Fic: Love in the Light of these Times
Title: Love in the Light of these Times
Author: mummyluvr314
Rating: PG
Pairings: Dean/Nick, Nick/Sarah
Summary: As it turns out, one man’s punishment is another man’s reward. And that is so not what Dean wanted to hear.
A/N: The eleventh in my schmoop_bingo series, for the “Reunion” prompt. You should probably read the others first (don’t worry, they’re not long). This one’s not so schmoopy again. Uh-oh. Title is from “Dante’s Prayer” by Childsplay.
Disclaimer: In Soviet Russia, characters don’t own you.
Previous Chapters: I could list them, or you could check out the Master Post. Just saying.
Dean came home to find his boyfriend making out with a dead chick. It was pretty much par for the course when it came to his life, but that didn’t make it any less shocking.
Nick, thankfully, stopped his activities when he heard the door close. And, yeah, that was his dead wife on the couch with him, looking as vibrant as any other living, breathing American woman. She slid away from her husband and shot Dean a warm smile.
“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” Dean asked.
“Gladly,” a familiar voice said. Dean groaned and turned to see Chuck Shurley standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
“What now?” the hunter groaned as Nick and Sarah stood and joined him in the middle of the living room.
“Nothing bad,” Chuck assured. “In fact, it’s all good news.” He pushed himself away from the doorframe and stalked toward them, a large smile on his face. “I would have come sooner, but there was a bit of a shake-up upstairs, and I was needed.” He stopped only a few inches in front of them, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “That’s all been sorted out now. Lots of big changes.” He winked at Dean. “I think you’ll like it.”
“Like what?” Dean asked.
“Heaven.”
Dean snorted. “You changed Heaven?”
“Of course,” the prophet replied easily. “I’m God.”
“Oh. Ok. Then I’m dreaming.”
“It’s not a dream, Dean. It’s real.” Chuck shook his head. “I’m sorry I waited so long.” He turned to Nick and smiled. “But there’s good news. Nick, your punishment’s ended.”
Truth be told, Dean hadn’t really been paying much attention. It was a dream. Not an angel-whammy dream. Just a regular, average, ordinary, everyday dream. It was weird now, but in the morning he’d wake up next to Nick, and they’d do the whole morning-breath-kiss thing, and everything would be fine.
At least, he’d thought so until that last bit. His eyes widened.
“Punishment?” Dean asked.
Chuck nodded. “He made it possible for Lucifer to do some awful stuff while waiting for Sam to consent. I can’t just let him get away with that. The problem was, he was under duress when he said yes. So I gave him a few extra months to make up for things, to live with his choices. You humans do torture yourselves a lot.”
“Punishment?” Dean asked again, pinching himself and feeling his heart sink as he didn’t wake up.
“It’s been over three months,” Chuck said. “Time’s up. You can come home.”
Nick blinked, his fingers twined with Sarah’s at their sides. “Home?”
“Heaven,” Sarah explained. “It’s better now.”
“You’ve got a week to make a choice,” Chuck said. “If, at the end of the seven days, you want to come back with us, you’re more than welcome to. However,” he continued, glancing around the apartment, “you seem to have a pretty nice set-up here. I think I speak for both of us when I say that we wouldn’t blame you for wanting to live out the rest of your life here. Sarah’s going to hang around here so you have a chance to say good-bye if you choose to stay.” He nodded once and disappeared.
Dean was pretty numb with shock - Chuck? Really? - but he still felt his heart sink. A choice. Nick had a choice, and Dean was never the one chosen. He hung his head and wandered into their room, leaving husband and wife to plan their happy eternity.
He should have known better, should have known that it was too easy. If he’d ever had a chance, it was gone now. He’d heard stories about Sarah, and Dean knew he couldn’t compete. Couldn’t hope to compete. Because she was perfection and he was rejection. Everyone left him in the end.
The door opened, but Dean didn’t care. Footsteps padded across fluffy carpet, but he didn’t turn. He just sat on the bed and stared at the wall until the middle-aged woman with dark hair and kind eyes that had ruined his only remaining chance at happiness was standing in front of him. She held out her hand to him. “I’m Sarah.” He grunted. “You must be Dean.” Her hand dropped back to her side and she frowned. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Sarah sat down beside him. She was warm, for a corpse. “For being a homewrecker. If I’d had a choice, I wouldn’t have come. It’s gonna be harder for him now.”
“Harder to what?” Dean asked.
“To choose to stay.”
“Why would he? Isn’t this his punishment?”
She frowned again. “What did you think it was?” She asked the question like she already knew the answer, and Dean hated her. He hated her for being there, for prying, for swooping in and taking everything right from under his nose.
“It was supposed to be my reward,” he whispered. “My whole life, everything I’ve done - taking care of my dad, raising my brother, keeping my family together, saving people, saving the world - and I’ve never gotten anything for it. Until I found him. And as soon as I let my guard down, I find out that it was never about rewarding me. It was about punishing him. All this time I’ve been happy, he’s been miserable.”
“That’s not true,” Sarah said. “He seems pretty happy to me.”
“That’s probably because you’re here. Have fun on the couch?”
“I’m not here to be your enemy, Dean. I want to help you.”
“Why would you want to help me? I stole your husband.”
Sarah shook her head. “It’s not stealing if I’m dead. I’ve been watching the two of you - one of the perks of New Heaven - and I think you both need this. So I’m here to help. Anything you need. I’m at your disposal.”
Dean shot her a sideways glance. It didn’t sound like she was lying, even if he thought her reasoning for helping him out might be faulty. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything. I’m an open book.”
“He took care of you, right?”
Sarah nodded, her lips curling up in a wistful smile. “Yeah. When I got sick, he used to make me soup - tomato rice, his mom’s recipe - and sometimes he’d hum Beatles songs until I nodded off. We’d curl up together on the couch and watch bad movies. If I’d nod off anywhere that wasn’t the bedroom, I’d wake up with blankets tucked in all around me. He’d go out after work sometimes and get the most ridiculous stuffed animals for me for no reason at all. He’d tell me I was beautiful even when I wasn’t.” She turned to meet Dean’s eyes. “Why?”
The hunter shrugged. “You think… you think if he stayed, he’d do that kinda stuff for me?”
“I know he would.”
Dean nodded. “I think I’m gonna need your help.”
Author: mummyluvr314
Rating: PG
Pairings: Dean/Nick, Nick/Sarah
Summary: As it turns out, one man’s punishment is another man’s reward. And that is so not what Dean wanted to hear.
A/N: The eleventh in my schmoop_bingo series, for the “Reunion” prompt. You should probably read the others first (don’t worry, they’re not long). This one’s not so schmoopy again. Uh-oh. Title is from “Dante’s Prayer” by Childsplay.
Disclaimer: In Soviet Russia, characters don’t own you.
Previous Chapters: I could list them, or you could check out the Master Post. Just saying.
Dean came home to find his boyfriend making out with a dead chick. It was pretty much par for the course when it came to his life, but that didn’t make it any less shocking.
Nick, thankfully, stopped his activities when he heard the door close. And, yeah, that was his dead wife on the couch with him, looking as vibrant as any other living, breathing American woman. She slid away from her husband and shot Dean a warm smile.
“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” Dean asked.
“Gladly,” a familiar voice said. Dean groaned and turned to see Chuck Shurley standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
“What now?” the hunter groaned as Nick and Sarah stood and joined him in the middle of the living room.
“Nothing bad,” Chuck assured. “In fact, it’s all good news.” He pushed himself away from the doorframe and stalked toward them, a large smile on his face. “I would have come sooner, but there was a bit of a shake-up upstairs, and I was needed.” He stopped only a few inches in front of them, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “That’s all been sorted out now. Lots of big changes.” He winked at Dean. “I think you’ll like it.”
“Like what?” Dean asked.
“Heaven.”
Dean snorted. “You changed Heaven?”
“Of course,” the prophet replied easily. “I’m God.”
“Oh. Ok. Then I’m dreaming.”
“It’s not a dream, Dean. It’s real.” Chuck shook his head. “I’m sorry I waited so long.” He turned to Nick and smiled. “But there’s good news. Nick, your punishment’s ended.”
Truth be told, Dean hadn’t really been paying much attention. It was a dream. Not an angel-whammy dream. Just a regular, average, ordinary, everyday dream. It was weird now, but in the morning he’d wake up next to Nick, and they’d do the whole morning-breath-kiss thing, and everything would be fine.
At least, he’d thought so until that last bit. His eyes widened.
“Punishment?” Dean asked.
Chuck nodded. “He made it possible for Lucifer to do some awful stuff while waiting for Sam to consent. I can’t just let him get away with that. The problem was, he was under duress when he said yes. So I gave him a few extra months to make up for things, to live with his choices. You humans do torture yourselves a lot.”
“Punishment?” Dean asked again, pinching himself and feeling his heart sink as he didn’t wake up.
“It’s been over three months,” Chuck said. “Time’s up. You can come home.”
Nick blinked, his fingers twined with Sarah’s at their sides. “Home?”
“Heaven,” Sarah explained. “It’s better now.”
“You’ve got a week to make a choice,” Chuck said. “If, at the end of the seven days, you want to come back with us, you’re more than welcome to. However,” he continued, glancing around the apartment, “you seem to have a pretty nice set-up here. I think I speak for both of us when I say that we wouldn’t blame you for wanting to live out the rest of your life here. Sarah’s going to hang around here so you have a chance to say good-bye if you choose to stay.” He nodded once and disappeared.
Dean was pretty numb with shock - Chuck? Really? - but he still felt his heart sink. A choice. Nick had a choice, and Dean was never the one chosen. He hung his head and wandered into their room, leaving husband and wife to plan their happy eternity.
He should have known better, should have known that it was too easy. If he’d ever had a chance, it was gone now. He’d heard stories about Sarah, and Dean knew he couldn’t compete. Couldn’t hope to compete. Because she was perfection and he was rejection. Everyone left him in the end.
The door opened, but Dean didn’t care. Footsteps padded across fluffy carpet, but he didn’t turn. He just sat on the bed and stared at the wall until the middle-aged woman with dark hair and kind eyes that had ruined his only remaining chance at happiness was standing in front of him. She held out her hand to him. “I’m Sarah.” He grunted. “You must be Dean.” Her hand dropped back to her side and she frowned. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Sarah sat down beside him. She was warm, for a corpse. “For being a homewrecker. If I’d had a choice, I wouldn’t have come. It’s gonna be harder for him now.”
“Harder to what?” Dean asked.
“To choose to stay.”
“Why would he? Isn’t this his punishment?”
She frowned again. “What did you think it was?” She asked the question like she already knew the answer, and Dean hated her. He hated her for being there, for prying, for swooping in and taking everything right from under his nose.
“It was supposed to be my reward,” he whispered. “My whole life, everything I’ve done - taking care of my dad, raising my brother, keeping my family together, saving people, saving the world - and I’ve never gotten anything for it. Until I found him. And as soon as I let my guard down, I find out that it was never about rewarding me. It was about punishing him. All this time I’ve been happy, he’s been miserable.”
“That’s not true,” Sarah said. “He seems pretty happy to me.”
“That’s probably because you’re here. Have fun on the couch?”
“I’m not here to be your enemy, Dean. I want to help you.”
“Why would you want to help me? I stole your husband.”
Sarah shook her head. “It’s not stealing if I’m dead. I’ve been watching the two of you - one of the perks of New Heaven - and I think you both need this. So I’m here to help. Anything you need. I’m at your disposal.”
Dean shot her a sideways glance. It didn’t sound like she was lying, even if he thought her reasoning for helping him out might be faulty. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything. I’m an open book.”
“He took care of you, right?”
Sarah nodded, her lips curling up in a wistful smile. “Yeah. When I got sick, he used to make me soup - tomato rice, his mom’s recipe - and sometimes he’d hum Beatles songs until I nodded off. We’d curl up together on the couch and watch bad movies. If I’d nod off anywhere that wasn’t the bedroom, I’d wake up with blankets tucked in all around me. He’d go out after work sometimes and get the most ridiculous stuffed animals for me for no reason at all. He’d tell me I was beautiful even when I wasn’t.” She turned to meet Dean’s eyes. “Why?”
The hunter shrugged. “You think… you think if he stayed, he’d do that kinda stuff for me?”
“I know he would.”
Dean nodded. “I think I’m gonna need your help.”