Northbound Countdown 10/10 (Dean/Misha, Dean/Cas)
Title: Northbound Countdown 10/10 (a/k/a 3.11.2009, 1 Day until SPN returns from break!)
Author: Nikki Loza (a/k/a
calcium_yeah)
Disclaimer: A collection of people own Supernatural and its characters. Misha owns himself. I own nothing.
Rating: R
Fandom: Supernatural/RPS
Genre/ Pairing: Slash. Dean/Misha. Contemplation of Dean/Castiel.
Spoilers: Takes place post-4x11 Sex and Violence.
Warnings: WIP written live over 10 days, so you may wish to wait until the end if you would like the full, edited version. Thoughts of angel porn.
Notes: Now that the story is finished, I will be cleaning it up, fleshing it out, and just generally making it better, so if anyone has been reading and wants to know more about something or would like to see an aspect more developed, please let me know. (And If anyone ever wants to make a break fly by, force yourself to write a story in chronological order everyday-it’s so hard!) Thanks to anyone who commented, especially shion_kun for commenting on most of the chapters.
Summary: Sam and Dean get out of town. 10 day Dean/Misha countdown to Supernatural's return from winter break.
Dean slipped into the passenger seat and after a standard cursory check to make sure it was actually Sam on the driver’s side (because he was a hunter first and foremost), Dean looked straight ahead, pretending he hadn’t noticed the look of open expectation on Sam’s face.
Dean focused on putting his seatbelt on, making an extra effort to keep his eyes from looking at his brother.
“We’re gonna talk about this.” Sam stated firmly, but he seemed to accept the silence as they drove south east out of Massachusetts.
Dean played with his cell phone, eyeing Misha’s phone number in his phonebook, eventually deciding not to delete the contact after scrolling up and down over it for fourteen minutes.
He wondered if Misha had called the police after they left, if he’d called his friends back and told them more about what happened. He knew that he and Sam would have to make that their next mission-two guys running around looking like them? Especially after they’d been reported dead back when Lilith destroyed that police station. The whole thing reeked of shape shifters, but when they’d looked Jensen and Jared up, the identities went back more than the few months that Misha had known them, so Dean didn’t know what to think.
“You think we’d flag at any checkpoints trying to cross the border to go to Vancouver?” Dean finally turned to look at Sam and saw that his brother’s knuckles were white from clenching the steering wheel, while his face just looked tired-mostly in the eyes where Sam looked like he wanted to go to sleep. “Whoa, you look like hell.”
Sam frowned and looked over at Dean for less than a second before returning his eyes to the road.
“Poor choice of words, right?” Dean slumped down into his seat, assuming that Sam was trying to figure out their situation and get his head around everything he just saw, and whatever Ruby told him; Dean was kind of disappointed because it meant that Sam wasn’t going to let him pretend nothing happened. Sure enough, when Sam spoke, he went right for the heart of the matter.
“Why don’t you look like hell, Dean? Why do you look like everything’s fine?”
Dean shifted in his seat, hating how distant Sam’s voice sounded because it meant he probably had a whole line of questioning prepared.
“Takes a lot of stress to mess with something this pretty.” Dean tried to joke, but even he knew it rang hollow.
“I’m serious, man, are you just being you and acting like none of that just happened? Do you just not care? Maybe you think it was fine trying to screw an angel’s vessel under false pretenses. I can’t tell anymore. You take months to tell me what’s going on with you. Ever since you came back-”
“Oh, well, I wouldn’t want to whine about torturing people in hell or anything.” Dean snapped, everything Sam said under the siren’s spell still sitting like a sub-layer of skin just under the surface since they’d lied to each other and pretended that they were okay.
“Why would you whine about it, you liked it, right?” Sam snapped in return. “Probably all set to go back. Screw the apocalypse! Dean Winchester wants to get himself thrown back into hell!”
“You think…with everything I can’t even put into words…that the pit was some kind of boot camp that I can’t wait to revisit?” Dean hissed before suddenly shouting; the sound of his raised voice was overpowering in the small confines of the Impala. “Demons don’t even want hell, Sam! Did your girlfriend explain that to you when you were all over some dead girl’s body?”
“Actually, she did, not during of course.” Sam responded bitterly to his brother’s jab about Ruby, but he took a breath and softened his tone. “And you’re right, I don’t know. The same way you don’t know what it means for me to have demon blood in me and not be able to change that, but you for damn sure try to tell me how to deal with it.”
“But did anyone stop by and give you advice on how you should handle me when I came back? Because I got a message point-blank--stop you, or the angels will.”
“Threats, yeah--and you still want one of them so bad that you’re willing to take advantage of some random guy who you think might have been his vessel!”
“Sorry I’m not quite around to banging monsters yet.”
Sam banged his hand on the steering wheel and swerved onto the shoulder of the road, stopping the car underneath a tree.
“This! This is what I’m talking about. I’ve tried, Dean. I’ve had faith-- since before I ever had a reason to believe in anything than the things that we hunt.” Sam shook his head and stared at the roof of the car for a moment before returning his sights to Dean. “I’ve tried to live a normal life, I’ve tried hunting, I’m trying to help stop the apocalypse and yet I’ve still got angels telling me I’m dirt. We spend day after day in this car only to end up here with you looking at me exactly the way they do. And I get it, okay, someone pulls you out of hell, you’re gonna put some stock in what they say. But now you’re like obsessed with this guy, giving him nicknames, fooling around with what you thought was his vessel-you tell me you slept with Anna and I can’t help but wonder if that was just you trying to take a step to what you really wanted. I don’t know who you are anymore, I don’t know what you want.”
Dean let Sam’s words sink in for a moment until it clicked for him that he actually knew what he wanted. “Maybe I just want to enjoy what’s left of my life before I get killed trying to stop the inevitable. You still think we’re going to make it to 60? I guess technically I’ve made it to 70, right? But as far as time here on earth-if God exists and if he ordered Cas to pull me up out of hell to stop this thing, or for whatever, then I figure any hope we have is on its last legs. Who are we, Sam? A couple of hunters-we’re supposed to help stop an apocalypse. You think those powers that old yellow eyes gave you are gonna save the world? I don’t. Cas told me a story once about his brothers dying. Angels dying in this war, Sam. We’re not winning this. And when hell makes its way on up here, there’s not gonna be any happy moments, any joy. So, what I want is to have that. I want to just want to say ‘fuck it’ and have that before the world is just a giant rack with all of us taking turns being off and on.”
“And you think Castiel’s going to make you happy?”
“I wanted Misha. He made me think of Cas. Past that,” Dean shook his head and hunched in on himself defensively, bouncing his right leg hard enough that Sam felt it in the driver’s seat, “I’m not thinking past that. ”
“And you’re not worried about what those thoughts are going to mean when your angel shows up.”
“That’s the funny thing about Cas-he’s a little more focused on Lilith running around popping seals like bubble wrap. And funny enough, he actually has faith that we can win this war. He’s like you that way; hoping right down to the last minute.”
“So, if you’re into Castiel and he’s into the war, what are you going to do about that happiness you’re trying for?”
“Huh.” Dean grunted. “We’ll see how things go in Vancouver.”
Bonus Epilogue Dialogue a/k/a If Had Written the Dean/Cas follow-up:
“This vessel’s name was Daniel and…his soul has already passed on.” Castiel straightened the cuff of his trench coat, watching Dean relax his grip on the gun as the hunter awoke more fully and registered the angel’s presence “Your…new friend does bear an uncanny physical resemblance to him though.”
Previous Chapters: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine
Author: Nikki Loza (a/k/a
calcium_yeah)
Disclaimer: A collection of people own Supernatural and its characters. Misha owns himself. I own nothing.
Rating: R
Fandom: Supernatural/RPS
Genre/ Pairing: Slash. Dean/Misha. Contemplation of Dean/Castiel.
Spoilers: Takes place post-4x11 Sex and Violence.
Warnings: WIP written live over 10 days, so you may wish to wait until the end if you would like the full, edited version. Thoughts of angel porn.
Notes: Now that the story is finished, I will be cleaning it up, fleshing it out, and just generally making it better, so if anyone has been reading and wants to know more about something or would like to see an aspect more developed, please let me know. (And If anyone ever wants to make a break fly by, force yourself to write a story in chronological order everyday-it’s so hard!) Thanks to anyone who commented, especially shion_kun for commenting on most of the chapters.
Summary: Sam and Dean get out of town. 10 day Dean/Misha countdown to Supernatural's return from winter break.
Dean slipped into the passenger seat and after a standard cursory check to make sure it was actually Sam on the driver’s side (because he was a hunter first and foremost), Dean looked straight ahead, pretending he hadn’t noticed the look of open expectation on Sam’s face.
Dean focused on putting his seatbelt on, making an extra effort to keep his eyes from looking at his brother.
“We’re gonna talk about this.” Sam stated firmly, but he seemed to accept the silence as they drove south east out of Massachusetts.
Dean played with his cell phone, eyeing Misha’s phone number in his phonebook, eventually deciding not to delete the contact after scrolling up and down over it for fourteen minutes.
He wondered if Misha had called the police after they left, if he’d called his friends back and told them more about what happened. He knew that he and Sam would have to make that their next mission-two guys running around looking like them? Especially after they’d been reported dead back when Lilith destroyed that police station. The whole thing reeked of shape shifters, but when they’d looked Jensen and Jared up, the identities went back more than the few months that Misha had known them, so Dean didn’t know what to think.
“You think we’d flag at any checkpoints trying to cross the border to go to Vancouver?” Dean finally turned to look at Sam and saw that his brother’s knuckles were white from clenching the steering wheel, while his face just looked tired-mostly in the eyes where Sam looked like he wanted to go to sleep. “Whoa, you look like hell.”
Sam frowned and looked over at Dean for less than a second before returning his eyes to the road.
“Poor choice of words, right?” Dean slumped down into his seat, assuming that Sam was trying to figure out their situation and get his head around everything he just saw, and whatever Ruby told him; Dean was kind of disappointed because it meant that Sam wasn’t going to let him pretend nothing happened. Sure enough, when Sam spoke, he went right for the heart of the matter.
“Why don’t you look like hell, Dean? Why do you look like everything’s fine?”
Dean shifted in his seat, hating how distant Sam’s voice sounded because it meant he probably had a whole line of questioning prepared.
“Takes a lot of stress to mess with something this pretty.” Dean tried to joke, but even he knew it rang hollow.
“I’m serious, man, are you just being you and acting like none of that just happened? Do you just not care? Maybe you think it was fine trying to screw an angel’s vessel under false pretenses. I can’t tell anymore. You take months to tell me what’s going on with you. Ever since you came back-”
“Oh, well, I wouldn’t want to whine about torturing people in hell or anything.” Dean snapped, everything Sam said under the siren’s spell still sitting like a sub-layer of skin just under the surface since they’d lied to each other and pretended that they were okay.
“Why would you whine about it, you liked it, right?” Sam snapped in return. “Probably all set to go back. Screw the apocalypse! Dean Winchester wants to get himself thrown back into hell!”
“You think…with everything I can’t even put into words…that the pit was some kind of boot camp that I can’t wait to revisit?” Dean hissed before suddenly shouting; the sound of his raised voice was overpowering in the small confines of the Impala. “Demons don’t even want hell, Sam! Did your girlfriend explain that to you when you were all over some dead girl’s body?”
“Actually, she did, not during of course.” Sam responded bitterly to his brother’s jab about Ruby, but he took a breath and softened his tone. “And you’re right, I don’t know. The same way you don’t know what it means for me to have demon blood in me and not be able to change that, but you for damn sure try to tell me how to deal with it.”
“But did anyone stop by and give you advice on how you should handle me when I came back? Because I got a message point-blank--stop you, or the angels will.”
“Threats, yeah--and you still want one of them so bad that you’re willing to take advantage of some random guy who you think might have been his vessel!”
“Sorry I’m not quite around to banging monsters yet.”
Sam banged his hand on the steering wheel and swerved onto the shoulder of the road, stopping the car underneath a tree.
“This! This is what I’m talking about. I’ve tried, Dean. I’ve had faith-- since before I ever had a reason to believe in anything than the things that we hunt.” Sam shook his head and stared at the roof of the car for a moment before returning his sights to Dean. “I’ve tried to live a normal life, I’ve tried hunting, I’m trying to help stop the apocalypse and yet I’ve still got angels telling me I’m dirt. We spend day after day in this car only to end up here with you looking at me exactly the way they do. And I get it, okay, someone pulls you out of hell, you’re gonna put some stock in what they say. But now you’re like obsessed with this guy, giving him nicknames, fooling around with what you thought was his vessel-you tell me you slept with Anna and I can’t help but wonder if that was just you trying to take a step to what you really wanted. I don’t know who you are anymore, I don’t know what you want.”
Dean let Sam’s words sink in for a moment until it clicked for him that he actually knew what he wanted. “Maybe I just want to enjoy what’s left of my life before I get killed trying to stop the inevitable. You still think we’re going to make it to 60? I guess technically I’ve made it to 70, right? But as far as time here on earth-if God exists and if he ordered Cas to pull me up out of hell to stop this thing, or for whatever, then I figure any hope we have is on its last legs. Who are we, Sam? A couple of hunters-we’re supposed to help stop an apocalypse. You think those powers that old yellow eyes gave you are gonna save the world? I don’t. Cas told me a story once about his brothers dying. Angels dying in this war, Sam. We’re not winning this. And when hell makes its way on up here, there’s not gonna be any happy moments, any joy. So, what I want is to have that. I want to just want to say ‘fuck it’ and have that before the world is just a giant rack with all of us taking turns being off and on.”
“And you think Castiel’s going to make you happy?”
“I wanted Misha. He made me think of Cas. Past that,” Dean shook his head and hunched in on himself defensively, bouncing his right leg hard enough that Sam felt it in the driver’s seat, “I’m not thinking past that. ”
“And you’re not worried about what those thoughts are going to mean when your angel shows up.”
“That’s the funny thing about Cas-he’s a little more focused on Lilith running around popping seals like bubble wrap. And funny enough, he actually has faith that we can win this war. He’s like you that way; hoping right down to the last minute.”
“So, if you’re into Castiel and he’s into the war, what are you going to do about that happiness you’re trying for?”
“Huh.” Dean grunted. “We’ll see how things go in Vancouver.”
Bonus Epilogue Dialogue a/k/a If Had Written the Dean/Cas follow-up:
“This vessel’s name was Daniel and…his soul has already passed on.” Castiel straightened the cuff of his trench coat, watching Dean relax his grip on the gun as the hunter awoke more fully and registered the angel’s presence “Your…new friend does bear an uncanny physical resemblance to him though.”
Previous Chapters: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine