Big Bang Fic: Oadriax (5/13)
Title: Oadriax (5/13)
Author: daksgirl
Artist: terrorinyertub
Fandom/Genre: Supernatural, au, sci fi, drama
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Side pairings: Sam/Gabriel, past Sam/Jess
Rating: NC-17 (violence, adult situations, language)
Word Count: 80,668
Warnings: Graphic violence and warfare, adult themes including sex, canon character deaths, demon xenophobia, swearing, gore (in a war situation), PTSD and an attempted non-con situation.
[Fic Masterpost]
[Art Masterpost]
The canteen was loud, full of clanging utensils, and the constant chattering of people. Dean thought it was the sweetest sounding thing he’d ever heard.
Bobby grinned off to his right, hands expressive as he recounted the story again for the gaping soldiers. “Then the last thing we see is this marine’s ass disappearin’ into the brush with this angry Vniglag comin’ after him.”
Dean grinned winningly around his noodles as the men chuckled. “It’s not something you can teach.”
Ash, the scruffy looking marine Dean had seen in the hangar the other day, pointed at him seriously.
“Dude. You’re awesome.”
Sam was pressed close to his side, apparently unwilling to let Dean out of his sight for even a minute. The giant girl tucked into his own meal, shooting an affectionate glare towards Dean. “For reasons I can’t even begin to fathom, you were the one that the Ne’gassagen let in. Seriously.”
“What can I say Sammy?” Dean winked. “Must be my natural charm.”
Gabriel had woken him up early that morning, leading the way through the thick forest back towards the complex. Dean hadn’t seen any sign of Castiel, but Gabriel assured him before leaving him at the complex fence, that his feathered savior would be back the next day.
It had been downright embarrassing, hollering up at the guards to let Dean in and then having to suffer through watching Sam run across the concrete towards him with arms flung open like a scene from a bad romance movie.
Bobby chuckled, reaching over to pat him briefly on the hand. “I can’t believe it. You’re somethin’ else boy.”
A familiar figure wound her way through the throngs of dining humans, picking her way towards them. Ruby had changed from her jumpsuit into jeans and a t-shirt, and the female demon attracted many an appraising look as she passed by.
Reaching their table, her eyes lighted on Dean, and she shook her head with a wry smile.
“So it’s true. We haven’t got rid of you yet.”
Dean shoveled more noodles into his mouth, ignoring Sam’s grimaces at him. “Nope. You’ll have to try harder next time.”
Ruby rolled her eyes, leaning forward to snag a French fry from Ash’s plate. “Yeah, yeah. You’re wanted up in command central, hot stuff. Crowley asked for you by name. Colonel’s up there too.”
Dean nearly choked, the noodles suddenly too long and stringy in his mouth. Sam touched him worriedly, and Dean shrugged him off, swallowing.
“Right. Better not keep boss man waiting huh?” his tone was light, but his stomach felt knotted as he stood, his seat scraping across the floor.
Sam watched his brother go, desperately wanting to follow. But Dean was a marine, and a damn good one at that. It wasn’t Sam’s place to try and baby him.
Dean passed by a table of demons, and they leered at him, black eyes flashing. One stood out, and Sam dug an elbow into Bobby’s side without thinking.
“Hey. Who’s the creep giving Dean the stink-eye?”
Luckily the older scientist didn’t seem to mind the nudge, glancing over towards where Sam indicated. His eyes hardened, jaw clenching.
“Alistair,” he growled, and Ruby paused mid French-fry theft. “That son of a bitch.”
Jo glanced up from her salad, giving a full body shudder. “That guy gives me the heebie jeebies. Always lurkin’ around like a…well…lurkin’ thing.”
Bobby humphed, turning back to his own meal. “That black eyed creep knows better than to hang around you, baby girl. I’d kill ‘im.”
“Aw, thanks Papa Bear,” Jo leaned into her step-father’s side, batting her eyes. “But I can kick his ass just fine on my own.”
Sam frowned, letting their voices wash over him as he studied the sniggering demon across the hall. Ruby nudged him, dark eyes serious as Sam turned back around.
“Watch it, kid. Alistair is a guy you don’t want to attract the attention of,” she said lowly. “Trust me on that.”
A bored looking secretary waved him into the huge office, and Dean swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. The carpet under his boots swished as he entered, and Dean steeled himself as he noticed the large mahogany desk in the center of the room. Sat behind it was the Corporate Administrator, and beside him…stood the Colonel.
Both demons. Yay.
The Corporate Administrator was a red eye, and he stood slowly, spreading his hands as he smiled. “Winchester! Glad to see you made it back in one piece. You’re turning into quite the celebrity around here.”
A hand was thrust in his direction, and mindful of the Colonel’s judging gaze, Dean took it, shaking once.
“Thank you, Sir. I’m just glad to be home.”
The demon’s red eyes crinkled at him, glittering with genuine glee. “Please, the name’s Crowley,” he settled back down into his chair, the leather creaking beneath him. “I hear you ran into our little friends out there in the bush.”
Dean nodded once, and the Colonel sighed, cocking his hip against the desk. His arms were crossed, shoulders a tense line of irritation.
“Out with it, Winchester. What did you find? I won’t ask twice.”
Dean squared his shoulders, feet spread. “They want to learn from me, Sir. They’re going to teach me their ways.”
Crowley clapped his hands, and the Colonel glared over at him irritably.
“Well wonderful! Now that’s called taking the initiative,” the red eyed demon winked. “I like that. So-”
The demon picked up a pen, tapping it against the desk thoughtfully. The Colonel was watching Dean again, eyes calculating, and Dean stiffened further. The threats from the black eye in the hangar were still fresh in his mind.
“-now we just need to find out what they want,” Crowley frowned, the mirth leaving his eyes. “We tried giving them medicine, education, roads, you name it. But no, they like their mud and trees. Go figure. We need to get them to move, and we need to get it done soon.”
Dean met those red eyes with his own, mindful of the Colonel’s gaze currently boring holes in him. “And if I may ask Sir, why do we need to do that?”
Crowley smiled at him, dropping the pen with a clatter to fold his hands in front of him. “That little home tree of theirs just happens to be sitting on the richest deposit of alchideo within two hundred clicks in any direction.”
Dean’s heart sank. It didn’t take a genius to work out what the demon was getting at.
“And if they don’t go?” He asked carefully. Crowley sighed loudly, glancing over at the Colonel briefly.
“Look, my…investors, are not patient beings. They want results, and they want them now. Slaughtering a bunch of pigeons on an alien planet might not make the news, but give those pigeons a human face and well...”
The demon shrugged. “We need good PR for this project and a peaceful solution would give us that.”
The Colonel unfolded his arms, long fingers snagging the pen Crowley had dropped. His eyes were bright, almost fluorescent in the office lights.
“You have a talent, Winchester. You get things done. I can respect that.” From the corner of his eye, Dean could see the Colonel viciously twist the pen, the plastic cracking under the pressure. “But you’re just a tool. Remember that.”
Dean kept his face carefully neutral, eyes trained on Crowley. The demon was frowning over at the Colonel, and Dean could hear the plastic of the pen creak as it was snapped. Dean’s hands trembled minutely where he clasped them behind his back, palms slick with sweat.
Get it together, Winchester. This isn’t Hel.
The Colonel took a step forward aggressively, dropping the destroyed pen to the floor. Dean flinched, silently cursing himself for such an obvious display of weakness, forcing himself to stand ram-rod straight as the demon advanced.
“So you’ll do their little pow wows and dance around that stupid tree in a loincloth,” the Colonel whispered, leaning into Dean’s space. “You’ll do whatever you have to, and make them move. Because if you don’t…”
The demon leant even further towards him, nose almost brushing his cheek, and Dean felt like turning tail and running. “Let’s just say feathers will fly. And boy, will they.”
Those yellow eyes bore into his. Dean felt a droplet of sweat trail down the side of his face.
“Azazel!”Crowley’s voice sliced through the tension, sharp and disapproving, and the Colonel pulled away with a smirk.
“But we don’t want that of course,” the yellow eyed demon smiled, turning back towards Crowley. “We want a peaceful solution.”
Crowley eyed the Colonel disapprovingly as his fellow demon moved away to resume his stance by the window. “Peaceful is good. Look Dean, you have three months. That’s how long I can afford to give you. I’m counting on you. And so are they.”
Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. He was shaking and just wanted to get out of there. “Yes, Sir. I’ll try my best.”
“Good,” the red eye nodded towards Dean. “I expect you to keep us updated on your progress. Good luck kid.”
Dean almost tripped in his hurry to leave.
Crowley watched the Winchester leave, noting the human’s half sprint towards freedom. Crowley was a businessman, and prided himself on being one of the more successful demons when it came to reading humans. He knew what made humans tick, what they liked, and what they didn’t. And that one…
That one definitely had issues.
The leather beneath him creaked as he leant back in his chair, hands folded serenely against his stomach. “He seemed a bit tense.”
Azazel was glaring out the window, jaw clenched and hands balled into fists at his sides. Honestly, the amount of time the yellow bastard spent brooding and skulking around looking intimidating was just ridiculous. What Crowley wouldn’t give for a few more reds around the place, instead of being forced to endure his fellow cousins. Sadistic blacks and one creepy yellow was damaging to his intellect.
And his office stationary apparently.
“So? He should be,” Azazel’s voice was low, rumbling with anger as he turned away from the window, and Crowley silently sighed to himself. “Do you have any idea what the name Winchester means?”
Oh wonderful. He was about to be treated to some boring-arse war story that Azazel was always so fond of. Like he hadn’t heard them a million times.
“A type of rifle?” Crowley asked wryly, bending down to retrieve his ruined pen and ignoring the dark glower thrown his way. Azazel never hid the fact that he hated Crowley, and the feeling was mutual. Back on Hel, demons like Azazel were big news. They were the ones with the power, the wealth and fame. But out here? Out here he was just a little fish in a big ocean.
And these were Crowley infested waters.
“It means pain and suffering,” Azazel hissed, apparently perfectly happy with continuing his war story. “Those bastards murdered hundreds, probably thousands of demons and their Earth Council pins a fucking medal on their chests?”
Crowley sighed, rubbing his eyes. He had so many other things he could be doing. Like watching paint dry. Or annoying Singer down in the biolabs. Dammit, gouging his eyes out with sporks sounded like a whale of time compared to this. “Both sides killed the other. It was war and now it’s over, hallelujah.”
“No.”
Crowley glanced up at that, taken aback by the hatred laced in Azazel’s voice. Who knew the scary bastard actually had emotions? Well to be fair, the demon’s default state was anger, so maybe this wasn’t all that exciting.
“It will never be over. Just that…Winchester,” there was a vein pulsing in Azazel’s forehead, and Crowley watched it interestedly, silently wondering just how angry the demon would have to get for it to burst. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to just see his face? To see the one responsible for-”
Azazel cut himself off, jaw clenching as he resumed his angry glaring out the window. Crowley rolled his eyes, picking at his nails boredly. Everyone with ears knew the Colonel had apparently lost family during the war. But really, who hadn’t? Crowley had lost eight brothers and four sisters. Did he whine on about it to anyone that would listen? No. Probably because the war had saved him the trouble of killing them himself.
Details, details.
“And what do I see?” Azazel continued, eyes practically melting holes into the glass in front of him. “A washed up marine with so many issues I’m amazed he can even get up in the morning.”
Crowley shrugged, picking a bit of lint off his suit jacket and flicking it away. “So the guy has problems. He’s not the only one on this base.”
Azazel ignored him, leaning his forehead on the glass. “They tell the saga of Serpent’s Pass to our young. Hatchlings are afraid of John Winchester hiding under their beds or in their closets. That murdering piece of shit has our respect and admiration, even though he wiped out our kin and cost us the war.”
He turned towards Crowley, sulfuric eyes blazing as he pointed accusingly towards the door. “And that’s supposed to be his son? That weak, pathetic excuse for a human being?”
Oh now that kind of talk wouldn’t do. Crowley placed both hands flat on his desk, watching the Colonel shrewdly. “If this was some kind of attempt to make me feel sorry for you, you can think again.”
Azazel turned at that, startled.
“The war is over,” Crowley continued firmly, noting the minute jerk the Colonel gave. “And I say good riddance. It was a piss poor excuse for a war anyways. Now, believe it or not, but there are both humans and demons on this base, and so far, it’s been working. So John Winchester fucked you over, I get it.”
He pushed away from his chair, staring Azazel down. The yellow eye was a good head and shoulders taller than him, but Crowley didn’t back down, folding his arms and glaring hard.
“But at least that lucky bastard got to die at the end of the war. His son, a marine, who was there at Serpent’s Pass, had to live with it. You don’t like the man, fine. It’s your business and I really don’t care. But I swear by Sithis, Azazel-”
The Colonel was using his death glare on him, but Crowley wasn’t easily intimidated, thrusting his chin forward for good measure.
“You will respect him. The man is a damn war hero, and also happens to be the ace up our sleeve for this project. If you fuck this up for me, you, or your little lackeys…”
Crowley threw in a cocky smirk, enjoying how the Colonel shook with barely concealed anger.
“I will make your life very difficult. Maybe even show you why they kept us reds off the battlefield.”
Azazel sneered at him, but those yellow eyes darted away, towards Crowley’s shoulder. Seemed the message had been received. “Is that a threat?”
“You bet it is,” Crowley dropped back down into his chair. “So knock off your alpha male bullshit, and do your job.”
Azazel muttered something under his breath, turning and storming for the door.
“And you owe me a new pen!” Crowley shouted after him, grinning as the Colonel bit out a dark curse just as the doors closed.
The biolabs were a hive of activity, busy looking people in white coats hurrying to and fro. Dean sat at a lab bench, shifting uncomfortably on the hard chair as his brother pottered around him. Sam was a pacing lunatic, arms flailing as he gushed about how awesome science was or something, white lab coat flapping.
“Isn’t it amazing?” Sam grinned, shaking his head. “Our planets are so far apart, yet we evolved in a similar direction. I mean of course we don’t exactly have wings but we look a lot alike and what are the chances? Like a billion t-”
Dean rolled his eyes, knuckles rapping on the hard bench surface. “Yeah yeah, I bet Darwin would be creaming his pants right now. Earth to Samantha, focus please?”
Sam smiled sheepishly. “Oh, right.”
Bobby pushed through the sea of white, shooing people away with a flap of his hands. “Alright, let’s go through them again.”
Dean groaned, slumping. “Again? Come on, Bobby.”
“No buts,” the older scientist said firmly. “This is our only chance at this, boy, and I aint lettin’ it slip by. You’re this project’s last hope.”
Jo swept into their midst, blonde hair bouncing and eyes twinkling. She had several holopad’s in her hand and held them in front of her dramatically. “Help us Obiwan-Kanobi, you’re our only hope.”
Dean smiled, halfheartedly reaching out to swat at her. “I guess I did always want to be a Jedi.”
Jo ducked away from his hand, handing a holopad to her step-father. Bobby tapped the screen a few times. As he turned it towards Dean, Michael’s stern face glared back at him.
“Michael,” Dean dutifully recited. “Head honcho.” The picture shimmered, and an attractive female angel stared back at him. “Raphael. Dragon lady. Michael’s ol’ ball and chain.”
Bobby rolled his eyes, and the picture changed again. Blondie scowled out at him and Dean shook his head.
“Lucifer. But seriously…Lucifer?” he asked incredulously, shooting Sam a look.
His brother shrugged. “Blame the bible bashers who discovered the planet. Christianity seeped into the culture of the Ne’gassagen accidentally and just kinda…stuck.”
Dean sighed. “Ok. So, Lucifer. Michael’s brother and right hand man. Kind of a dick.”
Bobby nodded at him, and the picture shifted to a familiar smiling face. Dean chuckled.
“Gabriel. Third in line for the throne or whatever. And,” the picture shifted again. “Balthazar. Fourth in line.”
Bobby shook his head with a smile, tossing the holopad onto the bench. “Those two could be powerful leaders if they put their minds to it. Instead, Gabriel is more interested in causin’ havoc, and Balthazar is along for the ride. Idiots the pair of ‘em.”
Sam chewed his lip thoughtfully, absently flicking his hair out of his eyes. “Why is that? The other gassagen are very traditional. Why do they-”
Dean leant back in the hard plastic chair, fingers tapping against his thigh as he let their voices lull into a pleasant hum around him. His nerves were still thrumming, anxious and tense from his meeting earlier. When would he be able to let that go? The Colonel was his boss. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life being afraid of a demon.
His shoulder gave a phantom twinge, snapping Dean back to the present, and his fingers stilled.
“Hey,” he said suddenly, and the scientists turned their attention back towards him. “What about Castiel?”
Bobby frowned. “Castiel? Well he’s a baltoh, but he’s the youngest. Will probably never gain power, so in the scheme of things, ain’t that important. Not much you need to know about him.”
For some reason Dean felt offended at that. He grabbed the discarded holopad with more force than was strictly necessary. “He’s the one in charge of taking care of me. I think that qualifies as important.”
The slim holopad felt fragile in his hands, and Dean squinted at the screen as he tapped a few buttons. Castiel’s face filled the screen, tiny spindly writing filling the bottom half of the picture. The angel looked uneasy, glancing away from the photo and jaw tense. Dean leant forward to study the writing underneath.
“Says he’s an iadnamad,” he said slowly, glancing over towards Bobby. “What the hell is one of those?”
Sam took a step forward before the older scientist could answer, craning his face to see the picture. “An iadnamad? I’ve never heard of a male angel being one.”
Bobby surprised them both by snatching the holopad back, the screen flickering back to black. “Probably because there aren’t any!” Bobby glanced around them, lowering his voice slightly. “It’s not common knowledge, and I’d like to keep it that way. The angel has enough trouble from his own tribe without us tryin’ to experiment on him.”
Well that sounded bad. Dean glanced up at his brother.
“Well we’re not gonna tell anyone. But I’ll be spending a butt-load of time with the dude, so it’s probably something I need to know. What’s an iadnamad?”
Bobby stared at him for a beat, before sighing heavily, rubbing the back of his neck with a callused hand. “Roughly translated? It means divine knowledge. An angel that’s an iadnamad is more in tune with the natural world and closer to Geiad. Their God. Some think they have certain…powers other angels don’t.”
“Like Superman?” Dean grinned.
Sam gave him a light punch on the arm. “An iadnamad usually becomes a tribe’s spiritual leader, but they’re always female. Raphael is the iadnamad.”
Dean rubbed his arm with a scowl, ignoring Jo’s giggle. “Well how come Cas is one then?”
“They don’t have the same gender roles as us, Dean. They’re pretty equal in reproductive roles.” Sam shrugged. “Castiel must just be…special. Random mutation.”
“Equal in reproductive roles? Care to speak English, Sam?”
Jo had been nonchalantly examining a holopad, but looked up as Dean spoke. She grinned impishly, winking at Dean. “It means dudes can get pregnant.”
There was a brief silence as Dean processed that.
“Oh,” he finally managed. “Right.”
Bobby set the holopad down, shaking his head. “Why do you think we wanna study ‘em so bad? Mary’s research is incomplete. You have a rare opportunity here to help finish it, and maybe save a lot of lives in the process. If we can learn about ‘em, we might be able to figure out how to stop this damn company from bulldozin’ their home.”
Dean mulled that over. Equipment beeped and buzzed around him, papers rustling as scientists continued about their work. Him? Why couldn’t Sam have been chased by an angry cat monster instead? People relying on him never went well.
The War had shown him that.
Dean’s shoulder gave a twinge again, and he winced for a moment, hand automatically reaching to touch it. He paused, suddenly remembering what they had been talking about.
“Hey you said powers right?” he asked. “Can they heal?”
Bobby paused in the middle of discussing something with Sam. “What?”
“Check it out,” Dean rolled up his shirt sleeve, exposing the slightly raised pink skin of his shoulder. “Remember I told you about those jackal things? I forgot, but I got bitten-”
He touched the skin with a grin, only feeling a slight twinge of sensitivity. “But Cas did some freaky angel shit and look. No scab or anything.”
The lab suddenly seemed very quiet. Every technician within hearing distance had paused what they were doing, staring towards Dean collectively. Bobby looked winded, Sam wide eyed and gawking.
“Oh my god, Dean,” his brother finally gasped, breaking the silence. “That’s…that’s…”
Dean craned to see his shoulder, suddenly panicked. Oh man, was he somehow deformed? He was going to kill Cas if he was mangled for life-
Jo shoved a small pocket mirror at him, her fingers shaking, and Dean finally saw what exactly they were all gawking at. There, where he had been mauled, was pink healing skin. Slightly raised, it formed a very distinct shape.
A perfect handprint.
“Blood tests!” Bobby snapped towards the technicians, startling the lab into a flurry of activity. “I want a full body scan! Now people!”
Dean swiveled his head to watch the technicians around him worriedly. “What? What?” he turned towards Sam pleadingly, shrugging a technician off his arm as she grabbed him. “Sammy! Am I gonna die?”
Sam absently shooed a technician away to reach out and prod Dean’s skin just beneath the handprint. His voice was hushed and awed. “Never thought I’d see evidence of it.”
Bobby muscled his way through, barking orders left and right. Jo was off, echoing his orders, but the lab seemed to just be in a panic, people flailing everywhere.
Sam shook his head, eyes wide. “Dean you idiot, you were attacked by a Canixalong. Their teeth are coated with a deadly toxin that prevents your blood from clotting. Their prey bleeds out in minutes.”
“You should be dead,” Bobby cut in roughly. “That angel, he saved your life. Most angels have healin’ powers, but only minor, like healin’ a cut here and there. Only an iadnamad can pull you back from the brink of death.”
Sam swallowed, eyes frightened. “Dammit Dean, if he hadn’t been there…”
The look in his brother’s eyes scared him, and Dean tried to reach out to reassure Sam he was okay, but he was pushed out of his seat, hurriedly ushered towards a different area of lab. Sam’s face was temporarily lost in a sea of white.
“Healing? So they do have superpowers!” Dean said lightly, panic beginning to set in.
As if sensing his oncoming panic attack, Bobby reappeared, sending technicians scattering. He pushed Dean down into a chair, eyes understanding even as his gruff voice continued to hand out orders. There was a gentle hand on his elbow, and Dean twisted to see Jo smiling down at him.
“It’s hard to explain,” she said gently, ignoring the activity around them. “Their world relies on the flow of life. We believe it’s an actual physical life force called their ‘Malprigzch' that they can control. Like, a flow of energy they control within themselves and the world around them.”
Bobby grunted, holding a syringe up to the light and flicking it. Dean tried to ignore how huge the needle looked.
“No human has ever been the recipient of it,” a muscle in Bobby’s jaw twitched. “It’s a power reserved for them. Accordin’ to their laws, he should’ve let you die.”
Dean felt light headed, stomach heaving. “Kiss Cas’s ass profusely,” Dean joked weakly. “Got it.”
After multiple blood tests, and scans, and God knew what else, Dean was finally allowed to return to his room. He collapsed with a groan onto his bed, rubbing his cheek happily against the soft cotton sheets.
“Oh sweetheart, I will never leave you again,” he rumbled against the bedspread.
Sam hovered worriedly nearby, running a hand through his hair. It was his nervous tick, playing with his ridiculous mane. Usually meant a discussion about feelings wasn’t far off, and Dean sighed.
“Out with it Sam,” he mumbled. “Tell me what a stupid idiot I am. Like I haven’t heard that enough today.”
The bed next to his squeaked loudly as Sam dropped heavily on it. Opening one eye, Dean looked over at his brother’s slumped form. Sam’s forearms rested along his thighs, head bent forward to study the floor.
“Dean, do you know why I decided to study xenobiology?” he asked quietly.
Dean raised his head, shuffling his elbows under him so he could look at his brother full on. Sam avoided his eyes, fingers picking at imaginary threads on his knees.
“I did it so she would see my name everywhere. I’d be the best xenobiologist just so she would have to read my name in every journal she picked up, see my face in every holo.”
He raised his head at that, looking so much like the little brother Dean had watched walk away from all those years ago.
“I wanted to make it so she could never escape me as easily as she left us. Left us to rot there in that colony.”
Dean got his legs under him, sitting up. “Sam,” he warned, voice low and rough. His brother continued, forcing the words out that he had obviously kept inside for a long time.
“I don’t even remember her,” Sam chuckled wryly. “To me, I never had a mother. But I had you. I had Dad. And that was enough. But now…”
Sam swallowed heavily, looking anywhere but at Dean.
“Now, there’s just you. And I’m not going to lose you too. I can’t. When you didn’t come back-”
Dean was crouching in front of his brother before he even knew he was moving. Sam’s cheek was wet as he grabbed it, fingers scraping against stubble. This wasn’t the little boy with a gaping smile that Dean would play cowboys and Indians with through the fields, or catch bullfrogs with in the Miller Pond by the abandoned farm. It wasn’t the sick infant he had held through the night when John had to work late in the mines.
Sam was a grown man now, but in so many ways, he would always be that younger brother. Would always be that little boy with scraped knees that Dean would kiss better.
“Sam, listen to me.”
It was his big brother voice, and Sam obeyed, glancing up through his thick mess of hair. Dean gave him a little shake, trying to ignore the tightness in his own chest.
“You won’t lose me,” he said firmly. “We came here together, we’ll do this together.”
Sam took a deep breath, smiling faintly even as his eyes glistened. “You know, sometimes you sound so much like Dad it hurts.”
His chest tightened further. “Yeah. I know.”
“I think he’d be proud,” Sam reached out, fingers slipping under the metallic chain around Dean’s neck. Dean let his brother pull the ID tags free from his shirt, already knowing the shape of the letters under Sam’s thumb as he touched the last tag reverently. The punched metallic letters under his fingers was the last tenuous link to a father he had barely known; John Winchester’s epitaph etched in less than two dozen letters and numbers.
Dean reached up to enclose his brother’s hand in his, squeezing lightly. “He was always proud of you, Sammy. Always. He just-”
Sam hung his head with a wry chuckle, fingers falling away from Dean’s. “I was too much like her. Every time he looked at me, he saw her.”
He stared at the floor again, shoulders slumped. “What happened to our family, Dean? Where did we go wrong? Was it, was it me? Did Dad hate her that much?”
Dean’s chest felt too tight, the air in his lungs too thin. No Sammy, it was never you, never you.
“We didn’t go wrong,” Dean’s voice sounded alien to his ears, self-assured even though he didn’t feel it. “Our family just got dealt a bad hand. It’s no-one’s fault.”
But mine.
Sam smiled at him, and Dean ached with it. Ached with the knowledge of that long distant little boy who never deserved any of what they actually got.
Dean would always try to shoulder that burden. Sam deserved better.
“Yeah,” Sam reached out to squeeze his shoulder affectionately. “I guess we’re doing pretty good just the two of us, huh?”
Dean smiled back, the words heavy in his mouth. “Yeah. I guess we are.”
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Author: daksgirl
Artist: terrorinyertub
Fandom/Genre: Supernatural, au, sci fi, drama
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Side pairings: Sam/Gabriel, past Sam/Jess
Rating: NC-17 (violence, adult situations, language)
Word Count: 80,668
Warnings: Graphic violence and warfare, adult themes including sex, canon character deaths, demon xenophobia, swearing, gore (in a war situation), PTSD and an attempted non-con situation.
[Fic Masterpost]
[Art Masterpost]
The canteen was loud, full of clanging utensils, and the constant chattering of people. Dean thought it was the sweetest sounding thing he’d ever heard.
Bobby grinned off to his right, hands expressive as he recounted the story again for the gaping soldiers. “Then the last thing we see is this marine’s ass disappearin’ into the brush with this angry Vniglag comin’ after him.”
Dean grinned winningly around his noodles as the men chuckled. “It’s not something you can teach.”
Ash, the scruffy looking marine Dean had seen in the hangar the other day, pointed at him seriously.
“Dude. You’re awesome.”
Sam was pressed close to his side, apparently unwilling to let Dean out of his sight for even a minute. The giant girl tucked into his own meal, shooting an affectionate glare towards Dean. “For reasons I can’t even begin to fathom, you were the one that the Ne’gassagen let in. Seriously.”
“What can I say Sammy?” Dean winked. “Must be my natural charm.”
Gabriel had woken him up early that morning, leading the way through the thick forest back towards the complex. Dean hadn’t seen any sign of Castiel, but Gabriel assured him before leaving him at the complex fence, that his feathered savior would be back the next day.
It had been downright embarrassing, hollering up at the guards to let Dean in and then having to suffer through watching Sam run across the concrete towards him with arms flung open like a scene from a bad romance movie.
Bobby chuckled, reaching over to pat him briefly on the hand. “I can’t believe it. You’re somethin’ else boy.”
A familiar figure wound her way through the throngs of dining humans, picking her way towards them. Ruby had changed from her jumpsuit into jeans and a t-shirt, and the female demon attracted many an appraising look as she passed by.
Reaching their table, her eyes lighted on Dean, and she shook her head with a wry smile.
“So it’s true. We haven’t got rid of you yet.”
Dean shoveled more noodles into his mouth, ignoring Sam’s grimaces at him. “Nope. You’ll have to try harder next time.”
Ruby rolled her eyes, leaning forward to snag a French fry from Ash’s plate. “Yeah, yeah. You’re wanted up in command central, hot stuff. Crowley asked for you by name. Colonel’s up there too.”
Dean nearly choked, the noodles suddenly too long and stringy in his mouth. Sam touched him worriedly, and Dean shrugged him off, swallowing.
“Right. Better not keep boss man waiting huh?” his tone was light, but his stomach felt knotted as he stood, his seat scraping across the floor.
Sam watched his brother go, desperately wanting to follow. But Dean was a marine, and a damn good one at that. It wasn’t Sam’s place to try and baby him.
Dean passed by a table of demons, and they leered at him, black eyes flashing. One stood out, and Sam dug an elbow into Bobby’s side without thinking.
“Hey. Who’s the creep giving Dean the stink-eye?”
Luckily the older scientist didn’t seem to mind the nudge, glancing over towards where Sam indicated. His eyes hardened, jaw clenching.
“Alistair,” he growled, and Ruby paused mid French-fry theft. “That son of a bitch.”
Jo glanced up from her salad, giving a full body shudder. “That guy gives me the heebie jeebies. Always lurkin’ around like a…well…lurkin’ thing.”
Bobby humphed, turning back to his own meal. “That black eyed creep knows better than to hang around you, baby girl. I’d kill ‘im.”
“Aw, thanks Papa Bear,” Jo leaned into her step-father’s side, batting her eyes. “But I can kick his ass just fine on my own.”
Sam frowned, letting their voices wash over him as he studied the sniggering demon across the hall. Ruby nudged him, dark eyes serious as Sam turned back around.
“Watch it, kid. Alistair is a guy you don’t want to attract the attention of,” she said lowly. “Trust me on that.”
A bored looking secretary waved him into the huge office, and Dean swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. The carpet under his boots swished as he entered, and Dean steeled himself as he noticed the large mahogany desk in the center of the room. Sat behind it was the Corporate Administrator, and beside him…stood the Colonel.
Both demons. Yay.
The Corporate Administrator was a red eye, and he stood slowly, spreading his hands as he smiled. “Winchester! Glad to see you made it back in one piece. You’re turning into quite the celebrity around here.”
A hand was thrust in his direction, and mindful of the Colonel’s judging gaze, Dean took it, shaking once.
“Thank you, Sir. I’m just glad to be home.”
The demon’s red eyes crinkled at him, glittering with genuine glee. “Please, the name’s Crowley,” he settled back down into his chair, the leather creaking beneath him. “I hear you ran into our little friends out there in the bush.”
Dean nodded once, and the Colonel sighed, cocking his hip against the desk. His arms were crossed, shoulders a tense line of irritation.
“Out with it, Winchester. What did you find? I won’t ask twice.”
Dean squared his shoulders, feet spread. “They want to learn from me, Sir. They’re going to teach me their ways.”
Crowley clapped his hands, and the Colonel glared over at him irritably.
“Well wonderful! Now that’s called taking the initiative,” the red eyed demon winked. “I like that. So-”
The demon picked up a pen, tapping it against the desk thoughtfully. The Colonel was watching Dean again, eyes calculating, and Dean stiffened further. The threats from the black eye in the hangar were still fresh in his mind.
“-now we just need to find out what they want,” Crowley frowned, the mirth leaving his eyes. “We tried giving them medicine, education, roads, you name it. But no, they like their mud and trees. Go figure. We need to get them to move, and we need to get it done soon.”
Dean met those red eyes with his own, mindful of the Colonel’s gaze currently boring holes in him. “And if I may ask Sir, why do we need to do that?”
Crowley smiled at him, dropping the pen with a clatter to fold his hands in front of him. “That little home tree of theirs just happens to be sitting on the richest deposit of alchideo within two hundred clicks in any direction.”
Dean’s heart sank. It didn’t take a genius to work out what the demon was getting at.
“And if they don’t go?” He asked carefully. Crowley sighed loudly, glancing over at the Colonel briefly.
“Look, my…investors, are not patient beings. They want results, and they want them now. Slaughtering a bunch of pigeons on an alien planet might not make the news, but give those pigeons a human face and well...”
The demon shrugged. “We need good PR for this project and a peaceful solution would give us that.”
The Colonel unfolded his arms, long fingers snagging the pen Crowley had dropped. His eyes were bright, almost fluorescent in the office lights.
“You have a talent, Winchester. You get things done. I can respect that.” From the corner of his eye, Dean could see the Colonel viciously twist the pen, the plastic cracking under the pressure. “But you’re just a tool. Remember that.”
Dean kept his face carefully neutral, eyes trained on Crowley. The demon was frowning over at the Colonel, and Dean could hear the plastic of the pen creak as it was snapped. Dean’s hands trembled minutely where he clasped them behind his back, palms slick with sweat.
Get it together, Winchester. This isn’t Hel.
The Colonel took a step forward aggressively, dropping the destroyed pen to the floor. Dean flinched, silently cursing himself for such an obvious display of weakness, forcing himself to stand ram-rod straight as the demon advanced.
“So you’ll do their little pow wows and dance around that stupid tree in a loincloth,” the Colonel whispered, leaning into Dean’s space. “You’ll do whatever you have to, and make them move. Because if you don’t…”
The demon leant even further towards him, nose almost brushing his cheek, and Dean felt like turning tail and running. “Let’s just say feathers will fly. And boy, will they.”
Those yellow eyes bore into his. Dean felt a droplet of sweat trail down the side of his face.
“Azazel!”Crowley’s voice sliced through the tension, sharp and disapproving, and the Colonel pulled away with a smirk.
“But we don’t want that of course,” the yellow eyed demon smiled, turning back towards Crowley. “We want a peaceful solution.”
Crowley eyed the Colonel disapprovingly as his fellow demon moved away to resume his stance by the window. “Peaceful is good. Look Dean, you have three months. That’s how long I can afford to give you. I’m counting on you. And so are they.”
Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. He was shaking and just wanted to get out of there. “Yes, Sir. I’ll try my best.”
“Good,” the red eye nodded towards Dean. “I expect you to keep us updated on your progress. Good luck kid.”
Dean almost tripped in his hurry to leave.
Crowley watched the Winchester leave, noting the human’s half sprint towards freedom. Crowley was a businessman, and prided himself on being one of the more successful demons when it came to reading humans. He knew what made humans tick, what they liked, and what they didn’t. And that one…
That one definitely had issues.
The leather beneath him creaked as he leant back in his chair, hands folded serenely against his stomach. “He seemed a bit tense.”
Azazel was glaring out the window, jaw clenched and hands balled into fists at his sides. Honestly, the amount of time the yellow bastard spent brooding and skulking around looking intimidating was just ridiculous. What Crowley wouldn’t give for a few more reds around the place, instead of being forced to endure his fellow cousins. Sadistic blacks and one creepy yellow was damaging to his intellect.
And his office stationary apparently.
“So? He should be,” Azazel’s voice was low, rumbling with anger as he turned away from the window, and Crowley silently sighed to himself. “Do you have any idea what the name Winchester means?”
Oh wonderful. He was about to be treated to some boring-arse war story that Azazel was always so fond of. Like he hadn’t heard them a million times.
“A type of rifle?” Crowley asked wryly, bending down to retrieve his ruined pen and ignoring the dark glower thrown his way. Azazel never hid the fact that he hated Crowley, and the feeling was mutual. Back on Hel, demons like Azazel were big news. They were the ones with the power, the wealth and fame. But out here? Out here he was just a little fish in a big ocean.
And these were Crowley infested waters.
“It means pain and suffering,” Azazel hissed, apparently perfectly happy with continuing his war story. “Those bastards murdered hundreds, probably thousands of demons and their Earth Council pins a fucking medal on their chests?”
Crowley sighed, rubbing his eyes. He had so many other things he could be doing. Like watching paint dry. Or annoying Singer down in the biolabs. Dammit, gouging his eyes out with sporks sounded like a whale of time compared to this. “Both sides killed the other. It was war and now it’s over, hallelujah.”
“No.”
Crowley glanced up at that, taken aback by the hatred laced in Azazel’s voice. Who knew the scary bastard actually had emotions? Well to be fair, the demon’s default state was anger, so maybe this wasn’t all that exciting.
“It will never be over. Just that…Winchester,” there was a vein pulsing in Azazel’s forehead, and Crowley watched it interestedly, silently wondering just how angry the demon would have to get for it to burst. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to just see his face? To see the one responsible for-”
Azazel cut himself off, jaw clenching as he resumed his angry glaring out the window. Crowley rolled his eyes, picking at his nails boredly. Everyone with ears knew the Colonel had apparently lost family during the war. But really, who hadn’t? Crowley had lost eight brothers and four sisters. Did he whine on about it to anyone that would listen? No. Probably because the war had saved him the trouble of killing them himself.
Details, details.
“And what do I see?” Azazel continued, eyes practically melting holes into the glass in front of him. “A washed up marine with so many issues I’m amazed he can even get up in the morning.”
Crowley shrugged, picking a bit of lint off his suit jacket and flicking it away. “So the guy has problems. He’s not the only one on this base.”
Azazel ignored him, leaning his forehead on the glass. “They tell the saga of Serpent’s Pass to our young. Hatchlings are afraid of John Winchester hiding under their beds or in their closets. That murdering piece of shit has our respect and admiration, even though he wiped out our kin and cost us the war.”
He turned towards Crowley, sulfuric eyes blazing as he pointed accusingly towards the door. “And that’s supposed to be his son? That weak, pathetic excuse for a human being?”
Oh now that kind of talk wouldn’t do. Crowley placed both hands flat on his desk, watching the Colonel shrewdly. “If this was some kind of attempt to make me feel sorry for you, you can think again.”
Azazel turned at that, startled.
“The war is over,” Crowley continued firmly, noting the minute jerk the Colonel gave. “And I say good riddance. It was a piss poor excuse for a war anyways. Now, believe it or not, but there are both humans and demons on this base, and so far, it’s been working. So John Winchester fucked you over, I get it.”
He pushed away from his chair, staring Azazel down. The yellow eye was a good head and shoulders taller than him, but Crowley didn’t back down, folding his arms and glaring hard.
“But at least that lucky bastard got to die at the end of the war. His son, a marine, who was there at Serpent’s Pass, had to live with it. You don’t like the man, fine. It’s your business and I really don’t care. But I swear by Sithis, Azazel-”
The Colonel was using his death glare on him, but Crowley wasn’t easily intimidated, thrusting his chin forward for good measure.
“You will respect him. The man is a damn war hero, and also happens to be the ace up our sleeve for this project. If you fuck this up for me, you, or your little lackeys…”
Crowley threw in a cocky smirk, enjoying how the Colonel shook with barely concealed anger.
“I will make your life very difficult. Maybe even show you why they kept us reds off the battlefield.”
Azazel sneered at him, but those yellow eyes darted away, towards Crowley’s shoulder. Seemed the message had been received. “Is that a threat?”
“You bet it is,” Crowley dropped back down into his chair. “So knock off your alpha male bullshit, and do your job.”
Azazel muttered something under his breath, turning and storming for the door.
“And you owe me a new pen!” Crowley shouted after him, grinning as the Colonel bit out a dark curse just as the doors closed.
The biolabs were a hive of activity, busy looking people in white coats hurrying to and fro. Dean sat at a lab bench, shifting uncomfortably on the hard chair as his brother pottered around him. Sam was a pacing lunatic, arms flailing as he gushed about how awesome science was or something, white lab coat flapping.
“Isn’t it amazing?” Sam grinned, shaking his head. “Our planets are so far apart, yet we evolved in a similar direction. I mean of course we don’t exactly have wings but we look a lot alike and what are the chances? Like a billion t-”
Dean rolled his eyes, knuckles rapping on the hard bench surface. “Yeah yeah, I bet Darwin would be creaming his pants right now. Earth to Samantha, focus please?”
Sam smiled sheepishly. “Oh, right.”
Bobby pushed through the sea of white, shooing people away with a flap of his hands. “Alright, let’s go through them again.”
Dean groaned, slumping. “Again? Come on, Bobby.”
“No buts,” the older scientist said firmly. “This is our only chance at this, boy, and I aint lettin’ it slip by. You’re this project’s last hope.”
Jo swept into their midst, blonde hair bouncing and eyes twinkling. She had several holopad’s in her hand and held them in front of her dramatically. “Help us Obiwan-Kanobi, you’re our only hope.”
Dean smiled, halfheartedly reaching out to swat at her. “I guess I did always want to be a Jedi.”
Jo ducked away from his hand, handing a holopad to her step-father. Bobby tapped the screen a few times. As he turned it towards Dean, Michael’s stern face glared back at him.
“Michael,” Dean dutifully recited. “Head honcho.” The picture shimmered, and an attractive female angel stared back at him. “Raphael. Dragon lady. Michael’s ol’ ball and chain.”
Bobby rolled his eyes, and the picture changed again. Blondie scowled out at him and Dean shook his head.
“Lucifer. But seriously…Lucifer?” he asked incredulously, shooting Sam a look.
His brother shrugged. “Blame the bible bashers who discovered the planet. Christianity seeped into the culture of the Ne’gassagen accidentally and just kinda…stuck.”
Dean sighed. “Ok. So, Lucifer. Michael’s brother and right hand man. Kind of a dick.”
Bobby nodded at him, and the picture shifted to a familiar smiling face. Dean chuckled.
“Gabriel. Third in line for the throne or whatever. And,” the picture shifted again. “Balthazar. Fourth in line.”
Bobby shook his head with a smile, tossing the holopad onto the bench. “Those two could be powerful leaders if they put their minds to it. Instead, Gabriel is more interested in causin’ havoc, and Balthazar is along for the ride. Idiots the pair of ‘em.”
Sam chewed his lip thoughtfully, absently flicking his hair out of his eyes. “Why is that? The other gassagen are very traditional. Why do they-”
Dean leant back in the hard plastic chair, fingers tapping against his thigh as he let their voices lull into a pleasant hum around him. His nerves were still thrumming, anxious and tense from his meeting earlier. When would he be able to let that go? The Colonel was his boss. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life being afraid of a demon.
His shoulder gave a phantom twinge, snapping Dean back to the present, and his fingers stilled.
“Hey,” he said suddenly, and the scientists turned their attention back towards him. “What about Castiel?”
Bobby frowned. “Castiel? Well he’s a baltoh, but he’s the youngest. Will probably never gain power, so in the scheme of things, ain’t that important. Not much you need to know about him.”
For some reason Dean felt offended at that. He grabbed the discarded holopad with more force than was strictly necessary. “He’s the one in charge of taking care of me. I think that qualifies as important.”
The slim holopad felt fragile in his hands, and Dean squinted at the screen as he tapped a few buttons. Castiel’s face filled the screen, tiny spindly writing filling the bottom half of the picture. The angel looked uneasy, glancing away from the photo and jaw tense. Dean leant forward to study the writing underneath.
“Says he’s an iadnamad,” he said slowly, glancing over towards Bobby. “What the hell is one of those?”
Sam took a step forward before the older scientist could answer, craning his face to see the picture. “An iadnamad? I’ve never heard of a male angel being one.”
Bobby surprised them both by snatching the holopad back, the screen flickering back to black. “Probably because there aren’t any!” Bobby glanced around them, lowering his voice slightly. “It’s not common knowledge, and I’d like to keep it that way. The angel has enough trouble from his own tribe without us tryin’ to experiment on him.”
Well that sounded bad. Dean glanced up at his brother.
“Well we’re not gonna tell anyone. But I’ll be spending a butt-load of time with the dude, so it’s probably something I need to know. What’s an iadnamad?”
Bobby stared at him for a beat, before sighing heavily, rubbing the back of his neck with a callused hand. “Roughly translated? It means divine knowledge. An angel that’s an iadnamad is more in tune with the natural world and closer to Geiad. Their God. Some think they have certain…powers other angels don’t.”
“Like Superman?” Dean grinned.
Sam gave him a light punch on the arm. “An iadnamad usually becomes a tribe’s spiritual leader, but they’re always female. Raphael is the iadnamad.”
Dean rubbed his arm with a scowl, ignoring Jo’s giggle. “Well how come Cas is one then?”
“They don’t have the same gender roles as us, Dean. They’re pretty equal in reproductive roles.” Sam shrugged. “Castiel must just be…special. Random mutation.”
“Equal in reproductive roles? Care to speak English, Sam?”
Jo had been nonchalantly examining a holopad, but looked up as Dean spoke. She grinned impishly, winking at Dean. “It means dudes can get pregnant.”
There was a brief silence as Dean processed that.
“Oh,” he finally managed. “Right.”
Bobby set the holopad down, shaking his head. “Why do you think we wanna study ‘em so bad? Mary’s research is incomplete. You have a rare opportunity here to help finish it, and maybe save a lot of lives in the process. If we can learn about ‘em, we might be able to figure out how to stop this damn company from bulldozin’ their home.”
Dean mulled that over. Equipment beeped and buzzed around him, papers rustling as scientists continued about their work. Him? Why couldn’t Sam have been chased by an angry cat monster instead? People relying on him never went well.
The War had shown him that.
Dean’s shoulder gave a twinge again, and he winced for a moment, hand automatically reaching to touch it. He paused, suddenly remembering what they had been talking about.
“Hey you said powers right?” he asked. “Can they heal?”
Bobby paused in the middle of discussing something with Sam. “What?”
“Check it out,” Dean rolled up his shirt sleeve, exposing the slightly raised pink skin of his shoulder. “Remember I told you about those jackal things? I forgot, but I got bitten-”
He touched the skin with a grin, only feeling a slight twinge of sensitivity. “But Cas did some freaky angel shit and look. No scab or anything.”
The lab suddenly seemed very quiet. Every technician within hearing distance had paused what they were doing, staring towards Dean collectively. Bobby looked winded, Sam wide eyed and gawking.
“Oh my god, Dean,” his brother finally gasped, breaking the silence. “That’s…that’s…”
Dean craned to see his shoulder, suddenly panicked. Oh man, was he somehow deformed? He was going to kill Cas if he was mangled for life-
Jo shoved a small pocket mirror at him, her fingers shaking, and Dean finally saw what exactly they were all gawking at. There, where he had been mauled, was pink healing skin. Slightly raised, it formed a very distinct shape.
A perfect handprint.
“Blood tests!” Bobby snapped towards the technicians, startling the lab into a flurry of activity. “I want a full body scan! Now people!”
Dean swiveled his head to watch the technicians around him worriedly. “What? What?” he turned towards Sam pleadingly, shrugging a technician off his arm as she grabbed him. “Sammy! Am I gonna die?”
Sam absently shooed a technician away to reach out and prod Dean’s skin just beneath the handprint. His voice was hushed and awed. “Never thought I’d see evidence of it.”
Bobby muscled his way through, barking orders left and right. Jo was off, echoing his orders, but the lab seemed to just be in a panic, people flailing everywhere.
Sam shook his head, eyes wide. “Dean you idiot, you were attacked by a Canixalong. Their teeth are coated with a deadly toxin that prevents your blood from clotting. Their prey bleeds out in minutes.”
“You should be dead,” Bobby cut in roughly. “That angel, he saved your life. Most angels have healin’ powers, but only minor, like healin’ a cut here and there. Only an iadnamad can pull you back from the brink of death.”
Sam swallowed, eyes frightened. “Dammit Dean, if he hadn’t been there…”
The look in his brother’s eyes scared him, and Dean tried to reach out to reassure Sam he was okay, but he was pushed out of his seat, hurriedly ushered towards a different area of lab. Sam’s face was temporarily lost in a sea of white.
“Healing? So they do have superpowers!” Dean said lightly, panic beginning to set in.
As if sensing his oncoming panic attack, Bobby reappeared, sending technicians scattering. He pushed Dean down into a chair, eyes understanding even as his gruff voice continued to hand out orders. There was a gentle hand on his elbow, and Dean twisted to see Jo smiling down at him.
“It’s hard to explain,” she said gently, ignoring the activity around them. “Their world relies on the flow of life. We believe it’s an actual physical life force called their ‘Malprigzch' that they can control. Like, a flow of energy they control within themselves and the world around them.”
Bobby grunted, holding a syringe up to the light and flicking it. Dean tried to ignore how huge the needle looked.
“No human has ever been the recipient of it,” a muscle in Bobby’s jaw twitched. “It’s a power reserved for them. Accordin’ to their laws, he should’ve let you die.”
Dean felt light headed, stomach heaving. “Kiss Cas’s ass profusely,” Dean joked weakly. “Got it.”
After multiple blood tests, and scans, and God knew what else, Dean was finally allowed to return to his room. He collapsed with a groan onto his bed, rubbing his cheek happily against the soft cotton sheets.
“Oh sweetheart, I will never leave you again,” he rumbled against the bedspread.
Sam hovered worriedly nearby, running a hand through his hair. It was his nervous tick, playing with his ridiculous mane. Usually meant a discussion about feelings wasn’t far off, and Dean sighed.
“Out with it Sam,” he mumbled. “Tell me what a stupid idiot I am. Like I haven’t heard that enough today.”
The bed next to his squeaked loudly as Sam dropped heavily on it. Opening one eye, Dean looked over at his brother’s slumped form. Sam’s forearms rested along his thighs, head bent forward to study the floor.
“Dean, do you know why I decided to study xenobiology?” he asked quietly.
Dean raised his head, shuffling his elbows under him so he could look at his brother full on. Sam avoided his eyes, fingers picking at imaginary threads on his knees.
“I did it so she would see my name everywhere. I’d be the best xenobiologist just so she would have to read my name in every journal she picked up, see my face in every holo.”
He raised his head at that, looking so much like the little brother Dean had watched walk away from all those years ago.
“I wanted to make it so she could never escape me as easily as she left us. Left us to rot there in that colony.”
Dean got his legs under him, sitting up. “Sam,” he warned, voice low and rough. His brother continued, forcing the words out that he had obviously kept inside for a long time.
“I don’t even remember her,” Sam chuckled wryly. “To me, I never had a mother. But I had you. I had Dad. And that was enough. But now…”
Sam swallowed heavily, looking anywhere but at Dean.
“Now, there’s just you. And I’m not going to lose you too. I can’t. When you didn’t come back-”
Dean was crouching in front of his brother before he even knew he was moving. Sam’s cheek was wet as he grabbed it, fingers scraping against stubble. This wasn’t the little boy with a gaping smile that Dean would play cowboys and Indians with through the fields, or catch bullfrogs with in the Miller Pond by the abandoned farm. It wasn’t the sick infant he had held through the night when John had to work late in the mines.
Sam was a grown man now, but in so many ways, he would always be that younger brother. Would always be that little boy with scraped knees that Dean would kiss better.
“Sam, listen to me.”
It was his big brother voice, and Sam obeyed, glancing up through his thick mess of hair. Dean gave him a little shake, trying to ignore the tightness in his own chest.
“You won’t lose me,” he said firmly. “We came here together, we’ll do this together.”
Sam took a deep breath, smiling faintly even as his eyes glistened. “You know, sometimes you sound so much like Dad it hurts.”
His chest tightened further. “Yeah. I know.”
“I think he’d be proud,” Sam reached out, fingers slipping under the metallic chain around Dean’s neck. Dean let his brother pull the ID tags free from his shirt, already knowing the shape of the letters under Sam’s thumb as he touched the last tag reverently. The punched metallic letters under his fingers was the last tenuous link to a father he had barely known; John Winchester’s epitaph etched in less than two dozen letters and numbers.
Dean reached up to enclose his brother’s hand in his, squeezing lightly. “He was always proud of you, Sammy. Always. He just-”
Sam hung his head with a wry chuckle, fingers falling away from Dean’s. “I was too much like her. Every time he looked at me, he saw her.”
He stared at the floor again, shoulders slumped. “What happened to our family, Dean? Where did we go wrong? Was it, was it me? Did Dad hate her that much?”
Dean’s chest felt too tight, the air in his lungs too thin. No Sammy, it was never you, never you.
“We didn’t go wrong,” Dean’s voice sounded alien to his ears, self-assured even though he didn’t feel it. “Our family just got dealt a bad hand. It’s no-one’s fault.”
But mine.
Sam smiled at him, and Dean ached with it. Ached with the knowledge of that long distant little boy who never deserved any of what they actually got.
Dean would always try to shoulder that burden. Sam deserved better.
“Yeah,” Sam reached out to squeeze his shoulder affectionately. “I guess we’re doing pretty good just the two of us, huh?”
Dean smiled back, the words heavy in his mouth. “Yeah. I guess we are.”
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