Fic: I Know Our Dreams Will Never Die
Title: I Know Our Dreams Will Never Die
Author: mummyluvr314
Pairing: Dean/Nick, Dean/Lucifer
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Heavy for 5.22. You have been warned.
Warnings: Angst, I guess. Maybe a bit of light mental torture. Some WTF-ness.
Summary: Dean Winchester is a happy man. He has his own place, he’s in love, and every so often the Devil comes to him in his dreams to remind him just where that happiness came from.
A/N: Title is from If We Hold On Together by Diana Ross (yes, it is the Land Before Time song, why do you ask?). Also, don’t mock my head-canon.
Disclaimer: Is my name Kripke? No. I own nothing.
Dean let his head fall onto the taller man’s shoulder, let his body collapse into the warm embrace as hands criss-crossed with deep white lines began rubbing soothing circles into the hunter’s back.
“It’s ok,” Nick whispered. “I’ve got you. I love you.”
Dean closed his eyes and sighed. He’d waited years for that. Years for those words. A day spent with Lisa before the realization that he didn’t belong, that he still had business to take care of in Detroit. But where there should have been three dead bodies, there were only two. Two dead, and one alive - but horribly disfigured - man.
The hunter had stitched him up. Asked his name. Gotten a motel room for a quiet recuperation, and when Nick had felt up to it, they’d driven to Delaware. The home had been painted white and sold after its owner had disappeared. Children ran happily through the yard and Nick refused to tell Dean why he was crying.
“I love you, too.”
They’d gone to Lisa after that, but she’d taken one look at a face pitted and healing and turned them away. Turned Nick away. Dean had followed. He felt responsible. Breaking the first Seal, ignoring Sam’s pleas until it was too late, taking too long to find a way to save the world while still saying no to Michael.
It was all his fault.
He’d had some money saved up, though, from back when Sammy was still in college. Back when everything was still perfect. He’d rented an apartment for the two of them. It was the right thing to do.
Nick pulled away, smiling with kind eyes that almost reminded him of Cas. Thin skin pulled taut across his cheeks, forehead, nose, and lips. Half of one ear was missing. He was still beautiful. Still good-natured and focused on finding redemption for his mistakes. Dean could relate.
The taller man leaned in close and Dean’s heart almost stopped. This was what he’d wanted. All those nights feigning nightmares to slip into the apartment’s single bed, mornings spent slaving over breakfast, endless days spent tending to deep wounds, rubbing ointment on the nastier burns. He’d hoped, but he hadn’t dared to ask.
Their lips met, and he knew he didn’t deserve it. He knew it was his fault. But if Nick wanted it too, if he was ready to move past his wife and baby boy, then Dean was happy to oblige. Sam had wanted him to have this, to have something like this. It was safe, normal, happy.
Nick pulled back again, giving Dean one of those shy smiles that the hunter had come to love so much over the past couple of years. Nick was the only one who smiled at him anymore. The only who looked at him like he wasn’t a freak, a depressed nut job about to go off the deep end.
He was strangely all right with that.
Nick ran a hand over Dean’s cheek, trailing smooth fingers down his neck, down his arm, before their hands met. Dean frowned. The skin there - everywhere - was usually soft, delicate. Now it came off in his fingers, angry red and weeping pus.
He looked up into a cold blue stare.
“Hello, Dean.” The smile turned sour as healed scars broke open, peeling at the edges as if Nick’s skin were burning away from the inside out.
Dean pulled back, putting as much space between that thing and himself as possible. “Lucifer.”
“In the flesh. Well, Nick’s flesh.”
“I’m dreaming.”
“That you are, kiddo.” The Devil straightened Nick’s shirt and started to circle the hunter, grinning that smarmy grin of his.
“What are you doing here?” Dean asked, eyes following the walking blasphemy.
“Checking in. I wanted to make sure you’re enjoying your reward.”
Dean narrowed his eyes. “Reward?”
“I did make you a promise. Or have you forgotten?” He came to a stop in front of the hunter and leaned in close, broken lips pressed to Dean’s ear. “We had a deal, Deano. You kept your end, and I kept mine.”
“What are you talking about?”
Lucifer leaned back and frowned. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember? That night in the motel, back when you and Sam were still trying to save the world by not speaking to each other? I found you, Dean.” He grinned, tilting his head to the side and studying Dean with hard eyes. “I found you, and we made a deal.”
Dean swallowed hard and closed his eyes. He remembered. How could he not? Waking up to find the Devil watching him sleep, that moment of fear and panic before he realized that Sam was safe. The offer. Anything he wanted - anything in the world - if he would just say no. If he would keep saying no.
“Do you remember what you asked for?” Lucifer questioned, his voice too close, breath warm against the hunter’s face. Dean opened his eyes to find that the angel had silently moved closer, sidled forward until they were almost kissing.
“Love.”
Lucifer snorted. “Not love. A sure thing. You didn’t believe me, Dean, but I came through for you in the end. I delivered.”
“A sure thing?”
“Someone who would never leave. Someone who couldn’t leave. Someone that no one else would want.” He smirked. “Say, someone so marked by the past that he won’t give himself a future?”
Dean felt himself shudder. “You bastard.”
“You never wondered why I let him live? Why I left him there, all wrapped in misery and death like a Christmas present, just for you?”
“You killed his family.”
“No, my minions did that. And it was purely business.”
“You manipulated him.”
“So did you.” Lucifer nipped at his lips. “‘I had a bad dream about my brother.’ ‘You were screaming about Sarah again.’ ‘Can I sleep with you?’ You really are pathetic, Dean.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “He doesn’t love you.”
“I know that,” Dean ground out.
“But you love him.” The briefest touch of lips. “It’s funny.” Again. “Amusing.” Again. “And I hear you like to pretend?”
Dean leaned in, meeting the kiss, deepening it. Lucifer laughed, a low, deep rumbling that Dean felt at every point their bodies touched. “I suppose waking up next to someone can spark certain mental images,” the angel said. “Breakfast in bed. Such intimate touching. It’s a wonder he hasn’t caught on.”
“Please,” Dean gasped, fisting a hand in Lucifer’s hair. “Don’t tell -”
“Why not? It’s not like he can go anywhere. Not looking like that. You ruined his life, Dean. You and your need to be needed. To be wanted. Such a happy little lie, isn’t it?”
“I-”
“Shhhhh. It’s ok.” Peeling lips settled on his neck, moving slowly up until the angel was biting his earlobe. “I can pretend, too.” He pulled away and stared, a light smirk playing at his lips and open sores turned to scars turned to clean and perfectly unmarked skin.
He was beautiful, in an average way. Tan skin and too blue eyes, small imperfections, shallow lines, a slight need to lay off the brownies. Not a supermodel, but good enough for Dean. The only question was -
“Of course you’re good enough for me,” Nick - Lucifer - whispered. “You’re perfect, Dean. Just what I’ve always wanted. Such a good little boy.” He grinned, an evil expression that didn’t quite fit with the almost-gorgeous face. “I can’t wait until I see you again.”
And then everything changed. The world shifted, his vision blurred, and Sam was standing in front of him. But it wasn’t Sam. That much was obvious, with the pale skin and the deep cuts on his face, the way his body smelled of sulfur, the evil glint in his eye. “I’ll be seeing you real soon,” Sam said before Dean finally found the energy to jerk himself awake.
White sheets pooled around his waist as he struggled for breath, the image of Sam’s decaying face stuck in his mind.
Something shuffled beside him. Nick rolled over, blinking sleep out of his eyes. “You ok?”
Dean took a deep breath and sighed. “No. I… I did this.”
“Did what?” The older man frowned, his face scrunching up comically, the deep network of scars shining in the moonlight that filtered through the window.
The hunter braced himself, and started talking. About everything. Deals and shame and scars and guilt and the nightmares that had been plaguing him off and on since his brothers were swallowed up into a hole that lead straight to Hell. He told all, his voice shaking and betraying him, and somehow he wound up wrapped in strong arms. Warm arms. Arms that were covered in an intricate pattern of silvery lines that Dean had made in his own selfishness.
Somehow, he wound up in those arms, with soothing circles being rubbed into his back. Somehow, soft lips found his forehead. “It’s not your fault.”
Dean sniffled. “No.”
Nick sighed. “I love you.”
And the dream began again.
Author: mummyluvr314
Pairing: Dean/Nick, Dean/Lucifer
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Heavy for 5.22. You have been warned.
Warnings: Angst, I guess. Maybe a bit of light mental torture. Some WTF-ness.
Summary: Dean Winchester is a happy man. He has his own place, he’s in love, and every so often the Devil comes to him in his dreams to remind him just where that happiness came from.
A/N: Title is from If We Hold On Together by Diana Ross (yes, it is the Land Before Time song, why do you ask?). Also, don’t mock my head-canon.
Disclaimer: Is my name Kripke? No. I own nothing.
Dean let his head fall onto the taller man’s shoulder, let his body collapse into the warm embrace as hands criss-crossed with deep white lines began rubbing soothing circles into the hunter’s back.
“It’s ok,” Nick whispered. “I’ve got you. I love you.”
Dean closed his eyes and sighed. He’d waited years for that. Years for those words. A day spent with Lisa before the realization that he didn’t belong, that he still had business to take care of in Detroit. But where there should have been three dead bodies, there were only two. Two dead, and one alive - but horribly disfigured - man.
The hunter had stitched him up. Asked his name. Gotten a motel room for a quiet recuperation, and when Nick had felt up to it, they’d driven to Delaware. The home had been painted white and sold after its owner had disappeared. Children ran happily through the yard and Nick refused to tell Dean why he was crying.
“I love you, too.”
They’d gone to Lisa after that, but she’d taken one look at a face pitted and healing and turned them away. Turned Nick away. Dean had followed. He felt responsible. Breaking the first Seal, ignoring Sam’s pleas until it was too late, taking too long to find a way to save the world while still saying no to Michael.
It was all his fault.
He’d had some money saved up, though, from back when Sammy was still in college. Back when everything was still perfect. He’d rented an apartment for the two of them. It was the right thing to do.
Nick pulled away, smiling with kind eyes that almost reminded him of Cas. Thin skin pulled taut across his cheeks, forehead, nose, and lips. Half of one ear was missing. He was still beautiful. Still good-natured and focused on finding redemption for his mistakes. Dean could relate.
The taller man leaned in close and Dean’s heart almost stopped. This was what he’d wanted. All those nights feigning nightmares to slip into the apartment’s single bed, mornings spent slaving over breakfast, endless days spent tending to deep wounds, rubbing ointment on the nastier burns. He’d hoped, but he hadn’t dared to ask.
Their lips met, and he knew he didn’t deserve it. He knew it was his fault. But if Nick wanted it too, if he was ready to move past his wife and baby boy, then Dean was happy to oblige. Sam had wanted him to have this, to have something like this. It was safe, normal, happy.
Nick pulled back again, giving Dean one of those shy smiles that the hunter had come to love so much over the past couple of years. Nick was the only one who smiled at him anymore. The only who looked at him like he wasn’t a freak, a depressed nut job about to go off the deep end.
He was strangely all right with that.
Nick ran a hand over Dean’s cheek, trailing smooth fingers down his neck, down his arm, before their hands met. Dean frowned. The skin there - everywhere - was usually soft, delicate. Now it came off in his fingers, angry red and weeping pus.
He looked up into a cold blue stare.
“Hello, Dean.” The smile turned sour as healed scars broke open, peeling at the edges as if Nick’s skin were burning away from the inside out.
Dean pulled back, putting as much space between that thing and himself as possible. “Lucifer.”
“In the flesh. Well, Nick’s flesh.”
“I’m dreaming.”
“That you are, kiddo.” The Devil straightened Nick’s shirt and started to circle the hunter, grinning that smarmy grin of his.
“What are you doing here?” Dean asked, eyes following the walking blasphemy.
“Checking in. I wanted to make sure you’re enjoying your reward.”
Dean narrowed his eyes. “Reward?”
“I did make you a promise. Or have you forgotten?” He came to a stop in front of the hunter and leaned in close, broken lips pressed to Dean’s ear. “We had a deal, Deano. You kept your end, and I kept mine.”
“What are you talking about?”
Lucifer leaned back and frowned. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember? That night in the motel, back when you and Sam were still trying to save the world by not speaking to each other? I found you, Dean.” He grinned, tilting his head to the side and studying Dean with hard eyes. “I found you, and we made a deal.”
Dean swallowed hard and closed his eyes. He remembered. How could he not? Waking up to find the Devil watching him sleep, that moment of fear and panic before he realized that Sam was safe. The offer. Anything he wanted - anything in the world - if he would just say no. If he would keep saying no.
“Do you remember what you asked for?” Lucifer questioned, his voice too close, breath warm against the hunter’s face. Dean opened his eyes to find that the angel had silently moved closer, sidled forward until they were almost kissing.
“Love.”
Lucifer snorted. “Not love. A sure thing. You didn’t believe me, Dean, but I came through for you in the end. I delivered.”
“A sure thing?”
“Someone who would never leave. Someone who couldn’t leave. Someone that no one else would want.” He smirked. “Say, someone so marked by the past that he won’t give himself a future?”
Dean felt himself shudder. “You bastard.”
“You never wondered why I let him live? Why I left him there, all wrapped in misery and death like a Christmas present, just for you?”
“You killed his family.”
“No, my minions did that. And it was purely business.”
“You manipulated him.”
“So did you.” Lucifer nipped at his lips. “‘I had a bad dream about my brother.’ ‘You were screaming about Sarah again.’ ‘Can I sleep with you?’ You really are pathetic, Dean.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “He doesn’t love you.”
“I know that,” Dean ground out.
“But you love him.” The briefest touch of lips. “It’s funny.” Again. “Amusing.” Again. “And I hear you like to pretend?”
Dean leaned in, meeting the kiss, deepening it. Lucifer laughed, a low, deep rumbling that Dean felt at every point their bodies touched. “I suppose waking up next to someone can spark certain mental images,” the angel said. “Breakfast in bed. Such intimate touching. It’s a wonder he hasn’t caught on.”
“Please,” Dean gasped, fisting a hand in Lucifer’s hair. “Don’t tell -”
“Why not? It’s not like he can go anywhere. Not looking like that. You ruined his life, Dean. You and your need to be needed. To be wanted. Such a happy little lie, isn’t it?”
“I-”
“Shhhhh. It’s ok.” Peeling lips settled on his neck, moving slowly up until the angel was biting his earlobe. “I can pretend, too.” He pulled away and stared, a light smirk playing at his lips and open sores turned to scars turned to clean and perfectly unmarked skin.
He was beautiful, in an average way. Tan skin and too blue eyes, small imperfections, shallow lines, a slight need to lay off the brownies. Not a supermodel, but good enough for Dean. The only question was -
“Of course you’re good enough for me,” Nick - Lucifer - whispered. “You’re perfect, Dean. Just what I’ve always wanted. Such a good little boy.” He grinned, an evil expression that didn’t quite fit with the almost-gorgeous face. “I can’t wait until I see you again.”
And then everything changed. The world shifted, his vision blurred, and Sam was standing in front of him. But it wasn’t Sam. That much was obvious, with the pale skin and the deep cuts on his face, the way his body smelled of sulfur, the evil glint in his eye. “I’ll be seeing you real soon,” Sam said before Dean finally found the energy to jerk himself awake.
White sheets pooled around his waist as he struggled for breath, the image of Sam’s decaying face stuck in his mind.
Something shuffled beside him. Nick rolled over, blinking sleep out of his eyes. “You ok?”
Dean took a deep breath and sighed. “No. I… I did this.”
“Did what?” The older man frowned, his face scrunching up comically, the deep network of scars shining in the moonlight that filtered through the window.
The hunter braced himself, and started talking. About everything. Deals and shame and scars and guilt and the nightmares that had been plaguing him off and on since his brothers were swallowed up into a hole that lead straight to Hell. He told all, his voice shaking and betraying him, and somehow he wound up wrapped in strong arms. Warm arms. Arms that were covered in an intricate pattern of silvery lines that Dean had made in his own selfishness.
Somehow, he wound up in those arms, with soothing circles being rubbed into his back. Somehow, soft lips found his forehead. “It’s not your fault.”
Dean sniffled. “No.”
Nick sighed. “I love you.”
And the dream began again.