White Cloud: Sam/Dean: Pt 2morrezelaSeptember 5 2011, 14:13:53 UTC
Then this tiny little girl shows up begging for her baby sister’s life, and it’s Sam’s bad luck that Mr. Sexy Ass shows up not three seconds after Sam is summoned. Only this time, Mr. Sexy actually interrupts the deal to whisper something in the girl’s ear.
Sam isn’t ashamed to admit that he kind of hopes that the angel is promising that the little girl’s sister is going to be fine. Sam doesn’t know how a kid her age knows to summon him because kids shouldn’t be taught that shit. They should be loved and protected and shouldn’t be given a gun instead of a hug and a glass of warm milk, but bad parenting doesn’t mean that the kid should pay for her father’s mistakes.
“Oh, and I want Sam Winchester’s body too. Please?” The girl asks as soon as the angel steps away.
And, okay, that pisses Sam off because the angel is clearly manipulating the poor kid into doing his dirty work and the angel isn’t supposed to do that! He’s supposed to be all goodness and light and not a manipulative ass.
Glowering, Sam turns on the no-longer-so-sexy angel, “You want that body? You come make the deal for it.”
The angel arches a single eyebrow at him in return, and Sam is struck with a brilliant thought. He doesn’t have to take the girl’s soul if he can get an angel. That has to be worth beaucoup points in the cosmic scales.
“I’ll throw in the kid’s sister for a freebie.” Sam offers, his oiliest smile coming to the surface.
The angel nods and doesn’t hesitate. He grabs hold of Sam’s vessel, some short, aging Mexican illegal immigrant who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and kisses him.
It rankles because Sam is used to being the one in control, but he lets the feeling slide. Angel lips is a good kisser. It would probably be the best deal kiss that Sam had ever gotten if the guy’s accessory didn’t keep burning against his skin.
Damned magical amulets hurt worse than holy water. It’s a constant, burning pressure. At least the water evaporates after you start steaming.
Sam struggles away and snaps his fingers. He sends the little girl home as a side benefit. If he also zaps some literature on abusive homes and clean, moral living with her, that’s his own business, okay?
The angel doesn’t take off with the body that’s at his feet. In fact he just stands there staring at it, so Sam feels he should stare too.
The guy is seriously tall. He’s an adult, but his muscles haven’t fully come in yet. He’s got this horrible haircut that is too close to a bowl cut for Sam’s comfort. It’s seriously emo and shouldn’t be worn by a male over the age of twelve.
“So, you looking for a new vessel?” Sam asks after a moment. He should’ve asked for details before he made the deal, but he didn’t. He can’t go back and change the past now.
“No. Don’t exactly have one. Just ended up in the middle of a fight with some badass angels. Swallowed a vial of fallen grace, and here I am.”
Sam feels his meat suit’s heart stutter in his chest. “You’re not an angel?”
Pouty Lips smirks in his direction. “Just a super powered hunter,” he confirms. “But some of my compatriots are getting it in their heads that I need to be hunted, right? So I need somebody to watch my back.”
“And tall, dead and handsome is going to help with that how?” Sam asks, unable to keep his curiosity at bay.
“He’s my brother.” Sexy Ass answers.
“Okay… but he’s still dead, and you just sold me your soul. Which if you were actually an angel might work out for you, but you’re kind of still human and…”
Sam gets cut off with another kiss. This time the guy’s seriously fugly necklace isn’t the only thing burning him. His lips feel like they’re being serrated, and there is a burning sensation all over. It’s like all of his nerves have had Tabasco sauce dripped directly on them.
He’s been exorcised before. He’s intimate with that feeling, but this is different. When Mr. Danger Lips pulls away, Sam’s meat suit is a crumpled mess in the summoning circle. He’s babbling and praying to God in Spanish.
Sam can see, though how he’s never understood, his cloud in the reflection of a nearby car windshield. He’s all puffy white clouds like normal. He’s gotten So. Much. Shit. for that over the years from other demons - no black whorls for him.
White Cloud: Sam/Dean: Pt 3morrezelaSeptember 5 2011, 14:14:30 UTC
As the angel-hunter, hunter-angel? Superman? Whatever. As he crouches to loom over the prone body of his brother, Sam gets the strangest feeling that he’s seen that damn windshield before, but he doesn’t have a chance to remember where before he’s in a three-way kiss with Angel Man and his dead brother.
It’s kind of kinky for a split second before it’s just painful. It’s the opposite of being exorcised. Sam feels frozen and cold and stiff all over. Then he opens his eyes and stares at the angel that is looming over his new vessel.
“Dean?” he asks though he doesn’t know why.
“Hey, Sammy,” the man, Dean replies.
“I… You…”
“Just fucked a whole bunch of demons way the hell over. I’m awesome.” Dean says with a self-satisfied grin.
“I don’t understand.” Sam whines. Only that isn’t true. His memory is coming back in weird little chunks, and he might not know what’s going on, but he does know that Hell had no right to take him, and that getting run over by a bicyclist was a fucking embarrassing way to die.
“Well, let’s just put it this way: they didn’t play by the rules, so they’re losing their investment.” Dean replies as he pulls Sam to his feet.
Sam sways for a moment as he tries to get used to the feeling of being so tall again. His mind is whirring, trying to accept and process information, but there is one thing that they have to work on ASAP.
“Dean, your soul!”
“Don’t worry about it.” Dean tells him as he starts moving them towards the Impala.
“Don’t worry? DON’T WORRY?!” Sam yells as he breaks out of his brother’s grasp. He’s not sure what exactly is going on, but he does know that demon deals are bad news.
“Look, long story short is that they didn’t have a right to take you, okay? And because of that you never quite morphed into what they needed because you didn’t belong to them. So your soul was all intact even if it was forced into a pretty impressive pretzel. Follow me so far?” Dean asks.
Sam nods, and Dean continues, “So I got all juiced up and just had to wait until there was enough of your soul showing to grab hold of it and put it back where it belonged, but I made the deal with you, Sammy. And you’re not exactly a demon.”
“Doesn’t matter, they’ll…”
“They’ll try, but… Don’t freak out, okay?”
Sam glares at his brother, because he already is freaked out. There isn’t much farther he can go with the emotion.
“My soul already sort of belonged to you because yours already belonged to me. I didn’t give you anything you didn’t already own.”
Sam blinks a few times before an incredulous, “What?” comes out of his mouth.
“Just get in the car, Sam. I’ll explain soul mates to you on the way to Albuquerque. If we drive straight there, we can go to that little pancake joint you like.”
“The one you like, Dean.” Sam corrects automatically because the rest of his brain is too busy spinning its wheels to come up with anything else.
“You love them, don’t lie.” Dean retorts as he opens the driver’s side door.
Sam doesn’t bother denying the accusation as he climbs into the passenger’s side because he vaguely remembers the taste of blueberries and maple syrup, and even if it doesn’t taste anywhere as sweet as that brief taste of Dean’s lips, he figures that empty calories is a far less serious crime than wanting to kiss your own brother. And he really intends on doing that kissing thing a few more times.
Sam’s not quite ready to give up all his evil ways just yet.
Re: White Cloud: Sam/Dean: Pt 3morrezelaSeptember 6 2011, 11:16:30 UTC
Thank you! The prompt was a bit out of my norm. I was having problems going with strict SPN canon and didn't want to try to create RPF canon or what not.
Then I realized I could totally deviate from SPN canon in order to still make Sam redeemable.
(And the Dean thing was a last minute: Wait how do I make him an angel thing. Oh! I know make him swallow Anna's grace!)
Sam isn’t ashamed to admit that he kind of hopes that the angel is promising that the little girl’s sister is going to be fine. Sam doesn’t know how a kid her age knows to summon him because kids shouldn’t be taught that shit. They should be loved and protected and shouldn’t be given a gun instead of a hug and a glass of warm milk, but bad parenting doesn’t mean that the kid should pay for her father’s mistakes.
“Oh, and I want Sam Winchester’s body too. Please?” The girl asks as soon as the angel steps away.
And, okay, that pisses Sam off because the angel is clearly manipulating the poor kid into doing his dirty work and the angel isn’t supposed to do that! He’s supposed to be all goodness and light and not a manipulative ass.
Glowering, Sam turns on the no-longer-so-sexy angel, “You want that body? You come make the deal for it.”
The angel arches a single eyebrow at him in return, and Sam is struck with a brilliant thought. He doesn’t have to take the girl’s soul if he can get an angel. That has to be worth beaucoup points in the cosmic scales.
“I’ll throw in the kid’s sister for a freebie.” Sam offers, his oiliest smile coming to the surface.
The angel nods and doesn’t hesitate. He grabs hold of Sam’s vessel, some short, aging Mexican illegal immigrant who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and kisses him.
It rankles because Sam is used to being the one in control, but he lets the feeling slide. Angel lips is a good kisser. It would probably be the best deal kiss that Sam had ever gotten if the guy’s accessory didn’t keep burning against his skin.
Damned magical amulets hurt worse than holy water. It’s a constant, burning pressure. At least the water evaporates after you start steaming.
Sam struggles away and snaps his fingers. He sends the little girl home as a side benefit. If he also zaps some literature on abusive homes and clean, moral living with her, that’s his own business, okay?
The angel doesn’t take off with the body that’s at his feet. In fact he just stands there staring at it, so Sam feels he should stare too.
The guy is seriously tall. He’s an adult, but his muscles haven’t fully come in yet. He’s got this horrible haircut that is too close to a bowl cut for Sam’s comfort. It’s seriously emo and shouldn’t be worn by a male over the age of twelve.
“So, you looking for a new vessel?” Sam asks after a moment. He should’ve asked for details before he made the deal, but he didn’t. He can’t go back and change the past now.
“No. Don’t exactly have one. Just ended up in the middle of a fight with some badass angels. Swallowed a vial of fallen grace, and here I am.”
Sam feels his meat suit’s heart stutter in his chest. “You’re not an angel?”
Pouty Lips smirks in his direction. “Just a super powered hunter,” he confirms. “But some of my compatriots are getting it in their heads that I need to be hunted, right? So I need somebody to watch my back.”
“And tall, dead and handsome is going to help with that how?” Sam asks, unable to keep his curiosity at bay.
“He’s my brother.” Sexy Ass answers.
“Okay… but he’s still dead, and you just sold me your soul. Which if you were actually an angel might work out for you, but you’re kind of still human and…”
Sam gets cut off with another kiss. This time the guy’s seriously fugly necklace isn’t the only thing burning him. His lips feel like they’re being serrated, and there is a burning sensation all over. It’s like all of his nerves have had Tabasco sauce dripped directly on them.
He’s been exorcised before. He’s intimate with that feeling, but this is different. When Mr. Danger Lips pulls away, Sam’s meat suit is a crumpled mess in the summoning circle. He’s babbling and praying to God in Spanish.
Sam can see, though how he’s never understood, his cloud in the reflection of a nearby car windshield. He’s all puffy white clouds like normal. He’s gotten So. Much. Shit. for that over the years from other demons - no black whorls for him.
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It’s kind of kinky for a split second before it’s just painful. It’s the opposite of being exorcised. Sam feels frozen and cold and stiff all over. Then he opens his eyes and stares at the angel that is looming over his new vessel.
“Dean?” he asks though he doesn’t know why.
“Hey, Sammy,” the man, Dean replies.
“I… You…”
“Just fucked a whole bunch of demons way the hell over. I’m awesome.” Dean says with a self-satisfied grin.
“I don’t understand.” Sam whines. Only that isn’t true. His memory is coming back in weird little chunks, and he might not know what’s going on, but he does know that Hell had no right to take him, and that getting run over by a bicyclist was a fucking embarrassing way to die.
“Well, let’s just put it this way: they didn’t play by the rules, so they’re losing their investment.” Dean replies as he pulls Sam to his feet.
Sam sways for a moment as he tries to get used to the feeling of being so tall again. His mind is whirring, trying to accept and process information, but there is one thing that they have to work on ASAP.
“Dean, your soul!”
“Don’t worry about it.” Dean tells him as he starts moving them towards the Impala.
“Don’t worry? DON’T WORRY?!” Sam yells as he breaks out of his brother’s grasp. He’s not sure what exactly is going on, but he does know that demon deals are bad news.
“Look, long story short is that they didn’t have a right to take you, okay? And because of that you never quite morphed into what they needed because you didn’t belong to them. So your soul was all intact even if it was forced into a pretty impressive pretzel. Follow me so far?” Dean asks.
Sam nods, and Dean continues, “So I got all juiced up and just had to wait until there was enough of your soul showing to grab hold of it and put it back where it belonged, but I made the deal with you, Sammy. And you’re not exactly a demon.”
“Doesn’t matter, they’ll…”
“They’ll try, but… Don’t freak out, okay?”
Sam glares at his brother, because he already is freaked out. There isn’t much farther he can go with the emotion.
“My soul already sort of belonged to you because yours already belonged to me. I didn’t give you anything you didn’t already own.”
Sam blinks a few times before an incredulous, “What?” comes out of his mouth.
“Just get in the car, Sam. I’ll explain soul mates to you on the way to Albuquerque. If we drive straight there, we can go to that little pancake joint you like.”
“The one you like, Dean.” Sam corrects automatically because the rest of his brain is too busy spinning its wheels to come up with anything else.
“You love them, don’t lie.” Dean retorts as he opens the driver’s side door.
Sam doesn’t bother denying the accusation as he climbs into the passenger’s side because he vaguely remembers the taste of blueberries and maple syrup, and even if it doesn’t taste anywhere as sweet as that brief taste of Dean’s lips, he figures that empty calories is a far less serious crime than wanting to kiss your own brother. And he really intends on doing that kissing thing a few more times.
Sam’s not quite ready to give up all his evil ways just yet.
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Then I realized I could totally deviate from SPN canon in order to still make Sam redeemable.
(And the Dean thing was a last minute: Wait how do I make him an angel thing. Oh! I know make him swallow Anna's grace!)
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