam is going, he’ll know Dean is there with him til the end.
Scott doesn’t know when he started crying too.
“Sam,” Dean says again, brokenly, and Sam brings Dean’s clenched fist up to his lips and kisses it.
It’s an odd thing to do, and a chill runs up Scott’s spine, a sense that something is happening that’s not quite right. It’s a sense he’s felt before.
Castiel narrows his steel blue eyes. “It’s nobody’s business,” he says finally, voice like gravel. “No one else would understand.”
He thinks that Castiel is wrong.
Scott has seen a lot, too much. He thinks maybe he does understand.
Through the trees behind them, Scott can hear the rumble of the big old car as she takes her boys home.
AAAAGH SO PERFECT. Thank you for sharing this. <3
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Either my LJ or my email are glitching bc I only just got the email notification that this had been posted (right after the email notification your 2018 fic summary post) & I see it was posted on 20th. I also didn’t get an email for the last fic, In The Dark (or your Wincest big bang fic - I luckily saw a tweet for it when it was posted). So weird, I’ll have to maybe try changing my email server, or check in to LJ more regularly.
Happy New Year & thank you for all the wonderful fic you’ve published in 2018 (& over the years). I adore your writing, it’s brought me so much joy. Thank you again!
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Edition 4,506
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This was amazing! My insides hurt, reading Michael's torture of Sam. I felt like I was right there next to Scott, forced to watch this horror *and* forced into horrible memories.
I loved Cas here--this is the way I like him, dedicated to the Winchesters, a warrior, and ready to defend them against anyone and anything. Perfect!
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<3
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And much as it hurts to watch the boys in torment I absolutely love Dean’s all consuming rage and desperation as he is unable to stop Sam getting tortured by Michael. (Shakes head and gives a low whistle) wouldn’t want to be Michael when Dean finally gets his hands on him. But the other thing I ‘love’ is how well Sam stands torture (😭 poor boy, no one should have that much practice.) but he is just so strong!
Oh but them calling for one another when they can’t stand any more 🤭😩 oh my heart! And then the hands on the faces and the ‘it’s okay, I’m here’. Ahhhhhhhh 🥰🥰🥰
Also I love steely-eyed staunch supporter Cas! It’s really nice to have him zapping around with his powers and definitely good to have him lending a healing hand. But what I absolutely adored was that hard look and the: it’s nobody else’s business. (First hell yes: scary Cas! 🙌🏼😁 but secondly: hell yes scary Cas in defence of the boys having their bond 🥰 love that!)
And I’m glad that Scott our outsider pov gets that too. Though I’m sure an apocalypse is good for reevaluating what’s important.
Really enjoyed this 😄
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