Tattered Butterfly of Incandescent Glow -- SN fic -- R
Title: Tattered Butterfly of Incandescent Glow
Fandom: "Supernatural"
Disclaimer: I did not create the characters I have so much fun torturing
Warnings: AU; only incesty if you want; mentions of Sam/Jess and John/Mary
Pairings: glance at the warnings
Rating: R for safety
Point of View: third
Wordcount: 2912
-
“Do you know how to really hurt someone?” It whispered in his ear, breath hot on his neck. “Take away the one thing they have left.”
It backed away and began pacing around him; he stood silent, eyes shut against reality as It continued. “I killed your mother. I killed your father. I killed your fiancée. What’s left, little boy?” It laughed, dark and malicious. “What’s left that I can take away?”
That got the reaction It wanted: his eyes flew open, wide and wild-“Hurt him,” the boy snarled, “and I’ll hound you till the end of time.”
It laughed again, loud and full. “I don’t plan to hurt him, child,” It murmured into his skin, the feel of It’s hands on his body. “I plan to make him beg for mercy while you watch.”
He closed his eyes, tried to take himself away, tried to forget where he was and the circumstances that led him here. “If you do anything to him,” he said, “I will make you pay. I swear, on anything and everything, I will make you pay.”
“Big words from a little boy,” It chuckled, and left.
-
When it all came down to it, there was really only one way it could end. John knew it, had known it since Dean was seven and killed his first evil with a small smirk on his face. “Did I do good, Dad?” he asked-John hadn’t been ‘Daddy’ since that November night-and John nodded, sorrow and pride mingling in him.
Dean would eventually go down, fall and not get back up, but it’d be with a curse on his lips and fire in his eyes, swinging the whole way.
John did his best to prepare Dean for that eventuality; he never mentioned old age to his boys. Never talked about life after the hunt, because he knew there wouldn’t be one.
Dean understood first and John figured Sam never would, because Dean was there with band-aids and hugs and macaroni and assurances that that no, the monsters couldn’t get in. Sometimes he thought the coddling was dangerous, making Sam too soft for their business, but the boys were his last link to Mary and he thought one, at least, should stay innocent.
-
He could hear Its’ acolytes moving around in the next room, setting things up for the sacrifice.
It’s almost over, he thought. I never believed it’d end like this.
He focused on escaping, on getting to his brother before It could; all of his attention, his drive, went to the chains holding him to the wall. He could feel despair and fear settling in for a long stay and he forced himself past the paralyzing emotions to the rage just beneath. And over it all soared the love that had saved both their lives before.
Finally, after minutes or eons, he felt the chain shatter. One of the acolytes hurried in, a young girl-possessed? he wondered, but decided it didn’t matter. The knowledge sang in his veins, the knowledge he’d longed for over a year now, ever since he saw his brother die and shoved that cabinet out of the way.
The acolyte opened her mouth to scream for aid before her neck snapped, twisted to the side by hands no one could see.
If she’d glanced at his face before her vision faded to black, she’d have run and never stopped.
You wanted an opponent, he thought, moving towards the door. You’ve got one.
-
Dean knew with a deep, absolute certainty he would never see old age. Never have kids or grandkids or a life outside of the hunt.
It wasn’t for him. Never could be. Sometimes, he wondered if it would have been, had Mom not died, had Dad not decided to strike back. He always shut down on those little tangents the second he realized they were heading towards regret and disappointment. By the time he was ten, he knew normality wasn’t for him; by the time he was eleven, he’d convinced himself he didn’t want it. That he never had.
So he focused on the hunt and Sam(my). Dad wasn’t around as much as anyone wanted and Dean took over easily. Sam(my) longed for normality in a way Dean no longer let himself and he often assured Sam(my) that nothing was beyond his grasp.
“If you want it bad enough, Sam,” he said, “then one day it’ll be yours.”
If he’d known Sam would leave, he sometimes thought he’d have squashed Sam(my)’s dreams as easily as a skull beneath his foot, but he knows he never could.
He wouldn’t see old age, but maybe Sammy would.
-
For over a thousand years It had searched every corner of the world for Its’ equal, Its’ heir, never finding anyone powerful enough, anyone worthy. At last it came to the Revilen line, descendents of the man called Merlin-a boy who’d almost made the cut, but in the end failed.
It followed the bloodline for centuries, watching as each generation grew stronger. At last, a daughter entered the world, named after the mother of the one called Christ, a girl with more power than any being before her. It considered her, but found her wanting-too much light in her, too much of those hopeful things.
But It continued watching, because her children might do. It watched her meet and wed John Winchester, watched her age and shine so brightly all the world should burn. It watched her grow with child and glow with love, with hope. It watched the child, a son, enter the world, a beacon even more incandescent.
It visited their home on the child’s six-month anniversary of living, studied the boy with a finer eye than any before him, even his mother. The child had power, so much it nearly hurt to be so close to him, but he would not do. He, like his mother, was far too pure. Perhaps one day he would darken, if given the right incentive, but for now…
It faded as his mother entered the room and left for other parts of the world. It would be back, though. Yes… the boy bore watching. It smirked; more promise in that boy than in entire generations combined.
-
Sam never planned on leaving as a child. He lived the life of a hero, always on the lookout for a new battle, new evil to fight and defeat. He had Dad, some of the time, and Dean-even better-all the time. He had hope in tomorrow because Dean was there. He believed he and Dean would live forever, would save puppies and kids and families and the world-
It all came crashing down when he was ten. When Dean nearly died. When Dean flew through the air and slammed into the tree and didn’t move when he hit the ground.
Sam picked up the gun that landed beside him and shot the whole clip into the werewolf, full of rage and pain and fear. Dad came running and Sam collapsed beside Dean, gingerly touched his face, and looked up at Dad, naked hope in his eyes.
Dad can make it better, his face said. Dad’ll make it better.
Dean didn’t wake up for a week and Sam lost all faith in Dad.
-
The mother, Mary, became pregnant again. It watched to see how the child would handle a sibling; not surprisingly, the boy looked forward to a little brother or sister, looked forward to having someone to take care of.
The mother and boy began to brighten, a supernova that caused Its eyes to burn. It needed to look away and yet It couldn’t-the incentive to turn the boy Its way was plain, now.
The child growing in her womb-he would be the key to everything.
-
John knew it was never about Sam. He’d always known it. Missouri couldn’t tell him any more than that, though, and John needed to move on, get his boys out of Lawrence.
There wasn’t any way it could end happily, his quest for Mary’s killer, not any chance at all.
A part of him mourned for the life his boys could never have, but the rest of him wanted vengeance.
-
Until It studied the baby on his six-month anniversary, It thought the elder, Dean, was the one It wanted. Even after, It desired the firstborn, but the baby-such potential. Not as much as Dean, but more than the mother.
He reached out to touch Samuel and Mary ran into the room. “Get away from my son,” the descendent of Merlin snarled, the daughter of Revilen, a beacon of light-but It was stronger, after eons of feeding on her kind, and It consumed her.
It laughed, binging on her power, and thought about taking the father, as well-but refrained. It was not yet ready for either child, so the father still had use.
It watched the father and boys as they sat on the car outside the house and mourned. The elder glanced Its way and It shivered, then laughed to Itself. The boy was not a threat-not yet.
Soon, though-soon.
-
Dean did the best he could, those years Sam(my) was gone. Just him and Dad got lonely, lonelier than he’d ever admit to anyone. He missed Sam(my) with a fierceness that surprised him.
So, to escape the pain of abandonment, he threw himself into the hunt. Whenever he wasn’t researching, he trained or took care of the weapons. Dad watched with a steady smile and never told Dean it wasn’t healthy, even though they both knew it.
Scars doubled and tripled, and bruises never left. Six broken bones became twenty and ten concussions became twenty-seven.
And he never slowed, never stopped.
-
Over the years It checked in on them, gauging their progress towards the direction It wanted. The elder, the child of light that could easily taint, loved only two people: his father and brother.
Push come to shove, It thought with a smirk, he’d pick the brother. And therein lay the catalyst of the greatest fall since Lucifer turned to Satan.
-
Sam left with tears in his eyes, left behind Dad and the hunt and vengeance for someone he couldn’t remember and Dean. Left behind stories of Mom he knew couldn’t be true and future scars he couldn’t explain to anyone and lies that streamed forth like a waterfall and Dean. Left behind things he should say and things he couldn’t say and things he needed to hear but knew he never would and Dean.
The only thing he regretted leaving behind was Dean.
-
It noticed the younger, Samuel, craved normality like It craved his brother. It fanned the flame in his soul, whispered to his dreams that Life beckoned with everything he wanted.
After years of steady murmurs, the boy finally left. Slammed the door on that life and then his father nailed it shut with words screamed in anger and pain.
It smiled and laughed and told the acolytes soon Its heirs would come, would descend to Its level.
It watched with popcorn and parties as Dean flew headlong down the road of destruction and Samuel lost himself in the life of paper facades he’d always coveted. They both pretended to not notice the gaping wound in their souls, fueled by Its falsehoods of comfort.
And the plan, Its masterpiece that ended with the culmination of the Dark, continued to unfold.
-
John never meant to hurt his sons. Never meant to curse them with his quest or demand more than they could give. Never meant to place such a burden on Dean so young(or ever), never meant to drive Sam away. Never meant to burn so many bridges with his allies or lose friends because his better half died with Mary.
There are many things John never meant to do. To say. Even to think, but thinking’s hard to stop and sometimes his mouth ran away and shouted the things he never, ever would have said.
Like, “If you walk out that door, don’t come back.”
And sometimes his mouth wouldn’t listen to him when he tells it, say “Stop, Dean. This isn’t safe, isn’t healthy. You need to slow down.”
So many regrets rest on John’s shoulders and he doubted he’d ever get the chance to apologize for all the things he needs to say “Sorry” for.
-
Finally, the father was lured away by the promise of a lead that didn’t have a dead-end. Without a word-as was the command of the whisper in his dreams-he left his son.
And Dean went for his brother. As It had known he would.
And everything happened as It had declared would come to pass. The boys, Its’ heirs, Its’ equals, Its’ glorious triumph-on the road to damnation for love of each other.
And It laughed. The world shook and It kept on laughing.
-
Dean knew that it can’t end happy, that for him it never could. Dean knew salvation was beyond him, because of the darkness he constantly pretended wasn’t in his soul. He never told Dad or Sam(my) of the thoughts or the dreams or the fantasies.
Sometimes instead of saving a victim, he pictured destroying them. With smiles and laughter and words that cut their souls to pieces as he shredded their bodies with weapons honed on the hunt.
He’d always felt like something was missing, something was wrong, and only after Sam(my) left did he realize his brother had balanced him out. With Sam(my) around, the desires and daydreams weren’t nearly as strong, didn’t hold such sway, didn’t call so seductively.
But Sam(my) left, taking with him a part of Dean.
-
Together again they both grew stronger and weaker. It led them down the path; as they thought they followed a road to Heaven It instead led them to the gates of Hell.
It let Samuel’s powers out of their cage, but only when connected to It or Dean.
Dean was never in danger from that twisted little plaything, Maxwell, or from that misguided harlot, Sue Ann. The Reaper merely touched Dean, gave him a taste of what could be his, if he’d but open his eyes to see.
At the time, and for-by his count-long after, he did not understand. Could not. But when the time came, at the end of his little stint playing a Soldier of the Light, everything would be made clear for him.
Samuel was Dean’s one true weakness. And It planned on using that advantage to its full potential.
-
On the road again with Dean, Sam fell quickly back into patterns set in childhood. The raw pain of Jessica’s death faded and Dean again became his whole world. Again resumed a role he’d never really relinquished because Sam hadn’t let him, even if neither of them knew it.
He sometimes felt something on the periphery of his mind, gently conning him into giving it entry, but he always shoved it back. Pretended it wasn’t there. Never mentioned the whispers to Dean, terrified that telling his brother would make it true.
He refused to believe he was evil. Refused to believe everything was his fault. And refused to ask Dean.
-
The entire thing was easier than It had ever entertained the idea of it being. It separated the boys and then swiftly knocked Dean unconscious. No harm was given to Dean’s body; he was moved gently to a secure location.
Samuel was then taken and taunted; once he fell, Dean would quickly follow.
It had contemplated the other way, but the light still in Dean was too strong. He wouldn’t fall first. But he would take the plunge after Samuel and lose himself forever.
-
If John had known what would come from him, he would have blown out his brains at age twenty.
If Mary had known what would come from her, she would have killed herself at age fifteen.
If Merlin had known what would come from him, he would have laughed. He was sick that way.
-
You wanted an opponent, he thought, moving towards the door. You’ve got one.
None of the acolytes had a chance.
He breezed through them, leaving no one alive. He threw them around as though they were rag-dolls, breaking them and moving on. Whatever It was, he knew, It had made a major miscalculation.
He felt the instant Dean woke, angry and fighting. He felt the instant Dean knew what had always been on the edges of their minds.
What are we? Dean asked, teetering on the precipice Sam had already leapt from.
I don’t know, he responded.
-
If Dean had known what he would become, he would have continued on anyway.
-
It fought tooth and nail against the monsters It had created and died all the same.
-
If Sam had known what he would cause Dean to become, he’d have killed himself the day he turned ten.
-
Dean threw himself over the cliff to keep Sam from being alone and he never once looked back.
-
Some things are meant to be. Others happen because of things that never should have been. Missouri never told anyone that she knew what those boys would become the moment Dean was conceived.