Nebraska Ch. 4
Fanfic: Nebraska
Author: sandymg
Summary: Lucifer tempts Sam. Dean’s life (and afterlife) hang in the balance. The iPod reappears. And it’s possibly the end of the world as we know it. Not necessarily in this order.
Wordcount: 7,440 in 4 chapters so far -- Work in progress Complete
Spoilers: Set in Season 5. Assumes all canon through Changing Channels 5x08. References to Faith 1x12 and The Magnificent Seven 3x01
Genre: Gen, angst, Sick!Dean, hurt/comfort
Characters: Sam, Dean, Assorted others (all canon)
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters. They belong to the CW and Eric Kripke -- who'd best treat them well.
A/N: This story will run 7 chapters and will update quickly and is now COMPLETE
Chapters: [ 3], [ 2], [ 1]
Chapter 4: The Wings Beneath My Feet
Tamara left apologizing that she hadn’t been able to help further. Sam thanked her. It meant a lot that she’d come, that she’d tried. They had so few friends. Sometimes Sam thought back to his Stanford days like they’d happened to someone else. He used to have friends. He’d text them, call them. Visit even. He and Jess would go to parties, go out for drinks, dinner with other couples. Jess. God he missed her. Her eyes. Her laugh. It made him cringe how Lucifer had used her form to try to manipulate him. Polluted her so that even thinking about her now caused his gut to contract in fear.
Nothing in their fucked up lives could stay pure. Azazel had seen to that. Burned everything he’d ever loved. Mom, Jess, Dad, Dean. All because that yellow-eyed bastard had wanted him. If only his mom had stopped after Dean. Looking at the still form of his brother on the bed he imagined he and their father and mother as a happy, normal family. It’s all Dean had ever wanted. He knew Dean would never want anything to have happened to him, but what if he’d never been born? You can’t miss what you don’t know. He brushed his hand across his brother’s warm forehead.
“I’m sorry Dean,” he whispered.
Digging out Dean’s cell phone he clicked on Castiel’s name. An angel on speed dial, if the situation wasn’t dire it would be fucking hilarious.
“Dean?” a deep, gravelly voice said.
“Castiel, it’s Sam. We’re at the Sleep Well Inn on Cornhusker Highway outside Lincoln, Nebraska. Can you come? Dean … needs you.”
Before he’d hit disconnect there was the faintest rustling and the trench coat-wearing smaller man stood behind him, eyeing Dean on the bed.
“This is bad,” Castiel said solemnly. Ignoring Sam he approached Dean laying a hand gently on his forehead. Sam fought the pang of jealousy. He wasn’t used to anyone else taking care of his brother. It was his job, always had been. He’d patched up Dean and their Dad more times than he could count. Bandages, stitches, antibiotics, pain killers, fevers and flues and knife wounds. Blood covering every inch of his brother’s self-proclaimed handsome face. Washed and mended and … his. He shook himself out of this ridiculous place. Worry about what mattered, he chastised himself. Worry about your brother.
For the fourth time he detailed the events of the past eight hours. He didn’t leave out anything. Naked truth because Cas didn’t trust him as it was and the only way to gain that back was this, unvarnished truth no matter what it cost him. He knew that Dean and Cas had something … something he wasn’t part of. Most times he was fine with this. Understood it. Castiel had done what he, himself, had not been able to do - he’d saved Dean from Hell. So as long as he breathed he owed the angel. He owed the angel Dean’s life.
All the time that Sam spoke, explained, Castiel had sat on the edge of Dean’s bed, back to Sam, gazing down intently at Dean.
“Cas?” Dean said groggily.
“I’m here Dean.”
“Ss … am call you?”
“Cas,” Sam cut in. “Can you cure him?”
Castiel turned, rose from where he’d sat on the edge of the bed and approached Sam. He stood close but not as close as when he’d leaned over Dean. His head tilted slightly. “Your brother is not sick,” he said softly as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.
Sam twitched in surprise. “What do you mean? Look at him! He can barely keep his eyes open. Of course he’s ill.”
“This is not a natural illness.”
Tell him something he didn’t know. “Cas, I know that. But the symptoms are physical enough. His organs are shutting down and we have to …” He pushed his hand through his hair in frustration. Wasn’t this obvious? What was the question here?
“Cas … ” Dean called out again and the angel turned. He approached the bed again and a look passed between them. Dean nodded.
Sam felt like screaming as the frustration turned his blood hot.
“Sam,” Dean said. “C’mere.”
Castiel moved away as Sam approached. Irrational fear gripped him. Dean was looking at him in a way that reminded him of last year … a way that meant …
“Sam. Listen. Don’t get mad. Cas can’t help me.”
Red flashed before his eyes. Sharp, hot and blazing. “Can’t or won’t?! What the fuck is this? Cas, you’re stronger than this, I know it, this is fucked up evil shit that should never, never be allowed to stand. If you can’t then call Zachariah, call someone stronger, call Gabriel, he’s out of work right now anyway. Call God for all I care - make this better.”
“Sam.”
“No. Dean. No. Don’t you dare ‘Sam’ me. This is obscene. I don’t … I can’t …”
He collapsed onto Dean’s bed, his legs feeling like limp noodles. Bobby, Cas, Dean, they all seemed to think this was okay. It was not okay. He took a deep breath forcing himself to calm down.
“Cas,” he said slowly. “Can Dean be saved?”
He closed his eyes unable to see his brother’s sad plea for one second longer.
“Not by me,” Cas said.
Whoa. Finally. Now we’re talking. “Who then?”
Dean said, “Sam. No.”
“Shut up. Cas, who can help Dean?”
He knew the damn answer even before Cas said it. “Michael. Michael can heal Dean.”
“If he says yes?”
Sam didn’t have to wait for Cas’s soft nod. He turned to face Dean’s stubborn, set expression. Another impasse. And the clock kept ticking.
Chapter 5
Author: sandymg
Summary: Lucifer tempts Sam. Dean’s life (and afterlife) hang in the balance. The iPod reappears. And it’s possibly the end of the world as we know it. Not necessarily in this order.
Wordcount: 7,440 in 4 chapters so far -- Work in progress Complete
Spoilers: Set in Season 5. Assumes all canon through Changing Channels 5x08. References to Faith 1x12 and The Magnificent Seven 3x01
Genre: Gen, angst, Sick!Dean, hurt/comfort
Characters: Sam, Dean, Assorted others (all canon)
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters. They belong to the CW and Eric Kripke -- who'd best treat them well.
A/N: This story will run 7 chapters and will update quickly and is now COMPLETE
Chapters: [ 3], [ 2], [ 1]
Chapter 4: The Wings Beneath My Feet
Tamara left apologizing that she hadn’t been able to help further. Sam thanked her. It meant a lot that she’d come, that she’d tried. They had so few friends. Sometimes Sam thought back to his Stanford days like they’d happened to someone else. He used to have friends. He’d text them, call them. Visit even. He and Jess would go to parties, go out for drinks, dinner with other couples. Jess. God he missed her. Her eyes. Her laugh. It made him cringe how Lucifer had used her form to try to manipulate him. Polluted her so that even thinking about her now caused his gut to contract in fear.
Nothing in their fucked up lives could stay pure. Azazel had seen to that. Burned everything he’d ever loved. Mom, Jess, Dad, Dean. All because that yellow-eyed bastard had wanted him. If only his mom had stopped after Dean. Looking at the still form of his brother on the bed he imagined he and their father and mother as a happy, normal family. It’s all Dean had ever wanted. He knew Dean would never want anything to have happened to him, but what if he’d never been born? You can’t miss what you don’t know. He brushed his hand across his brother’s warm forehead.
“I’m sorry Dean,” he whispered.
Digging out Dean’s cell phone he clicked on Castiel’s name. An angel on speed dial, if the situation wasn’t dire it would be fucking hilarious.
“Dean?” a deep, gravelly voice said.
“Castiel, it’s Sam. We’re at the Sleep Well Inn on Cornhusker Highway outside Lincoln, Nebraska. Can you come? Dean … needs you.”
Before he’d hit disconnect there was the faintest rustling and the trench coat-wearing smaller man stood behind him, eyeing Dean on the bed.
“This is bad,” Castiel said solemnly. Ignoring Sam he approached Dean laying a hand gently on his forehead. Sam fought the pang of jealousy. He wasn’t used to anyone else taking care of his brother. It was his job, always had been. He’d patched up Dean and their Dad more times than he could count. Bandages, stitches, antibiotics, pain killers, fevers and flues and knife wounds. Blood covering every inch of his brother’s self-proclaimed handsome face. Washed and mended and … his. He shook himself out of this ridiculous place. Worry about what mattered, he chastised himself. Worry about your brother.
For the fourth time he detailed the events of the past eight hours. He didn’t leave out anything. Naked truth because Cas didn’t trust him as it was and the only way to gain that back was this, unvarnished truth no matter what it cost him. He knew that Dean and Cas had something … something he wasn’t part of. Most times he was fine with this. Understood it. Castiel had done what he, himself, had not been able to do - he’d saved Dean from Hell. So as long as he breathed he owed the angel. He owed the angel Dean’s life.
All the time that Sam spoke, explained, Castiel had sat on the edge of Dean’s bed, back to Sam, gazing down intently at Dean.
“Cas?” Dean said groggily.
“I’m here Dean.”
“Ss … am call you?”
“Cas,” Sam cut in. “Can you cure him?”
Castiel turned, rose from where he’d sat on the edge of the bed and approached Sam. He stood close but not as close as when he’d leaned over Dean. His head tilted slightly. “Your brother is not sick,” he said softly as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.
Sam twitched in surprise. “What do you mean? Look at him! He can barely keep his eyes open. Of course he’s ill.”
“This is not a natural illness.”
Tell him something he didn’t know. “Cas, I know that. But the symptoms are physical enough. His organs are shutting down and we have to …” He pushed his hand through his hair in frustration. Wasn’t this obvious? What was the question here?
“Cas … ” Dean called out again and the angel turned. He approached the bed again and a look passed between them. Dean nodded.
Sam felt like screaming as the frustration turned his blood hot.
“Sam,” Dean said. “C’mere.”
Castiel moved away as Sam approached. Irrational fear gripped him. Dean was looking at him in a way that reminded him of last year … a way that meant …
“Sam. Listen. Don’t get mad. Cas can’t help me.”
Red flashed before his eyes. Sharp, hot and blazing. “Can’t or won’t?! What the fuck is this? Cas, you’re stronger than this, I know it, this is fucked up evil shit that should never, never be allowed to stand. If you can’t then call Zachariah, call someone stronger, call Gabriel, he’s out of work right now anyway. Call God for all I care - make this better.”
“Sam.”
“No. Dean. No. Don’t you dare ‘Sam’ me. This is obscene. I don’t … I can’t …”
He collapsed onto Dean’s bed, his legs feeling like limp noodles. Bobby, Cas, Dean, they all seemed to think this was okay. It was not okay. He took a deep breath forcing himself to calm down.
“Cas,” he said slowly. “Can Dean be saved?”
He closed his eyes unable to see his brother’s sad plea for one second longer.
“Not by me,” Cas said.
Whoa. Finally. Now we’re talking. “Who then?”
Dean said, “Sam. No.”
“Shut up. Cas, who can help Dean?”
He knew the damn answer even before Cas said it. “Michael. Michael can heal Dean.”
“If he says yes?”
Sam didn’t have to wait for Cas’s soft nod. He turned to face Dean’s stubborn, set expression. Another impasse. And the clock kept ticking.
Chapter 5