fic: MMOM #11: Down the Wrong Road Both Ways (1/2) (Sam/Dean, Dean/Castiel, Sam/Castiel)
Title: Down the Wrong Road Both Ways (1/2)
Author: eggblue
Pairing: Sam/Dean, Dean/Castiel, Sam/Castiel
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Supernatural, Dean, Sam, and Castiel are not belong to me.
Word Count: 1000
Notes: Spec fic for season 4 finale and beyond. My first Sam/Dean and boy was it lovely to write. For moodswingers (if she does not mind), because of Sam, and Jason Molina’s music (title source), and all-around awesomeness.
Part 1 - Running
Dean is running away from his brother as fast as he can.
They were standing at the edge of the cornfield, at the edge of the Apocalypse, with soft furrows of dirt stretched out before them in ridged lines between their camp and the angels.
Castiel was kneeling on the ground between two human-coated angels, one male one female, Lucifer’s sword ready at the part of his wings.
Something in the sight and something in Dean breaks open and Sam turns fast enough to see the fear on his face before his brother is running away from him as fast as he can, yelling Castiel’s name.
Dean only makes it halfway there. Sam watches the dirt fade out in Dean’s tracks when he stops. Sam watches as Dean’s hit with the brightest spotlight, Heaven’s spotlight, slamming him to the ground.
It’s overloading every sense he’s got, and he’s far outside the light. He watches Dean’s body go rigid and arch off the ground, his body in a tight line from his shoulder to his knees, twisted and screaming. Sam screams his name but he can’t even hear his own voice over the din.
Beyond the light, he sees the glint of Lucifer’s golden sword, the flap of wings, and the last thing he hears before his ears go deaf is the sound of Castiel starting to scream.
He opens his eyes again when the ground stops shaking. Dean is standing in front of him.
His face has an unearthly sheen on it, like an actor wearing too much makeup, skin with a bluish plastic glow. His expression is friendly without any warmth at all. It is the scariest thing he’s ever seen.
Dean places his hands on Sam’s ears, and a rush of night sounds returns to him, accompanied by the black smoke of burning corn stalks.
He looks into his brother’s eyes and sees nothing.
Dean is no longer Dean; he is an angel; Sam knows that now.
So he stands, walks, moves quickly and finds Castiel.
Sam holds Castiel’s torn, now human, body in his arms as they both watch their world disappear into thin air to the sound of wings.
Sam really wants to hurt Castiel in that moment.
He wants to take his hands, wrap them around the angel’s throat, and twist. In the end, he doesn’t do anything but find a motel bed, lay Castiel on it, and pass out.
Later, he will drag his brother’s angel to the ends of the earth in their search. He will bring his brother’s angel down with him, as if they are in a race to see who can fall the fastest. Castiel will swear it is not his choice; he was made to fall, his grace and wings taken by force, worse than Sam, worse than Lucifer. His charge was taken from him by Heaven’s most powerful weapon; none of them will ever know a thing like mercy.
Sam hears him call out for mercy, first from his Father, then his brothers and sisters. It’s when he starts calling for Dean, praying for him, that Sam decides he can’t take it anymore.
He takes his whole hand and covers half of Castiel’s face, from beneath his eyes to his chin. The crazed expression in his eyes, the one he always gets while praying, is turned on him completely, as if he had been watching Sam’s anger coil up in the corner of the room, just waiting to strike. Then Sam feels him go slack against him. He holds him against the wall with one hand and slaps him hard across the face with the other.
“Don’t give up on me now,” Sam says, daring him.
And Castiel just breathes hard, panting to get his breath back, and Sam sees he is lost. When Sam kisses him, he thinks it is only to stop his whining, it is only to stop his praying, it is only to stop him from being weak. Castiel opens his mouth and lets him; then when Sam doesn’t stop, doesn’t seem like he will ever stop, he kisses him back.
Sam holds Castiel still against the wall with his whole body. He thinks of no comfort; he ignores any protest. He rests his thumbs on the soft pad of flesh in front of Castiel’s ears and gently rubs them back and forth. Sam does it even more when he finds it makes the man shiver all the way down to his groin.
Later, he takes what opportunities he can to forget all gentleness, dig his fingers into the fallen angel’s ass, fuck him for hours, and think of Dean.
What Dean never understood is that as soon as he was gone, Sam could never think about anything else.
When the Trickster took Dean away for a practice run, all Sam ever fell asleep to every night was the image of Dean in his head and the feel of his dick in his hand. When Dean spent four months in Hell, he had to drink just to get Dean’s voice out of his head. When he started drinking demon blood, he started seeing Dean everywhere, like a succubus in his head, moaning for him always, in pleasure and in pain. It’s never gone away.
He takes what he can from the angel, and they both think of Dean.
Castiel’s spent years watching them. Castiel’s seen everything they’ve done. Things like this, things he used to do with Dean. Castiel needs more than ever to feel what Dean feels, to know him. Sam doesn’t pretend he’s not taking advantage. He takes as he pleases.
In his entire life, there is nothing he’s wanted more than to be worthy of his brother’s mercy. He’ll take what mercy he can get from Cas, and Cas will take his penance, and one day they will find Dean again.
part II
Author: eggblue
Pairing: Sam/Dean, Dean/Castiel, Sam/Castiel
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Supernatural, Dean, Sam, and Castiel are not belong to me.
Word Count: 1000
Notes: Spec fic for season 4 finale and beyond. My first Sam/Dean and boy was it lovely to write. For moodswingers (if she does not mind), because of Sam, and Jason Molina’s music (title source), and all-around awesomeness.
Part 1 - Running
Dean is running away from his brother as fast as he can.
They were standing at the edge of the cornfield, at the edge of the Apocalypse, with soft furrows of dirt stretched out before them in ridged lines between their camp and the angels.
Castiel was kneeling on the ground between two human-coated angels, one male one female, Lucifer’s sword ready at the part of his wings.
Something in the sight and something in Dean breaks open and Sam turns fast enough to see the fear on his face before his brother is running away from him as fast as he can, yelling Castiel’s name.
Dean only makes it halfway there. Sam watches the dirt fade out in Dean’s tracks when he stops. Sam watches as Dean’s hit with the brightest spotlight, Heaven’s spotlight, slamming him to the ground.
It’s overloading every sense he’s got, and he’s far outside the light. He watches Dean’s body go rigid and arch off the ground, his body in a tight line from his shoulder to his knees, twisted and screaming. Sam screams his name but he can’t even hear his own voice over the din.
Beyond the light, he sees the glint of Lucifer’s golden sword, the flap of wings, and the last thing he hears before his ears go deaf is the sound of Castiel starting to scream.
He opens his eyes again when the ground stops shaking. Dean is standing in front of him.
His face has an unearthly sheen on it, like an actor wearing too much makeup, skin with a bluish plastic glow. His expression is friendly without any warmth at all. It is the scariest thing he’s ever seen.
Dean places his hands on Sam’s ears, and a rush of night sounds returns to him, accompanied by the black smoke of burning corn stalks.
He looks into his brother’s eyes and sees nothing.
Dean is no longer Dean; he is an angel; Sam knows that now.
So he stands, walks, moves quickly and finds Castiel.
Sam holds Castiel’s torn, now human, body in his arms as they both watch their world disappear into thin air to the sound of wings.
Sam really wants to hurt Castiel in that moment.
He wants to take his hands, wrap them around the angel’s throat, and twist. In the end, he doesn’t do anything but find a motel bed, lay Castiel on it, and pass out.
Later, he will drag his brother’s angel to the ends of the earth in their search. He will bring his brother’s angel down with him, as if they are in a race to see who can fall the fastest. Castiel will swear it is not his choice; he was made to fall, his grace and wings taken by force, worse than Sam, worse than Lucifer. His charge was taken from him by Heaven’s most powerful weapon; none of them will ever know a thing like mercy.
Sam hears him call out for mercy, first from his Father, then his brothers and sisters. It’s when he starts calling for Dean, praying for him, that Sam decides he can’t take it anymore.
He takes his whole hand and covers half of Castiel’s face, from beneath his eyes to his chin. The crazed expression in his eyes, the one he always gets while praying, is turned on him completely, as if he had been watching Sam’s anger coil up in the corner of the room, just waiting to strike. Then Sam feels him go slack against him. He holds him against the wall with one hand and slaps him hard across the face with the other.
“Don’t give up on me now,” Sam says, daring him.
And Castiel just breathes hard, panting to get his breath back, and Sam sees he is lost. When Sam kisses him, he thinks it is only to stop his whining, it is only to stop his praying, it is only to stop him from being weak. Castiel opens his mouth and lets him; then when Sam doesn’t stop, doesn’t seem like he will ever stop, he kisses him back.
Sam holds Castiel still against the wall with his whole body. He thinks of no comfort; he ignores any protest. He rests his thumbs on the soft pad of flesh in front of Castiel’s ears and gently rubs them back and forth. Sam does it even more when he finds it makes the man shiver all the way down to his groin.
Later, he takes what opportunities he can to forget all gentleness, dig his fingers into the fallen angel’s ass, fuck him for hours, and think of Dean.
What Dean never understood is that as soon as he was gone, Sam could never think about anything else.
When the Trickster took Dean away for a practice run, all Sam ever fell asleep to every night was the image of Dean in his head and the feel of his dick in his hand. When Dean spent four months in Hell, he had to drink just to get Dean’s voice out of his head. When he started drinking demon blood, he started seeing Dean everywhere, like a succubus in his head, moaning for him always, in pleasure and in pain. It’s never gone away.
He takes what he can from the angel, and they both think of Dean.
Castiel’s spent years watching them. Castiel’s seen everything they’ve done. Things like this, things he used to do with Dean. Castiel needs more than ever to feel what Dean feels, to know him. Sam doesn’t pretend he’s not taking advantage. He takes as he pleases.
In his entire life, there is nothing he’s wanted more than to be worthy of his brother’s mercy. He’ll take what mercy he can get from Cas, and Cas will take his penance, and one day they will find Dean again.
part II