Rising Sun Going Down (Dean/Sam R)
Title: Rising Sun Going Down
Rating: R
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Word Count: 1,125
Warnings: Wincest, spoilers for "All Hell Breaks Loose"
Summary: Dean's time is running out, and Sam has a plan that might work.
Birthday present for arabella_hope. Not exactly the "schmoopy hand-holding" you asked for, but I hope you like it anyway. :)
+++
Dean could tell his countdown was running close to the end. The day the hellhounds came to collect his debt was drawing nearer. Every now and then he'd look at Sam, the one whose life he had paid for with his own, and his brother's face would look dead again, for the briefest of moments, leaving Dean's breath raspy with panic. If Sam knew what was happening he didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. He knew the precise day Dean's time was going to run out, making him work even harder on trying to find a way out, some sort of supernatural loophole that would allow the both of them to live.
If Sam had a plan, though, he didn't tell Dean. Dean didn't like being left in the dark, but Sam's plan was probably stupid and crazy, and even if it meant saving his life, Dean would have tied him to the bed to keep him from going through with it.
One week left and Dean stopped sleeping, started drinking enough coffee that he started getting twitchy, couldn't sit still. If this was going to be his last week on Earth, he wasn't going to waste it by sleeping.
Sam returned, and Dean forced himself to smile despite the grim look on his brother's face. It fought back his urge to vomit.
+
Skin against skin against cool leather, Sam had needed to feel his brother, feel his brother feeling him, warm and alive. The demon was dead and they, at least at that moment in time, weren't. Dean wouldn't let Sam be mad at him for the deal he had made, but Sam had other ways of telling Dean how he felt.
He told him how he loved him with a fierce kiss, the force of it strong enough to bruise, but that's how their relationship was. Sam told Dean he was stupid for making the deal by biting his neck, the trail of skin exposed as he unbuttoned Dean's shirt and slid it off his shoulders, but then kissed the marks better, his way of apologizing for making Dean have to do it to begin with. Thrusting into one another, too desperate and the front seat of the Impala too small to get all their clothes off, in the same instance of time Sam hated yet loved no one else in the world more than his brother.
Sam's mind had only half been there at that moment, was only half there at every moment afterwards, as well. He was constantly going through everything he had ever learned, trying to remember stories, charms, anything that might help.
He was going to find a way to save Dean.
+
With one day left, Dean walked around Bobby's house and the junkyard only to find Sam and the Impala gone. Bobby didn't know anything, just clapped him on the shoulder and looked at Dean in a way that reminded him of Dad.
He spent the day working on cars, jumping at the sound of every engine he heard in the distance, but none of them were the Impala's familiar purr, Sam behind the wheel. Ellen came out to see if Dean wanted anything to eat, but he couldn't get the words "last meal" out of his head as she spoke, trying to coerce him to come inside, trying to be comforting when her eyes gave away how scared she really was.
Ellen went back inside, and Dean pulled out his phone, trying Sam's number twice to no avail before calling Missouri. She didn't tell him outright whether he was going to die tomorrow or not, but Dean hadn't expected her to. Missouri told him instead that Sam would be just fine, which was the most reassuring thing Dean could've asked her to say.
Dean wasn't going to fight it if Sam couldn't save him. He wouldn't fight the hellhounds; he wouldn't fight death. Dean still didn't believe in God, but he did like to believe that in death they all could be a family again.
+
Sam figured out how he was going to save his brother after mentally shoving a demonology book across the table. He had been starting to feel frustrated, hopeless, and it happened. He thought his powers had died with the demon, but he clearly had been wrong. The blood was a part of him, which was all that seemed to matter.
He started out small, figuring out how he could move things, control objects, just by thinking about them. Strong emotions appeared to work best, and with Dean's life on the line, they were easy to summon.
The next step Sam happened upon by accident. He was trying to direct his focus onto floating three objects that were all the way across the room when Ellen had crossed Sam's line of sight and then was suddenly standing in front of him. She told him that he was playing with something dangerous, something that only the demons themselves knew anything about, but Sam told her that he had to do it for Dean.
It was harder when he started trying to control demons. He'd go out at night, alone, to somewhere secluded, and used the summoning spells, lesser demons at first, moving on to bigger and more bad when he mastered those.
With one day left, Sam took off for the crossroads, hoping he could do enough.
+
With a twelve-pack of beer, Dean sat and waited to hear the hellhounds coming, barking for his soul. Sam hadn't returned yet, which seemed to be for the best. He didn't need to see his brother die.
As the beer went by, so did time, and Dean found himself wondering how much longer it was going to be. He'd left a note for Sam, another one for Bobby and Ellen so they could salt and burn his bones when it was done. Dean didn't want to think of such things, but time had run out, so there was no choice.
A chorus of noise in the distance brought Dean, swaying, to his feet. As they drew closer, he felt a growing ache in his chest. It wasn't the hellhounds he heard but voices yelling his name, most prominently Sam's over Bobby's and Ellen's. He thought about running, trying to hide, but he must have already been spotted since the tone of their voices got more urgent, and Sam started to run in his direction.
Sam, Dean noticed curiously, looked haggard with pieces of gray in his hair that Dean was certain weren't there the day before. "It's over," Sam said, smiling with relief despite his obvious exhaustion.
Dean dropped to his knees, feeling and letting his brother's arms envelope him, as he started to cry.
Rating: R
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Word Count: 1,125
Warnings: Wincest, spoilers for "All Hell Breaks Loose"
Summary: Dean's time is running out, and Sam has a plan that might work.
Birthday present for arabella_hope. Not exactly the "schmoopy hand-holding" you asked for, but I hope you like it anyway. :)
+++
Dean could tell his countdown was running close to the end. The day the hellhounds came to collect his debt was drawing nearer. Every now and then he'd look at Sam, the one whose life he had paid for with his own, and his brother's face would look dead again, for the briefest of moments, leaving Dean's breath raspy with panic. If Sam knew what was happening he didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. He knew the precise day Dean's time was going to run out, making him work even harder on trying to find a way out, some sort of supernatural loophole that would allow the both of them to live.
If Sam had a plan, though, he didn't tell Dean. Dean didn't like being left in the dark, but Sam's plan was probably stupid and crazy, and even if it meant saving his life, Dean would have tied him to the bed to keep him from going through with it.
One week left and Dean stopped sleeping, started drinking enough coffee that he started getting twitchy, couldn't sit still. If this was going to be his last week on Earth, he wasn't going to waste it by sleeping.
Sam returned, and Dean forced himself to smile despite the grim look on his brother's face. It fought back his urge to vomit.
+
Skin against skin against cool leather, Sam had needed to feel his brother, feel his brother feeling him, warm and alive. The demon was dead and they, at least at that moment in time, weren't. Dean wouldn't let Sam be mad at him for the deal he had made, but Sam had other ways of telling Dean how he felt.
He told him how he loved him with a fierce kiss, the force of it strong enough to bruise, but that's how their relationship was. Sam told Dean he was stupid for making the deal by biting his neck, the trail of skin exposed as he unbuttoned Dean's shirt and slid it off his shoulders, but then kissed the marks better, his way of apologizing for making Dean have to do it to begin with. Thrusting into one another, too desperate and the front seat of the Impala too small to get all their clothes off, in the same instance of time Sam hated yet loved no one else in the world more than his brother.
Sam's mind had only half been there at that moment, was only half there at every moment afterwards, as well. He was constantly going through everything he had ever learned, trying to remember stories, charms, anything that might help.
He was going to find a way to save Dean.
+
With one day left, Dean walked around Bobby's house and the junkyard only to find Sam and the Impala gone. Bobby didn't know anything, just clapped him on the shoulder and looked at Dean in a way that reminded him of Dad.
He spent the day working on cars, jumping at the sound of every engine he heard in the distance, but none of them were the Impala's familiar purr, Sam behind the wheel. Ellen came out to see if Dean wanted anything to eat, but he couldn't get the words "last meal" out of his head as she spoke, trying to coerce him to come inside, trying to be comforting when her eyes gave away how scared she really was.
Ellen went back inside, and Dean pulled out his phone, trying Sam's number twice to no avail before calling Missouri. She didn't tell him outright whether he was going to die tomorrow or not, but Dean hadn't expected her to. Missouri told him instead that Sam would be just fine, which was the most reassuring thing Dean could've asked her to say.
Dean wasn't going to fight it if Sam couldn't save him. He wouldn't fight the hellhounds; he wouldn't fight death. Dean still didn't believe in God, but he did like to believe that in death they all could be a family again.
+
Sam figured out how he was going to save his brother after mentally shoving a demonology book across the table. He had been starting to feel frustrated, hopeless, and it happened. He thought his powers had died with the demon, but he clearly had been wrong. The blood was a part of him, which was all that seemed to matter.
He started out small, figuring out how he could move things, control objects, just by thinking about them. Strong emotions appeared to work best, and with Dean's life on the line, they were easy to summon.
The next step Sam happened upon by accident. He was trying to direct his focus onto floating three objects that were all the way across the room when Ellen had crossed Sam's line of sight and then was suddenly standing in front of him. She told him that he was playing with something dangerous, something that only the demons themselves knew anything about, but Sam told her that he had to do it for Dean.
It was harder when he started trying to control demons. He'd go out at night, alone, to somewhere secluded, and used the summoning spells, lesser demons at first, moving on to bigger and more bad when he mastered those.
With one day left, Sam took off for the crossroads, hoping he could do enough.
+
With a twelve-pack of beer, Dean sat and waited to hear the hellhounds coming, barking for his soul. Sam hadn't returned yet, which seemed to be for the best. He didn't need to see his brother die.
As the beer went by, so did time, and Dean found himself wondering how much longer it was going to be. He'd left a note for Sam, another one for Bobby and Ellen so they could salt and burn his bones when it was done. Dean didn't want to think of such things, but time had run out, so there was no choice.
A chorus of noise in the distance brought Dean, swaying, to his feet. As they drew closer, he felt a growing ache in his chest. It wasn't the hellhounds he heard but voices yelling his name, most prominently Sam's over Bobby's and Ellen's. He thought about running, trying to hide, but he must have already been spotted since the tone of their voices got more urgent, and Sam started to run in his direction.
Sam, Dean noticed curiously, looked haggard with pieces of gray in his hair that Dean was certain weren't there the day before. "It's over," Sam said, smiling with relief despite his obvious exhaustion.
Dean dropped to his knees, feeling and letting his brother's arms envelope him, as he started to cry.