Fanfic: "Return To The Fire"
After going silent on me for several months, my Crazy Muse decided it was time to get back to work on a few little stories I had rattling around in my brain.
Can't believe I haven't posted a fic since January! No wonder I'm so nervous! Eeep.
Title: Return To The Fire
Word Count: 1,563
Summary: It was supposed to be an easy job, a simple salt & burn, but it's anything but for Dean as memories emerge.
Warnings: Angsty, hurt-comfort.
Disclaimer: Eric Kripke owns Sam & Dean. I'm just a fan letting her creative juices flow and enjoying all the brotherly angst in the process.
Notes: Takes place in S4, two weeks after Dean's returned from Hell.
AU in a way because there's no mention of Castiel, but one could assume that he's still the one who pulled Dean from the pit. My idea was that Dean wouldn't remember hell until something seemingly simple and innocent sparked the memories.
Btw, I don't have a beta and any mistakes are purely my own.
It was a simple salt and burn. They'd identified the spirit terrorizing the new homeowners soon after they got into town. A nice, simple hunt after Dean's emergence from the pit a little over two weeks ago. He'd felt fine, eager to get back to the job, but Sam suggested something more sedate to ease him back into things and to Dean a hunt was a hunt, so he went along with it.
They were at a tiny cemetery on the edge of town, ready to put to rest the spirit of one Gina Lucas. Once Sam hit the casket, he jumped out and let Dean break through to the corpse.
Dean used his shovel to hack away at the old wood, splitting it open after the third try. The smell of old, musty, rotting bones wafted up to his nose and for a second Dean recoiled a bit. That's funny. Never had trouble with this before. It was as if he was remembering something, but then he'd dug up hundreds of bodies in his time, so why should this one bother him?
Sam shone his flashlight down into the hole, illuminating the gruesome skull. Dean looked at the sunken eye sockets and was hit with a flash of memory.
Bodies. Bones piled up by the thousands. Smoke and fire everywhere. A chorus of screams...
He closed his eyes for a moment, willing the images to go away. When they did he realized Sam was talking to him.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Dean looked up, feeling a little shaky, “Yeah, yeah. I'm comin' out.”
He wasted no time climbing out of the grave, tossing his shovel to the ground next to Sam's and brushing off his clothes. Sam had already grabbed the can of salt and was pouring it in. Dean took up the lighter fluid and shook that over the corpse, trying his best not to actually look down inside. He finished up by standing next to his brother.
Sam held out a book of matches, “You wanna do the honors or should I?”
“Nah, you go ahead.” Dean averted his eyes from his brother quickly. He was feeling uneasy and bent his head down as he stepped past Sam to the other side of the hole.
Sam lit two of the matches together and dropped them into the hole, the bones and wood catching fire quickly. Dean looked down into the fire, trying not to look as uncomfortable as he felt. The flames grew, lighting up the cold air of the night around them. The smell of the corpse mixed with the smoke and Dean's stomach twisted a little. Staring into the fire, he again lost himself, mesmerized by the heat and the light.
Heat. Screams. Smoke. Bodies. Bones in giant piles. Fire. Flesh burning.
Oh, God. I've gotta get out of here.
He started to step backward, the images becoming too much, the heat from the fire suffocating him. Dean turned and started walking quickly over to where the Impala was parked only a couple hundred feet away. He could already hear Sam calling after him, a worried tinge to his voice.
Reaching his beloved car, Dean put his hands on her smooth metal top and rested his forehead against them. Coolness. That's what he needed to tame down the fire. His heart was beating wildly and he was trying to get his breath back. The fire....so hot. I remember that fire, the flames, the bod....no, don't go there. His stomach almost turned at the memory.
“Dean!” Sam was suddenly there, at his side, putting a comforting hand on the elder Winchester's shoulder. “What's going on? Are you okay?”
Dean slowed down his breathing, willing his heartbeat to calm down with it.
His voice, when he found it, came out shakier than he'd planned. “I just needed some air. I....the smoke. I'm okay, Sammy.”
He lifted his head at last, as if to prove to his brother that he was alright, but Sam wasn't going to let this unusual behavior go that easily. “The smoke? Since when does that bother you? And since when do you have problems with burning some bones?” His hand slipped off Dean's shoulder, giving him some space.
Taking a deep breath, his nerves a little more steady now, Dean turned a little to face his brother. Normally he'd find some clever retort and make a joke of this whole thing, but he hardly felt like it now. Best to simply go with the truth.
“I uh....was having flashbacks...or something.”
“Flashbacks?”
“Yeah, the fire....and the corpse. Um. I dunno, Sammy. I didn't think it'd bother me, but....I think it made me remember hell....a little.”
Sam's face switched instantly from concern to sadness and guilt. “Oh, God. Dean. I....I had no idea.”
“It's okay, Sam. I didn't know it was gonna hit me like this after two weeks of nothin'.” He bent his head and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the growing tension there.
“What did you remember?”
Dean looked up into his brother's eyes. Any other time he would have closed himself off, not said anything or even made something up. That was his job, after all, protect his brother from the awful truths of the world. However, they weren't kids anymore and try as he might, Dean couldn't protect Sam from everything. Why do you have to be so curious Sam? Do you really know what you're asking for? But seeing Sam's face etched with concern and guilt left Dean with no other choice. Truth it was, again.
“Not much, really. It was in flashes, scents, sounds.” Dean looked back over to the grave site, an orange glow still emanating from the ground. Recalling the memories again was uncomfortable. He could still hear the screams in his mind. “I remember the heat, the smoke...it was everywhere. And...” He swallowed, trying to steady himself. “The...the bodies. Piled up. I saw all these corpses...thousands of them. They were on fire. I dunno...it was like they were still alive, Sammy.” His voice was wavering now as more memories bubbled to the surface. He saw Sam move a little closer, to be there if he needed him.
“I can hear the screams. All those voices.” His vision was blurring a little as tears filled his eyes. Dammit, I don't wanna do this. What is happening to me?
He felt Sam put an arm around his shoulders, a strength there that Dean suddenly found himself needing. He had to get this out, had to say it now. The words wanted to spill out of his mouth. “All I wanted to do was get away, but I couldn't Sammy. I was trapped. They burned. They all burned. All those bodies. How do I...”
“It's okay, Dean.” Sam gripped his shoulder, “You're here now. You're safe. You made it out.”
“But just now....I was there.” A single tear spilled down his cheek. “It was like I was right back there. It all felt so...s-so real!” Dean's lip quivered and he dropped his head again. He couldn't let Sam see him like this. It was wrong. He was supposed to be the strong one. I don't wanna be like this.
Sam lightly messaged the back of Dean's neck with his hand, not willing to break that contact. “But it's a memory, Dean. Nothing more. You'll probably....remember more as time goes on.”
Dean lifted his head again, collecting himself by rubbing a hand across his face, wiping away the leftover tears still in his eyes. “Yeah. Something to look forward to.”
“Dean...I...”
“It's okay, Sammy. You're right. I'm sure this wasn't the end of it.” He looked at Sam again, trying his best at a small smile, reassuring his brother that he hadn't said anything wrong.
“You know I'm always here if you wanna talk....if you remember anymore.”
“Yeah. I know.” Dean turned to Sam and patted the younger man's shoulder lightly. “Thanks Sammy.”
Sam gave a small smile and Dean walked past him around to his side of the car. “Let's get going, alright?”
“I'll go take care of this and pack up the tools.” Sam pointed back towards the grave. Dean hesitated before getting in the car, “Thanks man. I...I don't think I can-”
“It's cool, Dean. I won't be long.” Sam hurried back over to the grave.
Dean sank back into the bench seat of the Impala, reveling in the familiar comfort. He felt so tired and all he wanted to do was get back to the motel and sleep. He felt a little ashamed at breaking down like that in front of Sam, but somehow it had felt like the right thing to do. Truth be told, he did feel a little better now.
So that was hell? Good to know. Wonder what other Technicolor memories I have to look forward to?
He rubbed his fingers over his still slightly damp eyes and then sank down into the seat to rest his head against the back. There'd be more memories for sure. He'd deal with them as they came, hopefully a little better than this round. Either way, he'd at least have Sam to remind him that he wasn't in that dreaded place anymore and he wasn't alone.
Comments are like cookies to my Crazy Muse, so don't forget to feed her. ;)
Can't believe I haven't posted a fic since January! No wonder I'm so nervous! Eeep.
Title: Return To The Fire
Word Count: 1,563
Summary: It was supposed to be an easy job, a simple salt & burn, but it's anything but for Dean as memories emerge.
Warnings: Angsty, hurt-comfort.
Disclaimer: Eric Kripke owns Sam & Dean. I'm just a fan letting her creative juices flow and enjoying all the brotherly angst in the process.
Notes: Takes place in S4, two weeks after Dean's returned from Hell.
AU in a way because there's no mention of Castiel, but one could assume that he's still the one who pulled Dean from the pit. My idea was that Dean wouldn't remember hell until something seemingly simple and innocent sparked the memories.
Btw, I don't have a beta and any mistakes are purely my own.
It was a simple salt and burn. They'd identified the spirit terrorizing the new homeowners soon after they got into town. A nice, simple hunt after Dean's emergence from the pit a little over two weeks ago. He'd felt fine, eager to get back to the job, but Sam suggested something more sedate to ease him back into things and to Dean a hunt was a hunt, so he went along with it.
They were at a tiny cemetery on the edge of town, ready to put to rest the spirit of one Gina Lucas. Once Sam hit the casket, he jumped out and let Dean break through to the corpse.
Dean used his shovel to hack away at the old wood, splitting it open after the third try. The smell of old, musty, rotting bones wafted up to his nose and for a second Dean recoiled a bit. That's funny. Never had trouble with this before. It was as if he was remembering something, but then he'd dug up hundreds of bodies in his time, so why should this one bother him?
Sam shone his flashlight down into the hole, illuminating the gruesome skull. Dean looked at the sunken eye sockets and was hit with a flash of memory.
Bodies. Bones piled up by the thousands. Smoke and fire everywhere. A chorus of screams...
He closed his eyes for a moment, willing the images to go away. When they did he realized Sam was talking to him.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Dean looked up, feeling a little shaky, “Yeah, yeah. I'm comin' out.”
He wasted no time climbing out of the grave, tossing his shovel to the ground next to Sam's and brushing off his clothes. Sam had already grabbed the can of salt and was pouring it in. Dean took up the lighter fluid and shook that over the corpse, trying his best not to actually look down inside. He finished up by standing next to his brother.
Sam held out a book of matches, “You wanna do the honors or should I?”
“Nah, you go ahead.” Dean averted his eyes from his brother quickly. He was feeling uneasy and bent his head down as he stepped past Sam to the other side of the hole.
Sam lit two of the matches together and dropped them into the hole, the bones and wood catching fire quickly. Dean looked down into the fire, trying not to look as uncomfortable as he felt. The flames grew, lighting up the cold air of the night around them. The smell of the corpse mixed with the smoke and Dean's stomach twisted a little. Staring into the fire, he again lost himself, mesmerized by the heat and the light.
Heat. Screams. Smoke. Bodies. Bones in giant piles. Fire. Flesh burning.
Oh, God. I've gotta get out of here.
He started to step backward, the images becoming too much, the heat from the fire suffocating him. Dean turned and started walking quickly over to where the Impala was parked only a couple hundred feet away. He could already hear Sam calling after him, a worried tinge to his voice.
Reaching his beloved car, Dean put his hands on her smooth metal top and rested his forehead against them. Coolness. That's what he needed to tame down the fire. His heart was beating wildly and he was trying to get his breath back. The fire....so hot. I remember that fire, the flames, the bod....no, don't go there. His stomach almost turned at the memory.
“Dean!” Sam was suddenly there, at his side, putting a comforting hand on the elder Winchester's shoulder. “What's going on? Are you okay?”
Dean slowed down his breathing, willing his heartbeat to calm down with it.
His voice, when he found it, came out shakier than he'd planned. “I just needed some air. I....the smoke. I'm okay, Sammy.”
He lifted his head at last, as if to prove to his brother that he was alright, but Sam wasn't going to let this unusual behavior go that easily. “The smoke? Since when does that bother you? And since when do you have problems with burning some bones?” His hand slipped off Dean's shoulder, giving him some space.
Taking a deep breath, his nerves a little more steady now, Dean turned a little to face his brother. Normally he'd find some clever retort and make a joke of this whole thing, but he hardly felt like it now. Best to simply go with the truth.
“I uh....was having flashbacks...or something.”
“Flashbacks?”
“Yeah, the fire....and the corpse. Um. I dunno, Sammy. I didn't think it'd bother me, but....I think it made me remember hell....a little.”
Sam's face switched instantly from concern to sadness and guilt. “Oh, God. Dean. I....I had no idea.”
“It's okay, Sam. I didn't know it was gonna hit me like this after two weeks of nothin'.” He bent his head and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the growing tension there.
“What did you remember?”
Dean looked up into his brother's eyes. Any other time he would have closed himself off, not said anything or even made something up. That was his job, after all, protect his brother from the awful truths of the world. However, they weren't kids anymore and try as he might, Dean couldn't protect Sam from everything. Why do you have to be so curious Sam? Do you really know what you're asking for? But seeing Sam's face etched with concern and guilt left Dean with no other choice. Truth it was, again.
“Not much, really. It was in flashes, scents, sounds.” Dean looked back over to the grave site, an orange glow still emanating from the ground. Recalling the memories again was uncomfortable. He could still hear the screams in his mind. “I remember the heat, the smoke...it was everywhere. And...” He swallowed, trying to steady himself. “The...the bodies. Piled up. I saw all these corpses...thousands of them. They were on fire. I dunno...it was like they were still alive, Sammy.” His voice was wavering now as more memories bubbled to the surface. He saw Sam move a little closer, to be there if he needed him.
“I can hear the screams. All those voices.” His vision was blurring a little as tears filled his eyes. Dammit, I don't wanna do this. What is happening to me?
He felt Sam put an arm around his shoulders, a strength there that Dean suddenly found himself needing. He had to get this out, had to say it now. The words wanted to spill out of his mouth. “All I wanted to do was get away, but I couldn't Sammy. I was trapped. They burned. They all burned. All those bodies. How do I...”
“It's okay, Dean.” Sam gripped his shoulder, “You're here now. You're safe. You made it out.”
“But just now....I was there.” A single tear spilled down his cheek. “It was like I was right back there. It all felt so...s-so real!” Dean's lip quivered and he dropped his head again. He couldn't let Sam see him like this. It was wrong. He was supposed to be the strong one. I don't wanna be like this.
Sam lightly messaged the back of Dean's neck with his hand, not willing to break that contact. “But it's a memory, Dean. Nothing more. You'll probably....remember more as time goes on.”
Dean lifted his head again, collecting himself by rubbing a hand across his face, wiping away the leftover tears still in his eyes. “Yeah. Something to look forward to.”
“Dean...I...”
“It's okay, Sammy. You're right. I'm sure this wasn't the end of it.” He looked at Sam again, trying his best at a small smile, reassuring his brother that he hadn't said anything wrong.
“You know I'm always here if you wanna talk....if you remember anymore.”
“Yeah. I know.” Dean turned to Sam and patted the younger man's shoulder lightly. “Thanks Sammy.”
Sam gave a small smile and Dean walked past him around to his side of the car. “Let's get going, alright?”
“I'll go take care of this and pack up the tools.” Sam pointed back towards the grave. Dean hesitated before getting in the car, “Thanks man. I...I don't think I can-”
“It's cool, Dean. I won't be long.” Sam hurried back over to the grave.
Dean sank back into the bench seat of the Impala, reveling in the familiar comfort. He felt so tired and all he wanted to do was get back to the motel and sleep. He felt a little ashamed at breaking down like that in front of Sam, but somehow it had felt like the right thing to do. Truth be told, he did feel a little better now.
So that was hell? Good to know. Wonder what other Technicolor memories I have to look forward to?
He rubbed his fingers over his still slightly damp eyes and then sank down into the seat to rest his head against the back. There'd be more memories for sure. He'd deal with them as they came, hopefully a little better than this round. Either way, he'd at least have Sam to remind him that he wasn't in that dreaded place anymore and he wasn't alone.
Comments are like cookies to my Crazy Muse, so don't forget to feed her. ;)