A Stone Not Returned, Sam&Dean, PG
Title: A Stone Not Returned
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sam&Dean
Spoilers: yeah. BIG Spoilers! For Malleus Mallificarum (um, 3.8, I think?)
Summary: a tag to Malleus Mallificarum. Demons lie. Sam knows this, thinks Dean should too.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Eric Kripke and Kripke Interprises, and the CW, I think.
Author’s Note: written as a response to authoressnebula’s request for Sam&Dean, hurt/comfort and prompt: hug. Unbeta’d. Hope you like it, dearie!
Title from Proverbs 26:27
Sam sat on the edge of the bed, watching the door, waiting for the turn of the knob and the hiss of high pressure letting up. Hotel rooms always felt so heavy, air conditioners weighing the atmosphere down, until it pressed on the occupants. And it wasn’t like he and Dean didn’t have enough weighing them down.
He sighed.
As his breath echoed in the room, Dean stepped in the door.
He didn’t look in Sam’s direction, just walked to the sink and bent low over it. The water ran clear and cold; Sam knew because his face was still chilly from his own worried washing. Dean hitched a breath and held it as he scrubbed at his face with palms Sam knew to be rough with calluses and scars. Too many knives; too many guns; too many fires and rock salt burns.
Sam watched Dean look into the mirror, unaware of the scrutiny he was under. Dean’s face lifted and circled, as though Dean searched for some hidden secret in the lines and scars, stubble and freckles of his skin. Sam knew, though, that he’d never find any truth by looking at the surface. Dean’s truths were buried deep. Deep in the rare smiles, the frequent frowns, the raised eyebrows is where the answers were. But Dean being Dean wouldn’t believe that, or think to look. So he searched the surface, eyes tracing over his own jaw, his own lips, his nose, even looking into themselves in the mirror.
Sam blinked slowly, a slow shutter capturing the moment for eternity on his brain. Then, when he opened his eyes again, Dean was leaning on the sink, water off, head down, shoulders slumped in utter defeat.
Resignation, the posture Sam had got so used to over the last seven months - God, had it been seven months already? - had a different feel than this new thing Dean was using. Resignation had still carried with it pride. The profound and steady belief that what they did was right, and though Dean knew he was going to the pit, he could still do this job. There’d been some cocky I’m a ninja crap too, but going up against Gordon had fixed that. And Dean had just been resigned to both the pit and Sam’s unfailing attempts to find a way to rescue him from it.
Looking at him now, though, Sammy thought that something was off. Dean didn’t wear defeat well. He didn’t wear hopelessness well. And that’s what was weighing those mighty shoulders down, now; Sam could tell.
“Dean.” It was one word, not even a question, and yet it carried the burden of a question through the thick air of the hotel room.
Dean slowly turned from the sink, raised an eyebrow and crossed over to his bed in the room. He sat down, legs spread to either side of the rounded corner of the mattress and dropped his hands to his knees. Sam watched Dean rub his palms over his thighs once, twice, a third time, before settling his hands on his hips.
“Talked to Ruby,” he said, looking at the ground.
Sam almost smiled. Ruby. The demon who, according to the hell bitch they’d dealt with tonight, had been human before and who had fought her way out of hell and wanted to help keep Dean from the pit. Sam almost smiled, but bit his cheek to keep the corners of his mouth down, waiting for Dean to finish.
Dean swallowed, but didn’t continue.
“And?”
“They were all human. Once.” Dean’s words fell into the room quietly. He didn’t look at Sam, didn’t move his hands from his hips, just spoke into the cool conditioned air, and waited.
Sam frowned. “Who? Demons? That’s ridiculous.”
Dean shrugged, then lifted his eyes and eyebrows to Sam. The corners of his mouth turned down in that “what can ya do” frown he made all the time.
Sam snatched in a breath to speak, then couldn’t find the words, so he let it out again. And then it hit him. Dean’s deal is sending him to hell. All demons were once human.
Sam shook his head and shoved off the bed to kneel at Dean’s knees. “No. We’re gonna, Bobby and me, we’re looking all the time, Dean! You’re not going down there! Ruby said she could help. I’ll just lean on her -”
“There’s no way.” Dean’s whispered words were no less effective than had he shouted them. Sam stopped his fervent assurances.
“No way for what?”
Dean took a deep breath and met Sam’s gaze straight on. “There’s no way, Sam, to save me from the pit. I made the deal. It can’t be broken. I’m going to hell. No two ways about it, little brother.”
Sam’s face felt on fire. Heat from the pit of his soul burned up under his skin and set him aflame. A rage so primal and foreign, frightening in its intensity, boiled through him. He shook, the futility of his research, of Bobby’s efforts, of his love for his brother raged inside him. “That’s not…I can’t accept that, Dean. I won’t accept it!”
Dean slammed his fist down on the bed. “Well, dammit, Sam! You’re gonna have to! You can’t save me! Nobody can. Not you! Not Bobby, not your little demon bitch, Ruby. Face it. I’m gonna die. I’m heading to the pit, and there’s nothing we can do about it!” His voice had risen to a loud thunder in the hotel room. He shook his head, reining himself in. “Just…just accept it, Sam. I have. I have it on demon authority.”
“Demons lie, Dean.”
Dean huffed a laugh at that. “Even your precious Ruby?”
“Well, you said it. She’s a demon,” Sam said, shrugging. “Can’t trust what they say.”
“Sammy,” Dean started.
Sam reached up, wrapped an arm around Dean’s shoulders, shoulder that were always so firm and resistant to any demonstration of emotion, but that now surrendered to this embrace. It hurt Sam to see it, but he cherished the capitulation. “We’ll figure it out, Dean. I mean it,” Sam said, tugging his brother in tighter. “I’m not gonna let them have you. Not now, not four months from now, not ever.”
He buried his face in Dean’s neck, inhaling the scent of his brother, of home. “You hear me?”
Dean’s arms lifted and Sam felt his hands settle on his shoulder blades. Then Dean’s forehead pressed into Sam’s shoulder, and Sam could feel the tiniest movement, like a nod. Then, “Yeah, Sammy. I hear you.”
And those words were the sweetest surrender Sam had ever heard.
FIN
Please let me know what you think!
BTW: just thought y'all might be interested: I think I heard gunshots in my neighborhood at about 9:48 this evening. Called cops. It's not 12:05. Have they been to my house? Uh. NO. Protect and Serve? hah. More like Punish and Enslave.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sam&Dean
Spoilers: yeah. BIG Spoilers! For Malleus Mallificarum (um, 3.8, I think?)
Summary: a tag to Malleus Mallificarum. Demons lie. Sam knows this, thinks Dean should too.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Eric Kripke and Kripke Interprises, and the CW, I think.
Author’s Note: written as a response to authoressnebula’s request for Sam&Dean, hurt/comfort and prompt: hug. Unbeta’d. Hope you like it, dearie!
Title from Proverbs 26:27
Sam sat on the edge of the bed, watching the door, waiting for the turn of the knob and the hiss of high pressure letting up. Hotel rooms always felt so heavy, air conditioners weighing the atmosphere down, until it pressed on the occupants. And it wasn’t like he and Dean didn’t have enough weighing them down.
He sighed.
As his breath echoed in the room, Dean stepped in the door.
He didn’t look in Sam’s direction, just walked to the sink and bent low over it. The water ran clear and cold; Sam knew because his face was still chilly from his own worried washing. Dean hitched a breath and held it as he scrubbed at his face with palms Sam knew to be rough with calluses and scars. Too many knives; too many guns; too many fires and rock salt burns.
Sam watched Dean look into the mirror, unaware of the scrutiny he was under. Dean’s face lifted and circled, as though Dean searched for some hidden secret in the lines and scars, stubble and freckles of his skin. Sam knew, though, that he’d never find any truth by looking at the surface. Dean’s truths were buried deep. Deep in the rare smiles, the frequent frowns, the raised eyebrows is where the answers were. But Dean being Dean wouldn’t believe that, or think to look. So he searched the surface, eyes tracing over his own jaw, his own lips, his nose, even looking into themselves in the mirror.
Sam blinked slowly, a slow shutter capturing the moment for eternity on his brain. Then, when he opened his eyes again, Dean was leaning on the sink, water off, head down, shoulders slumped in utter defeat.
Resignation, the posture Sam had got so used to over the last seven months - God, had it been seven months already? - had a different feel than this new thing Dean was using. Resignation had still carried with it pride. The profound and steady belief that what they did was right, and though Dean knew he was going to the pit, he could still do this job. There’d been some cocky I’m a ninja crap too, but going up against Gordon had fixed that. And Dean had just been resigned to both the pit and Sam’s unfailing attempts to find a way to rescue him from it.
Looking at him now, though, Sammy thought that something was off. Dean didn’t wear defeat well. He didn’t wear hopelessness well. And that’s what was weighing those mighty shoulders down, now; Sam could tell.
“Dean.” It was one word, not even a question, and yet it carried the burden of a question through the thick air of the hotel room.
Dean slowly turned from the sink, raised an eyebrow and crossed over to his bed in the room. He sat down, legs spread to either side of the rounded corner of the mattress and dropped his hands to his knees. Sam watched Dean rub his palms over his thighs once, twice, a third time, before settling his hands on his hips.
“Talked to Ruby,” he said, looking at the ground.
Sam almost smiled. Ruby. The demon who, according to the hell bitch they’d dealt with tonight, had been human before and who had fought her way out of hell and wanted to help keep Dean from the pit. Sam almost smiled, but bit his cheek to keep the corners of his mouth down, waiting for Dean to finish.
Dean swallowed, but didn’t continue.
“And?”
“They were all human. Once.” Dean’s words fell into the room quietly. He didn’t look at Sam, didn’t move his hands from his hips, just spoke into the cool conditioned air, and waited.
Sam frowned. “Who? Demons? That’s ridiculous.”
Dean shrugged, then lifted his eyes and eyebrows to Sam. The corners of his mouth turned down in that “what can ya do” frown he made all the time.
Sam snatched in a breath to speak, then couldn’t find the words, so he let it out again. And then it hit him. Dean’s deal is sending him to hell. All demons were once human.
Sam shook his head and shoved off the bed to kneel at Dean’s knees. “No. We’re gonna, Bobby and me, we’re looking all the time, Dean! You’re not going down there! Ruby said she could help. I’ll just lean on her -”
“There’s no way.” Dean’s whispered words were no less effective than had he shouted them. Sam stopped his fervent assurances.
“No way for what?”
Dean took a deep breath and met Sam’s gaze straight on. “There’s no way, Sam, to save me from the pit. I made the deal. It can’t be broken. I’m going to hell. No two ways about it, little brother.”
Sam’s face felt on fire. Heat from the pit of his soul burned up under his skin and set him aflame. A rage so primal and foreign, frightening in its intensity, boiled through him. He shook, the futility of his research, of Bobby’s efforts, of his love for his brother raged inside him. “That’s not…I can’t accept that, Dean. I won’t accept it!”
Dean slammed his fist down on the bed. “Well, dammit, Sam! You’re gonna have to! You can’t save me! Nobody can. Not you! Not Bobby, not your little demon bitch, Ruby. Face it. I’m gonna die. I’m heading to the pit, and there’s nothing we can do about it!” His voice had risen to a loud thunder in the hotel room. He shook his head, reining himself in. “Just…just accept it, Sam. I have. I have it on demon authority.”
“Demons lie, Dean.”
Dean huffed a laugh at that. “Even your precious Ruby?”
“Well, you said it. She’s a demon,” Sam said, shrugging. “Can’t trust what they say.”
“Sammy,” Dean started.
Sam reached up, wrapped an arm around Dean’s shoulders, shoulder that were always so firm and resistant to any demonstration of emotion, but that now surrendered to this embrace. It hurt Sam to see it, but he cherished the capitulation. “We’ll figure it out, Dean. I mean it,” Sam said, tugging his brother in tighter. “I’m not gonna let them have you. Not now, not four months from now, not ever.”
He buried his face in Dean’s neck, inhaling the scent of his brother, of home. “You hear me?”
Dean’s arms lifted and Sam felt his hands settle on his shoulder blades. Then Dean’s forehead pressed into Sam’s shoulder, and Sam could feel the tiniest movement, like a nod. Then, “Yeah, Sammy. I hear you.”
And those words were the sweetest surrender Sam had ever heard.
FIN
Please let me know what you think!
BTW: just thought y'all might be interested: I think I heard gunshots in my neighborhood at about 9:48 this evening. Called cops. It's not 12:05. Have they been to my house? Uh. NO. Protect and Serve? hah. More like Punish and Enslave.