FIC: Body & Soul, Chapter 4
Title: Body & Soul, Chapter 4
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 overall
Chapter 4:
The trials of Psyche begin.
His father's sacred vestments are a little snug, but Sam dons them anyway. He hasn't actually participated in a sacrifice since before his last growth spurt. He feels strange, entering the sacred woods on his own. He's never actually performed the rites on his own, without a priest or his father present.
But it's strange to think how years of cautious devotion, and lingering doubts led him into questioning and almost renouncing his faith. Yet, a year with Dean has opened his eyes. Taught him to play the skeptic on both sides, to question the story and question the reality.
Sam walks the moonlit path, to the grazing meadow. The golden statue of Artemis stands in the center, her bow drawn and ready.
He kneels at the base of the statue, hands clasped, starting the prayers and the anointment of his arrows.
"Artemis, daughter of Zeus, patron goddess of my family. I beseech you, as the only son of your scion, Ioannis Ventuscastra. Hear my prayers and send before me two hinds. One that I may sacrifice to you in your honor. The second that I may-" Sam takes a deep breath, "-that I may sacrifice to your sister-goddess, Aphrodite."
***
High on Olympus, as the family gathers at the feast, talking loudly and clanking glasses in drunken revelry.
No one notices when Dean and Mary drop their forks, simultaneously.
***
Sam finishes up by anointing his own forehead with myrrh, and then crouching in the highest grass, to wait.
It's not fifteen minutes later before two fawns emerge from the woods, trotting to the center of the field, to nibble on the grass. Sam would normally balk at the thought of summoning a sacrifice like this, but he figures it's the best way to get on a goddess' good side.
Sam stands slowly, drawing back his bow and firing off a shot, completely and utterly missing his targets, scaring them off into the woods.
"Damn it!" he shouts. He spent a year with Dean, and he didn't once pay attention to his archery lessons. Well, he was kind of distracted.
"Um, do-over?" Sam says looking up at the sky, and two more deer scamper out into the clearing. Sam tries again and fails, even when the first arrow misses and the deer remain, the second and third and fourth finally scare them away.
"Hey!" calls a voice from his side, and Sam turns to see the golden statue of Artemis brought to life. She stands atop the marble column judging him, hands on hips.
"Bend your knees."
Sam does so.
"Pull back as far as you can and fire high, you tend to shoot too low. Hold the bow like you would a bird, tight enough to keep in your hand, but not hard enough to hurt. The tighter you hold, the more your hand shakes. Try again."
Sam blinks as another pair appear in the grassy meadow. He shoots the first in the throat, and it goes down softly, a clean kill. The second requires three arrows but he finally lands the kill shot.
"Hey, thanks!" He turns back to the statue but it’s back to normal, unmoving golden repose of the goddess.
One of the hinds has disappeared as well.
***
Dean stops by the armory, where Artemis is busy sharpening her blades. He almost walks past, but stops himself. Tries to think of something to say, but can't really figure it out.
"You're welcome," Artemis answers for him.
Dean nods. "Yeah…" And starts to leave.
"Hey," Artemis turns around to look him in the eyes, "we're all pulling for you two."
***
After a lot of cursing and dragging and kicking the deer, Sam's finally got it into the temple, and can start preparing the sacrifice. His hands shake as he cuts into the animal, sectioning it off and tossing it in the pyre. He hasn't done a sacrificial rite in a decade, and even then it was always to his patron goddess, never another.
The hardest part is to keep track of all the details, pronounce the prayers exactly and precisely, mix in rose hips and orange peels and myrrh oil to please the love-goddess. The words on the scrolls start to blur and they lose their meaning with every repetition. Sam is just droning in a low voice, and even then it's a strain on his throat.
After an hour, when most of the meat has burned away, he's a little concerned.
Another passes and the smoke is starting to make him light-headed.
By the third hour he's fallen asleep in a corner of the room, and it's the familiar dream once more. Dean's there, only this time he succeeds in severing his wings, and he's human, somehow. Sam holds him in his arms and feels his heartbeat, his lungs contracting.
And that's when Dean sputters, coughs blood onto his clothes. Sam sees him pull away, the hilt of a dagger lodged in his chest, piercing his heart. Dean's eyes roll back into his head and Sam wakes up screaming.
"Ahem."
At the altar, a golden throne has appeared. She sits atop it, dressed in white, her blonde hair and fair skin has that familiar unearthly glow to it. Dean's there too, at the side of the throne, wings folded and bow in hand, his face hard and unreadable.
Sam pulls himself up, and shuffles slowly towards them, the goddess eying him carefully. He carefully kneels at her feet. "Oh mighty Aphrodite, you honor me with your presence."
She narrows her eyes. "Mary Aphrodite."
Sam presses his lips together. "Mary Aphrodite. Please forgive me." He can't shake the strangest feeling that he's seen her before, heard her voice.
His eyes travel again to Dean, standing stoic and unmoving, like a sentry. His heart beats faster, wanting to run to him, fall into his arms and take in the unearthly scent of his body. He wants to apologize, beg for forgiveness. But most of all, he wants to tell Dean of his nightmares, the horrible visions playing at the edges of his subconscious. He feels like he needs to warn Dean.
Mary's voice breaks his gaze, "You wished to speak with me?"
Sam nods his head. "Yes! Well, I-I, I guess I just-" His eyes travel to Dean again, and his voice softens, "I need to apologize, first."
"Ah yes, for your interference with-"
"To Dean."
Mary rolls her eyes and scoffs, Dean trembles just a little, his static pose starting to break at the sight of his beloved Sam.
"Dean, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking clearly, I should have given you a chance to explain, I should have trusted you."
Dean's face breaks into a sad smile. "Sam, no I should-"
"Shhht!" Mary shushes him. "You do not speak directly to him," she reminds him and Dean glares at her.
"Yes, Mother," he says through clenched teeth.
Mary gives him a slight nod and turns back to speak to Sam, but is interrupted before she can get a word in.
"Mother, please tell Samuel that I accept his apology." Dean almost laughs in spite of himself. Sam breaks out in similar, wry grin, but knows better than to respond. Mary is fuming.
He decides to get to the heart of the matter, "The truth is, I am very much in love with your son, Mary Aphrodite. I wish to be with him once more."
Mary raises her eyebrow, and Sam backtracks, "Uhhh, I mean, I want to not like just be with him but… I want to do this right, I want to have, your blessing? I guess?" Sam scrunches his face, it's coming out all wrong.
Dean looks at Mary, with the same intentions of a young boy begging his mother to take in a stray puppy. Mary steels herself against the onslaught of her son's gaze.
"My blessing cannot just be given to you, it must be earned."
"What would you have me do?" Sam asks.
Mary folds her hands together, stares down at Sam in stoic concentration, and then a smile crosses her face. It would seem a cruel one on any other woman's face, but Mary Aphrodite cannot help but look anything less than lovely.
"Three tasks," she says. "At sunrise, I shall give you the first of three tasks to complete, to show me that you can overcome the impossible, to earn your right to stand at the side of my son, to be his beloved. They must be completed within the time-limits I give you, and should you succeed, they shall increase in difficulty. Do you accept?"
Sam tilts his head. "And what, in exact terms, will happen should I complete all three of your tasks? Will Dean and I be permitted to be together once more?"
"I'll do you one better, Samuel." Mary's eyes go wide and glistening, "I'll make you a god. You will live forever high on Olympus with the rest of our family. Forever at the side of my son, in paradise and love."
Both Dean and Sam's mouths hang open in shock.
Mary drops her smile and narrows her eyes, "However, should you fail? You must swear to never again seek out the company of my son. Stay away from my temples and forfeit your love. And Dean," she turns to eye her son, "should Samuel fail, you will never even spare the mortal another passing glance. You will marry Thalia and produce an heir."
"What?!” Dean snaps. “No!"
"Unless you both agree to my terms, you shall not even have this small chance I am so graciously offering."
Dean snorts, then looks at Sam, desperate gaze fixed upon him.
"Only if I may have a moment to speak with him, in private," Dean says.
Mary laughs. "Dearest! You're in no place to add your own little caveats-"
"Then I beseech you, as your only child, and ask you to grant me this favor, Mother."
Mary doesn't say anything.
Dean pulls his face tight. "Please? This isn't a decision to be taken lightly. I want to make sure Sam knows what he's doing-"
"I accept," Sam says, almost stunned by his own words.
"Very well," Mary answers, standing from the throne.
"Wait! Sam, you can't just rush into it like that! Fuck! The one time in your life you don't wanna think something over and I actually do?"
Mary ignores Dean's outburst and claps Sam on the shoulder, "Excellent Sam! Return here at sunrise for your first task."
"Hey!" Dean steps off the altar, and stands behind Sam, facing Mary, waving his arms. "I didn't agree to my part, not unless you-"
"Dean, hush."
"No! This isn't fair!"
"Whoever said love was?" Sam shrugs. Mary raises an eyebrow and Dean spins on his heels, crossing his arms and huffing to himself.
"Well, said." Mary releases her hold on Sam's shoulder, there's just something about him. Something making her feel a bit… charitable. "Just to show you I am not completely without sympathy, return to Olympus before sunrise, Dean. Do what you will in the meantime. And may I suggest, a good few hours of rest would do you nothing but good," she directs the advice at Sam, before vanishing in a flurry of wind and rose hips.
At first they just look at each other, but then Sam breaks into a grin. "Hi, Dean."
Dean smiles back. "How've ya been, Sammy?"
"A miserable wreck."
"Good."
Sam laughs. "I guess I deserved that."
"No, no I meant it was good that I wasn't the only one."
"I talked to Jess." Dean swallows, and Sam continues, "She told me everything, about the silver arrow you used on me. About how you didn't use it on me before because you-"
"Wanted to win your love on my own, in spite of it all."
"Yeah, it's kinda sweet."
"Tch. Honey is 'kinda sweet', Sammy. I'm a frickin' love god, it took going against every instinct I have not to just use my powers on you and get what I wanted without even trying."
"Yeah, well, Dean, I don't know I you've noticed, but you've always been a kind of hands-on guy." Sam's giving him the look now.
"You think so?" Dean steps closer.
"It's been a while, you might have to refresh my memory." Sam tilts his head down to meet Dean's smirking mouth. The kiss starts out slow, but soon there are hands everywhere, and clothes dropping away from skin and Dean's tongue tickling the roof of his mouth, and Sam pulls back realizing-
"You never even bothered to make yourself taller than me." He laughs.
"I like you tall, now shut up, we're wasting time." Dean pulls him up to the altar, through a side door, and into a large ornate chamber. Dean kisses him, pushing him down on a soft, silk-sheeted bed. Snaps his fingers and a row of candelabras light up, the door slams shut behind them, Sam hears it lock. Sam leans against the pillows and looks to the side.
"The priests?"
"Won't be back for the night. Somebody might've blown sleep in their eyes." Dean falls ever so gracefully by his side, naked body a sight for him to behold once again. Sam sighs.
"You're not still mad at me?"
"Sam…" Dean shrugs, moving one of his hands to Sam's face, placing a lock of hair behind his ears. "I was living on borrowed time. I had to return to Olympus before some kind of world-wide war broke out. No matter what, I cannot stay on Earth for that long, forsake my duty to my family, to the people of this world. This was going to happen, no matter what."
"Can't fight fate, I guess." Sam runs a fingers up and down Dean's stomach muscles, to his chest.
"Believe me, I've tried. They always cheat." Dean leans up to straddle Sam's hips. Wings folded neatly against his back, hands rubbing Sam's face. "Missed you so much."
"Been having these crazy dreams about you, Dean."
"We gotta do this quick, Sammy, I can't wait any longer-"
"In your mother's temple? That really such a good idea?"
Dean laughs, "Sam? What d'you think this room is for? Prayer study?" Cocks his eyebrow.
Sam creases his forehead, he'd heard stories about the temple, how lovers visited them to learn the ancient sex rituals that were said to run long into the night. "Ew?"
"Want to fuck you," Dean breathes onto Sam's collarbone, leaning down to lick and suck at his neck. "Want to worship you here, the way you deserve to be."
"Missed you, Dean." Sam sucks in a breath as Dean starts scraping teeth against his neck, grabs his shoulders tight. "Yes! Don't stop now, harder…" he encourages.
Dean's hands roam down the length of his body, any remaining scraps of clothing he was wearing simply vanishing into air. Sam rolls his head back at the sensation, and Dean uses the angle to move his mouth up his neck, sucking at the skin, leaving red bite marks along the way.
Dean's hands run down his stomach, lower and lower until they reach his groin, only instead of stopping there, he reaches around behind Sam. Grabbing his ass in a firm squeeze, Sam takes the cue and rolls his hips up, and then Dean's fingers are inside, stretching him.
Sam laughs quietly. "Godly sex powers?"
"Don't see you finding me any oil?"
"Well, this is your mother's temple, I'm surprised there's not a selection laid out for-ohhh!" Sam's eyes roll back, "Th-there. Keep it there. Deeper." He moans.
"So bossy." Dean chuckles and reaches deeper into Sam, his nimble fingers brushing just slightly against the spot inside him that drives him wild. "Now, if you wanna see some sex magicks, that I can do…" Dean winks.
Sam pants. "Y-yeah." And then moans as Dean's hands leave him. "No!"
"Relax Sammy, let me do this for you." Dean rubs his hands together quickly, and then starts wriggling his fingers back and forth.
"Was I supposed to feel-" And Sam stops mid-sentence. It feels like Dean's still inside of him, he motions of his finger matching the pressure he feels inside. It's like a caress of his skin, and as Dean's motions speed up, his cock rises as Dean massages his prostate from within. Sam throws his arm over his head. "Fuck!"
Dean smirks. "And that's what I like to call the 'on' switch. Now let's try something else." Dean stands pulling Sam up with him, kissing him. Touching his arms, ever so gently. "You feel it yet?"
Sam shakes his head, and Dean touches his cheek, with just one finger, and suddenly Sam feels it.
"Unnnnnghh…" He pushes forward, the sensation of pressure against his skin, it's just too good. And as he presses his body closer to Dean's, he realizes it's everywhere. "What is this? It's better then the first thing!"
Dean touches him everywhere. "Hyper-sensitizing your skin. It's like your body is just one big-"
"Don't you say it!" Sam laughs and nuzzles against Dean, the feeling making his heart pound faster and faster and then it's gone. "Hey, I wasn't done yet!" He makes a face at Dean.
"Too much of a good thing Sammy, your body can't handle that kind of sensation yet. Maybe when you're… nevermind. One last trick." Dean wisely cuts himself off at the right time. "Ready?"
"Sure," Sam leans back on his arms, "lay it on me."
Dean twitches his nose. Sam comes, the hardest orgasm he's ever felt pouring out in one motion, one thrust of his hips and he screams louder then he knew he could.
"That's my favorite one." Dean smiles.
***
Sam wakes up in the temple's sacred bedchamber. He stretches out, and dresses quickly in the tunic and sandals Dean must have left him. He leaves the chamber and finds himself once again at the altar, Mary and Dean already waiting for him, the sun just starting to rise in the distance.
"Ah, there you are, we've only just arrived. Your first task is this way." Mary turns and heads towards a spiral staircase, Dean and Sam follow, exchanging similar smiles and knowing looks. "I do hope you've gotten enough rest, Sam."
"Uh huh." Sam fights back a yawn and Dean clears his throat quietly.
Mary leads the up high, all the way to the top of a spiraling tower, which only just appeared last night. In the highest room, she stops, and points towards ten large burlap sacks.
"Your first, and easiest, task is to sort the contents of these sacks by the type of grain contained within. There are ten kinds, mixed in each. Empty them all and present to me ten piles of sorted grain. Any questions?"
You call this easy? Sam wonders to himself, only he might've also said it aloud. Or maybe he just thought it loud enough for Mary to hear because she narrows her eyes in that scary way she does.
"Should you succeed and move on to the next task, you will know what I mean by easy. You have from now until sunrise tomorrow. Begin."
Sam's jaw drops, the task just went from long and tedious to borderline impossible. But he pushes forward and starts to pour out the first sack of grain, tiny seeds spilling at his feet.
Mary turns and grabs Dean's arm, pinching tight. "And I shouldn't have to say this, but no helping. You lift a single finger and-"
"Yeah, yeah, deal's off and you marry me off to some drunken Charis."
The two gods leave the chamber, bickering back and forth. Sam looks up from his pile of seeds, watching the tips of Dean's white wings vanish.
A horrible feeling in his stomach tells him to savor the sight.
***
Mary looks up from her knitting for the umpteenth time, Dean's still sitting there, absently counting his arrows. She begins to purl two, but her eyes drift upwards and Dean stands.
"I'm gonna go get a new bowstring," He explains to her questioning expression.
"From where?"
"Father's armory."
"Why don't we just have one of his minions bring you one?"
Dean grits his teeth and sits back down, showing his discomfort. "Gee, why don't we?"
Mary grins, her son thinks he can actually outsmart her. Moments later, Hephaestus has summoned one of his cyclops’ up to their chambers. The giant leans down and hands Dean the string, and when Mary isn't looking, tries his damnedest to wink his single eye.
Dean nods, and looks away at the open window nearby, his muscles tensing.
The cyclops grunts and lurches out of the room, walking right into the middle of Dionysus' precession. He growls and swats two satyrs aside with his giant hand, causing Dionysus to take offense. Then he starts screaming, at the cyclops, and the giant yells back, maenads already pulling at his loincloth and scratching at him angrily. More cyclops' start to fill the hallway as they hear their brother's calls. Mary hears the commotion, as do the other nearby gods, and races to the hallway just in time to see a fight break out between Dionysus's nymphs and Hephaestus's cyclops'.
Dean nosedives out the open window, making his way down as fast as he can, the sun already setting.
***
Sam's been working all day, his eyes are wet and red from all the strain. Still, he's nowhere near finished. Somehow he's cleared one bag, but there are still nine to go, and the situation looks grim as the sunlight is gone. He'll have to sort by size and shape now, making the task even more impossible in the cold moonlight.
It's really hopeless now, part of him wants to give up, sleep and await his inevitable failure. Dean…
"No," he says aloud, "this is a test. If I fail, I fail trying, not by giving up."
He steels himself and pulls out another handful of grain. A piece wiggles, and a little ant pokes out, carrying a rye seed. Sam places the pile on the stone floor. The ant walks away with the rye seed, Sam smiles. "Gonna take that home with you? Back to your nest? Oh gods, I'm talking to animals, I really must be losing it…"
But Sam watches the ant, and instead of leaving the tower, it walks the rye seed across the stone floor, over to the rye seed pile, and deposits it there.
"Hey… thanks?" Sam says, laughing slightly. He pulls out another handful from the sack, and this time three ants crawl out, carrying seeds. Sam lets them go to the floor as well. "This bag must be infested or-"
The three ants race across the floor, and they are joined by what must be thirty more. All of them carrying seeds and placing them in the correct sorting piles. Sam can't believe his eyes, every second that passes, the amount of ants in the room seem to grow. The sacks beside him starts to thrum, vibrating almost. Sam turns around and starts opening the other bags, toppling them all to the ground, thousands of seeds spilling out along with hundreds of little ants. The hundreds of ants quickly become thousands, and Sam finds himself cornered by the window as he watches them all.
Large-headed soldiers carrying the heavier seeds, the workers organizing the streams of ants going to and fro from the seed piles. Massive amounts of workers sit at the feet of the piles, keeping them packed tightly, so they can't topple over and mix. Bridge-building ants link mouths and legs and stretch along a slippery wet piece of the floor, so the workers can walk atop them, avoiding the skid.
It'd be stomach-churning if Sam had eaten anything that day. But instead he turns to look out the window, letting cool air hit his face.
Looking down, he sees the unmistakable winged form of Dean standing below him, staring right at him. A man in gray kneels in the grass beside Dean's feet, cupping his hands as if to whisper to it.
Dean waves enthusiastically at him. Sam wants to shout down, but knows that he's still in Mary's temple, and there's a chance she could hear. Dean confirms his fears and puts a finger to his lips, then points upwards. He takes an arrow out of his quiver and shoots at Sam, or rather the top of the window. The arrow hits the stone of the tower and turns to air, letting a piece of parchment float down slowly, Sam catches it easily.
"Hi, Sam!" It reads. Sam resists the urge to laugh, instead he mouths a response that he knows Dean's sharpened eyes can see. Hi, yourself. So what's the deal here?
Dean draws another arrow and fires off another note to Sam. "King Melampus of Pylos. I borrowed him from Elysia for the night."
Sam's mouth drops in shock, and before he can respond another arrow soars to him, and another note floats down. "Yes, Sammy, there is a Melampus. And he talks to animals."
Sam shakes his head and sighs, covering his mouth to keep from chuckling. Dean's arrow sails through the air again. "I miss you too, Sammy" the note reads.
Sam nods and mouths Love you, to Dean.
The ants needn't work long into the night. When they're done and gone, Sam curls up on the floor and thanks them quietly as they march out of the room, climbing up to the window, and down the side of the tower.
Down on the ground, Melampus thanks the queen for the loan of her troops for the evening. Dean yanks him away quickly, looping his arms around his ghostly shoulders and taking off. "No time for long goodbyes, I'm afraid!" He explains as they soar back towards the gate to Hades hidden in the mountains. He drops him off at the Elysian fields, and once again reiterates his promise.
"Just make sure my niece doesn't run off with that no-good general Alciabides."
Dean chuckles. "Oh trust me, I think Alciabides' heart should belong to another quite soon…" He waves Melampus off, and heads back for the exit to Olympus.
Persephone eyes him as he soars past her sleeping Cerberus.
"You're in his visions, Dean!" She calls out, but he's out of earshot, or ignoring her.
Why shouldn't he? Everyone else does.
***
Mary can't believe how many feathers a peacock actually has, as she pulls them out of her hair, which somehow got lose during the skirmish. The scuffle between the Dionysians and the Cyclops' finally resolved itself when both parties tired out. Dionysus declared it a draw and poured everyone a large mug of mead for their troubles. Mary steps back into her chambers, picking off green feathers and dusting molten lava flakes out of her clothing.
Dean's still sitting where he was when she left, polishing his re-strung bow and humming to himself.
"Why didn't you help me?!" she screams.
"Mother, I thought you told me not to lift one finger?"
Hephaestus smacks him on the back of the head. "Smartass."
***
Sam wakes from his nightmare, panting and sweating. He was able to protect Dean from the dagger this time, but not the drowning. The vision of Dean's body, cold, clammy and lifeless, color drained from his skin. His corpse in Sam's arms, hair dark and mottled with pieces of seaweed, eyes milky white.
Sam drags a hand through his hair and places a hand over his heart, before realizing someone is helping him stand. "Sammy!" A voice whispers in his ear, he turns.
"Dean!" He says louder than he meant to. Dean winks at him and goes on.
"This is amazing Sam! I can't believe my eyes. You did it!" He kisses Sam's cheek. Sam places a hand on Dean's chest, feeling the movement, the warmth and life within.
"You're… not..." he whispers and Mary interrupts.
"You think you're pretty clever, don't you?" She taps her foot impatiently, arms crossed.
Sam shrugs. "I have my moments," he mutters.
Mary turns her ire at her son, "What did you do?"
"Nothing! Can't you just congratulate the kid on a job well done? See, it's easy: Good one Sam! Goooood Sammy." Dean quickly ruffles his hair and Sam smacks his hand away, laughing.
"You try." Dean nods to Mary, who instead grabs him by the arm and slaps a sticky piece of flax across his mouth, sealing it shut.
"You," she pokes her son with her pointy index finger, "are not nearly as clever as you think you are. Turn around, I don't want you reading my lips."
Dean pulls at the flax and turns around, straining to get it off, and to hear what Mary is whispering to Sam. She's obviously found a way to speak to him in a voice only he can hear. Dean pulls harder at the flax square but it's not budging.
"Okay, you can turn back, Dean." Mary says. Dean sees Sam's odd expression, a mixture of confusion and relief.
"If you tell Dean, or anybody else for that matter, it's an automatic forfeit. Two days this time, Sam. Return to the temple with it at sunrise."
Sam nods, watching Dean flap around the room, pulling at the covering of his mouth.
"And you, are to spend the next two days at the weekend fertility festivals in Corinth. You do not leave from there for any reason."
Dean's muffled whines are all he can fire back at her. Mary raises an eyebrow and disappears in a swirl of wind and flower petals. Dean finally yanks the flax off, "Aaaaugh!" he yells, rubbing his red mouth. Sam's at his side, rubbing his shoulders. Dean grumbles, "Lousy fertility rites, stupid orgy timewaster just so I can't-"
Sam kisses his cheek. "Relax Dean, I think I got this one."
"Yeah, you seem pretty sure of yourself, Sammy?"
Sam smiles. "I'm not gonna risk saying anymore but… I'll see you here, in two days." Sam winks.
Dean frowns. "Mother said they were gonna get harder, is all." He wraps his arms around Sam, pulling him close and tight. Sam shrugs, sinking hi s face into Dean's neck, hands coming up to touch his chest.
"Dean, I need to tell you something." Sam breathes gently against the crook of Dean's neck. "I've been having these dreams about you and-"
"What's it like to dream, Sam? I've always wondered-"
"-but they're more like nightmares really. Terrifying, horrible ones Dean, they're just so real and-"
"-because gods just get visions, glimpses of he future. Flashes of truth and fate. Not that I've ever had one of those either. Never something stewed up by my own subconscious."
"Dean! Listen," Sam yells, growing impatient. "In my dreams, you keep dying."
"I can't die, Sam." Dean laughs.
"That's just it though, in my dreams you've-"
"Dean!" Mary's voice booms through the temple walls, shaking the pottery and the idols. "Corinth! Now!"
Dean sighs, kisses Sam goodbye quickly. "We'll talk later," he promises as he flies off into the sunrise.
"You've become human," Sam finishes his thought.
***
Corinth is nothing but madness and body fluids and people who really shouldn't be naked in public. It's the second day already, and Dean has seen moles where moles should never be.
Anteros, his pet Junebug, returns to him again. He's been sending him to watch Sam, try and figure out what the second task may be. Anteros flits by his ear, buzzes that nothing's changed. According to Dean's tiny spy, Sam spent yesterday morning eating and resting, noontime packing and preparing to travel. Sam dressed in a green tunic and his hunting boots. All Sam took with him was an empty rucksack, a map of Phrygia, and a flat blade. He'd been traveling towards Phrygia since, not giving away a single clue to his mission along the way.
Dean puzzles, absolutely clueless to what the task is. He thanks Anteros and sends him back to watch over Sam.
It's frustrating him, by the time he figures out what Mary sent Sam to Phrygia for, it may be too late to help him. Mary's already shown little regard for Sam's life, there's no telling what kind of dangers she's sent him to. Maybe spying on Sam isn't the answer? Maybe he should be looking at what Mary's been up to from another angle.
The three Graces dance in the middle of the fray, reveling in the madness and raw sexuality of the festivities, the exchange of body fluids not stopping them in the slightest.
Dean yanks Thalia aside, she's Mary's favorite and what's more, she's got a big mouth.
"I need a word."
"Sure, Dean!" Thalia takes off the feathered crown and tosses her flute to the wayside, letting him fly her to a nearby rooftop, away from the eyes of the crowd.
Dean puts on his best surreptitious front, looking from side to side, scratching his nose. "Look, my mother asked me to follow up with you."
"Follow up?"
"Yeah, about that thing she was talking about the other day?"
"Oh…" Thalia bites her thumbnail, "Oh! Was that about the coral necklace?"
"No, the other thing," Dean says nodding his head.
"Is she going to lend me her shoes for next week's party?"
Dean rolls his eyes, does she think about anything else? "The. Other. Thing. Thalia!"
"Oh, yeah the horse thing?"
Horse thing? That sounds like a lead. "Um, the horse thing. Yeah! About that."
"Funny, I thought she said she resolved it."
"Really? I didn't hear that, what did she say?"
"Well, since Heracles slew all of King Diomedes man-eating horses, the royal house hasn't tried to breed any more. Also because I think Heracles also slew King Diomedes himself. But anyway, she said she asked around and found a substitute."
"Substitute, right, what were they again?"
"Phrygian carnivorous golden-fleeced sheep."
***
Dean pushes himself, wings beating hard against streams of air currents. Sam's been traveling for almost two days straight, it's already the afternoon, and more than likely he's already made it to the sheep by now.
With luck, Dean makes it to the Phrygian meadows just in time. The sheep are grazing near a riverbank, and he spies Sam wading through the calm waters, approaching the sheep without a care. He's probably planning on just sneaking up on one of the sheep, and shearing off a piece of wool with his flat blade. Not realizing the beasts will tear him to pieces the moment his feet hit the shore.
There has to be a way to warn him, without breaking the rules, he's already risking a lot by leaving Corinth. He can't simply fly down and stop Sam. Nor could one of his arrows help, what good would it do to make all the sheep start mating?
The idea flies into his head just as Sam nears the reeds at the edge of the river. Dean quickly reaches for his left wing and yanks out a feather, ignoring the stinging sensation. He takes out one of his untraceable, vanishing arrows and stabs the feather through the arrowhead. Then he takes out his bow, and aims right for the center of the animals, fires downward and the arrow drops faster than a lightning strike.
***
Sam's goal is at hand, as he readies to emerge from the reeds and step ashore. When suddenly, an enormous flock of white doves springs from a spot in the grass.
That's when the feeding frenzy starts.
Blood and feathers and bleating sheep are everywhere. It's a slaughter, not one bird escapes alive. In a matter of minutes, they've devoured every feather, and licked the blood clean off the ground, the scene returning to its pastoral façade.
Sam crouches down in the reeds, hoping they don't see him, and when he thinks it's safe, he wades back over to the opposite side.
A tiny voice buzzes in his ear, "Wait for nightfall," and a little junebug zips into the air. Sam settles himself against a tree, and passes the time by composing a letter to his father.
***
This time the dream is different.
He stands on a balcony, looking down at a city in ruins. Thick black smoke pouring into an already darkened sky. Flames still licking the air, buildings crumbled and burnt away. People scattering about below, stepping over the dead and fighting with the living.
Sam hears a rush of wind, and Dean touches down on the balcony screaming, "Sam!" Sam wonders for a moment if Dean is actually talking to him, but he rushes past him into the connecting room. Sam follows. Dean is crouched on the floor, holding someone in his arms.
Dean pulls back and Sam sees himself, only it's not him. The color seems to have drained from his face, he's practically white. The dark black chiton he wears only emphasizes it more. His expression is flat whereas Dean's wearing his emotions on his sleeve (if he ever wore sleeves, that is).
"What did you do, Sam? Huh? What were you thinking!?" Dean's shaking him, holding his face.
"I don't 'think'… I just know…" Dream-Sam crooks his head to one side, resting it against a wall.
Dean stands, his fists shaking at his sides. "Then tell me what you know."
"I leveled Athens. Destroyed it."
Sam gasps as he finally recognizes the scene. It is Athens, and the building they're in, is the Academy, or rather, what's' left of it.
"Yeah."
"My father is probably-"
"-dead."
"Huh." Dream-Sam stands up. "I should feel bad, shouldn't I?"
"Yes, you should," Dean says, anger and sadness mixed in his words.
"But I don't." Dream-Sam steps forward to Dean and pulls a sharp arrow from his quiver. "In fact, I don't! Feel! Anything!" He screams, stabbing his chest repeatedly. The arrow penetrates the skin, but draws no blood, leaves no mark.
Dean presses forward and yanks the arrow out of his hand, tossing it aside and grabbing Sam, holding him tightly.
"I don't feel anything, anymore." Sam drifts out of Dean's embrace. His eyes turning bright red, stamping his foot like a child, and the room explodes in fire.
"Fix me!"
***
"Fix me!" Sam wakes up shouting, and then clasps his hand over his mouth, trembling in the wake of the dream, tears pulling at the corners of his eyes.
He looks across the river, and the sheep haven't stirred from their slumber. And in the pale moonlight, he can see the gleam of golden wool caught on the brambly bushes. Sam once again makes his way quietly to the other side. He tip-toes around the meadow, filling his rucksack with the shed wool.
As he makes his way back to the safe side of the river, he realizes that now his problem is time. How can he get back to the temple before sunrise?
"Excuse me?" A voice bubbles up from behind him. Sam turns and sees a gigantic blue-green beastly thing rise from the water behind him. Curved teeth, thick beard and two twisty horns protruding from his head. Beside him, two wide-eyed young women rise, their hair and skin also the colors of the sea.
"Let me guess… You're a river-god and those are your daughters, Potameides? Or is it just water-nymphs?"
The nymphs giggle and the river-god smiles showing Sam all his teeth. "Corrrrrrect!" his bubbly voice booms.
"I'm getting better at this."
"So, a little bird told me you need a ride home?"
***
It's nearly sunrise, and Mary has a smug smile on her face. Dean stares out of the temple windows, wringing his hands.
"See, the best part is, I know you left Corinth to help him."
"I didn't leave Corinth."
"Thalia said-"
"She's a lush and a liar!"
"Don't talk about your future wife that way!"
"My future wife who just this afternoon was in a three-way with-"
The door bangs open, and Sam rushes in, dripping wet and his boots making squishing sounds against the stone tiles. He presents the package to Mary, head bowed. She takes it from him and he collapses on the floor, panting. Dean rushes to his side, pillowing his head in his lap and sitting him up, so he can breathe.
"He's wet? He's wet! Why-why is he wet?" Dean shrugs at her. "Why are you wet?!"
"Swam!" Sam gasps. Dean smiles down and pets his hair, pulling out errant bits of kelp. He'd kiss him, even though he's slimy-wet from the river, but his mother is upset enough already.
"You swam?! Well, if you got my wool wet then-"
"Sealskin!" Sam gasps again, pointing to the bundle he'd presented Mary. She opens the rubbery package and the wool is all there, bone dry.
"Damn," she whispers.
Mary crosses over to the other side of the room, puzzling. So long as Dean is able to sneak around like he does, Sam can accomplish any task.
"For the next test, you both must do something impossible," Mary begins, voice subdued.
***
Part 5
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 overall
Chapter 4:
The trials of Psyche begin.
His father's sacred vestments are a little snug, but Sam dons them anyway. He hasn't actually participated in a sacrifice since before his last growth spurt. He feels strange, entering the sacred woods on his own. He's never actually performed the rites on his own, without a priest or his father present.
But it's strange to think how years of cautious devotion, and lingering doubts led him into questioning and almost renouncing his faith. Yet, a year with Dean has opened his eyes. Taught him to play the skeptic on both sides, to question the story and question the reality.
Sam walks the moonlit path, to the grazing meadow. The golden statue of Artemis stands in the center, her bow drawn and ready.
He kneels at the base of the statue, hands clasped, starting the prayers and the anointment of his arrows.
"Artemis, daughter of Zeus, patron goddess of my family. I beseech you, as the only son of your scion, Ioannis Ventuscastra. Hear my prayers and send before me two hinds. One that I may sacrifice to you in your honor. The second that I may-" Sam takes a deep breath, "-that I may sacrifice to your sister-goddess, Aphrodite."
***
High on Olympus, as the family gathers at the feast, talking loudly and clanking glasses in drunken revelry.
No one notices when Dean and Mary drop their forks, simultaneously.
***
Sam finishes up by anointing his own forehead with myrrh, and then crouching in the highest grass, to wait.
It's not fifteen minutes later before two fawns emerge from the woods, trotting to the center of the field, to nibble on the grass. Sam would normally balk at the thought of summoning a sacrifice like this, but he figures it's the best way to get on a goddess' good side.
Sam stands slowly, drawing back his bow and firing off a shot, completely and utterly missing his targets, scaring them off into the woods.
"Damn it!" he shouts. He spent a year with Dean, and he didn't once pay attention to his archery lessons. Well, he was kind of distracted.
"Um, do-over?" Sam says looking up at the sky, and two more deer scamper out into the clearing. Sam tries again and fails, even when the first arrow misses and the deer remain, the second and third and fourth finally scare them away.
"Hey!" calls a voice from his side, and Sam turns to see the golden statue of Artemis brought to life. She stands atop the marble column judging him, hands on hips.
"Bend your knees."
Sam does so.
"Pull back as far as you can and fire high, you tend to shoot too low. Hold the bow like you would a bird, tight enough to keep in your hand, but not hard enough to hurt. The tighter you hold, the more your hand shakes. Try again."
Sam blinks as another pair appear in the grassy meadow. He shoots the first in the throat, and it goes down softly, a clean kill. The second requires three arrows but he finally lands the kill shot.
"Hey, thanks!" He turns back to the statue but it’s back to normal, unmoving golden repose of the goddess.
One of the hinds has disappeared as well.
***
Dean stops by the armory, where Artemis is busy sharpening her blades. He almost walks past, but stops himself. Tries to think of something to say, but can't really figure it out.
"You're welcome," Artemis answers for him.
Dean nods. "Yeah…" And starts to leave.
"Hey," Artemis turns around to look him in the eyes, "we're all pulling for you two."
***
After a lot of cursing and dragging and kicking the deer, Sam's finally got it into the temple, and can start preparing the sacrifice. His hands shake as he cuts into the animal, sectioning it off and tossing it in the pyre. He hasn't done a sacrificial rite in a decade, and even then it was always to his patron goddess, never another.
The hardest part is to keep track of all the details, pronounce the prayers exactly and precisely, mix in rose hips and orange peels and myrrh oil to please the love-goddess. The words on the scrolls start to blur and they lose their meaning with every repetition. Sam is just droning in a low voice, and even then it's a strain on his throat.
After an hour, when most of the meat has burned away, he's a little concerned.
Another passes and the smoke is starting to make him light-headed.
By the third hour he's fallen asleep in a corner of the room, and it's the familiar dream once more. Dean's there, only this time he succeeds in severing his wings, and he's human, somehow. Sam holds him in his arms and feels his heartbeat, his lungs contracting.
And that's when Dean sputters, coughs blood onto his clothes. Sam sees him pull away, the hilt of a dagger lodged in his chest, piercing his heart. Dean's eyes roll back into his head and Sam wakes up screaming.
"Ahem."
At the altar, a golden throne has appeared. She sits atop it, dressed in white, her blonde hair and fair skin has that familiar unearthly glow to it. Dean's there too, at the side of the throne, wings folded and bow in hand, his face hard and unreadable.
Sam pulls himself up, and shuffles slowly towards them, the goddess eying him carefully. He carefully kneels at her feet. "Oh mighty Aphrodite, you honor me with your presence."
She narrows her eyes. "Mary Aphrodite."
Sam presses his lips together. "Mary Aphrodite. Please forgive me." He can't shake the strangest feeling that he's seen her before, heard her voice.
His eyes travel again to Dean, standing stoic and unmoving, like a sentry. His heart beats faster, wanting to run to him, fall into his arms and take in the unearthly scent of his body. He wants to apologize, beg for forgiveness. But most of all, he wants to tell Dean of his nightmares, the horrible visions playing at the edges of his subconscious. He feels like he needs to warn Dean.
Mary's voice breaks his gaze, "You wished to speak with me?"
Sam nods his head. "Yes! Well, I-I, I guess I just-" His eyes travel to Dean again, and his voice softens, "I need to apologize, first."
"Ah yes, for your interference with-"
"To Dean."
Mary rolls her eyes and scoffs, Dean trembles just a little, his static pose starting to break at the sight of his beloved Sam.
"Dean, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking clearly, I should have given you a chance to explain, I should have trusted you."
Dean's face breaks into a sad smile. "Sam, no I should-"
"Shhht!" Mary shushes him. "You do not speak directly to him," she reminds him and Dean glares at her.
"Yes, Mother," he says through clenched teeth.
Mary gives him a slight nod and turns back to speak to Sam, but is interrupted before she can get a word in.
"Mother, please tell Samuel that I accept his apology." Dean almost laughs in spite of himself. Sam breaks out in similar, wry grin, but knows better than to respond. Mary is fuming.
He decides to get to the heart of the matter, "The truth is, I am very much in love with your son, Mary Aphrodite. I wish to be with him once more."
Mary raises her eyebrow, and Sam backtracks, "Uhhh, I mean, I want to not like just be with him but… I want to do this right, I want to have, your blessing? I guess?" Sam scrunches his face, it's coming out all wrong.
Dean looks at Mary, with the same intentions of a young boy begging his mother to take in a stray puppy. Mary steels herself against the onslaught of her son's gaze.
"My blessing cannot just be given to you, it must be earned."
"What would you have me do?" Sam asks.
Mary folds her hands together, stares down at Sam in stoic concentration, and then a smile crosses her face. It would seem a cruel one on any other woman's face, but Mary Aphrodite cannot help but look anything less than lovely.
"Three tasks," she says. "At sunrise, I shall give you the first of three tasks to complete, to show me that you can overcome the impossible, to earn your right to stand at the side of my son, to be his beloved. They must be completed within the time-limits I give you, and should you succeed, they shall increase in difficulty. Do you accept?"
Sam tilts his head. "And what, in exact terms, will happen should I complete all three of your tasks? Will Dean and I be permitted to be together once more?"
"I'll do you one better, Samuel." Mary's eyes go wide and glistening, "I'll make you a god. You will live forever high on Olympus with the rest of our family. Forever at the side of my son, in paradise and love."
Both Dean and Sam's mouths hang open in shock.
Mary drops her smile and narrows her eyes, "However, should you fail? You must swear to never again seek out the company of my son. Stay away from my temples and forfeit your love. And Dean," she turns to eye her son, "should Samuel fail, you will never even spare the mortal another passing glance. You will marry Thalia and produce an heir."
"What?!” Dean snaps. “No!"
"Unless you both agree to my terms, you shall not even have this small chance I am so graciously offering."
Dean snorts, then looks at Sam, desperate gaze fixed upon him.
"Only if I may have a moment to speak with him, in private," Dean says.
Mary laughs. "Dearest! You're in no place to add your own little caveats-"
"Then I beseech you, as your only child, and ask you to grant me this favor, Mother."
Mary doesn't say anything.
Dean pulls his face tight. "Please? This isn't a decision to be taken lightly. I want to make sure Sam knows what he's doing-"
"I accept," Sam says, almost stunned by his own words.
"Very well," Mary answers, standing from the throne.
"Wait! Sam, you can't just rush into it like that! Fuck! The one time in your life you don't wanna think something over and I actually do?"
Mary ignores Dean's outburst and claps Sam on the shoulder, "Excellent Sam! Return here at sunrise for your first task."
"Hey!" Dean steps off the altar, and stands behind Sam, facing Mary, waving his arms. "I didn't agree to my part, not unless you-"
"Dean, hush."
"No! This isn't fair!"
"Whoever said love was?" Sam shrugs. Mary raises an eyebrow and Dean spins on his heels, crossing his arms and huffing to himself.
"Well, said." Mary releases her hold on Sam's shoulder, there's just something about him. Something making her feel a bit… charitable. "Just to show you I am not completely without sympathy, return to Olympus before sunrise, Dean. Do what you will in the meantime. And may I suggest, a good few hours of rest would do you nothing but good," she directs the advice at Sam, before vanishing in a flurry of wind and rose hips.
At first they just look at each other, but then Sam breaks into a grin. "Hi, Dean."
Dean smiles back. "How've ya been, Sammy?"
"A miserable wreck."
"Good."
Sam laughs. "I guess I deserved that."
"No, no I meant it was good that I wasn't the only one."
"I talked to Jess." Dean swallows, and Sam continues, "She told me everything, about the silver arrow you used on me. About how you didn't use it on me before because you-"
"Wanted to win your love on my own, in spite of it all."
"Yeah, it's kinda sweet."
"Tch. Honey is 'kinda sweet', Sammy. I'm a frickin' love god, it took going against every instinct I have not to just use my powers on you and get what I wanted without even trying."
"Yeah, well, Dean, I don't know I you've noticed, but you've always been a kind of hands-on guy." Sam's giving him the look now.
"You think so?" Dean steps closer.
"It's been a while, you might have to refresh my memory." Sam tilts his head down to meet Dean's smirking mouth. The kiss starts out slow, but soon there are hands everywhere, and clothes dropping away from skin and Dean's tongue tickling the roof of his mouth, and Sam pulls back realizing-
"You never even bothered to make yourself taller than me." He laughs.
"I like you tall, now shut up, we're wasting time." Dean pulls him up to the altar, through a side door, and into a large ornate chamber. Dean kisses him, pushing him down on a soft, silk-sheeted bed. Snaps his fingers and a row of candelabras light up, the door slams shut behind them, Sam hears it lock. Sam leans against the pillows and looks to the side.
"The priests?"
"Won't be back for the night. Somebody might've blown sleep in their eyes." Dean falls ever so gracefully by his side, naked body a sight for him to behold once again. Sam sighs.
"You're not still mad at me?"
"Sam…" Dean shrugs, moving one of his hands to Sam's face, placing a lock of hair behind his ears. "I was living on borrowed time. I had to return to Olympus before some kind of world-wide war broke out. No matter what, I cannot stay on Earth for that long, forsake my duty to my family, to the people of this world. This was going to happen, no matter what."
"Can't fight fate, I guess." Sam runs a fingers up and down Dean's stomach muscles, to his chest.
"Believe me, I've tried. They always cheat." Dean leans up to straddle Sam's hips. Wings folded neatly against his back, hands rubbing Sam's face. "Missed you so much."
"Been having these crazy dreams about you, Dean."
"We gotta do this quick, Sammy, I can't wait any longer-"
"In your mother's temple? That really such a good idea?"
Dean laughs, "Sam? What d'you think this room is for? Prayer study?" Cocks his eyebrow.
Sam creases his forehead, he'd heard stories about the temple, how lovers visited them to learn the ancient sex rituals that were said to run long into the night. "Ew?"
"Want to fuck you," Dean breathes onto Sam's collarbone, leaning down to lick and suck at his neck. "Want to worship you here, the way you deserve to be."
"Missed you, Dean." Sam sucks in a breath as Dean starts scraping teeth against his neck, grabs his shoulders tight. "Yes! Don't stop now, harder…" he encourages.
Dean's hands roam down the length of his body, any remaining scraps of clothing he was wearing simply vanishing into air. Sam rolls his head back at the sensation, and Dean uses the angle to move his mouth up his neck, sucking at the skin, leaving red bite marks along the way.
Dean's hands run down his stomach, lower and lower until they reach his groin, only instead of stopping there, he reaches around behind Sam. Grabbing his ass in a firm squeeze, Sam takes the cue and rolls his hips up, and then Dean's fingers are inside, stretching him.
Sam laughs quietly. "Godly sex powers?"
"Don't see you finding me any oil?"
"Well, this is your mother's temple, I'm surprised there's not a selection laid out for-ohhh!" Sam's eyes roll back, "Th-there. Keep it there. Deeper." He moans.
"So bossy." Dean chuckles and reaches deeper into Sam, his nimble fingers brushing just slightly against the spot inside him that drives him wild. "Now, if you wanna see some sex magicks, that I can do…" Dean winks.
Sam pants. "Y-yeah." And then moans as Dean's hands leave him. "No!"
"Relax Sammy, let me do this for you." Dean rubs his hands together quickly, and then starts wriggling his fingers back and forth.
"Was I supposed to feel-" And Sam stops mid-sentence. It feels like Dean's still inside of him, he motions of his finger matching the pressure he feels inside. It's like a caress of his skin, and as Dean's motions speed up, his cock rises as Dean massages his prostate from within. Sam throws his arm over his head. "Fuck!"
Dean smirks. "And that's what I like to call the 'on' switch. Now let's try something else." Dean stands pulling Sam up with him, kissing him. Touching his arms, ever so gently. "You feel it yet?"
Sam shakes his head, and Dean touches his cheek, with just one finger, and suddenly Sam feels it.
"Unnnnnghh…" He pushes forward, the sensation of pressure against his skin, it's just too good. And as he presses his body closer to Dean's, he realizes it's everywhere. "What is this? It's better then the first thing!"
Dean touches him everywhere. "Hyper-sensitizing your skin. It's like your body is just one big-"
"Don't you say it!" Sam laughs and nuzzles against Dean, the feeling making his heart pound faster and faster and then it's gone. "Hey, I wasn't done yet!" He makes a face at Dean.
"Too much of a good thing Sammy, your body can't handle that kind of sensation yet. Maybe when you're… nevermind. One last trick." Dean wisely cuts himself off at the right time. "Ready?"
"Sure," Sam leans back on his arms, "lay it on me."
Dean twitches his nose. Sam comes, the hardest orgasm he's ever felt pouring out in one motion, one thrust of his hips and he screams louder then he knew he could.
"That's my favorite one." Dean smiles.
***
Sam wakes up in the temple's sacred bedchamber. He stretches out, and dresses quickly in the tunic and sandals Dean must have left him. He leaves the chamber and finds himself once again at the altar, Mary and Dean already waiting for him, the sun just starting to rise in the distance.
"Ah, there you are, we've only just arrived. Your first task is this way." Mary turns and heads towards a spiral staircase, Dean and Sam follow, exchanging similar smiles and knowing looks. "I do hope you've gotten enough rest, Sam."
"Uh huh." Sam fights back a yawn and Dean clears his throat quietly.
Mary leads the up high, all the way to the top of a spiraling tower, which only just appeared last night. In the highest room, she stops, and points towards ten large burlap sacks.
"Your first, and easiest, task is to sort the contents of these sacks by the type of grain contained within. There are ten kinds, mixed in each. Empty them all and present to me ten piles of sorted grain. Any questions?"
You call this easy? Sam wonders to himself, only he might've also said it aloud. Or maybe he just thought it loud enough for Mary to hear because she narrows her eyes in that scary way she does.
"Should you succeed and move on to the next task, you will know what I mean by easy. You have from now until sunrise tomorrow. Begin."
Sam's jaw drops, the task just went from long and tedious to borderline impossible. But he pushes forward and starts to pour out the first sack of grain, tiny seeds spilling at his feet.
Mary turns and grabs Dean's arm, pinching tight. "And I shouldn't have to say this, but no helping. You lift a single finger and-"
"Yeah, yeah, deal's off and you marry me off to some drunken Charis."
The two gods leave the chamber, bickering back and forth. Sam looks up from his pile of seeds, watching the tips of Dean's white wings vanish.
A horrible feeling in his stomach tells him to savor the sight.
***
Mary looks up from her knitting for the umpteenth time, Dean's still sitting there, absently counting his arrows. She begins to purl two, but her eyes drift upwards and Dean stands.
"I'm gonna go get a new bowstring," He explains to her questioning expression.
"From where?"
"Father's armory."
"Why don't we just have one of his minions bring you one?"
Dean grits his teeth and sits back down, showing his discomfort. "Gee, why don't we?"
Mary grins, her son thinks he can actually outsmart her. Moments later, Hephaestus has summoned one of his cyclops’ up to their chambers. The giant leans down and hands Dean the string, and when Mary isn't looking, tries his damnedest to wink his single eye.
Dean nods, and looks away at the open window nearby, his muscles tensing.
The cyclops grunts and lurches out of the room, walking right into the middle of Dionysus' precession. He growls and swats two satyrs aside with his giant hand, causing Dionysus to take offense. Then he starts screaming, at the cyclops, and the giant yells back, maenads already pulling at his loincloth and scratching at him angrily. More cyclops' start to fill the hallway as they hear their brother's calls. Mary hears the commotion, as do the other nearby gods, and races to the hallway just in time to see a fight break out between Dionysus's nymphs and Hephaestus's cyclops'.
Dean nosedives out the open window, making his way down as fast as he can, the sun already setting.
***
Sam's been working all day, his eyes are wet and red from all the strain. Still, he's nowhere near finished. Somehow he's cleared one bag, but there are still nine to go, and the situation looks grim as the sunlight is gone. He'll have to sort by size and shape now, making the task even more impossible in the cold moonlight.
It's really hopeless now, part of him wants to give up, sleep and await his inevitable failure. Dean…
"No," he says aloud, "this is a test. If I fail, I fail trying, not by giving up."
He steels himself and pulls out another handful of grain. A piece wiggles, and a little ant pokes out, carrying a rye seed. Sam places the pile on the stone floor. The ant walks away with the rye seed, Sam smiles. "Gonna take that home with you? Back to your nest? Oh gods, I'm talking to animals, I really must be losing it…"
But Sam watches the ant, and instead of leaving the tower, it walks the rye seed across the stone floor, over to the rye seed pile, and deposits it there.
"Hey… thanks?" Sam says, laughing slightly. He pulls out another handful from the sack, and this time three ants crawl out, carrying seeds. Sam lets them go to the floor as well. "This bag must be infested or-"
The three ants race across the floor, and they are joined by what must be thirty more. All of them carrying seeds and placing them in the correct sorting piles. Sam can't believe his eyes, every second that passes, the amount of ants in the room seem to grow. The sacks beside him starts to thrum, vibrating almost. Sam turns around and starts opening the other bags, toppling them all to the ground, thousands of seeds spilling out along with hundreds of little ants. The hundreds of ants quickly become thousands, and Sam finds himself cornered by the window as he watches them all.
Large-headed soldiers carrying the heavier seeds, the workers organizing the streams of ants going to and fro from the seed piles. Massive amounts of workers sit at the feet of the piles, keeping them packed tightly, so they can't topple over and mix. Bridge-building ants link mouths and legs and stretch along a slippery wet piece of the floor, so the workers can walk atop them, avoiding the skid.
It'd be stomach-churning if Sam had eaten anything that day. But instead he turns to look out the window, letting cool air hit his face.
Looking down, he sees the unmistakable winged form of Dean standing below him, staring right at him. A man in gray kneels in the grass beside Dean's feet, cupping his hands as if to whisper to it.
Dean waves enthusiastically at him. Sam wants to shout down, but knows that he's still in Mary's temple, and there's a chance she could hear. Dean confirms his fears and puts a finger to his lips, then points upwards. He takes an arrow out of his quiver and shoots at Sam, or rather the top of the window. The arrow hits the stone of the tower and turns to air, letting a piece of parchment float down slowly, Sam catches it easily.
"Hi, Sam!" It reads. Sam resists the urge to laugh, instead he mouths a response that he knows Dean's sharpened eyes can see. Hi, yourself. So what's the deal here?
Dean draws another arrow and fires off another note to Sam. "King Melampus of Pylos. I borrowed him from Elysia for the night."
Sam's mouth drops in shock, and before he can respond another arrow soars to him, and another note floats down. "Yes, Sammy, there is a Melampus. And he talks to animals."
Sam shakes his head and sighs, covering his mouth to keep from chuckling. Dean's arrow sails through the air again. "I miss you too, Sammy" the note reads.
Sam nods and mouths Love you, to Dean.
The ants needn't work long into the night. When they're done and gone, Sam curls up on the floor and thanks them quietly as they march out of the room, climbing up to the window, and down the side of the tower.
Down on the ground, Melampus thanks the queen for the loan of her troops for the evening. Dean yanks him away quickly, looping his arms around his ghostly shoulders and taking off. "No time for long goodbyes, I'm afraid!" He explains as they soar back towards the gate to Hades hidden in the mountains. He drops him off at the Elysian fields, and once again reiterates his promise.
"Just make sure my niece doesn't run off with that no-good general Alciabides."
Dean chuckles. "Oh trust me, I think Alciabides' heart should belong to another quite soon…" He waves Melampus off, and heads back for the exit to Olympus.
Persephone eyes him as he soars past her sleeping Cerberus.
"You're in his visions, Dean!" She calls out, but he's out of earshot, or ignoring her.
Why shouldn't he? Everyone else does.
***
Mary can't believe how many feathers a peacock actually has, as she pulls them out of her hair, which somehow got lose during the skirmish. The scuffle between the Dionysians and the Cyclops' finally resolved itself when both parties tired out. Dionysus declared it a draw and poured everyone a large mug of mead for their troubles. Mary steps back into her chambers, picking off green feathers and dusting molten lava flakes out of her clothing.
Dean's still sitting where he was when she left, polishing his re-strung bow and humming to himself.
"Why didn't you help me?!" she screams.
"Mother, I thought you told me not to lift one finger?"
Hephaestus smacks him on the back of the head. "Smartass."
***
Sam wakes from his nightmare, panting and sweating. He was able to protect Dean from the dagger this time, but not the drowning. The vision of Dean's body, cold, clammy and lifeless, color drained from his skin. His corpse in Sam's arms, hair dark and mottled with pieces of seaweed, eyes milky white.
Sam drags a hand through his hair and places a hand over his heart, before realizing someone is helping him stand. "Sammy!" A voice whispers in his ear, he turns.
"Dean!" He says louder than he meant to. Dean winks at him and goes on.
"This is amazing Sam! I can't believe my eyes. You did it!" He kisses Sam's cheek. Sam places a hand on Dean's chest, feeling the movement, the warmth and life within.
"You're… not..." he whispers and Mary interrupts.
"You think you're pretty clever, don't you?" She taps her foot impatiently, arms crossed.
Sam shrugs. "I have my moments," he mutters.
Mary turns her ire at her son, "What did you do?"
"Nothing! Can't you just congratulate the kid on a job well done? See, it's easy: Good one Sam! Goooood Sammy." Dean quickly ruffles his hair and Sam smacks his hand away, laughing.
"You try." Dean nods to Mary, who instead grabs him by the arm and slaps a sticky piece of flax across his mouth, sealing it shut.
"You," she pokes her son with her pointy index finger, "are not nearly as clever as you think you are. Turn around, I don't want you reading my lips."
Dean pulls at the flax and turns around, straining to get it off, and to hear what Mary is whispering to Sam. She's obviously found a way to speak to him in a voice only he can hear. Dean pulls harder at the flax square but it's not budging.
"Okay, you can turn back, Dean." Mary says. Dean sees Sam's odd expression, a mixture of confusion and relief.
"If you tell Dean, or anybody else for that matter, it's an automatic forfeit. Two days this time, Sam. Return to the temple with it at sunrise."
Sam nods, watching Dean flap around the room, pulling at the covering of his mouth.
"And you, are to spend the next two days at the weekend fertility festivals in Corinth. You do not leave from there for any reason."
Dean's muffled whines are all he can fire back at her. Mary raises an eyebrow and disappears in a swirl of wind and flower petals. Dean finally yanks the flax off, "Aaaaugh!" he yells, rubbing his red mouth. Sam's at his side, rubbing his shoulders. Dean grumbles, "Lousy fertility rites, stupid orgy timewaster just so I can't-"
Sam kisses his cheek. "Relax Dean, I think I got this one."
"Yeah, you seem pretty sure of yourself, Sammy?"
Sam smiles. "I'm not gonna risk saying anymore but… I'll see you here, in two days." Sam winks.
Dean frowns. "Mother said they were gonna get harder, is all." He wraps his arms around Sam, pulling him close and tight. Sam shrugs, sinking hi s face into Dean's neck, hands coming up to touch his chest.
"Dean, I need to tell you something." Sam breathes gently against the crook of Dean's neck. "I've been having these dreams about you and-"
"What's it like to dream, Sam? I've always wondered-"
"-but they're more like nightmares really. Terrifying, horrible ones Dean, they're just so real and-"
"-because gods just get visions, glimpses of he future. Flashes of truth and fate. Not that I've ever had one of those either. Never something stewed up by my own subconscious."
"Dean! Listen," Sam yells, growing impatient. "In my dreams, you keep dying."
"I can't die, Sam." Dean laughs.
"That's just it though, in my dreams you've-"
"Dean!" Mary's voice booms through the temple walls, shaking the pottery and the idols. "Corinth! Now!"
Dean sighs, kisses Sam goodbye quickly. "We'll talk later," he promises as he flies off into the sunrise.
"You've become human," Sam finishes his thought.
***
Corinth is nothing but madness and body fluids and people who really shouldn't be naked in public. It's the second day already, and Dean has seen moles where moles should never be.
Anteros, his pet Junebug, returns to him again. He's been sending him to watch Sam, try and figure out what the second task may be. Anteros flits by his ear, buzzes that nothing's changed. According to Dean's tiny spy, Sam spent yesterday morning eating and resting, noontime packing and preparing to travel. Sam dressed in a green tunic and his hunting boots. All Sam took with him was an empty rucksack, a map of Phrygia, and a flat blade. He'd been traveling towards Phrygia since, not giving away a single clue to his mission along the way.
Dean puzzles, absolutely clueless to what the task is. He thanks Anteros and sends him back to watch over Sam.
It's frustrating him, by the time he figures out what Mary sent Sam to Phrygia for, it may be too late to help him. Mary's already shown little regard for Sam's life, there's no telling what kind of dangers she's sent him to. Maybe spying on Sam isn't the answer? Maybe he should be looking at what Mary's been up to from another angle.
The three Graces dance in the middle of the fray, reveling in the madness and raw sexuality of the festivities, the exchange of body fluids not stopping them in the slightest.
Dean yanks Thalia aside, she's Mary's favorite and what's more, she's got a big mouth.
"I need a word."
"Sure, Dean!" Thalia takes off the feathered crown and tosses her flute to the wayside, letting him fly her to a nearby rooftop, away from the eyes of the crowd.
Dean puts on his best surreptitious front, looking from side to side, scratching his nose. "Look, my mother asked me to follow up with you."
"Follow up?"
"Yeah, about that thing she was talking about the other day?"
"Oh…" Thalia bites her thumbnail, "Oh! Was that about the coral necklace?"
"No, the other thing," Dean says nodding his head.
"Is she going to lend me her shoes for next week's party?"
Dean rolls his eyes, does she think about anything else? "The. Other. Thing. Thalia!"
"Oh, yeah the horse thing?"
Horse thing? That sounds like a lead. "Um, the horse thing. Yeah! About that."
"Funny, I thought she said she resolved it."
"Really? I didn't hear that, what did she say?"
"Well, since Heracles slew all of King Diomedes man-eating horses, the royal house hasn't tried to breed any more. Also because I think Heracles also slew King Diomedes himself. But anyway, she said she asked around and found a substitute."
"Substitute, right, what were they again?"
"Phrygian carnivorous golden-fleeced sheep."
***
Dean pushes himself, wings beating hard against streams of air currents. Sam's been traveling for almost two days straight, it's already the afternoon, and more than likely he's already made it to the sheep by now.
With luck, Dean makes it to the Phrygian meadows just in time. The sheep are grazing near a riverbank, and he spies Sam wading through the calm waters, approaching the sheep without a care. He's probably planning on just sneaking up on one of the sheep, and shearing off a piece of wool with his flat blade. Not realizing the beasts will tear him to pieces the moment his feet hit the shore.
There has to be a way to warn him, without breaking the rules, he's already risking a lot by leaving Corinth. He can't simply fly down and stop Sam. Nor could one of his arrows help, what good would it do to make all the sheep start mating?
The idea flies into his head just as Sam nears the reeds at the edge of the river. Dean quickly reaches for his left wing and yanks out a feather, ignoring the stinging sensation. He takes out one of his untraceable, vanishing arrows and stabs the feather through the arrowhead. Then he takes out his bow, and aims right for the center of the animals, fires downward and the arrow drops faster than a lightning strike.
***
Sam's goal is at hand, as he readies to emerge from the reeds and step ashore. When suddenly, an enormous flock of white doves springs from a spot in the grass.
That's when the feeding frenzy starts.
Blood and feathers and bleating sheep are everywhere. It's a slaughter, not one bird escapes alive. In a matter of minutes, they've devoured every feather, and licked the blood clean off the ground, the scene returning to its pastoral façade.
Sam crouches down in the reeds, hoping they don't see him, and when he thinks it's safe, he wades back over to the opposite side.
A tiny voice buzzes in his ear, "Wait for nightfall," and a little junebug zips into the air. Sam settles himself against a tree, and passes the time by composing a letter to his father.
***
This time the dream is different.
He stands on a balcony, looking down at a city in ruins. Thick black smoke pouring into an already darkened sky. Flames still licking the air, buildings crumbled and burnt away. People scattering about below, stepping over the dead and fighting with the living.
Sam hears a rush of wind, and Dean touches down on the balcony screaming, "Sam!" Sam wonders for a moment if Dean is actually talking to him, but he rushes past him into the connecting room. Sam follows. Dean is crouched on the floor, holding someone in his arms.
Dean pulls back and Sam sees himself, only it's not him. The color seems to have drained from his face, he's practically white. The dark black chiton he wears only emphasizes it more. His expression is flat whereas Dean's wearing his emotions on his sleeve (if he ever wore sleeves, that is).
"What did you do, Sam? Huh? What were you thinking!?" Dean's shaking him, holding his face.
"I don't 'think'… I just know…" Dream-Sam crooks his head to one side, resting it against a wall.
Dean stands, his fists shaking at his sides. "Then tell me what you know."
"I leveled Athens. Destroyed it."
Sam gasps as he finally recognizes the scene. It is Athens, and the building they're in, is the Academy, or rather, what's' left of it.
"Yeah."
"My father is probably-"
"-dead."
"Huh." Dream-Sam stands up. "I should feel bad, shouldn't I?"
"Yes, you should," Dean says, anger and sadness mixed in his words.
"But I don't." Dream-Sam steps forward to Dean and pulls a sharp arrow from his quiver. "In fact, I don't! Feel! Anything!" He screams, stabbing his chest repeatedly. The arrow penetrates the skin, but draws no blood, leaves no mark.
Dean presses forward and yanks the arrow out of his hand, tossing it aside and grabbing Sam, holding him tightly.
"I don't feel anything, anymore." Sam drifts out of Dean's embrace. His eyes turning bright red, stamping his foot like a child, and the room explodes in fire.
"Fix me!"
***
"Fix me!" Sam wakes up shouting, and then clasps his hand over his mouth, trembling in the wake of the dream, tears pulling at the corners of his eyes.
He looks across the river, and the sheep haven't stirred from their slumber. And in the pale moonlight, he can see the gleam of golden wool caught on the brambly bushes. Sam once again makes his way quietly to the other side. He tip-toes around the meadow, filling his rucksack with the shed wool.
As he makes his way back to the safe side of the river, he realizes that now his problem is time. How can he get back to the temple before sunrise?
"Excuse me?" A voice bubbles up from behind him. Sam turns and sees a gigantic blue-green beastly thing rise from the water behind him. Curved teeth, thick beard and two twisty horns protruding from his head. Beside him, two wide-eyed young women rise, their hair and skin also the colors of the sea.
"Let me guess… You're a river-god and those are your daughters, Potameides? Or is it just water-nymphs?"
The nymphs giggle and the river-god smiles showing Sam all his teeth. "Corrrrrrect!" his bubbly voice booms.
"I'm getting better at this."
"So, a little bird told me you need a ride home?"
***
It's nearly sunrise, and Mary has a smug smile on her face. Dean stares out of the temple windows, wringing his hands.
"See, the best part is, I know you left Corinth to help him."
"I didn't leave Corinth."
"Thalia said-"
"She's a lush and a liar!"
"Don't talk about your future wife that way!"
"My future wife who just this afternoon was in a three-way with-"
The door bangs open, and Sam rushes in, dripping wet and his boots making squishing sounds against the stone tiles. He presents the package to Mary, head bowed. She takes it from him and he collapses on the floor, panting. Dean rushes to his side, pillowing his head in his lap and sitting him up, so he can breathe.
"He's wet? He's wet! Why-why is he wet?" Dean shrugs at her. "Why are you wet?!"
"Swam!" Sam gasps. Dean smiles down and pets his hair, pulling out errant bits of kelp. He'd kiss him, even though he's slimy-wet from the river, but his mother is upset enough already.
"You swam?! Well, if you got my wool wet then-"
"Sealskin!" Sam gasps again, pointing to the bundle he'd presented Mary. She opens the rubbery package and the wool is all there, bone dry.
"Damn," she whispers.
Mary crosses over to the other side of the room, puzzling. So long as Dean is able to sneak around like he does, Sam can accomplish any task.
"For the next test, you both must do something impossible," Mary begins, voice subdued.
***
Part 5