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justinedelargeAuthor:
justinedelargeFandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Warning: Wincest
Word Count:4100
Disclaimer: I don't own what I don't own. But I do own what I do own, such as my original characters and my plot.
Summary: Sam and Dean try to deal with John’s shocking choice; angels make an appearance; Gus and Rosier discover what happened to Azazel; just about everyone cries at least a little.
Master post of all chapters here
John hadn’t driven more than two miles out of town before he pulled over into a gas station parking lot, folded his arms over the steering wheel, dropped his head onto his arms and began to cry, hard enough that it shook the car. He cried until he had no tears left, cried until he retched, on the verge of vomiting, cried like his heart was being torn from him.
He did not notice two figures leaning against the wall of the gas station, watching him.
The younger-looking one spoke. “We could give him some comfort. Tell him ourselves that God needed them to be brothers this time.” Samandriel looked upon John with kind, sad eyes.
“John Winchester does not believe in God.” The other angel’s voice was deep and rough. “To be more specific, John Winchester lost his faith. He hates God. He will not listen.”
“If we revealed ourselves, surely he would—“
“It is better for Sam and Dean if he continues on his path.”
“But… he’s in such pain.”
“I know. But on this, we cannot interfere.”
Samandriel closed his eyes. “He hurts so badly. As do they.”
“I know.”
“They’ve done so much. And this is their reward? Abandoned by their father?”
“We know what it’s like to be abandoned by our Father.” The other angel adjusted his tie, blue like his eyes. “They will endure.” His smile was gentle. “They have each other. And nothing will pull them apart now.”
The two watched and did nothing as John wiped his face off with his sleeves, started the car and pulled back onto the highway heading away from Amarillo.
~
Reggie loped off to let Juliane and Danny know John had left. Within minutes, they had returned to the common room. Juliane took one look at Sam, crying in Bobby’s arms, and tears welled in her own eyes. “Oh, Sam. I’m so sorry.”
Sam stepped back from Bobby, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “It’ll be better with him not around.” He gave Bobby a little smile. “We always wanted you as our dad anyway.”
Dean’s mouth tightened at Sam putting on a brave face. “Don’t let him off the hook so fast, Sam. It doesn’t excuse his fucking leaving us.”
Sam shot a look at Dean, pleading wordlessly for him to let it drop for now.
Dean shook his head, dragging his hands through his hair, then seeing the anguish on Sam’s face nodded.
“Hey, Dean, how about I take out those stitches? They’re ready to come out.” Juliane changed the subject, as was clearly Sam’s desperate desire. “I could give you a haircut too, if you want.”
Dean tugged at his hair. “Ask Sam. He’s the one that’s gotta look at me all the time.”
Sam swallowed hard, not able to change gears so fast. “I… it’s… I mean, whatever you want…”
Dean drew close to Sam, took his hand, pulled him down on the couch, wincing at the movement. “Hey. You still got me.” He spoke quietly, so no one else could hear. Everyone else suddenly pretended to be extremely busy. Juliane got a sterile-pack pair of scissors and other supplies to remove Dean’s stitches. Danny went into the kitchen and started making a huge pot of hot cocoa. Reggie sat down with Bobby at the chess table and started a game.
Dean tangled his fingers with Sam’s. “I’ll never leave you, Sam. Swear to god.”
Suddenly the tears were back, and Dean had a baby moose in his arms, all trembling limbs and soft sobs, small and vulnerable.
“It’s ok, Sammy. You cry all you want. It’s ok.” Dean’s voice sank into Sam, driving out the echo of John’s barked commands (Jesus, Sam, don’t you cry. Don’t you dare. Man up. Walk it off.) “Cry all you need to.”
Sam’s sobs quieted but the tears continued, pulled from someplace deep in him, driven by grief too massive for sound. He stayed in Dean’s arms, letting the tears flow out of him, wetting the front of Dean’s shirt. Dean rubbed Sam’s lower back, whispering in a steady stream, “It’s ok, Sammy. It’s ok, baby. It’s ok…”
~
Outside the Sanctuary, two figures appeared.
“He’s hurting,” Samandriel whispered.
“You care for Sam,” the other replied.
“Yes, and so do you.” Samandriel retorted. “You’ve always had a soft spot for the Winchesters.”
“That is an accurate statement.”
“What shall we do?" Samandriel asked.
“Watch and learn.” The other adjusted the lapels of his trenchcoat, cracked his neck in a surprisingly human movement, and extended both hands, palms out. The air warmed as his eyes glowed a bright, piercing blue-white hue. “Peace, little one,” Castiel whispered. “You too, Dean. Your mother was correct. Angels are watching over you.”
~
Sam gasped as a feeling of warmth welled within him, love and comfort and respite. He nestled closer to Dean with a hushed sound, his tears subsiding. Dean murmured against Sam’s neck, a feeling of such love washing over him at the feel of Sam in his arms, a surge of love and peace and hope sustaining him, his anger subsiding.
“I got you, Sammy,” Dean whispered. “I’ll take care of you.”
“I got you back.” Sam brushed his warm mouth over Dean’s neck. “Take care of you too.”
Dean gave a soft laugh. “I know you will.”
Danny approached with two steaming mugs of cocoa. “Cocoa first. Then the stitches?” Dean nodded.
“Tiny marshmallows,” Sam breathed. He popped one into his mouth, and his eyes closed. “Tiny peppermint marshmallows.”
“Dude. You’re awesome.” Dean looked up at Danny, eyes glowing with something close to hero worship in his eyes.
Reggie spiked his and Bobby’s cocoa with peppermint schnapps. They played chess without really paying much attention, watching Sam and Dean instead.
The boys leaned against each other, drinking their cocoa, warm and safe, absolutely certain that somehow they were going to be ok.
~
Juliane took Dean’s stitches out quickly, again praising Sam’s astonishing suture technique. “There’s barely a scar there at all, Dean.” Danny refilled their mugs with hot cocoa. Sam noticed how Dean’s eyes tightened each time he raised the mug of cocoa to his lips, how his breathing seemed shallow and pained. “Dean needs to lie down,” he announced to the room.
“Sam. I’m good.”
Sam cocked his head at Dean. Dean pursed his lips and gave him a little nod, conceding the point. Sam’s observations were accurate, because when Dean went to stand up, he barely moved before falling back against the couch with a muttered curse.
“I got him.” Reggie quickly hooked one arm under Dean’s knees, slipped the other arm behind his back and picked up Dean like he weighed no more than a child.
“Hey!” Dean protested.
“Hush. I’m carrying you, and that’s that.” Reggie’s tone of voice made it clear he would not take “Put me down, I can walk, dammit” as an answer. Sam quickly snagged a couple of movies from the library, and followed Reggie out of the common room, waving goodbye at Danny and Juliane.
Reggie carried Dean all the way back to their apartment as though it was no effort at all, his lean body belying his strength.
“Where do you want him?” Reggie asked Sam.
Dean gestured towards himself. “Hey. I’m right here.”
“Couch,” Sam said. “Please.”
Reggie lowered Dean onto the couch with great care. He picked up the throw and laid it across Dean, then knelt alongside the couch and smoothed Dean’s hair off his forehead. He breathed in and out like he was summoning up the courage to say something.
“Reg?”
“I gotta say this because I get the feeling you boys haven’t heard this enough in your lives. I know men aren’t supposed to talk about their feelings and just, I don’t know, grunt at each other. But I think that’s bullshit. So if it’s all the same to you, I’m gonna talk about my damn feelings for a second.”
“Ok. Sure.”
“He doesn’t deserve you two.” Reggie looked up at Sam then back down at Dean. “If you were my boys, I’d never…” Reggie swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple working. “No matter what.” He closed his hand over Dean’s. “I know you got Bobby. And I think these two here would adopt you in a New York minute if you’d let ‘em. I know you don’t—” His voice cracked. “—don’t need me, but—” He stopped, unable to continue.
“Hey.” Sam put his hand on Reggie’s shoulder.
“But the fact of it is, I love you boys.”
Sam’s mouth fell open.
“You’re brave and resourceful and scary smart.” Dean rolled his eyes at that last one. “Both of you. And don’t you dare think otherwise about yourself, Dean.”
Sam looked at Reggie like he was every hero he’d ever heard of rolled into one.
“And you’re loyal and loving and just… damn it.” Reggie wiped his eyes. “You’re both real special. And now, you’re damn heroes. And I’m gonna make sure the entire hunter community knows about it.”
“You don’t have to—“
“Hush now. It’s your due.” He put his hand over Sam’s, and squeezed Dean’s hand tighter. “I’ll get out of your hair now, but I just wanted you to know that.” He patted Dean’s hand and stood up. “You get some rest.” He leaned over, smoothed Dean’s hair back and kissed him on the forehead. Dean’s eyes stung as tears welled up.
“We love you too.” Sam’s voice rang out, clear and true.
“Yeah.”
Reggie blinked rapidly, mouth working, trying to hold onto his composure. Sam reached up and gave Reggie a hug. “Hey, it’s ok for men to cry.”
Dean smiled at that.
Reggie held Sam tight, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Then he pulled away. “You two are good boys.” He smiled down at Dean. “Dinner’s on me tonight. I’ll bring us all back something nice. Deal?”
“Deal.” Sam and Dean spoke as one.
~
As soon as Reggie left, Sam brought Dean a string cheese, pain pill and glass of water, and then put in one of the videos he’d borrowed. Onscreen, a bird appeared, perched on a branch. The music began, two plucked bass notes, echoed by two simple two-note chords, the image dissolving into a shot of smokestacks, a grinding wheel sending up sparks. Long before the shot of the sign reading Welcome to Twin Peaks appeared, Dean was smiling.
“You know this has lyrics, right?”
Sam blinked in surprise. “It does?”
“Yeah.”
“What are they?”
“Take it back.”
Sam hit rewind and play. Dean sang along, his voice low, a half-whisper. “Don’t let yourself be hurt this time…”
Sam’s face softened, eyes going wide, mouth parted. Dean continued. “Don’t let yourself be hurt this time,” his voice falling silent where he didn’t know the words, then coming in again, an octave lower than the keyboard melody, his voice surprisingly rich and tender. “Are we falling in love?”
Sam sank to his knees, brushed his fingertips over the line where the sutures had been, then pressed his palms to Dean’s cheeks and kissed him. His hands shook.
After a long moment, Dean touched Sam’s wrists. “You ok, Sammy?”
“Yeah.” Sam smiled. Then his smile faded. “Actually.” He shifted position, raising one knee, and fished around on the carpet underneath. He held up a chunk of broken ceramic plate.
Dean winced. “Sorry.”
“You can kiss it and make it better later.”
“You gonna do the same for me?”
“Sure.”
Dean settled in on the couch, watching the ducks swimming across the pond, the fisherman staring into the water, coming around the corner and seeing the body of Laura Palmer. Sam busied himself in the kitchen, gathering up supplies.
“Whatcha making?”
“It’s a surprise.”
Sam pulled some items out of the refrigerator, grinning when he heard Pete say, “She’s dead. Wrapped in plastic.”
The smell of apples in butter got Dean’s nose twitching. “Not much of a surprise if I can smell it.”
“Oh, it’ll be a surprise. I promise.”
When the scent of cinnamon entered the mix, Dean leaned back on the couch and put his arms behind his head, a grin of absolute contentment on his face. “Love me some pie,” he muttered under his breath.
Sam kept at it, working on the counter by the sink so he could shield what he was doing from Dean’s view, then returning to the range.
Dean expected to hear the sound of the oven door opening, but he did not. The scents turned into toasting pie crust, though, so he settled into the couch, pain pill warming him from the inside, and waiting for his Sammy to bring him some pie. The scent of coffee brewing entered the mix. Dean closed his eyes, letting it all sink in. For a moment—just for a moment—he forgot all about John.
Sam brought out two cups of coffee, setting them on the table, put in the next episode, and then came back with two paper plates. He handed his creation to Dean, searching Dean’s face, waiting for his reaction.
Dean stared at the object on the paper plate, then looked up at Sam, sheer awe on his face. “You didn’t.”
“I did.”
Dean gazed at the pie burrito, flour tortilla crispy on both sides where Sam had griddled it, but still soft on the sides. “Sam. I think I’m gonna cry.”
“Try it.”
Dean put the plate on his lap and picked up the pie burrito with both hands. “It’s not gonna fill my mouth with apple lava, right?”
Sam shook his head. “Really? You think I’d let that happen?”
Dean fluttered his eyelashes. “No.”
“It’s cool enough to eat. But here. I’ll go first.” Sam sat on the floor next to the couch and took a huge bite of his pie burrito. “See? The roof of my mouth did not burn off.”
“I’m trusting you.” Dean took a bite. His eyes rolled back in his head and his eyelids closed. “Mmph.”
“Good?”
“Mmph mph!”
“Swallow. Then talk.”
Dean swallowed. “There’s pie crust in it!”
Sam grinned. “Yeah, we got those roll-up pie crusts. I just cut one into strips and cooked them in a frying pan with butter. It’s not a pie without pie crust.”
“You’re a fucking genius.” Dean took another bite, the crispy tortilla crackling under his teeth, the soft tortilla tearing easily, the apple chunks tender but not mushy, cinnamon sugar syrup flooding his mouth, the strips of crust crunchy and just the right kind of grainy. He moaned, a decidedly sexual sound.
Dean chased the mouthful with a sip of hot coffee, and visibly shivered with the pleasure of it all.
Sam smiled so wide he nearly cracked his lip. “I did good.”
“You did—Sam. Get over here.” Dean pulled Sam down, barely letting him set his plate down, and kissed him hard and fierce, licking the cinnamon apple flavor from Sam’s mouth. He pulled off long enough to say, “You’re the best, Sam. The fucking best.” Another kiss, longer than the first, fists tangling in Sam’s shirt. When he released Sam, Sam’s cheeks were stained pink.
“I’m gonna marry the hell out of you, Sammy.” Sam ducked his head, pride and happiness spilling over his face. Dean stroked Sam’s hair, then turned his attention back to his treat. “A fucking pie burrito. You did it. You really did it.” He inhaled the entire thing, making primal sounds of pleasure, taking gulps of coffee and attacking it again. He sucked syrup from the soft folds of the base of the burrito, where the tortilla was folded in on itself and around.
His eyes gleamed. “Sam.”
Sam’s head snapped up.
“Stand up.”
Sam obeyed.
“Take it out.”
Sam blew out a breath, and undid his jeans, removing his cock. It was soft, but hardening rapidly. Dean tipped the end of the tortilla over Sam’s cock, drizzling it with warm cinnamon-scented apple pie syrup. And then without seduction or teasing, Dean brought his mouth down and sucked the syrup from Sam’s cock, moaning like it was the best thing he’d ever done. Sam fattened in his mouth, hands clutching at Dean’s hair, not controlling him but stroking it, hips jerking forward. Dean pulled off, smeared the soft folds of tortilla over Sam’s cock, anointing it with the last of the syrup. He looked up at Sam, green eyes gleaming. “You won’t hurt me, Sam. Go on. Fuck my mouth.”
Sam tipped his head back with a groan and did what Dean told him to do, driving into Dean’s mouth like he had a right to it. Dean gripped Sam’s hips, urging him on, sucking the syrup off him, his moans vibrating on Sam’s cock. Within minutes, Sam was pumping helplessly into Dean’s mouth, crying out, coming hard, shivering, chanting Dean’s name, flooding his mouth with an entirely different flavor.
Before he’d finished spilling his aftershocks onto Dean’s tongue, Sam was on his knees, pulling Dean’s cock free. A mischievous gleam appeared in his eyes. He reached for his coffee, took a huge swallow, and held it in his mouth. Then he swallowed the coffee, and immediately took Dean’s cock into his mouth.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dean hissed. Sam’s silken-smooth mouth was hot, not enough to burn, but enough to make Dean’s back arch and hips push up. “Fucking hell.” Sam sucked Dean’s cock like he meant to pull every drop of fluid out of his body, and as soon as Dean could possibly give it to him. He pulled his mouth off, panting. “You like that?”
Dean’s head fell back against the pillow. “Fucking hell. Yeah.”
Sam took another mouthful of coffee, warming his mouth. He swallowed again, and took both of Dean’s balls into his mouth. Dean cried out, loud and needy, at the heat of Sam’s mouth, so good on his flesh. Sam sucked and licked Dean’s balls until his mouth cooled to its normal temperature, then took another swig, this time, leaving some in his mouth as he sucked, making his mouth even wetter, saliva and coffee spilling over his chin, wet and sloppy and glorious. Then, tipping things from perfect to mother-of-all-that’s-holy, Sam stuck two fingers inside the remains of his unfinished pie burrito, brought them, gleaming and sticky, to Dean’s mouth.
Dean cried out again, pleasure overtaking him, sucked the syrup from Sam’s fingers as Sam sucked the come out of him, his hot mouth and tongue working him so good, demanding it all, every drop. Dean came hard and long, grunting, sucking Sam’s fingers just like Sam sucked his cock, hard and fast and so, so greedy.
Sam swallowed it all, coaxed the last droplets out of Dean’s slit, then held his cock in his mouth, so gently, so careful not to overstimulate him. Just holding it there as it slowly softened. Finally, reluctantly, he let Dean slip free, and rested his forehead against Dean’s thigh.
Dean stroked Sam’s hair. “Fuck.”
Sam looked up at him, hazel eyes gone trance-heavy. “I want to do that every day.”
Dean laughed, a happy, contented sound. “Pie burritos and blow jobs? You got it.”
“I mean it. Wanna make you come like that. Every day.” His eyes fluttered. “I love how you come like that. For me.”
“Come here, sweetheart.” Dean shifted, moved over, making room for Sam on the couch. It was deep enough they were both able to lay down on it. “You can have whatever you want.” He kissed Sam’s neck. “Do anything for you.”
Sam snuggled closer, and Dean pulled the throw around them, covering both of them as best he could.
Sam shifted position, trying to get more comfortable. “I miss the double recliner Bobby got us.”
Dean pulled Sam closer, and kissed the top of his head. “Me too. That was real nice of him.”
They watched the show in comfortable silence. Finally Sam asked in a soft, sleepy voice. “Dean? How come Bobby accepts us, but Dad…” He couldn’t finish. He didn’t have to.
“I don’t know, Sammy.” Dean kissed Sam again. “But he does. That’s all we need.”
Sam smacked his lips, the sound he made sometimes right before he fell asleep.
“You take a nap, Sammy. I got you.” Sam murmured something indecipherable, his eyes fluttering shut. “Sleep, baby.” Dean watched Sam’s face relax, features softening as he fell asleep in Dean’s arms. He brushed his free hand over Sam’s hair. “Don’t worry, Sam,” Dean whispered. “I’ll love you so much, you won’t even miss him.”
~
In the hospital, Gus sat with Rosier as he slept, holding his hand. His human hand. Gus’s thoughts raced. He hadn’t been able to think of anything else since he discovered Rosier was human. Cured, somehow, by the Winchester knife.
Cured.
Hope. There was hope for him. He wasn’t damned for all eternity.
And Rosier. Free.
Locked inside a badly burned human body, but human nonetheless.
Rosier had managed to whisper, “Hope you’re not going to leave me now that I’m a monkey like the rest of them,” the unmarred part of his face curling up into a smile, before sinking back into a pain med slumber.
Gus hadn’t thought of anything else since Rosier turned human. Until now. He let go of Rosier’s hand, stood up and stretched, went to the sink and took a drink of water right from the faucet. He opened his thoughts for the first time, intent on calling out for Sam. Come quick. It worked. He’s human. Come quick. But as soon as he switched that part of him on, he jolted, overwhelmed by the chaos that came at him across the demon radio, a wild chatter of voices helpless with fear. dead he’s dead he’s really truly dead not exorcised he’s been erased the Winchesters it was the Winchesters they have a fearful weapon a weapon that can negate us don’t go near them warning to all steer clear of the Winchesters until more is known if they can take down the Master we cannot prevail against them he is gone Azazel is gone who will lead us now has anyone heard what do we do what the hell are we to do now?
Gus stumbled backward, crashing into the cart next to Rosier’s hospital bed, sending it flying.
Rosier’s eyes opened. His cracked lips parted. “What happened?” His voice was a mere whisper.
“They did it. They…” Gus put his hand on his chest in a gesture of self-comfort. “They killed him.”
“Exorcised? Back to Hell?”
Gus’s eyes were huge. “No. He’s…gone.”
Rosier closed his eyes. Gus was certain he’d fallen back to sleep when his body began to shake. A rattle issued from him, a rattle that resolved into a guffaw, building slowly into a wheezing gale of laughter.
Finally, his laughter subsided. “Best news I’ve heard in a long, long time,” he said softly. Gus took his hand again. Rosier squeezed his fingers. “What’s the chatter?”
“Everyone’s freaking out. Things are falling apart. We should lay low.”
Rosier stroked Gus’s fingers with his thumb. “Call to him.”
“Sam Winchester?”
“Yes.” Rosier coughed. “Ask him if he will come.”
Gus nodded, eyes fluttering closed.
“And Gus?”
He opened his eyes.
“Say please.”
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no subject
Date: 2013-11-04 04:33 am (UTC)*sniffle*
I hate John so hard right now. But The Boys make me all smiley and gooey.
no subject
Date: 2013-11-04 05:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-11-04 04:39 am (UTC)This line “Don’t worry, Sam,” Dean whispered. “I’ll love you so much, you won’t even miss him.” Broke my fucking heart! It was so perfectly Dean and just so bittersweet. Love you and this story!!
no subject
Date: 2013-11-04 05:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-11-04 05:39 am (UTC)So much emotion.
LOVE
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Date: 2013-11-04 05:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-11-04 04:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-11-04 05:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-11-04 06:19 pm (UTC)I'm glad John at least cried, and I'm also glad that the angels decided against making him feel better - he really doesn't deserve any comfort after what he did.
The boys do, though, so seeing the others so supportive, Reggie's heartfelt assurances and of course the way the boys take care of each other made me all warm and melty. :)
Dean's last line really got to me as well, it's so him and it broke my heart a little and I cried along with everyone else. So perfect. You have such a way with words. Thank you.
no subject
Date: 2013-11-06 10:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-11-06 03:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-08 07:16 pm (UTC)But Oh...trenchcoat...you made me teary all over again :_)
Pie Burrito!! You did promise
“You’re a fucking genius.” Yes. You : ) x
Thank you!
Date: 2013-12-08 08:02 pm (UTC)Re: Thank you!
Date: 2013-12-08 09:39 pm (UTC)You must post the recipe!
I was going to make pie on Dean's Birthday (as I'm sad and delusional), I'd definitely be up for making one of these : ) x
Re: Thank you!
Date: 2013-12-08 11:20 pm (UTC)Ok, then you take burrito-sized tortillas, warm them slightly to soften (microwave, or a few seconds on a griddle on each side). Then lay one out flat, spoon out some apples (1/2-3/4 cup) in a line down the center, leaving an inch free on either side, put a single line of pie crust strip down the center, leaving that inch free, fold in the sides, fold over the bottom edge and roll up snugly. Microwave for 45 seconds to help seal the tortilla. Eat. Die from happiness.
no subject
Date: 2014-03-18 04:11 am (UTC)and aww castiel!!!