Rock of Ages
My first LJ Supernatural fic! This was written because for some reason I woke up with Rock of Ages (the hymn) stuck in my head. I hope you enjoy it, if there are any mistakes, please let me know!
Rock of Ages
I don't own Supernatural - that belongs to Kripke. I don't own either versions of "Rock of Ages" either.
In all the choices of television viewing, televangelists would be at the absolute bottom, perhaps just above procedural cop shows, but only just. Top choices were porn, the news, and anything that wasn't boring. Televangelists were top on the boring list.
The only reason he was watching it was because it was a Sunday and for some reason it seemed to be the only thing on that didn't make Dean want to scream in frustration or run for the holy water. Ben wasn't there to ask for cartoons or a specific show because he was out playing with his friends. Lisa wasn't there because she had to work. So it was just Dean.
Just Dean and the televangelist.
It was the Sunday after Sam and Adam had fallen into the pit, carrying the Devil and Michael with them. Dean had a bottle of whiskey in one hand and an empty shot glass in the other. The whiskey bottle was halfway empty, but the shot glass was dry. He didn't even know why he'd taken the glass with him, he wasn't even using it.
The remote fell off the arm of the chair after the televangelist started preaching. Dean closed his eyes, debating about picking up the remote or just leaving the channel alone. He wasn't really paying attention, so he decided to leave it be. Dean took another drink and the choir began to sing. He recognized a few of the words - not because he had heard the hymn before (although he probably had at Pastor Jim's) but because one line was similar to the song he'd played int he Impala a few days ago.
Rock of ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee
"Rock of ages," Dean sang flatly, "rock of ages, still rollin', keep a-rollin'."
The pastor came back on after the song was finished and Dean was sure it was time for the man to start asking for donations. Instead the man read a passage from the Bible and began to lecture about it. "God is a rock," the man was saying. "He has been here since the beginning and he will be here to the end."
"Bullshit," Dean replied. "God left. God doesn't get a shit."
"You think so?" the televangelist asked the parish and Dean nearly jumped. "You think God doesn't care?" Dean took another drink, a long one this time, hoping that it was just the alcohol making him think that the man was talking to him. "God cares for you so much he sent his only son to die for you. God has promised that anything you ask for, you will receive."
Dean started to argue, but Cas's words echoed in his ears. You got what you asked for, Dean. No paradise. No hell. Just more of the same. I mean it, Dean. What would you rather have? Peace? Or freedom?
Dean would have traded both if he could have his baby brothers back. If he could just have Sam back. Adam was probably in heaven, so was Sam, but...
Sam
Take care of your little brother, boy! Sam had been his job and he'd failed to see that through.
The choir on the TV was singing again, that same hymn. Rock of ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee...let the water and the blood -
Dean took another drink of whiskey. "You son of a bitch," he said, directing his anger towards the ceiling. "I didn't get what I wanted, I didn't get what I asked for."
But you did, a part of Dean argued back; you got rid of Satan without becoming Michael's vessel.
"I didn't want to lose my brother!" he argued back.
Rock of ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee
The phone rang in the kitchen; it was Dean's cell phone. Most likely it was Bobby, just to check in. Dean ignored it until he couldn't take the ringing any longer. Whoever it was just kept calling back. Moving into the kitchen, he set the whiskey down and picked up the phone. Dean answered it without looking at the caller ID.
"What?" He barked.
"Dean?"
Rock of ages, cleft for me
"Sam?"
Rock of Ages
I don't own Supernatural - that belongs to Kripke. I don't own either versions of "Rock of Ages" either.
In all the choices of television viewing, televangelists would be at the absolute bottom, perhaps just above procedural cop shows, but only just. Top choices were porn, the news, and anything that wasn't boring. Televangelists were top on the boring list.
The only reason he was watching it was because it was a Sunday and for some reason it seemed to be the only thing on that didn't make Dean want to scream in frustration or run for the holy water. Ben wasn't there to ask for cartoons or a specific show because he was out playing with his friends. Lisa wasn't there because she had to work. So it was just Dean.
Just Dean and the televangelist.
It was the Sunday after Sam and Adam had fallen into the pit, carrying the Devil and Michael with them. Dean had a bottle of whiskey in one hand and an empty shot glass in the other. The whiskey bottle was halfway empty, but the shot glass was dry. He didn't even know why he'd taken the glass with him, he wasn't even using it.
The remote fell off the arm of the chair after the televangelist started preaching. Dean closed his eyes, debating about picking up the remote or just leaving the channel alone. He wasn't really paying attention, so he decided to leave it be. Dean took another drink and the choir began to sing. He recognized a few of the words - not because he had heard the hymn before (although he probably had at Pastor Jim's) but because one line was similar to the song he'd played int he Impala a few days ago.
Rock of ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee
"Rock of ages," Dean sang flatly, "rock of ages, still rollin', keep a-rollin'."
The pastor came back on after the song was finished and Dean was sure it was time for the man to start asking for donations. Instead the man read a passage from the Bible and began to lecture about it. "God is a rock," the man was saying. "He has been here since the beginning and he will be here to the end."
"Bullshit," Dean replied. "God left. God doesn't get a shit."
"You think so?" the televangelist asked the parish and Dean nearly jumped. "You think God doesn't care?" Dean took another drink, a long one this time, hoping that it was just the alcohol making him think that the man was talking to him. "God cares for you so much he sent his only son to die for you. God has promised that anything you ask for, you will receive."
Dean started to argue, but Cas's words echoed in his ears. You got what you asked for, Dean. No paradise. No hell. Just more of the same. I mean it, Dean. What would you rather have? Peace? Or freedom?
Dean would have traded both if he could have his baby brothers back. If he could just have Sam back. Adam was probably in heaven, so was Sam, but...
Sam
Take care of your little brother, boy! Sam had been his job and he'd failed to see that through.
The choir on the TV was singing again, that same hymn. Rock of ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee...let the water and the blood -
Dean took another drink of whiskey. "You son of a bitch," he said, directing his anger towards the ceiling. "I didn't get what I wanted, I didn't get what I asked for."
But you did, a part of Dean argued back; you got rid of Satan without becoming Michael's vessel.
"I didn't want to lose my brother!" he argued back.
Rock of ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee
The phone rang in the kitchen; it was Dean's cell phone. Most likely it was Bobby, just to check in. Dean ignored it until he couldn't take the ringing any longer. Whoever it was just kept calling back. Moving into the kitchen, he set the whiskey down and picked up the phone. Dean answered it without looking at the caller ID.
"What?" He barked.
"Dean?"
Rock of ages, cleft for me
"Sam?"