Supernatural fic - "Saving Grace" (Part Seventeen)
See the masterpost for disclaimer, summary, and previous parts.
He put it off as long as he could, but hunger finally drove Dean out of the guest bedroom (where he’d very toughly been playing possum) into Bobby’s kitchen. He found himself walking stiffly, constantly plagued by the pulsing, brittle ache in his chest. He felt every one of his years… not the thirty-odd he looked, but the seventy-plus his soul had experienced. The twinge in the grace he carried felt immeasurably older. Dean paused several times to rally himself, despite the gripping discomfort.
Because just like he expected, Sam was on him the second he came into the kitchen.
“Dean…” the giant man stood from the table quickly. “What’s happened with the angels?”
Dean stopped in his tracks, scowled at his brother, and cast Bobby by the sink an inquisitive look.
“I told him you don’t know,” Bobby offered, for what good it did in the face of new and improved Sam Winchester.
Sam scowled. “You have to know something. You’re fucking one of the generals, right?”
He didn’t dignify that with a response. He stood tensely still, staring at Sam, then moved to the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee. “I’m fine, Sam… thanks for asking.”
“That wasn’t… Bobby already told me you were okay.” Sam huffed. “Come on, Dean, this is no time to screw around. Potential end of the world here. Tap into that angel love connection you have and find out what’s going on.”
With measured moves, Dean set his cup down and turned to face his brother. “Don’t you think I’ve tried?”
“Have you?”
Dean felt rage filling up the ache everywhere that Castiel’s grace touched him. It ended up being a whole lot of Dean. “You know what, Sam? You can go screw yourself. Someone very important to me could be dying for all I know, and you want to stand there and tell me I haven’t tried to find out what’s going on up there? That I wouldn’t do it if I could?” Dean narrowed his eyes murderously. “There was a time when you knew me better than that.”
“Yeah, well, there was a time when you were stronger,” Sam countered acidly.
“That’s enough, Sam,” came from Bobby.
“What? It’s true,” Sam snapped. “Ever since Dean came back from Hell, he’s been weak.”
“Yeah, but at least I’ve been human,” Dean growled.
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” The look on Sam’s face was smug and inhuman.
Shocked silence filled the kitchen.
“Get out,” Dean hissed.
Sam lifted his chin mutinously and didn’t move a muscle.
“I swear to god, Sam… you don’t want to be here in the next ten seconds.”
“And why not?”
Dean closed his hands into fists. “Because we heard you loud and clear. You’re a monster. And I’m still a hunter.”
Derision sparked in Sam’s eyes. “You wouldn’t kill your own brother.”
“No, I wouldn’t. But you’re not my brother.”
No telling what might have happened next if Bobby didn’t intercede. The older hunter stepped forward, between the brothers, and said, “That’s enough, both of you. Sam… you should go.”
“What, you too, Bobby? You’re taking his side?”
“Call it a human weakness.”
With a snarl of disgust, Sam stormed out, slamming the front door behind him hard enough to rattle the glass.
Only then did Dean sink down into a chair and let himself show the fatigue in his body.
“Well,” Bobby said at length, “that could have gone worse… not sure how, but give me a minute, I’ll think of it.”
Dean laughed, but it was forced and pathetic. “What am I going to do about him, Bobby?”
“I don’t know, kid… but it’s getting to the point where we’ll have to do something.” Past that, in truth.
Just as soon as Dean knew what had become of Castiel. One crisis at a time… Dean didn’t feel up to handling more than that. Before he could think about anything else, he had to find out Castiel’s fate.
Part Eighteen
He put it off as long as he could, but hunger finally drove Dean out of the guest bedroom (where he’d very toughly been playing possum) into Bobby’s kitchen. He found himself walking stiffly, constantly plagued by the pulsing, brittle ache in his chest. He felt every one of his years… not the thirty-odd he looked, but the seventy-plus his soul had experienced. The twinge in the grace he carried felt immeasurably older. Dean paused several times to rally himself, despite the gripping discomfort.
Because just like he expected, Sam was on him the second he came into the kitchen.
“Dean…” the giant man stood from the table quickly. “What’s happened with the angels?”
Dean stopped in his tracks, scowled at his brother, and cast Bobby by the sink an inquisitive look.
“I told him you don’t know,” Bobby offered, for what good it did in the face of new and improved Sam Winchester.
Sam scowled. “You have to know something. You’re fucking one of the generals, right?”
He didn’t dignify that with a response. He stood tensely still, staring at Sam, then moved to the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee. “I’m fine, Sam… thanks for asking.”
“That wasn’t… Bobby already told me you were okay.” Sam huffed. “Come on, Dean, this is no time to screw around. Potential end of the world here. Tap into that angel love connection you have and find out what’s going on.”
With measured moves, Dean set his cup down and turned to face his brother. “Don’t you think I’ve tried?”
“Have you?”
Dean felt rage filling up the ache everywhere that Castiel’s grace touched him. It ended up being a whole lot of Dean. “You know what, Sam? You can go screw yourself. Someone very important to me could be dying for all I know, and you want to stand there and tell me I haven’t tried to find out what’s going on up there? That I wouldn’t do it if I could?” Dean narrowed his eyes murderously. “There was a time when you knew me better than that.”
“Yeah, well, there was a time when you were stronger,” Sam countered acidly.
“That’s enough, Sam,” came from Bobby.
“What? It’s true,” Sam snapped. “Ever since Dean came back from Hell, he’s been weak.”
“Yeah, but at least I’ve been human,” Dean growled.
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” The look on Sam’s face was smug and inhuman.
Shocked silence filled the kitchen.
“Get out,” Dean hissed.
Sam lifted his chin mutinously and didn’t move a muscle.
“I swear to god, Sam… you don’t want to be here in the next ten seconds.”
“And why not?”
Dean closed his hands into fists. “Because we heard you loud and clear. You’re a monster. And I’m still a hunter.”
Derision sparked in Sam’s eyes. “You wouldn’t kill your own brother.”
“No, I wouldn’t. But you’re not my brother.”
No telling what might have happened next if Bobby didn’t intercede. The older hunter stepped forward, between the brothers, and said, “That’s enough, both of you. Sam… you should go.”
“What, you too, Bobby? You’re taking his side?”
“Call it a human weakness.”
With a snarl of disgust, Sam stormed out, slamming the front door behind him hard enough to rattle the glass.
Only then did Dean sink down into a chair and let himself show the fatigue in his body.
“Well,” Bobby said at length, “that could have gone worse… not sure how, but give me a minute, I’ll think of it.”
Dean laughed, but it was forced and pathetic. “What am I going to do about him, Bobby?”
“I don’t know, kid… but it’s getting to the point where we’ll have to do something.” Past that, in truth.
Just as soon as Dean knew what had become of Castiel. One crisis at a time… Dean didn’t feel up to handling more than that. Before he could think about anything else, he had to find out Castiel’s fate.
Part Eighteen