Merry Go Rounds and Burial Grounds Are All The Same To Me (11/?)
Title: Merry Go Rounds and Burial Grounds Are All The Same To Me
Author:whreflections
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Word Count: will probably finish out around 150k or so. At present it’s a 88k WIP, but don’t let that discourage you from starting it because I’ve written that much in a month(this was supposed to a Big Bang that I realized I wouldn’t be able to finish in time. *sigh*), and I’ll be writing on this steadily every day so I’ll stay plenty ahead of where I’m at chapter posting wise and I plan to post every other day. ^^
Word Count for this chapter: 5,031
Genre: Little bit of everything. There’s romance and boys desperately in love and there’s crazy amounts of angst in places and drama and action and family and…just all over the place. But the boys in love thing, that’s the heart. <3
Spoilers: Need to have seen through 5.16
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: After getting back from heaven, Sam feels like he’s hit a dead end. They seem to have finally drifted far enough apart that Dean’s unreachable, and he’s staring down the fact that it’s hard to keep the faith when you’re the only doing it, and that at this point they’re probably screwed no matter what he tries to fix. But if Ash is right then him and his brother are soulmates, and that gives him a little bit of something to hold onto, tells him that what he’s felt for his brother all along might not be so wrong. In a last ditch effort to do the right thing he sells his soul to hell to get Crowley to send him back to 6 years before the apocalypse on the night he left for Stanford, giving him the chance to not only fix his relationship with his brother, but to just maybe fix everything else too. Of course, all that hinges on just how inevitable fate really is, and if he fails, he’ll end up right where Lucifer wants him.
So…this was supposed to be posted tomorrow. But then I decided to have compassion, cause that last one did end horribly…and cause lavinialavender managed to guilt me into it. :P hehe
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When he woke up, Sam realized several things at once.
He was dizzy, he was cold, his head and his shoulder hurt, and the fucking accident had happened anyway. All those thoughts tumbled erratically around in his head, all the more jumbled and fuzzy because at first he wasn’t nearly coherent enough to try and focus on just one. When he woke up enough that he could move his head he rolled it from side to side, realized that at least he could. He could feel a bump on the back of his head, probably from the window or the roof because he’d been turned nearly sideways talking to Dean, and the pain in his shoulder had to have come from its awkward angle to the seat for that same reason.
He cracked his eyes open, saw harsh light and squeezed them shut, his head throbbing, but it had been enough to wake him. The headache and the cold got pushed violently out of his thoughts, irrelevant, and Dean occupied every single one of them. He sat up abruptly, gasping, his hands reaching at the tube in his arm. He had to get up, had to get moving, had to find his brother, because if Dean-
“Please, sir, you’ve been in an accident, you need to calm down.”
He could distantly realize that his heart rate monitor was nearly beeping off the charts, and that was probably what had drawn her in from the hallway. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting out of this damn bed and getting to Dean, and he couldn’t do that with her pushing at his shoulders and his hands like she was.
“Lemme go.” He wasn’t sure if she’d be able to hear the panic there or not, but he could.
“Sir, please, your shoulder was dislocated and severely strained in the accident and-“
“I’m fine, I’ve had it dislocated before; where’s my brother?” The words all ran together, one rambling sentence with the only part of it he cared about tacked on at the end.
“Sir, if you could-“
“Where the hell’s my brother!?”
She looked almost frightened, and he probably couldn’t blame her, but at the moment he was just relieved. Maybe now she’d pay attention. “Mr. Winchester, your brother…he isn’t conscious right now. You have to understand, his injuries are severe and we’re doing the-“
“Get this off me.” He tugged at the IV line, and again she tried to push his hand away.
“I promise, he’s being taken care of, but you’ve been injured as well and you need-“
“You take this off me or I swear to God I’m ripping it off.” He had to have looked more than a little crazy. God knows he felt it. “Look I’m fine, and you can’t force me to stay in this bed if I can move. I will call someone else and check myself out against medical advice so just take it out and tell me where he is.”
He was about two seconds from reaching over to yank the thing out regardless of what it felt like when she stretched his arm out, nimble fingers removing first the needle and then the IV catheter, putting immediate pressure on the site. When he tried to pull away she held on firm, other arm up to block his other hand from breaking her grip.
“If I don’t put pressure on it you’ll just start bleeding everywhere.” Her lips were pressed in a thin line, and the look on her face still seemed somewhere between scared of him and frustrated at his behavior.
“What all’s wrong with Dean? Is our dad here?”
“As far as I know, his head injury is the biggest concern, and it’s also why he hasn’t woken up. We won’t know anything else until he does, if he even…” She at least was kinder than the other doctor, but it didn’t matter. The fucking room was spinning, and her thumb was still digging into his skin. “Your father was sitting with him, last I saw. He came to check on you a couple hours ago as well.”
“Where’s Dean?”
“Down in ICU. Give me another minute and I’ll point you in the right direction.” She checked her watch, and her eyes flicked up to meet his. “He’s your big brother?”
There was no way he could answer that without sobbing, and he didn’t even try. It was rhetorical anyway.
“Think he’d want you to stay put, take care of yourself.”
That was as much as he could take. He yanked his arm away, rubbed briefly at the site where the needle’d been before he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, checking to make sure he had his feet. His clothes were in the corner and he went to them immediately, shaking out his jeans.
“How do I get to him?”
She seemed to hover between coming over to help him and leaving, and leaving appeared to win out. “On the second floor, end of the hallway, but Mr. Winchester I have to ask that after you’ve seen him-“
“Just get that paperwork for me to sign; I’m fine.” Fine. He’d rarely been farther from it.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
He remembered this with perfect clarity, down to the whir and click of the machines and how damn pale Dean looked under these hospital lights. He was tan normally, full of life and color from doing so much work outside in the sun. When Sam walked into a room his eyes lit up just a little brighter green, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled but now…
“Hey, Dean. ‘M here.” His voice wavered, a sob choking out at the end and drowning anything else he’d been about to say. His fingers wound painfully tight around Dean’s, and his empty stomach heaved when his eyes scanned over his brother’s body. There was a bandage on the back of his head, a tube down his throat, and they’d taken off the amulet. They shouldn’t’ve been allowed. No one could touch it but the two of them, and no one could remove it but Dean, by his own choice. It wasn’t right.
He rubbed his thumb over the back of Dean’s hand, soothing. “They told me I’ve been out about a day. Think I hit my head a little too.” He licked his lips, tasted blood. “Dean, I know you can hear me. I know you can, and…and it’s gonna be ok. I promise. I just need you to hold on for me for awhile, ok? Just…I know there’s…” He could hardly say the word, not in connection with his brother. “There’s a reaper after you, I know, but don’t go with her, alright? You gotta stay with me. You promised, remember? You promised you wouldn’t leave.” This was killing him, and as much as he hated to leave Dean’s side he wanted a little bit less of a one sided conversation. Not to mention, there were other things, things he hardly wanted to acknowledge much less think about but that hovered at the back of his mind all the same, prodding sharp at his every thought. His mind had slipped into one track out of self defense, and right now Dean was the only thing he could see.
He leaned over to kiss Dean’s forehead, hand brushing against his cheek. “Just wait for me. I’ll be back and we can talk, alright? I won’t be long.”
His eyes blurred with tears as he left the room, and he was halfway down the hall before he’d finished swiping them away. It was a good thing, too, because seeing a little clearer, he was able to see who was coming up from the stairwell, and the rush of a dozen conflicting emotions nearly drove him to his knees.
“Dad!”
“Sammy.” He reached out to wrap Sam in a strong hug, and he squeezed too hard against his shoulder. When he let go, Sam just wished he could’ve held on tighter. He smiled when he pulled away, hand lingering on his good arm. “You don’t know how good it is to see you up; they said you hadn’t hit your head like Dean but you were out so long I was gettin’ worried, kiddo.”
“ ‘M fine, dad.”
“Yeah.” He hunched his shoulders, hands sliding into the pockets of his jacket. “How’s Dean?”
Considering how their lives had gone, there were a lot of things he could do. He’d watched his brother die more times than he could count, been to too many funerals, said more than his share of things he’d rather never said at all, but having this conversation? He couldn’t. He absolutely couldn’t. Tears stung at his eyes and he turned around, slamming into the bar on the door to the stairwell, pushing it open so wide it banged into the wall.
“Sammy, hey, I know he doesn’t look good, but I promise-“
God, he couldn’t hear it. He wasn’t strong enough for this, not this. “When did you call Bobby?”
It didn’t take too long for the understanding to dawn in his eyes, and when he did he leaned back against the wall, his voice echoing softly down the empty stairwell. “Yesterday. He’ll be here late tonight.”
Sam felt his knuckles bruise against the wall before he even realized he’d punched it. The second hit left blood on the white brick, and dad caught his hand, trapping it and pulling Sam just a little away from the wall.
“Sammy, Sammy, stop it, alright? It’s ok. It’s ok.”
The last time he’d cried in front of his dad he was 9. They’d been training and he’d broken his wrist, and dad had told him he couldn’t let anything hurt him like that, no matter what it was. He was big enough, strong enough that he could keep it to himself. Mostly all it had meant was that if he broke, he kept it together until he was alone or with Dean. Either place was just as safe.
This, though, this went deep enough that he couldn’t have stopped it if he’d tried. Sometimes, things hurt like hell beyond the point of reason, beyond the point of anyone’s ability to control.
“It’s not.” His voice broke, and he reached for his dad’s jacket, meaning to push him away but he couldn’t manage, his grip tightening painfully instead. “I can’t…I can’t let you…”
“Yes you can. Sammy, yes you can. This is my choice.” His voice was strong, steadier than the tears Sam could see pooling in his own eyes. Even as strong as he was, it seemed there were still some things that hurt him enough, too. “You two’re all I’ve got, and I’m not gonna let Dean die. Not if I can help it.”
“Then we find something else! I’m sure there’s something, anything, we’ll look, we haven’t even looked, maybe we can kill the reaper here, maybe…I don’t know, I don’t know, but dad, you’re all we’ve got too. And Dean, what this is gonna do to him, you don’t understand.” He was rambling, words careening quick and unsteady. It all seemed wrong and out of order and still not enough.
“No, Sam, you don’t understand.” His voice was just a little harder, just a little more steady, and it echoed back to a thousand things Sam remembered, a thousand orders and reassurances that he used to only half take to heart. Their eyes met, and his mind stopped racing just long enough to pay attention. “You’re my boys. A father takes care of his children, no matter what; that’s what it means. And I’ve tried. Sam, I know we haven’t always agreed on that, but I swear I’ve always-“
“No, I know you-“
“-Just listen. I’ve always tried, but I have to do this. I won’t watch him die. I can’t.”
“So I’ve gotta watch you die? That’s just it?” Even to his own ears he sounded like he was four all over again, and he felt guilty as hell at the way he could nearly feel dad flinch, his eyes shutting briefly, tight and pained.
“No. No, you go back in there and you sit with your brother, and you two stick together, and you never tell him a damn thing about any of this. You understand?”
“No, sir. I don’t.” But he did. Deep down, he understood all too well. Even though Dean would find out anyway, even though this was just a repeat of the spiral they’d started sliding down before, this was how it had to go.
He patted Sam’s shoulder, squeezing gently before he pulled away, carefully untangling Sam’s fingers from his jacket. “ ‘M gonna go sit with him for awhile. You should go back down to your room and get some more rest, Sammy.”
As if he could sleep right now, even if he’d wanted to. Honestly, oblivion would’ve sounded pretty nice. He’d just barely turned away when Sam darted forward, catching his arm and pulling him back.
“Dad, no wait, I-“
“I’ll come see you later. Just go get some sleep.”
He wouldn’t put lying past him at this point. After all, before he’d sent him out for coffee to distract him. Just like Dean, dad still saw him as the little boy that needed protecting. Well, right then he felt pretty damn close to it, but he wasn’t, and he hadn’t been for a long time. But if this was the last time he ever saw him alive, there were things he needed to say.
“I forgave you. A long time ago, actually, and I haven’t…it’s been a long time since I was angry. I don’t care, not about normal or soccer or the fact that I graduated a year late, I don’t care because we’re family, and we mean more to each other than most people ever come close to and you did everything for us you could and…and I’m sorry. I’m sorry it took me so long.”
He was still facing away, his hand on the door, and Sam wished like hell he could’ve seen his face. “It’s ok, Sammy. I know.”
When the door shut, he let his knees give out and he sank down onto the cold concrete stairs, knees bent close to his chest.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
In the end, he hadn’t gone out for the Ouija board like he’d meant to. It was all too close, not enough time, though he’d been back to see Dean after dad had left. He’d talked to him , though, and he’d had that feeling just like before that Dean was right there watching him, talking right back to him. This time, though, he’d been able to feel his presence just that little bit stronger. He was more tuned in to Dean than he’d ever been to anyone.
After that Bobby’d come in, and he’d run down to his room, not surprised to find that dad wasn’t waiting for him. Everything that he’d said, in dad’s mind they’d probably already said goodbye. Fuck that. It hadn’t been enough, not nearly enough, but he also knew that nothing ever would be. He hadn’t been ready to let dad go before, and even though he should’ve been more ready now, being closer to him like this it just felt worse.
But under all that pain, there was the truth.
It hurt, God it did, but there were levels. The honest, ugly truth was that part of him was more than a little bit relieved. Grateful, to be absolutely honest. Because if it came down to a choice between dad or Dean, it wasn’t a choice. It hadn’t been a choice before between Dean and the world, and it never would be. Where his brother was involved, there was always only one answer: Dean had to be alright, no matter what it took. Even this, and the thought made him sick.
This was his penance, and it wasn’t nearly enough.
It was dark in the boiler room, and that was why it had been one of the first places he came to check for dad. He’d ducked into a couple other empty spaces first, including a supply closet, but it was here that he’d seen him, and he understood why. It was pretty secluded down here, and the odds no one was gonna show up were pretty good. Dad had taught them well, and Sam could be pretty damn quiet when he needed to. He’d taken up residence in the corner, back behind some machinery, and the view he had of dad on the floor was slim, between a gap in the pipes. Still, it was enough. He didn’t want to stay, didn’t want to see, but he felt like he had no choice. In a lot of ways, this was on him now. He knew, he could’ve stopped it, and he was letting it play out anyway. He deserved for that to hurt as much as humanly possibly, to see the consequences of his inaction with his own eyes. If he’d been a better son, he’d be out there stopping him right now. At this point, the only thing in his life he could hope to be was an alright brother. He was pouring everything he had into that, and just maybe it’d be enough.
If Dean was alright in the end, for Sam it’d be worth it. He’d long since stopped being able to tell if that was wrong.
From the drop of blood into the sulfur to the flare of light Sam felt like he was watching a nightmare he’d already had a hundred times. He and Dean had been over and over this in their minds, wondering exactly how it went down. They had everything right but the details.
“It’s no trick. I will give you the Colt and the bullets, but you’ve gotta help Dean. You’ve gotta bring him back.”
He wasn’t sure if it made him feel worse or better to know that at least initially, he’d tried for something that didn’t involve his soul.
“Why, John, you’re a sentimentalist. If only your boys knew how much their daddy loved them.”
The anger he felt just hearing that thing say his name was palpable, burning in his throat. He wanted to lash out, to draw his attention, to remind the goddamn bastard that he was the one he wanted. He was the one it had always been about, never them.
“It’s a good trade. You care a hell of a lot more about this gun than you do Dean.”
“Don’t be so sure. He killed some people very special to me. But still you’re right, he isn’t much of a threat. And neither is your other son. You know the truth, right? About Sammy? And the other children?”
He stared him down, his fury plain even from this distance. Sam knew the look; he’d seen it half a dozen times in his life. The last time, it’d been directed at a werewolf that clawed the hell out of Dean, and he’d pumped its body so full of silver it’d been a waste of a few bullets. If he hadn’t needed him, Sam was pretty sure he’d have put a bullet between the damn thing’s eyes right then.
A father takes care of his children, no matter what; that’s what it means.
He could’ve seen the evidence of that his whole life, if only he’d been looking. He’s spent so much time focusing on the ways dad hadn’t been there for him that he’d missed all of the ways he always had.
“Yeah. I’ve known for awhile. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Oh I’m afraid it does. You see-“
“Can you bring Dean back? Yes or no.”
“No. But I know someone who can. It’s not a problem.”
He knew his father well enough to see that he didn’t accept it. He probably had, before, but there was too much he knew now. Namely, the fact that Sam wouldn’t have panicked if the only thing they lost here was the goddamn gun. “Before I give you the gun I’m going to want to make sure Dean’s okay. With my own eyes.”
“John, I’m offended. Don’t you trust me?” As if anyone could. He shook his head once, slow and deliberate, and Azazel turned just a little more toward him. “Fine.”
“So we have a deal.”
“No, John, not yet. You still need to sweeten the pot.”
He looked away, and Sam could see the tension ease from his shoulders. This was what he’d been waiting for.
“You know, I kind of expected that.”
“Then you agree.”
“I do.”
“Well then…we do have a deal.”
Dad was the one to step forward, confidant now that he’d made his choice, and for this part Sam looked away. He just couldn’t watch anymore.
“I’m gonna go up and see him. I’ll bring the gun to you when I’m finished.” He walked away before Azazel could answer, the sound of boots on concrete echoing as he walked away. The door swung shut behind him, and in the stillness that followed it was a moment before Sam could bring himself to open his eyes.
When he did he was staring into brilliant yellow and he staggered backwards, startled enough that he almost tripped.
“Sammy, Sammy…you know, every time I see you, you just get more interesting.”
“It’s Sam.” He ground the words out between clenched teeth, his heart still hammering as he found his feet. He put what felt like a little more of a safe distance between them, circling to the left and more toward the open. “What are you still doing here? You’re supposed to help Dean.”
“And you think that took me more than 30 seconds? Please. You know, you’re always underestimating me; it’s a bit discouraging.”
“What the hell do you want?” He wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted to kill him so much as he had right then. Considering he’d had a vendetta against him from the moment he could understand why he didn’t have a mother, it was a little unbelievable to find that he was actually still capable of hating him more.
“Just a minute with you. After all, we are blood, you and I, aren’t we?”
He couldn’t stand here and listen to this, and if he attacked him, he’d get nowhere unarmed like he was. He turned his back and went for the door, and he’d almost made it before his voice stopped him, low and poisonous.
“You’re not as good as you think you are, you know. Offering up your father to save your brother, that’s not exactly heroism, Sammy. He doesn’t blame you for it, not now, but I wonder what he’d say if he knew what the two of you-“
He whirled back, nearly shaking with rage. “You shut the hell up!”
He shook his finger in the air, grinning. “Temper, temper. I’ve always liked that about you. There’s just that little bit of animal in you, just that edge you can’t quite control, and you know it. But you think that just because you want you can change what you are? Sammy…” He stepped out of the shadows, slinking closer. “You can’t change what you are, kid. And you can never be the warrior for God you’d like to be, so why don’t you just accept that maybe everything you should be is already-“ He reached out, tapping his chest just over his heart. “Right here.”
Sam shoved his hand away, his skin crawling. “You’re wrong. And I’m gonna prove it, but you won’t live to see it.” He forced a smile, rigid and hateful. “You know why? Cause my brother’s gonna kill you. And I’m gonna love watching it happen.”
“We’ll see about that. Even if he does, I know exactly where you belong in the end, Sam, and it isn’t with Dean.”
“You’re wrong.” The only place he ever could belong was with Dean. He’d never fit anywhere else but with his brother everything snapped into place, complementing each other just the way they’d been made to.
That time, he was able to make it all the way out the door.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
When he came in, dad was already beside Dean’s bed. Dean was sitting up, alert and looking whole and strong and at that first moment the relief really did overpower everything else. He stopped just inside the doorway, and he caught Dean’s eyes.
“Dean.”
“Hey, Sammy.” Dean smiled for him, and Sam knew then that Dean couldn’t possibly know. Dad couldn’t have said anything to him, because there was still just a little bit of innocence in his eyes, and hearing that anything even close to what he had before would’ve stripped that from him for good.
Dad’s hand slid from Dean’s shoulder, patting it lightly one more time. “Think I’m gonna go get some coffee.” He looked back over his shoulder, eyes raking over Sam like he hadn’t seen him in years and he couldn’t take the sight in enough. It took everything Sam had not to look away. “Sammy, why don’t you stay with your brother? I’m sure he still needs his rest.” One last look at Dean and he was heading out the door, and Sam barely felt the weight of the hand that lingered for a minute on his shoulder as he brushed past.
“Sammy, you-“
“Dean, wait here.” God he looked confused, something that had to have been hurt flickering in his eyes, and Sam held his hand out, reaching toward him as if he could actually touch him from here. “Wait. I’ll be…just wait.” Dean would be there when he got back. He’d be angry, sure, but Sam couldn’t help it. He couldn’t let himself miss this. “Dad!”
He hadn’t made it too far down the hallway and at least he stopped when Sam called his name. He’d been half afraid he wouldn’t. He didn’t look back, but he could hear the sound of Sam’s hurried footsteps approaching and he started in the minute he was sure Sam could hear him.
“Sammy, go back.”
“No.”
“He’s gonna need you.”
Yeah, he was. They were gonna need each other, but right now, he couldn’t back down. Not on this. Their eyes met, and Sam shook his head once, defiant. “You’re not gonna do this alone.”
“Sam-“
“No.”
He sighed, his shoulders sagging, and Sam hated how easily he gave in. He’d made his decision and Sam knew a little bit about how that felt. He didn’t regret it, but staring it down…Sam hadn’t come this close yet, but he’d thought of it a couple times and he’d seen it in Dean. No one wanted to look down the barrel of hell alone.
“You’re too stubborn for your own good, you know that?”
“Well considering Bobby says you’re the most bullheaded person he’s ever met, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He smiled, just a little but enough that Sam knew he understood everything in that that Sam had meant for him to. Dean had told him in anger once that he and dad were practically the same person, and now more than ever he couldn’t see that as anything but a good thing. No matter what dad had done wrong, the right he’d done far outweighed it, and Sam couldn’t have been prouder at the thought that at his heart, no matter what else he was, he was still first and foremost John Winchester’s son.
He finally nodded, and he led Sam two more rooms down to an empty one on the left. It was Tessa’s body they faced, her eyes marbled yellow, and dad held his hand out to make Sam stay back as he went forward to place the gun on the table.
“Ok.”
Azazel’s pulled the gun into his hands slowly, almost purring as he turned it over in his hands. “Such craftsmanship, wouldn’t you say? They don’t make ‘em like this anymore.” His eyes flickered over dad’s shoulder, his smile widening. “Do they, Sammy?”
“You talk to me.” It came out as a growl, and Azazel laughed.
“Alright then.” He held his hand out, thumb rubbing briefly over the tips of his fingers, and Sam stepped forward, just close enough that dad’d be able to see him out of the corner of his eye. That was the point of this, after all. No one should have to die alone. “Goodbye, John.”
Azazel touched his forehead, and his body crumpled. Sam was just able to catch him, arms wrapping tight around his body, slowing the fall as Sam dropped to his knees. One arm cradled behind his shoulders, his other hand tightening in his shirt, and though he couldn’t help the whispered ‘dad’ that choked out of his throat, he knew it was already over. The last time he’d seen someone he loved die it hadn’t been this quick or this painless, and for that he could at least be grateful, even if it didn’t really make him feel any better.
He held on tight, tears already streaming down his cheeks, and it was a second before he remembered that he needed to call for help. Even if it did no good, that was all part of their job. Keeping up appearances. With this, he didn’t want to, didn’t want to have to let go just yet.
When they came the nurses pulled him away, ushering him out into the hall, and all of it faded into white noise.
For the second time in his life his father was dead. He was breaking, but it didn’t all hit home until he felt familiar calloused fingers wrapping around his arm.
“Sam?” There was real fear there, and Sam’s head was spinning too fast to answer. “Dad!” The second he caught a glimpse of his face he lurched forward, and Sam caught him around his chest, holding him back. He turned away from the scene, from the sounds and the panic, and after he’d buried his face against Dean’s neck, he could feel everything crumble into immeasurable pieces.
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On that happy note, one other thing…I posted this chapter ahead of schedule cause I was feeling cruel, but I may have to adjust my overall schedule a little bit. Not being able to write anything at all on this story for a week while I was on vacation set me back a little bit, and then there’s the fact that I have a help_chile fic that I still need to finish. Believe me, my intention was to wait to start on that until I was finished with this, but this is so epic(happily so), and every day that goes without me working on the help_chile fic it bugs at my conscious more and more, to the point that it’s really distracting. So…I’m gonna have to work on both. The other’s not gonna be anywhere near as long, not hardly, so even just working on it a couple days a week it shouldn’t take me too long to get done with it, but since I’ve usually been working on this every single day, it’ll set me back a little so I’m gonna have to add another day or so into my posting schedule I think. :/ I’m sorry, but I promise, this isn’t anything for anyone to worry about, work on this is still going on all the time, I’ve just gotta take care of this other thing too. *sigh*
Master post is here.
Author:whreflections
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Word Count: will probably finish out around 150k or so. At present it’s a 88k WIP, but don’t let that discourage you from starting it because I’ve written that much in a month(this was supposed to a Big Bang that I realized I wouldn’t be able to finish in time. *sigh*), and I’ll be writing on this steadily every day so I’ll stay plenty ahead of where I’m at chapter posting wise and I plan to post every other day. ^^
Word Count for this chapter: 5,031
Genre: Little bit of everything. There’s romance and boys desperately in love and there’s crazy amounts of angst in places and drama and action and family and…just all over the place. But the boys in love thing, that’s the heart. <3
Spoilers: Need to have seen through 5.16
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: After getting back from heaven, Sam feels like he’s hit a dead end. They seem to have finally drifted far enough apart that Dean’s unreachable, and he’s staring down the fact that it’s hard to keep the faith when you’re the only doing it, and that at this point they’re probably screwed no matter what he tries to fix. But if Ash is right then him and his brother are soulmates, and that gives him a little bit of something to hold onto, tells him that what he’s felt for his brother all along might not be so wrong. In a last ditch effort to do the right thing he sells his soul to hell to get Crowley to send him back to 6 years before the apocalypse on the night he left for Stanford, giving him the chance to not only fix his relationship with his brother, but to just maybe fix everything else too. Of course, all that hinges on just how inevitable fate really is, and if he fails, he’ll end up right where Lucifer wants him.
So…this was supposed to be posted tomorrow. But then I decided to have compassion, cause that last one did end horribly…and cause lavinialavender managed to guilt me into it. :P hehe
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When he woke up, Sam realized several things at once.
He was dizzy, he was cold, his head and his shoulder hurt, and the fucking accident had happened anyway. All those thoughts tumbled erratically around in his head, all the more jumbled and fuzzy because at first he wasn’t nearly coherent enough to try and focus on just one. When he woke up enough that he could move his head he rolled it from side to side, realized that at least he could. He could feel a bump on the back of his head, probably from the window or the roof because he’d been turned nearly sideways talking to Dean, and the pain in his shoulder had to have come from its awkward angle to the seat for that same reason.
He cracked his eyes open, saw harsh light and squeezed them shut, his head throbbing, but it had been enough to wake him. The headache and the cold got pushed violently out of his thoughts, irrelevant, and Dean occupied every single one of them. He sat up abruptly, gasping, his hands reaching at the tube in his arm. He had to get up, had to get moving, had to find his brother, because if Dean-
“Please, sir, you’ve been in an accident, you need to calm down.”
He could distantly realize that his heart rate monitor was nearly beeping off the charts, and that was probably what had drawn her in from the hallway. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting out of this damn bed and getting to Dean, and he couldn’t do that with her pushing at his shoulders and his hands like she was.
“Lemme go.” He wasn’t sure if she’d be able to hear the panic there or not, but he could.
“Sir, please, your shoulder was dislocated and severely strained in the accident and-“
“I’m fine, I’ve had it dislocated before; where’s my brother?” The words all ran together, one rambling sentence with the only part of it he cared about tacked on at the end.
“Sir, if you could-“
“Where the hell’s my brother!?”
She looked almost frightened, and he probably couldn’t blame her, but at the moment he was just relieved. Maybe now she’d pay attention. “Mr. Winchester, your brother…he isn’t conscious right now. You have to understand, his injuries are severe and we’re doing the-“
“Get this off me.” He tugged at the IV line, and again she tried to push his hand away.
“I promise, he’s being taken care of, but you’ve been injured as well and you need-“
“You take this off me or I swear to God I’m ripping it off.” He had to have looked more than a little crazy. God knows he felt it. “Look I’m fine, and you can’t force me to stay in this bed if I can move. I will call someone else and check myself out against medical advice so just take it out and tell me where he is.”
He was about two seconds from reaching over to yank the thing out regardless of what it felt like when she stretched his arm out, nimble fingers removing first the needle and then the IV catheter, putting immediate pressure on the site. When he tried to pull away she held on firm, other arm up to block his other hand from breaking her grip.
“If I don’t put pressure on it you’ll just start bleeding everywhere.” Her lips were pressed in a thin line, and the look on her face still seemed somewhere between scared of him and frustrated at his behavior.
“What all’s wrong with Dean? Is our dad here?”
“As far as I know, his head injury is the biggest concern, and it’s also why he hasn’t woken up. We won’t know anything else until he does, if he even…” She at least was kinder than the other doctor, but it didn’t matter. The fucking room was spinning, and her thumb was still digging into his skin. “Your father was sitting with him, last I saw. He came to check on you a couple hours ago as well.”
“Where’s Dean?”
“Down in ICU. Give me another minute and I’ll point you in the right direction.” She checked her watch, and her eyes flicked up to meet his. “He’s your big brother?”
There was no way he could answer that without sobbing, and he didn’t even try. It was rhetorical anyway.
“Think he’d want you to stay put, take care of yourself.”
That was as much as he could take. He yanked his arm away, rubbed briefly at the site where the needle’d been before he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, checking to make sure he had his feet. His clothes were in the corner and he went to them immediately, shaking out his jeans.
“How do I get to him?”
She seemed to hover between coming over to help him and leaving, and leaving appeared to win out. “On the second floor, end of the hallway, but Mr. Winchester I have to ask that after you’ve seen him-“
“Just get that paperwork for me to sign; I’m fine.” Fine. He’d rarely been farther from it.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
He remembered this with perfect clarity, down to the whir and click of the machines and how damn pale Dean looked under these hospital lights. He was tan normally, full of life and color from doing so much work outside in the sun. When Sam walked into a room his eyes lit up just a little brighter green, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled but now…
“Hey, Dean. ‘M here.” His voice wavered, a sob choking out at the end and drowning anything else he’d been about to say. His fingers wound painfully tight around Dean’s, and his empty stomach heaved when his eyes scanned over his brother’s body. There was a bandage on the back of his head, a tube down his throat, and they’d taken off the amulet. They shouldn’t’ve been allowed. No one could touch it but the two of them, and no one could remove it but Dean, by his own choice. It wasn’t right.
He rubbed his thumb over the back of Dean’s hand, soothing. “They told me I’ve been out about a day. Think I hit my head a little too.” He licked his lips, tasted blood. “Dean, I know you can hear me. I know you can, and…and it’s gonna be ok. I promise. I just need you to hold on for me for awhile, ok? Just…I know there’s…” He could hardly say the word, not in connection with his brother. “There’s a reaper after you, I know, but don’t go with her, alright? You gotta stay with me. You promised, remember? You promised you wouldn’t leave.” This was killing him, and as much as he hated to leave Dean’s side he wanted a little bit less of a one sided conversation. Not to mention, there were other things, things he hardly wanted to acknowledge much less think about but that hovered at the back of his mind all the same, prodding sharp at his every thought. His mind had slipped into one track out of self defense, and right now Dean was the only thing he could see.
He leaned over to kiss Dean’s forehead, hand brushing against his cheek. “Just wait for me. I’ll be back and we can talk, alright? I won’t be long.”
His eyes blurred with tears as he left the room, and he was halfway down the hall before he’d finished swiping them away. It was a good thing, too, because seeing a little clearer, he was able to see who was coming up from the stairwell, and the rush of a dozen conflicting emotions nearly drove him to his knees.
“Dad!”
“Sammy.” He reached out to wrap Sam in a strong hug, and he squeezed too hard against his shoulder. When he let go, Sam just wished he could’ve held on tighter. He smiled when he pulled away, hand lingering on his good arm. “You don’t know how good it is to see you up; they said you hadn’t hit your head like Dean but you were out so long I was gettin’ worried, kiddo.”
“ ‘M fine, dad.”
“Yeah.” He hunched his shoulders, hands sliding into the pockets of his jacket. “How’s Dean?”
Considering how their lives had gone, there were a lot of things he could do. He’d watched his brother die more times than he could count, been to too many funerals, said more than his share of things he’d rather never said at all, but having this conversation? He couldn’t. He absolutely couldn’t. Tears stung at his eyes and he turned around, slamming into the bar on the door to the stairwell, pushing it open so wide it banged into the wall.
“Sammy, hey, I know he doesn’t look good, but I promise-“
God, he couldn’t hear it. He wasn’t strong enough for this, not this. “When did you call Bobby?”
It didn’t take too long for the understanding to dawn in his eyes, and when he did he leaned back against the wall, his voice echoing softly down the empty stairwell. “Yesterday. He’ll be here late tonight.”
Sam felt his knuckles bruise against the wall before he even realized he’d punched it. The second hit left blood on the white brick, and dad caught his hand, trapping it and pulling Sam just a little away from the wall.
“Sammy, Sammy, stop it, alright? It’s ok. It’s ok.”
The last time he’d cried in front of his dad he was 9. They’d been training and he’d broken his wrist, and dad had told him he couldn’t let anything hurt him like that, no matter what it was. He was big enough, strong enough that he could keep it to himself. Mostly all it had meant was that if he broke, he kept it together until he was alone or with Dean. Either place was just as safe.
This, though, this went deep enough that he couldn’t have stopped it if he’d tried. Sometimes, things hurt like hell beyond the point of reason, beyond the point of anyone’s ability to control.
“It’s not.” His voice broke, and he reached for his dad’s jacket, meaning to push him away but he couldn’t manage, his grip tightening painfully instead. “I can’t…I can’t let you…”
“Yes you can. Sammy, yes you can. This is my choice.” His voice was strong, steadier than the tears Sam could see pooling in his own eyes. Even as strong as he was, it seemed there were still some things that hurt him enough, too. “You two’re all I’ve got, and I’m not gonna let Dean die. Not if I can help it.”
“Then we find something else! I’m sure there’s something, anything, we’ll look, we haven’t even looked, maybe we can kill the reaper here, maybe…I don’t know, I don’t know, but dad, you’re all we’ve got too. And Dean, what this is gonna do to him, you don’t understand.” He was rambling, words careening quick and unsteady. It all seemed wrong and out of order and still not enough.
“No, Sam, you don’t understand.” His voice was just a little harder, just a little more steady, and it echoed back to a thousand things Sam remembered, a thousand orders and reassurances that he used to only half take to heart. Their eyes met, and his mind stopped racing just long enough to pay attention. “You’re my boys. A father takes care of his children, no matter what; that’s what it means. And I’ve tried. Sam, I know we haven’t always agreed on that, but I swear I’ve always-“
“No, I know you-“
“-Just listen. I’ve always tried, but I have to do this. I won’t watch him die. I can’t.”
“So I’ve gotta watch you die? That’s just it?” Even to his own ears he sounded like he was four all over again, and he felt guilty as hell at the way he could nearly feel dad flinch, his eyes shutting briefly, tight and pained.
“No. No, you go back in there and you sit with your brother, and you two stick together, and you never tell him a damn thing about any of this. You understand?”
“No, sir. I don’t.” But he did. Deep down, he understood all too well. Even though Dean would find out anyway, even though this was just a repeat of the spiral they’d started sliding down before, this was how it had to go.
He patted Sam’s shoulder, squeezing gently before he pulled away, carefully untangling Sam’s fingers from his jacket. “ ‘M gonna go sit with him for awhile. You should go back down to your room and get some more rest, Sammy.”
As if he could sleep right now, even if he’d wanted to. Honestly, oblivion would’ve sounded pretty nice. He’d just barely turned away when Sam darted forward, catching his arm and pulling him back.
“Dad, no wait, I-“
“I’ll come see you later. Just go get some sleep.”
He wouldn’t put lying past him at this point. After all, before he’d sent him out for coffee to distract him. Just like Dean, dad still saw him as the little boy that needed protecting. Well, right then he felt pretty damn close to it, but he wasn’t, and he hadn’t been for a long time. But if this was the last time he ever saw him alive, there were things he needed to say.
“I forgave you. A long time ago, actually, and I haven’t…it’s been a long time since I was angry. I don’t care, not about normal or soccer or the fact that I graduated a year late, I don’t care because we’re family, and we mean more to each other than most people ever come close to and you did everything for us you could and…and I’m sorry. I’m sorry it took me so long.”
He was still facing away, his hand on the door, and Sam wished like hell he could’ve seen his face. “It’s ok, Sammy. I know.”
When the door shut, he let his knees give out and he sank down onto the cold concrete stairs, knees bent close to his chest.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
In the end, he hadn’t gone out for the Ouija board like he’d meant to. It was all too close, not enough time, though he’d been back to see Dean after dad had left. He’d talked to him , though, and he’d had that feeling just like before that Dean was right there watching him, talking right back to him. This time, though, he’d been able to feel his presence just that little bit stronger. He was more tuned in to Dean than he’d ever been to anyone.
After that Bobby’d come in, and he’d run down to his room, not surprised to find that dad wasn’t waiting for him. Everything that he’d said, in dad’s mind they’d probably already said goodbye. Fuck that. It hadn’t been enough, not nearly enough, but he also knew that nothing ever would be. He hadn’t been ready to let dad go before, and even though he should’ve been more ready now, being closer to him like this it just felt worse.
But under all that pain, there was the truth.
It hurt, God it did, but there were levels. The honest, ugly truth was that part of him was more than a little bit relieved. Grateful, to be absolutely honest. Because if it came down to a choice between dad or Dean, it wasn’t a choice. It hadn’t been a choice before between Dean and the world, and it never would be. Where his brother was involved, there was always only one answer: Dean had to be alright, no matter what it took. Even this, and the thought made him sick.
This was his penance, and it wasn’t nearly enough.
It was dark in the boiler room, and that was why it had been one of the first places he came to check for dad. He’d ducked into a couple other empty spaces first, including a supply closet, but it was here that he’d seen him, and he understood why. It was pretty secluded down here, and the odds no one was gonna show up were pretty good. Dad had taught them well, and Sam could be pretty damn quiet when he needed to. He’d taken up residence in the corner, back behind some machinery, and the view he had of dad on the floor was slim, between a gap in the pipes. Still, it was enough. He didn’t want to stay, didn’t want to see, but he felt like he had no choice. In a lot of ways, this was on him now. He knew, he could’ve stopped it, and he was letting it play out anyway. He deserved for that to hurt as much as humanly possibly, to see the consequences of his inaction with his own eyes. If he’d been a better son, he’d be out there stopping him right now. At this point, the only thing in his life he could hope to be was an alright brother. He was pouring everything he had into that, and just maybe it’d be enough.
If Dean was alright in the end, for Sam it’d be worth it. He’d long since stopped being able to tell if that was wrong.
From the drop of blood into the sulfur to the flare of light Sam felt like he was watching a nightmare he’d already had a hundred times. He and Dean had been over and over this in their minds, wondering exactly how it went down. They had everything right but the details.
“It’s no trick. I will give you the Colt and the bullets, but you’ve gotta help Dean. You’ve gotta bring him back.”
He wasn’t sure if it made him feel worse or better to know that at least initially, he’d tried for something that didn’t involve his soul.
“Why, John, you’re a sentimentalist. If only your boys knew how much their daddy loved them.”
The anger he felt just hearing that thing say his name was palpable, burning in his throat. He wanted to lash out, to draw his attention, to remind the goddamn bastard that he was the one he wanted. He was the one it had always been about, never them.
“It’s a good trade. You care a hell of a lot more about this gun than you do Dean.”
“Don’t be so sure. He killed some people very special to me. But still you’re right, he isn’t much of a threat. And neither is your other son. You know the truth, right? About Sammy? And the other children?”
He stared him down, his fury plain even from this distance. Sam knew the look; he’d seen it half a dozen times in his life. The last time, it’d been directed at a werewolf that clawed the hell out of Dean, and he’d pumped its body so full of silver it’d been a waste of a few bullets. If he hadn’t needed him, Sam was pretty sure he’d have put a bullet between the damn thing’s eyes right then.
A father takes care of his children, no matter what; that’s what it means.
He could’ve seen the evidence of that his whole life, if only he’d been looking. He’s spent so much time focusing on the ways dad hadn’t been there for him that he’d missed all of the ways he always had.
“Yeah. I’ve known for awhile. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Oh I’m afraid it does. You see-“
“Can you bring Dean back? Yes or no.”
“No. But I know someone who can. It’s not a problem.”
He knew his father well enough to see that he didn’t accept it. He probably had, before, but there was too much he knew now. Namely, the fact that Sam wouldn’t have panicked if the only thing they lost here was the goddamn gun. “Before I give you the gun I’m going to want to make sure Dean’s okay. With my own eyes.”
“John, I’m offended. Don’t you trust me?” As if anyone could. He shook his head once, slow and deliberate, and Azazel turned just a little more toward him. “Fine.”
“So we have a deal.”
“No, John, not yet. You still need to sweeten the pot.”
He looked away, and Sam could see the tension ease from his shoulders. This was what he’d been waiting for.
“You know, I kind of expected that.”
“Then you agree.”
“I do.”
“Well then…we do have a deal.”
Dad was the one to step forward, confidant now that he’d made his choice, and for this part Sam looked away. He just couldn’t watch anymore.
“I’m gonna go up and see him. I’ll bring the gun to you when I’m finished.” He walked away before Azazel could answer, the sound of boots on concrete echoing as he walked away. The door swung shut behind him, and in the stillness that followed it was a moment before Sam could bring himself to open his eyes.
When he did he was staring into brilliant yellow and he staggered backwards, startled enough that he almost tripped.
“Sammy, Sammy…you know, every time I see you, you just get more interesting.”
“It’s Sam.” He ground the words out between clenched teeth, his heart still hammering as he found his feet. He put what felt like a little more of a safe distance between them, circling to the left and more toward the open. “What are you still doing here? You’re supposed to help Dean.”
“And you think that took me more than 30 seconds? Please. You know, you’re always underestimating me; it’s a bit discouraging.”
“What the hell do you want?” He wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted to kill him so much as he had right then. Considering he’d had a vendetta against him from the moment he could understand why he didn’t have a mother, it was a little unbelievable to find that he was actually still capable of hating him more.
“Just a minute with you. After all, we are blood, you and I, aren’t we?”
He couldn’t stand here and listen to this, and if he attacked him, he’d get nowhere unarmed like he was. He turned his back and went for the door, and he’d almost made it before his voice stopped him, low and poisonous.
“You’re not as good as you think you are, you know. Offering up your father to save your brother, that’s not exactly heroism, Sammy. He doesn’t blame you for it, not now, but I wonder what he’d say if he knew what the two of you-“
He whirled back, nearly shaking with rage. “You shut the hell up!”
He shook his finger in the air, grinning. “Temper, temper. I’ve always liked that about you. There’s just that little bit of animal in you, just that edge you can’t quite control, and you know it. But you think that just because you want you can change what you are? Sammy…” He stepped out of the shadows, slinking closer. “You can’t change what you are, kid. And you can never be the warrior for God you’d like to be, so why don’t you just accept that maybe everything you should be is already-“ He reached out, tapping his chest just over his heart. “Right here.”
Sam shoved his hand away, his skin crawling. “You’re wrong. And I’m gonna prove it, but you won’t live to see it.” He forced a smile, rigid and hateful. “You know why? Cause my brother’s gonna kill you. And I’m gonna love watching it happen.”
“We’ll see about that. Even if he does, I know exactly where you belong in the end, Sam, and it isn’t with Dean.”
“You’re wrong.” The only place he ever could belong was with Dean. He’d never fit anywhere else but with his brother everything snapped into place, complementing each other just the way they’d been made to.
That time, he was able to make it all the way out the door.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
When he came in, dad was already beside Dean’s bed. Dean was sitting up, alert and looking whole and strong and at that first moment the relief really did overpower everything else. He stopped just inside the doorway, and he caught Dean’s eyes.
“Dean.”
“Hey, Sammy.” Dean smiled for him, and Sam knew then that Dean couldn’t possibly know. Dad couldn’t have said anything to him, because there was still just a little bit of innocence in his eyes, and hearing that anything even close to what he had before would’ve stripped that from him for good.
Dad’s hand slid from Dean’s shoulder, patting it lightly one more time. “Think I’m gonna go get some coffee.” He looked back over his shoulder, eyes raking over Sam like he hadn’t seen him in years and he couldn’t take the sight in enough. It took everything Sam had not to look away. “Sammy, why don’t you stay with your brother? I’m sure he still needs his rest.” One last look at Dean and he was heading out the door, and Sam barely felt the weight of the hand that lingered for a minute on his shoulder as he brushed past.
“Sammy, you-“
“Dean, wait here.” God he looked confused, something that had to have been hurt flickering in his eyes, and Sam held his hand out, reaching toward him as if he could actually touch him from here. “Wait. I’ll be…just wait.” Dean would be there when he got back. He’d be angry, sure, but Sam couldn’t help it. He couldn’t let himself miss this. “Dad!”
He hadn’t made it too far down the hallway and at least he stopped when Sam called his name. He’d been half afraid he wouldn’t. He didn’t look back, but he could hear the sound of Sam’s hurried footsteps approaching and he started in the minute he was sure Sam could hear him.
“Sammy, go back.”
“No.”
“He’s gonna need you.”
Yeah, he was. They were gonna need each other, but right now, he couldn’t back down. Not on this. Their eyes met, and Sam shook his head once, defiant. “You’re not gonna do this alone.”
“Sam-“
“No.”
He sighed, his shoulders sagging, and Sam hated how easily he gave in. He’d made his decision and Sam knew a little bit about how that felt. He didn’t regret it, but staring it down…Sam hadn’t come this close yet, but he’d thought of it a couple times and he’d seen it in Dean. No one wanted to look down the barrel of hell alone.
“You’re too stubborn for your own good, you know that?”
“Well considering Bobby says you’re the most bullheaded person he’s ever met, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He smiled, just a little but enough that Sam knew he understood everything in that that Sam had meant for him to. Dean had told him in anger once that he and dad were practically the same person, and now more than ever he couldn’t see that as anything but a good thing. No matter what dad had done wrong, the right he’d done far outweighed it, and Sam couldn’t have been prouder at the thought that at his heart, no matter what else he was, he was still first and foremost John Winchester’s son.
He finally nodded, and he led Sam two more rooms down to an empty one on the left. It was Tessa’s body they faced, her eyes marbled yellow, and dad held his hand out to make Sam stay back as he went forward to place the gun on the table.
“Ok.”
Azazel’s pulled the gun into his hands slowly, almost purring as he turned it over in his hands. “Such craftsmanship, wouldn’t you say? They don’t make ‘em like this anymore.” His eyes flickered over dad’s shoulder, his smile widening. “Do they, Sammy?”
“You talk to me.” It came out as a growl, and Azazel laughed.
“Alright then.” He held his hand out, thumb rubbing briefly over the tips of his fingers, and Sam stepped forward, just close enough that dad’d be able to see him out of the corner of his eye. That was the point of this, after all. No one should have to die alone. “Goodbye, John.”
Azazel touched his forehead, and his body crumpled. Sam was just able to catch him, arms wrapping tight around his body, slowing the fall as Sam dropped to his knees. One arm cradled behind his shoulders, his other hand tightening in his shirt, and though he couldn’t help the whispered ‘dad’ that choked out of his throat, he knew it was already over. The last time he’d seen someone he loved die it hadn’t been this quick or this painless, and for that he could at least be grateful, even if it didn’t really make him feel any better.
He held on tight, tears already streaming down his cheeks, and it was a second before he remembered that he needed to call for help. Even if it did no good, that was all part of their job. Keeping up appearances. With this, he didn’t want to, didn’t want to have to let go just yet.
When they came the nurses pulled him away, ushering him out into the hall, and all of it faded into white noise.
For the second time in his life his father was dead. He was breaking, but it didn’t all hit home until he felt familiar calloused fingers wrapping around his arm.
“Sam?” There was real fear there, and Sam’s head was spinning too fast to answer. “Dad!” The second he caught a glimpse of his face he lurched forward, and Sam caught him around his chest, holding him back. He turned away from the scene, from the sounds and the panic, and after he’d buried his face against Dean’s neck, he could feel everything crumble into immeasurable pieces.
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On that happy note, one other thing…I posted this chapter ahead of schedule cause I was feeling cruel, but I may have to adjust my overall schedule a little bit. Not being able to write anything at all on this story for a week while I was on vacation set me back a little bit, and then there’s the fact that I have a help_chile fic that I still need to finish. Believe me, my intention was to wait to start on that until I was finished with this, but this is so epic(happily so), and every day that goes without me working on the help_chile fic it bugs at my conscious more and more, to the point that it’s really distracting. So…I’m gonna have to work on both. The other’s not gonna be anywhere near as long, not hardly, so even just working on it a couple days a week it shouldn’t take me too long to get done with it, but since I’ve usually been working on this every single day, it’ll set me back a little so I’m gonna have to add another day or so into my posting schedule I think. :/ I’m sorry, but I promise, this isn’t anything for anyone to worry about, work on this is still going on all the time, I’ve just gotta take care of this other thing too. *sigh*
Master post is here.