Mommy Dearest (2/?)
Title: Mommy Dearest
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Destiel/Bottom!Dean
Disclaimer: Not mine, but if it was, this would be Canon.
Warnings: Slash, language, Mpreg, bad grammar...
Summary: Things go a bit differently in 6.19, Mommy Dearest. Dean didn't drink the Phoenix ash, and these are the consequences...
Dean's not exactly coherent on their way to Bobby's. Castiel stays in the back seat of the Impala practically pinning the older Winchester in his lap as he flails and screams in pain.
Sam's fingers dig into his own thigh as he tries to ignore his brothers erratic cries and sickening groans-it wasn't like Dean to ever show outward signs of affliction, he always tried to hide it from everybody. And that's what truly scared Sam. Whatever was going on with his brother was painful enough to make him scream.
Bobby's at the wheel, leaving the youngest Winchester nothing to concentrate on other than his big brother's almost inhuman cries of pain. He's done all he could do for now, poured holy water on the bite on Dean's neck and patched it up. But Sam still wishes there was more he could-
Suddenly the screams are cut short, replaced by a high pitched keening noise instead.
Looking over into the back seat, Sam see's Castiel using inhuman strength to pin Dean's upper body and arms in an almost backwards bear hug. He's whispering something low, like a prayer, into Dean's ear.
"O Pater qui es supra excavatus nomen tuum," Sam strains to hear the foreign tongue, and is surprised to find that it's just bits and pieces of broken prayer in Latin, like something you'd hear during an old Catholic sermon. But the calming effect it has on Dean is all the same. "Gienobis hodiepanem nostrum cotidianumet dimitte nobistrasspassessicut et nos dimittimustrasspassquicontra nos."
Dean's eyes shoot open. For a moment they move in a panicked flutter, but when they land on the Fallen Angel, they still. Sam's not sure if he truly comprehends what's happening-and if the strained grimace his face is screwed up into is any indication, he can't-but it's an improvement. The prayers are somehow working, like his brother just needed something to latch on to-to ground him.
"DeussuscepitFilium tuumpassionibusdoceatpatientiavirtusininfirmitatehumana."
As Castiel continues to pray, Dean's cacophony of pained noises shrink down to pained whimpers.
"Exaudi preces nostras offerimus pro infirmis fratribus. Omnes qui doloris," Dean's body-though still as tense as a piano cord-stills. His legs settle in an awkward tangled position, but they're at least not kicking at the door anymore. Sam's actually surprised he hadn't broken the car's window by now. "Aegritudinevel infirmitate sentire, quod electi in sanctos, Christo coniunguntur sciunt quod in passione pro salute mundi, qui tecum vivit et regnat in unitate Spiritus Sancti, Deus,in saecula saeculorum."
Castiel loosens his hold on the elder Winchester; fusses until Dean's head is resting on his chest, just below his chin. He's cradling the Hunter in his arms now, and Sam hopes that he'll get a chance to poke and prod his brother good for it later.
He hopes he'll be able to speak to his big brother again period.
"Te diligo,Dean." Castiel says over the Hunter's constant whimpers. And Sam barely catches it in time to translate. "Amen."
I love you, Dean.
The Fallen Angel runs a soothing hand up and down the elder Hunter's side.
Amen.
Getting Dean from the back seat of the Impala and into one of Bobby's spare bedrooms was a lot easier than if Castiel hadn't been there. He just kind of… flew them there; gently laid Dean's mercifully unconscious body on the rickety old bed.
"What- what are we supposed to do now?" Sam asks, looking desperately at the once-fallen Angel.
"I'm… not sure," Castiel's voice sounds lost, like he's never encountered anything like this before. Which just can't be true, because that would mean he wouldn't know how to fix it-and Sam can't accept that. That wouldn't be fair. The universe can't just dump another problem on their ever dwindling group, not if there isn't a way to fix it.
Dean doesn't regain consciousness until a week after his encounter with Eve. During that time period, Sam and Bobby pour over book after book. They each go through their contact lists, pulling favor after favor in search of a clue of what exactly had happened-is happening-to Dean, and how to fix it.
Sam isn't exactly shocked when they come up completely empty handed, but deep down he'd kept some semblance of hope alive. Or maybe he'd tricked himself into thinking he had hope left, because in all honesty he feels nothing when Bobby-finishing off another bottle of Jack-decides to voice both their thoughts, calling off the search and fishing out his secret stash-the good stuff, he says.
And Sam can't feel guilty about getting shitfaced when his brother is unconscious; completely helpless and vulnerable upstairs-he can't muster up the energy. Because not only do they have to worry about Eve fucking strolling about who-knows-where, but they have to now consider the possibility that Crowley is, in fact, alive.
Part three
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Destiel/Bottom!Dean
Disclaimer: Not mine, but if it was, this would be Canon.
Warnings: Slash, language, Mpreg, bad grammar...
Summary: Things go a bit differently in 6.19, Mommy Dearest. Dean didn't drink the Phoenix ash, and these are the consequences...
Dean's not exactly coherent on their way to Bobby's. Castiel stays in the back seat of the Impala practically pinning the older Winchester in his lap as he flails and screams in pain.
Sam's fingers dig into his own thigh as he tries to ignore his brothers erratic cries and sickening groans-it wasn't like Dean to ever show outward signs of affliction, he always tried to hide it from everybody. And that's what truly scared Sam. Whatever was going on with his brother was painful enough to make him scream.
Bobby's at the wheel, leaving the youngest Winchester nothing to concentrate on other than his big brother's almost inhuman cries of pain. He's done all he could do for now, poured holy water on the bite on Dean's neck and patched it up. But Sam still wishes there was more he could-
Suddenly the screams are cut short, replaced by a high pitched keening noise instead.
Looking over into the back seat, Sam see's Castiel using inhuman strength to pin Dean's upper body and arms in an almost backwards bear hug. He's whispering something low, like a prayer, into Dean's ear.
"O Pater qui es supra excavatus nomen tuum," Sam strains to hear the foreign tongue, and is surprised to find that it's just bits and pieces of broken prayer in Latin, like something you'd hear during an old Catholic sermon. But the calming effect it has on Dean is all the same. "Gienobis hodiepanem nostrum cotidianumet dimitte nobistrasspassessicut et nos dimittimustrasspassquicontra nos."
Dean's eyes shoot open. For a moment they move in a panicked flutter, but when they land on the Fallen Angel, they still. Sam's not sure if he truly comprehends what's happening-and if the strained grimace his face is screwed up into is any indication, he can't-but it's an improvement. The prayers are somehow working, like his brother just needed something to latch on to-to ground him.
"DeussuscepitFilium tuumpassionibusdoceatpatientiavirtusininfirmitatehumana."
As Castiel continues to pray, Dean's cacophony of pained noises shrink down to pained whimpers.
"Exaudi preces nostras offerimus pro infirmis fratribus. Omnes qui doloris," Dean's body-though still as tense as a piano cord-stills. His legs settle in an awkward tangled position, but they're at least not kicking at the door anymore. Sam's actually surprised he hadn't broken the car's window by now. "Aegritudinevel infirmitate sentire, quod electi in sanctos, Christo coniunguntur sciunt quod in passione pro salute mundi, qui tecum vivit et regnat in unitate Spiritus Sancti, Deus,in saecula saeculorum."
Castiel loosens his hold on the elder Winchester; fusses until Dean's head is resting on his chest, just below his chin. He's cradling the Hunter in his arms now, and Sam hopes that he'll get a chance to poke and prod his brother good for it later.
He hopes he'll be able to speak to his big brother again period.
"Te diligo,Dean." Castiel says over the Hunter's constant whimpers. And Sam barely catches it in time to translate. "Amen."
I love you, Dean.
The Fallen Angel runs a soothing hand up and down the elder Hunter's side.
Amen.
Getting Dean from the back seat of the Impala and into one of Bobby's spare bedrooms was a lot easier than if Castiel hadn't been there. He just kind of… flew them there; gently laid Dean's mercifully unconscious body on the rickety old bed.
"What- what are we supposed to do now?" Sam asks, looking desperately at the once-fallen Angel.
"I'm… not sure," Castiel's voice sounds lost, like he's never encountered anything like this before. Which just can't be true, because that would mean he wouldn't know how to fix it-and Sam can't accept that. That wouldn't be fair. The universe can't just dump another problem on their ever dwindling group, not if there isn't a way to fix it.
Dean doesn't regain consciousness until a week after his encounter with Eve. During that time period, Sam and Bobby pour over book after book. They each go through their contact lists, pulling favor after favor in search of a clue of what exactly had happened-is happening-to Dean, and how to fix it.
Sam isn't exactly shocked when they come up completely empty handed, but deep down he'd kept some semblance of hope alive. Or maybe he'd tricked himself into thinking he had hope left, because in all honesty he feels nothing when Bobby-finishing off another bottle of Jack-decides to voice both their thoughts, calling off the search and fishing out his secret stash-the good stuff, he says.
And Sam can't feel guilty about getting shitfaced when his brother is unconscious; completely helpless and vulnerable upstairs-he can't muster up the energy. Because not only do they have to worry about Eve fucking strolling about who-knows-where, but they have to now consider the possibility that Crowley is, in fact, alive.
Part three