Fic: No Better Place - Sam/Dean (SPN)
My fic for the spn_j2_xmas Christmas exchange.
It's Sam/Dean, an AU taking place...eh, sometime in the future with post-apocalyptic leanings, angst and minor character death (ie, not Dean or Sam). Written for bloodnfire. I hope this works for you! Just over 1000 words and rated a light R. I tried to porn and it just wouldn't happen, I could almost cry.
Beta'd by the awesometastic puchuupoet.
No Better Place
**
The alarm wakes Dean. He isn't sure how long it's been going on for but it gets louder every minute. Every second with the pause and blare. Dean lies there, staring across at the wall. Dim light spills between the blinds, a shadow moving across the wall.
The alarm sounds endlessly on in the background and it's the only noise.
Sam's arm is heavy across his shoulders. Dean's is hanging over the edge of the bed, the other trapped beneath his stomach, numb. They've fallen asleep with their clothes on again.
The alarm won't stop. There's no one to shut it off.
Dean slips out from under Sam and Sam's too exhausted to do more than frown, pressing splinted fingers into the warm sheets that Dean has left behind.
Dean had to reset three of those fingers yesterday.
He leaves their room, standing in the doorway for a moment to look up at the brightening red sky. The horizon lights up all sorts of colors these days, sun filtering through ash and dust and smoke and screams. It's kind of pretty, if Dean just ignores why.
An acrid breeze has him moving, drawn towards the noise of the alarm. It's three doors down at the empty motel. The door clicks open, warm stale air meets his face.
He doesn't think deep enough on what it means when he no longer draws back at the stink of rancid blood. He steps across the room, avoids the body on the floor. The alarm goes quiet under Dean's hand and silence falls. Even the early morning calls of birds have gone. Hiding until it's all over.
The world is going to end today, Dean thinks.
“You think that every day.”
I'm going to kick your ass today.
“You think that every day, too.” Sam's face is open and smiling when Dean turns to him. It dims out the splatter of blood and decay around them.
“And one of these days I'm gonna be right.” Then who's going to be smiling?
Sam rolls his eyes. They're red rimmed and tired. Yet they still have that spark in them, for reasons beyond Dean. Until Dean is kissing them, Sam's eyelids and Sam's lips, and Dean remembers how they still have that spark. It's the same reason why his own eyes aren't dead yet.
Sam laughs, so out of place in this blood soaked room, and pulls Dean out of the room.
“Come on, there's still work to do.”
In his mind, Dean groans and Sam hears.
**
Dean doesn't admit it out loud but he expected Bobby to be the first to go. Most of the other hunters have fallen. Sam doesn't say it but... All of them think the same. Bobby walks into it every day anyways. And in the in-between time - when they’re not trying to figure out which final seal they should protect - Bobby teaches and shows and tells Dean everything that he can. Dean tries to remember.
When they're at ground zero on Lilith's latest target, it's the three of them. Dean, Sam and Bobby. Castiel stands before them and leads them on.
Dean knows that they're not going to go home with everyone.
The witch is powerful. Three hunters can only watch as an angel screams. His Grace turns black in her hands. Creeping black like tendrils of ivy that wind their way around and through, spreading until it's all that's left. It takes his Grace and then she takes his vessel.
It's over, Dean thinks. They're over.
But the black ivy takes the witch as well and she screams in outrage at the magic turned against her. The ground shudders when there's nothing left.
Dean is on his knees by the fallen vessel's side. There's nothing left here, either.
Sam is next to him, his hand on Dean's shoulder. “He might be okay. We didn't really see, we don't know.”
But they do.
**
They wait two days anyways. They leave the empty vessel in an empty room at their motel. Two days is long enough to know that it - he - won't ever move again.
They move the body into the backseat of the Impala and she's seen better days along with the rest of them. Sam is careful as he lays down the head. Dean takes them to a church. What's left of it, in the middle of a field, it must be centuries old. But it will do.
“Cas told me,” Dean explains, even though Sam didn't ask him to. “That he prayed for it, y'know? So I'm guessing he was some religious fanatic. He'd like this.”
They salt and burn the body inside the walls of the church. The last thing they need is a pissed off spirit of an angel's vessel dogging them. There's no roof and, for once, they can see the stars against the dark sky of a clear night. Staring up at them instead of the fire, Dean just doesn't want to know what the vessel thinks of it all.
Bobby is killed by a human looter a week later. The next day, Uriel tells them to get to Minnesota.
**
They're halfway there, stopping overnight when Dean wonders if Sam made the right choice. That maybe whatever is inside Sam could have given them a better chance. If it would have been worth the risk.
Sam's fingers run over the side of his neck. “It never would have been worth it,” is Sam's answer to Dean's unspoken question.
“To avoid all of this?”
Sam is smiling, Dean can feel it in the press of lips against his shoulder. “We haven't lost yet, Dean.” Dean could punch Sam for all the unending optimism. “And, yeah, all of this?” Sam's hand slides down under the thin blankets to squeeze Dean's naked hip. “It's worth it.”
“Shit, you are such a girl.” But whatever works. Dean is smiling, rolling over onto his back to face Sam and try to clock him one on the side of his head. Sam catches his wrist easily and Sam's lips descend down on his.
It's like being forgiven for every misdeed, mistake and failure. Until all that remains is Sam, Sam's hands, Sam's body. Sam's cock pushing into him like a benediction and it's worth it. Everything that's going on outside of the motel windows is worth having what's in here.
Hey, if he's gotta watch the world end, he can't think of a better place to do it.
It's Sam/Dean, an AU taking place...eh, sometime in the future with post-apocalyptic leanings, angst and minor character death (ie, not Dean or Sam). Written for bloodnfire. I hope this works for you! Just over 1000 words and rated a light R. I tried to porn and it just wouldn't happen, I could almost cry.
Beta'd by the awesometastic puchuupoet.
No Better Place
**
The alarm wakes Dean. He isn't sure how long it's been going on for but it gets louder every minute. Every second with the pause and blare. Dean lies there, staring across at the wall. Dim light spills between the blinds, a shadow moving across the wall.
The alarm sounds endlessly on in the background and it's the only noise.
Sam's arm is heavy across his shoulders. Dean's is hanging over the edge of the bed, the other trapped beneath his stomach, numb. They've fallen asleep with their clothes on again.
The alarm won't stop. There's no one to shut it off.
Dean slips out from under Sam and Sam's too exhausted to do more than frown, pressing splinted fingers into the warm sheets that Dean has left behind.
Dean had to reset three of those fingers yesterday.
He leaves their room, standing in the doorway for a moment to look up at the brightening red sky. The horizon lights up all sorts of colors these days, sun filtering through ash and dust and smoke and screams. It's kind of pretty, if Dean just ignores why.
An acrid breeze has him moving, drawn towards the noise of the alarm. It's three doors down at the empty motel. The door clicks open, warm stale air meets his face.
He doesn't think deep enough on what it means when he no longer draws back at the stink of rancid blood. He steps across the room, avoids the body on the floor. The alarm goes quiet under Dean's hand and silence falls. Even the early morning calls of birds have gone. Hiding until it's all over.
The world is going to end today, Dean thinks.
“You think that every day.”
I'm going to kick your ass today.
“You think that every day, too.” Sam's face is open and smiling when Dean turns to him. It dims out the splatter of blood and decay around them.
“And one of these days I'm gonna be right.” Then who's going to be smiling?
Sam rolls his eyes. They're red rimmed and tired. Yet they still have that spark in them, for reasons beyond Dean. Until Dean is kissing them, Sam's eyelids and Sam's lips, and Dean remembers how they still have that spark. It's the same reason why his own eyes aren't dead yet.
Sam laughs, so out of place in this blood soaked room, and pulls Dean out of the room.
“Come on, there's still work to do.”
In his mind, Dean groans and Sam hears.
**
Dean doesn't admit it out loud but he expected Bobby to be the first to go. Most of the other hunters have fallen. Sam doesn't say it but... All of them think the same. Bobby walks into it every day anyways. And in the in-between time - when they’re not trying to figure out which final seal they should protect - Bobby teaches and shows and tells Dean everything that he can. Dean tries to remember.
When they're at ground zero on Lilith's latest target, it's the three of them. Dean, Sam and Bobby. Castiel stands before them and leads them on.
Dean knows that they're not going to go home with everyone.
The witch is powerful. Three hunters can only watch as an angel screams. His Grace turns black in her hands. Creeping black like tendrils of ivy that wind their way around and through, spreading until it's all that's left. It takes his Grace and then she takes his vessel.
It's over, Dean thinks. They're over.
But the black ivy takes the witch as well and she screams in outrage at the magic turned against her. The ground shudders when there's nothing left.
Dean is on his knees by the fallen vessel's side. There's nothing left here, either.
Sam is next to him, his hand on Dean's shoulder. “He might be okay. We didn't really see, we don't know.”
But they do.
**
They wait two days anyways. They leave the empty vessel in an empty room at their motel. Two days is long enough to know that it - he - won't ever move again.
They move the body into the backseat of the Impala and she's seen better days along with the rest of them. Sam is careful as he lays down the head. Dean takes them to a church. What's left of it, in the middle of a field, it must be centuries old. But it will do.
“Cas told me,” Dean explains, even though Sam didn't ask him to. “That he prayed for it, y'know? So I'm guessing he was some religious fanatic. He'd like this.”
They salt and burn the body inside the walls of the church. The last thing they need is a pissed off spirit of an angel's vessel dogging them. There's no roof and, for once, they can see the stars against the dark sky of a clear night. Staring up at them instead of the fire, Dean just doesn't want to know what the vessel thinks of it all.
Bobby is killed by a human looter a week later. The next day, Uriel tells them to get to Minnesota.
**
They're halfway there, stopping overnight when Dean wonders if Sam made the right choice. That maybe whatever is inside Sam could have given them a better chance. If it would have been worth the risk.
Sam's fingers run over the side of his neck. “It never would have been worth it,” is Sam's answer to Dean's unspoken question.
“To avoid all of this?”
Sam is smiling, Dean can feel it in the press of lips against his shoulder. “We haven't lost yet, Dean.” Dean could punch Sam for all the unending optimism. “And, yeah, all of this?” Sam's hand slides down under the thin blankets to squeeze Dean's naked hip. “It's worth it.”
“Shit, you are such a girl.” But whatever works. Dean is smiling, rolling over onto his back to face Sam and try to clock him one on the side of his head. Sam catches his wrist easily and Sam's lips descend down on his.
It's like being forgiven for every misdeed, mistake and failure. Until all that remains is Sam, Sam's hands, Sam's body. Sam's cock pushing into him like a benediction and it's worth it. Everything that's going on outside of the motel windows is worth having what's in here.
Hey, if he's gotta watch the world end, he can't think of a better place to do it.