Prompted ficlet #5
For laurificus who gave me "Sam/Dean, maybe this time".
They Go Hand in Hand
Sam/Dean
772 words
pg13
current canon, post 622 so some spoilers
They Go Hand in Hand
On the one hand, Castiel had kept his word. He'd fixed what he'd broken and Sam's memory of Hell had been wiped clean. Sam, still reacting to the memory of having those memories, appreciated that. On the other hand, it had been Castiel who'd knocked down the wall and released the memories in the first place. That didn't exactly say benevolent deity. Not to mention, it had been Castiel who'd hauled him out of Hell without his soul - Sam wasn't sure if that was another hand or the same hand.
On the one hand, by absorbing Purgatory's souls himself, Castiel had kept the King of Hell from growing stronger. On the other hand, he'd been dealing with Crowley all along. On the one hand, he hadn't kept his part of the deal. On the other hand, he'd lied. To everyone. Continuously. Gods who lied - also not benevolent deities in Sam's experience.
"You're wearing your constipation face." Sam looked up to see Dean standing in the bathroom door, towel around his waist, hair damp and spikey. "You're not..." The hand not holding the towel in place sketched a gesture that managed to be both complex and truncated.
"Remembering?" Fluent in non-verbal Dean, Sam shook his head. "I'm good."
"Good."
On the one hand, Sam continued the list as Dean went back into the bathroom and started brushing his teeth, Castiel had removed Sam's memories of Hell. On the other hand, Dean's were still an open wound. On the one hand, Castiel had dragged Dean back into the world. On the other hand, he'd marked him, branded his grip into Dean's shoulder, writing a debtor's note in raised flesh. You owe me.
Dean owed the son of a bitch all right. Owed him years of pain, and fear, and self loathing. All things Castiel could have taken away and hadn't. The born again bastard could take Sam's memories, could take Liza and Ben's, but Dean's? Oh no, Dean had to just keep on suffering.
"That is his choice. He has not asked me to take those memories away. He accepts them as his penance for climbing down off the rack."
"So? You're God now. Forgive him."
"First, he must forgive himself."
Sam had no idea what hand he should list able to write God's dialogue on.
The crack of breaking plastic snapped him out of his thoughts and he looked down at the peices of the remote as Dean said, carefully enough it wasn't entirely a faceous question, "Dude, you about to Hulk out on me?"
"I was thinking about Castiel."
Dean snorted as Sam tossed the broken remote onto the bedside table. "Yeah, kneel before Zod. Next time I see you, you will worship me. Not fucking likely."
He was still angry but Sam could hear the anger fading, resignation slipping in to cool the heat. Dean thought of Castiel like a brother, but he'd been betrayed by his brother before and precedence suggested he'd forgive. In the end, the brother more important than the betrayal and the pain...
The pain of those betrayals cut more deeply than the memory of Hell ever could. Why should Dean bother having the memory of Hell removed when Sam, and now Castiel, had done more damage.
"Sammy!" A hard hand clipped his ear. "Knock it off!"
"Knock what off?" He blocked the next blow and kept his guard up as Dean slid under the covers.
"Whatever you're thinking about that's got your panties in a twist." He dropped back against the pillow and his mouth twisted into something that vaguely resembled a smile. That vaguely resembled hope. "Maybe the war in heaven'll burn out his extra mojo. Maybe when he wins, and he doesn't need it anymore, he'll..."
"Give it up?" After a last visual check of the motel room, Sam flicked off the light. "No one ever gets that kind of power and gives it up."
"True that." A resigned sigh and Sam knew Dean would do what he had to do; like he always had. A warm huff of air against Sam's shoulder. "Roll over. I'm not fucking being the little spoon."
"If the spoon fits..." That got him a knuckle in the kidneys but after a moment of shifting and profanity, they settled, Sam slightly curled and Dean a warm and solid line against his back. They'd slept tangled together most of their lives. It didn't count as cuddling even if they'd ruined the other bed for sleeping the moment the door had locked behind them. Seeking reassurance in each other, in the only thing that had been constant for either of them.
Well, Dean had been constant, Sam amended.
A muscular arm slid over Sam's side and tucked up until it cradled the curve of his ribs. "You can't deny heaven needs someone in charge. Maybe Cas won't entirely suck at it."
"You think?"
"Maybe this time, it'll be different."
"Why?"
"Because this time..." Dean sounded smug. "...God's learned everything he knows about humanity from the Winchesters."
Sam leaned forward until he could feel Dean's fingers press into the flesh over his heart. On the other hand, God had learned everything he knew about humanity from the Winchesters...
They Go Hand in Hand
Sam/Dean
772 words
pg13
current canon, post 622 so some spoilers
They Go Hand in Hand
On the one hand, Castiel had kept his word. He'd fixed what he'd broken and Sam's memory of Hell had been wiped clean. Sam, still reacting to the memory of having those memories, appreciated that. On the other hand, it had been Castiel who'd knocked down the wall and released the memories in the first place. That didn't exactly say benevolent deity. Not to mention, it had been Castiel who'd hauled him out of Hell without his soul - Sam wasn't sure if that was another hand or the same hand.
On the one hand, by absorbing Purgatory's souls himself, Castiel had kept the King of Hell from growing stronger. On the other hand, he'd been dealing with Crowley all along. On the one hand, he hadn't kept his part of the deal. On the other hand, he'd lied. To everyone. Continuously. Gods who lied - also not benevolent deities in Sam's experience.
"You're wearing your constipation face." Sam looked up to see Dean standing in the bathroom door, towel around his waist, hair damp and spikey. "You're not..." The hand not holding the towel in place sketched a gesture that managed to be both complex and truncated.
"Remembering?" Fluent in non-verbal Dean, Sam shook his head. "I'm good."
"Good."
On the one hand, Sam continued the list as Dean went back into the bathroom and started brushing his teeth, Castiel had removed Sam's memories of Hell. On the other hand, Dean's were still an open wound. On the one hand, Castiel had dragged Dean back into the world. On the other hand, he'd marked him, branded his grip into Dean's shoulder, writing a debtor's note in raised flesh. You owe me.
Dean owed the son of a bitch all right. Owed him years of pain, and fear, and self loathing. All things Castiel could have taken away and hadn't. The born again bastard could take Sam's memories, could take Liza and Ben's, but Dean's? Oh no, Dean had to just keep on suffering.
"That is his choice. He has not asked me to take those memories away. He accepts them as his penance for climbing down off the rack."
"So? You're God now. Forgive him."
"First, he must forgive himself."
Sam had no idea what hand he should list able to write God's dialogue on.
The crack of breaking plastic snapped him out of his thoughts and he looked down at the peices of the remote as Dean said, carefully enough it wasn't entirely a faceous question, "Dude, you about to Hulk out on me?"
"I was thinking about Castiel."
Dean snorted as Sam tossed the broken remote onto the bedside table. "Yeah, kneel before Zod. Next time I see you, you will worship me. Not fucking likely."
He was still angry but Sam could hear the anger fading, resignation slipping in to cool the heat. Dean thought of Castiel like a brother, but he'd been betrayed by his brother before and precedence suggested he'd forgive. In the end, the brother more important than the betrayal and the pain...
The pain of those betrayals cut more deeply than the memory of Hell ever could. Why should Dean bother having the memory of Hell removed when Sam, and now Castiel, had done more damage.
"Sammy!" A hard hand clipped his ear. "Knock it off!"
"Knock what off?" He blocked the next blow and kept his guard up as Dean slid under the covers.
"Whatever you're thinking about that's got your panties in a twist." He dropped back against the pillow and his mouth twisted into something that vaguely resembled a smile. That vaguely resembled hope. "Maybe the war in heaven'll burn out his extra mojo. Maybe when he wins, and he doesn't need it anymore, he'll..."
"Give it up?" After a last visual check of the motel room, Sam flicked off the light. "No one ever gets that kind of power and gives it up."
"True that." A resigned sigh and Sam knew Dean would do what he had to do; like he always had. A warm huff of air against Sam's shoulder. "Roll over. I'm not fucking being the little spoon."
"If the spoon fits..." That got him a knuckle in the kidneys but after a moment of shifting and profanity, they settled, Sam slightly curled and Dean a warm and solid line against his back. They'd slept tangled together most of their lives. It didn't count as cuddling even if they'd ruined the other bed for sleeping the moment the door had locked behind them. Seeking reassurance in each other, in the only thing that had been constant for either of them.
Well, Dean had been constant, Sam amended.
A muscular arm slid over Sam's side and tucked up until it cradled the curve of his ribs. "You can't deny heaven needs someone in charge. Maybe Cas won't entirely suck at it."
"You think?"
"Maybe this time, it'll be different."
"Why?"
"Because this time..." Dean sounded smug. "...God's learned everything he knows about humanity from the Winchesters."
Sam leaned forward until he could feel Dean's fingers press into the flesh over his heart. On the other hand, God had learned everything he knew about humanity from the Winchesters...