in our stars, we are underlings
Title: in our stars, we are underlings
Characters: Dean, Sam
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 840
Summary: Dean is four years old when his mother dies.
Warnings: References to suicide
A/N: Written for heartstrike, who prompted "supernatural / further on up the road / time travel." This was supposed to be a lot longer and a lot more in depth than it is - maybe somewhere down the line, as I do want to revisit this idea (which is lovingly stolen from "The Magicians" by Lev Grossman.)
Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings. - Julius Cesar
Dean is four years old when his mother dies.
The fire starts in Sam's nursery, burns the house down to nothing but ash and cinders, and John sits outside of the house, hugging Sam and Dean to his chest, trying to forget the image of a strange man standing in front of Sam's crib.
"It was just a fire," John says quietly, shrugging off the officer's hand on his shoulder, "Just a fire."
Dean falls asleep against his father's shoulder; the air smells like sulfur and smoke.
--
Dean remembers that night with stark clarity for the rest of his life, but never more so than when his brother's apartment bursts into flames.
He shoves the door in with his shoulder, screams for Sam and Jess until he's hoarse, lungs tight with smoke and that sulfuric, bitter smell.
He falls to his knees, gasping and unable to stand, eyes watering as he stares at the figure walking through the fire, face hidden in shadows.
"Hello, Dean," he says, and his eyes glow yellow in the dark.
--
Dean is four years old when his mother dies and his brother disappears.
John slides head first into hunting, drags Dean along with him all over the country, searching for the thing that destroyed their family.
Always their family, never just Mary.
"Sammy's gone, Dean," John tells him when he's six years old, the first time he puts a gun in Dean's hands. "He isn't coming back."
--
Dean doesn't see Sam again until he's twenty-four, in a church in the middle of Maryland while chasing after a demon who wants to end the world.
"Hello, brother," Sam says, voice laden with power that knocks Dean to his knees. He clenches his fingers, slits Lilith's throat open with the flick of his wrist, leans down to drink her blood.
Dean pulls out the Colt as the convent floods with otherworldly light, and Sam's lips quirk when he pulls the trigger.
--
Dean is four years old when his mother dies.
John shoves Sam into his arms - Take your brother outside and don't look back! - and Dean runs out the door with Sam, squirming and whimpering.
"It's okay, Sammy," Dean whispers, staring up at the fire consuming his home until John scoops them up in his arms.
Years later, Dean will watch the light shine up from Lucifer's cage, and he will be reminded of the fire that killed his mother and Jess, but not understand why he feels like he's been here before.
--
Dean watches his brother tumble down, down, down into a deep, dark nothing, dragging Lucifer and Michael with him.
"Dean," Castiel says, walking out of the shadows, presses a hand to his forehead to erase the physical evidence of the chaos Lucifer wrought.
"Cas," Dean says, "But how - "
"God saw it fit to revive me."
Castiel knows these are not the words Dean wishes to hear.
Dean holds a hand to his face, less than thankful for his healing. "Bring him back," he says roughly, and Castiel observes the play of emotions across his face, watches his charge as he has through countless lifetimes.
"I cannot."
He is not unfamiliar with Dean Winchester's anger, so he is not shocked to find himself shoved against the Impala with hands clutching at his collar.
"Bring him back!"
"I am sorry Dean. If you could understand..." Castiel presses his lips together, raises a hand to touch his fingers to Dean's forehead, and he sees the exact moment Dean remembers, breathless and wide-eyed - lives where Dean was the sole survivor the fire, where both of his parents died, ones where he and Sam did not know of the supernatural at all. Mary lives, John dies, Azazel kidnaps Sam, who willingly opens the cage and lets Lucifer in. Dean says yes. Both of them tumble into the abyss.
Dean steps back gasping, both hands gripping his jeans at the knees.
"In every lifetime, you have tried to stop the apocalypse," Castiel says softly but firmly, like a parent reprimanding a hysterical child. Compared to an angel, Dean is still a child in many ways. "Whether through blind ignorance or force of will, and in every lifetime, you have failed. This is the only way."
"We were pawns," Dean says flatly, raising his head. "You never cared at all, did you?"
"What do you want more, Dean," Castiel says, his voice quiet but radiating with the knowledge of thousands of years spanning dozens of lifetimes. "Peace? Or freedom?"
Dean fingers the weight of the gun at his hip. "How about both?"
He holds the Colt to his head, but Castiel does not expect him to pull the trigger.
--
Dean is four years old when his mother dies.
Characters: Dean, Sam
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 840
Summary: Dean is four years old when his mother dies.
Warnings: References to suicide
A/N: Written for heartstrike, who prompted "supernatural / further on up the road / time travel." This was supposed to be a lot longer and a lot more in depth than it is - maybe somewhere down the line, as I do want to revisit this idea (which is lovingly stolen from "The Magicians" by Lev Grossman.)
Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings. - Julius Cesar
Dean is four years old when his mother dies.
The fire starts in Sam's nursery, burns the house down to nothing but ash and cinders, and John sits outside of the house, hugging Sam and Dean to his chest, trying to forget the image of a strange man standing in front of Sam's crib.
"It was just a fire," John says quietly, shrugging off the officer's hand on his shoulder, "Just a fire."
Dean falls asleep against his father's shoulder; the air smells like sulfur and smoke.
--
Dean remembers that night with stark clarity for the rest of his life, but never more so than when his brother's apartment bursts into flames.
He shoves the door in with his shoulder, screams for Sam and Jess until he's hoarse, lungs tight with smoke and that sulfuric, bitter smell.
He falls to his knees, gasping and unable to stand, eyes watering as he stares at the figure walking through the fire, face hidden in shadows.
"Hello, Dean," he says, and his eyes glow yellow in the dark.
--
Dean is four years old when his mother dies and his brother disappears.
John slides head first into hunting, drags Dean along with him all over the country, searching for the thing that destroyed their family.
Always their family, never just Mary.
"Sammy's gone, Dean," John tells him when he's six years old, the first time he puts a gun in Dean's hands. "He isn't coming back."
--
Dean doesn't see Sam again until he's twenty-four, in a church in the middle of Maryland while chasing after a demon who wants to end the world.
"Hello, brother," Sam says, voice laden with power that knocks Dean to his knees. He clenches his fingers, slits Lilith's throat open with the flick of his wrist, leans down to drink her blood.
Dean pulls out the Colt as the convent floods with otherworldly light, and Sam's lips quirk when he pulls the trigger.
--
Dean is four years old when his mother dies.
John shoves Sam into his arms - Take your brother outside and don't look back! - and Dean runs out the door with Sam, squirming and whimpering.
"It's okay, Sammy," Dean whispers, staring up at the fire consuming his home until John scoops them up in his arms.
Years later, Dean will watch the light shine up from Lucifer's cage, and he will be reminded of the fire that killed his mother and Jess, but not understand why he feels like he's been here before.
--
Dean watches his brother tumble down, down, down into a deep, dark nothing, dragging Lucifer and Michael with him.
"Dean," Castiel says, walking out of the shadows, presses a hand to his forehead to erase the physical evidence of the chaos Lucifer wrought.
"Cas," Dean says, "But how - "
"God saw it fit to revive me."
Castiel knows these are not the words Dean wishes to hear.
Dean holds a hand to his face, less than thankful for his healing. "Bring him back," he says roughly, and Castiel observes the play of emotions across his face, watches his charge as he has through countless lifetimes.
"I cannot."
He is not unfamiliar with Dean Winchester's anger, so he is not shocked to find himself shoved against the Impala with hands clutching at his collar.
"Bring him back!"
"I am sorry Dean. If you could understand..." Castiel presses his lips together, raises a hand to touch his fingers to Dean's forehead, and he sees the exact moment Dean remembers, breathless and wide-eyed - lives where Dean was the sole survivor the fire, where both of his parents died, ones where he and Sam did not know of the supernatural at all. Mary lives, John dies, Azazel kidnaps Sam, who willingly opens the cage and lets Lucifer in. Dean says yes. Both of them tumble into the abyss.
Dean steps back gasping, both hands gripping his jeans at the knees.
"In every lifetime, you have tried to stop the apocalypse," Castiel says softly but firmly, like a parent reprimanding a hysterical child. Compared to an angel, Dean is still a child in many ways. "Whether through blind ignorance or force of will, and in every lifetime, you have failed. This is the only way."
"We were pawns," Dean says flatly, raising his head. "You never cared at all, did you?"
"What do you want more, Dean," Castiel says, his voice quiet but radiating with the knowledge of thousands of years spanning dozens of lifetimes. "Peace? Or freedom?"
Dean fingers the weight of the gun at his hip. "How about both?"
He holds the Colt to his head, but Castiel does not expect him to pull the trigger.
--
Dean is four years old when his mother dies.