Fic: Five times... 6. December 2006 - Casting the First Stone
Title: Five Times Dean Was Saved. And One Time He Wasn't. Part 6
Author: felisblanco
Fandom: SPN
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Sam. OMC
Word Count: 2289
6. December 2006 - Casting the First Stone
Dean yawns and tries to straighten his legs as much as he can in the narrow pew. The heavy scent of incense and candles, along with the echoed silence that all cathedrals seem to hold, is lulling him to sleep and his eyelids keep slipping down, only to snap open every time his head starts falling forward and he jerks upright.
With a sigh he glances over at the small figure kneeling in the third row. The woman has been at it for half an hour now. No way such an old crone can have so many sins to pray absolution for. He sighs. Maybe she has a very sinful family. Something he can very well relate to.
His ass is getting numb from sitting on the wooden bench and for the hundredth time he checks his watch. Almost ten. Sam will be getting worried. He scratches his knee absentmindedly and glances over at the single worshipper again. If she doesn’t move within the next five minutes he’ll march up to the baptism font and fill the bottles in his bag, witnesses be damned. He frowns. Actually he’s not sure what the legal stands are regarding theft of holy water. He’ll have to get Sam to look it up.
Four more minutes. He lets his eyes drift shut and for a moment he’s back in Pastor Jim’s church, legs swinging, whispering obscenities to a blushing young Sam. The memory makes him smile. Sam’s never been able to let completely go of his fear for God. Dean has no idea where he got that from, neither Dean nor their dad ever had much respect for the guy.
Yeah ok, so holy water and crosses have their uses but so do Pagan symbols and Egyptian hieroglyphs so really, where is the proof? He has his own theory about the origin of religions being like the Tower of Babel. That once there had been one god - logic said female - and then through time everything got scrambled and split up into different stories and by the time someone finally invented writing and put them all down, no one remembered where they originated from. He has a vision of a woman overlooking the world, (in his mind she looks disturbingly much like his mother), weeping for what has become of her creation.
Dean shakes the image out of his head. If Sam knew Dean sometimes has thoughts like this he’ll never hear the end of it.
Especially now.
Sam’s constantly worrying about him. It’s like an obsession with him, worrying about his brother. It’s driving Dean completely insane.
Yes, their dad is dead. Yes, Dean isn’t really dealing but dammit, how the hell do you deal with a thing like that? With someone selling their soul to save your life? As far as he’s concerned there is no way of dealing and there really shouldn’t be. He’s guilty and he should suffer. End of story.
He’s just glad Sam doesn’t know everything. And if it’s up to Dean Sam never will. Dean will work it out somehow, on his own. It’s enough that he’s got Sam entangled in all this other… stuff.
“Have you found what you seek, son? Or would you like to sleep a little longer?”
Dean jerks awake and turns around, hand slipping inside his jacket, ready to draw out the gun, but all he sees is a middle-aged priest sitting in the pew behind him, watching him with an amused expression.
“I wasn’t sleeping. Just… praying.” He tries for his most honest smile even if Sam insists it makes him look like a serial killer.
“Ah. Praying.” The priest smiles and Dean can feel himself blushing. Damn. Was he snoring? “Well, I hate to disturb you but I’m afraid I must lock up.”
Dean frowns. “I thought the church was open until midnight.”
“It is. Which is why I let you… prey for as long as I could. It’s half past now.”
Dean stares at him. “It’s…? Oh shit, Sam’s gonna kill me.”
The priest raises his eyebrows and Dean realizes with horror that his blush is heating up even further. His ears feel like they’re burning. Dude, you are not thirteen. And this is not Pastor Jim catching you with your hand down Mandy Sloan’s pants.
“Erm… I mean… I’m sorry. It’s just… my brother is probably looking for me.” Dean offers an apologetic smile. “He worries. All the damn time,” he mutters more to himself then blushes again. Oh come on! “Sorry.”
The priest smiles in understanding. “He must love you very much.”
Dean snorted. “Yeah, well… He probably shouldn’t.” It slips out before he’s even thought it.
“No? Why?”
Dean clenches his jaw and straightens up. “Pardon me, father, but it’s really none of your business.”
“Everything is God’s business,” the priest answers with a reassuring smile.
“Well, if you ask me, God’s not much of a business man. Trump would have fired his a…fired him a long time ago.”
“Trump?”
“Donald. The Apprentice?” At the priest’s clueless look Dean sighs. “Nevermind. I better get going.” He stands up, then hesitates. “Look, this may sound weird but I need some holy water. Mind if I fill up from the font?”
The puzzled look on the priest’s face deepens but he shakes his head. “Help yourself.”
Dean nods and walks up the aisle, stopping in front of the marble and silver font. There isn’t much water left, barely enough for half a soda bottle. Damn. The priest joins him, looking down at the small puddle then up at Dean’s frowning face.
“I can bless some more if you like.”
Dean looks at him in surprise. “You don’t mind? You have no idea what I’m gonna use it for.”
“Holy water can only be used for good, son. But I guess you know that. You have demons you need to vanquish?”
Dean’s taken aback and he stares at the priest in shock. “Erm… yeah. Something like that.”
“Well, as much as I trust in the healing powers of belief myself, you don’t seem to be much of a believer. This is for your brother?”
Dean hesitates. “Sort of. And me. Both of us. It’s complicated.”
“Ah. Well, how much do you need?”
Dean opens his bag and takes out three empty soda bottles. “Is this ok?”
“Perfectly fine.” The priest takes the bottles from his hands and disappears with them into the back.
Dean looks around. Jesus is staring down at him from the cross above the altar, face twisted in torment, and Dean gives him a small nod. “Yeah, man. I hear you.”
He turns when he hears the priest coming up behind him, smiling thankfully as he accepts the bottles back. They weigh down the bag, making his shoulder throb in pain. He wonders if he can find some 24h pharmacy open. They’re out of Tylenol, among other things. Sam eats them like candy. The headaches seem to be worse now the visions are back.
The priest walks him down the aisle, patting Dean’s back in quiet reassurance as he again awkwardly offers his thanks. As he reaches for the heavy door, Dean suddenly hesitates and looks back up at the crucifixion above the altar before turning his gaze on the priest.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Jesus allegedly gave his life for humanity. For our sins.”
The priest gives him a patient smile. “Most certainly, yes.”
“Right. So, what is the church’s stand on sacrifice? Sacrificing one life for another?”
The priest frowns. “Are you thinking of… yourself?”
“No. Or yes. It’s…”
“Complicated.” The kind eyes crinkle with amusement.
“Yeah. Or no. Do you believe in evil, father?”
The man frowns. “As a concept or as an entity?”
“As something living and breathing amongst us that has to be fought with every means necessary.”
The priest seems to think for a moment. “Well, I suppose. In a way. Not physical devils and demons but most certainly personal ones.”
Dean sighs, then tries again. “What if someone gave in to evil for a good cause?”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“If someone sold their soul to save another. Shouldn’t the act in itself undo the pact? A perfectly selfless sacrifice… you’d think it would earn his soul a sure place in heaven. No questions asked. If there is a God, you’d think he’d like a guy like that on his side, not… the other.”
The priest blinks in confusion. “When you say ‘sold his soul’…?”
Dean purses his lips and shakes his head. “Nevermind.” He gives the priest a tired smile. “Thanks anyway.”
He reaches for the door but the priest lays a hand on his arm, stopping him. “You believe in evil, son?”
“Yes.” He laughs dryly. “Hard not to when you fight it every day.”
The priest nods. “Do you believe yourself to be evil?”
“Yes.” The word is out before he’s even thought of an answer and he blinks. “I mean, no. Not like that. But I’m not good either.”
“You want to confess your sins? Do you think that would make you feel better?”
Dean snorts. “I doubt it. My sins would give you nightmares, padre, and you’ve been much too nice to deserve that.”
“Nothing you tell me could ever shock me, son.”
“No?”
Dean laughs coldly, staring up at a painting of St. John the Baptist for a moment before suddenly turning to the priest, staring him right in the eye.
“I’m a killer. That’s my job. Demons, ghosts, creatures out of your worst nightmares… you name it and I kill those sonsofbitches without a second thought. Nothing to it.”
He waves his hand dismissively, ignoring the priest’s shocked stare. “I do it because someone has to but most importantly because I want to. It’s what I was born to do.”
“Son…”
“Lately though… there have been… humans. Sam says I didn’t have much choice, it was kill or be killed, and he’s probably right. I don’t care too much about those anyway. But… I’ve come back from the brink of death twice now and each time it cost a human life. And those I do care about.”
He nods as the priest involuntarily takes a step back. “The first one was a stranger but the second… the second was my father. He made a deal and now he’s dead and I’m alive.” He can feel tears stinging his eyes and he blinks them angrily away. “I’m alive and I don’t know why. What the hell I did to deserve to be here. Because I’ve sinned. I’ve sinned more than you can ever imagine and killing is the least of them.”
Nausea is rising in his throat but he can’t stop. It’s like a dam braking and he can’t close his mouth, can’t reign in his anger and frustration and the guilt so heavy he’s staggering underneath its weight.
“My brother… He escaped from this hell we call our life and I… I pulled him back in because I couldn’t bear to be alone. Got his girlfriend killed as a result. There’s another human life on my shoulders. So now it’s just him and me and we have no one else. I have no one else. I’m on my way to damnation and I’m dragging him with me.” His voice staggers and he pulls in a deep breath, trying to steady it. “Because I love him so damn much. I love him too much to let him go. And I don’t care if it destroys the both of us.”
A hand is laid on his arm and he looks up into confused but still kind eye. “Son, I don’t really understand what this is all about but you can never love a person too much. Love is the ultimate force. It’s never wrong.”
“It is if you love them the wrong way.”
The priest stares at him. “I don’t understand. What is…?” He pauses and then he visibly pales, pulling his hand away. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” Dean smiles bitterly. “Still believe you can save my soul, father?”
The man seems to hesitate but then he takes a deep breath and holds Dean’s eyes. “Yes. Does he know?”
Dean snorts, the bitter taste in his mouth burning his throat. “I think my cock up his ass might have given him a hint, yeah.”
The priest swallows. “Did you force him?”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it does. Did you?”
“No.” Despite everything he can’t help smiling. “To tell the truth… he started it.”
“Did he force you?”
“Sammy? Are you kidding me? I thought he’d pass out he was so scared.” At the disapproving look in the priest’s eyes Dean realizes he’s grinning and the chuckle dies on his lips. “We’re both adults, father. No one’s being taken advantage of here.”
“Incest… it’s one of the biggest sins. A deed so wrong, so abnormal…” The priest seems lost for words. “And still you claim to love him.”
Dean clenches his jaw, his eyes turning cold. “You know, I think we’re done here.” He turns to leave but the priest’s shaky voice stops him.
“Why did you come here? You thought I’d absolute you? That I would tell you God looks favorably upon your sinful bonding?” The priest shakes his head. “Nothing can make what you do right. You must stop now and repent. You must give up this… abomination. If not for your sake then for your brother’s. If you really do love him.”
Dean stands still for a moment but then he opens the door, not bothering to look back. “I came for the holy water, father. That’s all. That’s all I’ll ever want from your God.”
He slams the heavy door shut behind him, cutting off whatever retort the priest might have, and stands still on the church steps, swallowing the bile in his throat. The ground is covered in a thin layer of snow, an odd snowflake floating down from the black sky. Dean blinks, the weight on his chest suddenly lifting. He should feel horrified, even sick, but instead all he feels is relief.
He’s not going to stop. Not going to give up his brother or this thing they have, whatever it is. He can’t, and beside, Sam would never let him. So he’s damned.
A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Oh well, he can live with that.
He trots down the steps and heads for the car. His hands are already cold, his nose even colder. Well, Sammy’s the one who always wants to cuddle. Lets see how happy he’ll be when Dean crawls into bed.
Dean laughs quietly to himself as he swings away from the sidewalk and drives down the empty street, Highway To Hell blasting from the speakers. If that's where he's destined to go, he's gonna make sure he enjoys every minute of the ride.
fin
Author: felisblanco
Fandom: SPN
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Sam. OMC
Word Count: 2289
6. December 2006 - Casting the First Stone
Dean yawns and tries to straighten his legs as much as he can in the narrow pew. The heavy scent of incense and candles, along with the echoed silence that all cathedrals seem to hold, is lulling him to sleep and his eyelids keep slipping down, only to snap open every time his head starts falling forward and he jerks upright.
With a sigh he glances over at the small figure kneeling in the third row. The woman has been at it for half an hour now. No way such an old crone can have so many sins to pray absolution for. He sighs. Maybe she has a very sinful family. Something he can very well relate to.
His ass is getting numb from sitting on the wooden bench and for the hundredth time he checks his watch. Almost ten. Sam will be getting worried. He scratches his knee absentmindedly and glances over at the single worshipper again. If she doesn’t move within the next five minutes he’ll march up to the baptism font and fill the bottles in his bag, witnesses be damned. He frowns. Actually he’s not sure what the legal stands are regarding theft of holy water. He’ll have to get Sam to look it up.
Four more minutes. He lets his eyes drift shut and for a moment he’s back in Pastor Jim’s church, legs swinging, whispering obscenities to a blushing young Sam. The memory makes him smile. Sam’s never been able to let completely go of his fear for God. Dean has no idea where he got that from, neither Dean nor their dad ever had much respect for the guy.
Yeah ok, so holy water and crosses have their uses but so do Pagan symbols and Egyptian hieroglyphs so really, where is the proof? He has his own theory about the origin of religions being like the Tower of Babel. That once there had been one god - logic said female - and then through time everything got scrambled and split up into different stories and by the time someone finally invented writing and put them all down, no one remembered where they originated from. He has a vision of a woman overlooking the world, (in his mind she looks disturbingly much like his mother), weeping for what has become of her creation.
Dean shakes the image out of his head. If Sam knew Dean sometimes has thoughts like this he’ll never hear the end of it.
Especially now.
Sam’s constantly worrying about him. It’s like an obsession with him, worrying about his brother. It’s driving Dean completely insane.
Yes, their dad is dead. Yes, Dean isn’t really dealing but dammit, how the hell do you deal with a thing like that? With someone selling their soul to save your life? As far as he’s concerned there is no way of dealing and there really shouldn’t be. He’s guilty and he should suffer. End of story.
He’s just glad Sam doesn’t know everything. And if it’s up to Dean Sam never will. Dean will work it out somehow, on his own. It’s enough that he’s got Sam entangled in all this other… stuff.
“Have you found what you seek, son? Or would you like to sleep a little longer?”
Dean jerks awake and turns around, hand slipping inside his jacket, ready to draw out the gun, but all he sees is a middle-aged priest sitting in the pew behind him, watching him with an amused expression.
“I wasn’t sleeping. Just… praying.” He tries for his most honest smile even if Sam insists it makes him look like a serial killer.
“Ah. Praying.” The priest smiles and Dean can feel himself blushing. Damn. Was he snoring? “Well, I hate to disturb you but I’m afraid I must lock up.”
Dean frowns. “I thought the church was open until midnight.”
“It is. Which is why I let you… prey for as long as I could. It’s half past now.”
Dean stares at him. “It’s…? Oh shit, Sam’s gonna kill me.”
The priest raises his eyebrows and Dean realizes with horror that his blush is heating up even further. His ears feel like they’re burning. Dude, you are not thirteen. And this is not Pastor Jim catching you with your hand down Mandy Sloan’s pants.
“Erm… I mean… I’m sorry. It’s just… my brother is probably looking for me.” Dean offers an apologetic smile. “He worries. All the damn time,” he mutters more to himself then blushes again. Oh come on! “Sorry.”
The priest smiles in understanding. “He must love you very much.”
Dean snorted. “Yeah, well… He probably shouldn’t.” It slips out before he’s even thought it.
“No? Why?”
Dean clenches his jaw and straightens up. “Pardon me, father, but it’s really none of your business.”
“Everything is God’s business,” the priest answers with a reassuring smile.
“Well, if you ask me, God’s not much of a business man. Trump would have fired his a…fired him a long time ago.”
“Trump?”
“Donald. The Apprentice?” At the priest’s clueless look Dean sighs. “Nevermind. I better get going.” He stands up, then hesitates. “Look, this may sound weird but I need some holy water. Mind if I fill up from the font?”
The puzzled look on the priest’s face deepens but he shakes his head. “Help yourself.”
Dean nods and walks up the aisle, stopping in front of the marble and silver font. There isn’t much water left, barely enough for half a soda bottle. Damn. The priest joins him, looking down at the small puddle then up at Dean’s frowning face.
“I can bless some more if you like.”
Dean looks at him in surprise. “You don’t mind? You have no idea what I’m gonna use it for.”
“Holy water can only be used for good, son. But I guess you know that. You have demons you need to vanquish?”
Dean’s taken aback and he stares at the priest in shock. “Erm… yeah. Something like that.”
“Well, as much as I trust in the healing powers of belief myself, you don’t seem to be much of a believer. This is for your brother?”
Dean hesitates. “Sort of. And me. Both of us. It’s complicated.”
“Ah. Well, how much do you need?”
Dean opens his bag and takes out three empty soda bottles. “Is this ok?”
“Perfectly fine.” The priest takes the bottles from his hands and disappears with them into the back.
Dean looks around. Jesus is staring down at him from the cross above the altar, face twisted in torment, and Dean gives him a small nod. “Yeah, man. I hear you.”
He turns when he hears the priest coming up behind him, smiling thankfully as he accepts the bottles back. They weigh down the bag, making his shoulder throb in pain. He wonders if he can find some 24h pharmacy open. They’re out of Tylenol, among other things. Sam eats them like candy. The headaches seem to be worse now the visions are back.
The priest walks him down the aisle, patting Dean’s back in quiet reassurance as he again awkwardly offers his thanks. As he reaches for the heavy door, Dean suddenly hesitates and looks back up at the crucifixion above the altar before turning his gaze on the priest.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Jesus allegedly gave his life for humanity. For our sins.”
The priest gives him a patient smile. “Most certainly, yes.”
“Right. So, what is the church’s stand on sacrifice? Sacrificing one life for another?”
The priest frowns. “Are you thinking of… yourself?”
“No. Or yes. It’s…”
“Complicated.” The kind eyes crinkle with amusement.
“Yeah. Or no. Do you believe in evil, father?”
The man frowns. “As a concept or as an entity?”
“As something living and breathing amongst us that has to be fought with every means necessary.”
The priest seems to think for a moment. “Well, I suppose. In a way. Not physical devils and demons but most certainly personal ones.”
Dean sighs, then tries again. “What if someone gave in to evil for a good cause?”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“If someone sold their soul to save another. Shouldn’t the act in itself undo the pact? A perfectly selfless sacrifice… you’d think it would earn his soul a sure place in heaven. No questions asked. If there is a God, you’d think he’d like a guy like that on his side, not… the other.”
The priest blinks in confusion. “When you say ‘sold his soul’…?”
Dean purses his lips and shakes his head. “Nevermind.” He gives the priest a tired smile. “Thanks anyway.”
He reaches for the door but the priest lays a hand on his arm, stopping him. “You believe in evil, son?”
“Yes.” He laughs dryly. “Hard not to when you fight it every day.”
The priest nods. “Do you believe yourself to be evil?”
“Yes.” The word is out before he’s even thought of an answer and he blinks. “I mean, no. Not like that. But I’m not good either.”
“You want to confess your sins? Do you think that would make you feel better?”
Dean snorts. “I doubt it. My sins would give you nightmares, padre, and you’ve been much too nice to deserve that.”
“Nothing you tell me could ever shock me, son.”
“No?”
Dean laughs coldly, staring up at a painting of St. John the Baptist for a moment before suddenly turning to the priest, staring him right in the eye.
“I’m a killer. That’s my job. Demons, ghosts, creatures out of your worst nightmares… you name it and I kill those sonsofbitches without a second thought. Nothing to it.”
He waves his hand dismissively, ignoring the priest’s shocked stare. “I do it because someone has to but most importantly because I want to. It’s what I was born to do.”
“Son…”
“Lately though… there have been… humans. Sam says I didn’t have much choice, it was kill or be killed, and he’s probably right. I don’t care too much about those anyway. But… I’ve come back from the brink of death twice now and each time it cost a human life. And those I do care about.”
He nods as the priest involuntarily takes a step back. “The first one was a stranger but the second… the second was my father. He made a deal and now he’s dead and I’m alive.” He can feel tears stinging his eyes and he blinks them angrily away. “I’m alive and I don’t know why. What the hell I did to deserve to be here. Because I’ve sinned. I’ve sinned more than you can ever imagine and killing is the least of them.”
Nausea is rising in his throat but he can’t stop. It’s like a dam braking and he can’t close his mouth, can’t reign in his anger and frustration and the guilt so heavy he’s staggering underneath its weight.
“My brother… He escaped from this hell we call our life and I… I pulled him back in because I couldn’t bear to be alone. Got his girlfriend killed as a result. There’s another human life on my shoulders. So now it’s just him and me and we have no one else. I have no one else. I’m on my way to damnation and I’m dragging him with me.” His voice staggers and he pulls in a deep breath, trying to steady it. “Because I love him so damn much. I love him too much to let him go. And I don’t care if it destroys the both of us.”
A hand is laid on his arm and he looks up into confused but still kind eye. “Son, I don’t really understand what this is all about but you can never love a person too much. Love is the ultimate force. It’s never wrong.”
“It is if you love them the wrong way.”
The priest stares at him. “I don’t understand. What is…?” He pauses and then he visibly pales, pulling his hand away. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” Dean smiles bitterly. “Still believe you can save my soul, father?”
The man seems to hesitate but then he takes a deep breath and holds Dean’s eyes. “Yes. Does he know?”
Dean snorts, the bitter taste in his mouth burning his throat. “I think my cock up his ass might have given him a hint, yeah.”
The priest swallows. “Did you force him?”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it does. Did you?”
“No.” Despite everything he can’t help smiling. “To tell the truth… he started it.”
“Did he force you?”
“Sammy? Are you kidding me? I thought he’d pass out he was so scared.” At the disapproving look in the priest’s eyes Dean realizes he’s grinning and the chuckle dies on his lips. “We’re both adults, father. No one’s being taken advantage of here.”
“Incest… it’s one of the biggest sins. A deed so wrong, so abnormal…” The priest seems lost for words. “And still you claim to love him.”
Dean clenches his jaw, his eyes turning cold. “You know, I think we’re done here.” He turns to leave but the priest’s shaky voice stops him.
“Why did you come here? You thought I’d absolute you? That I would tell you God looks favorably upon your sinful bonding?” The priest shakes his head. “Nothing can make what you do right. You must stop now and repent. You must give up this… abomination. If not for your sake then for your brother’s. If you really do love him.”
Dean stands still for a moment but then he opens the door, not bothering to look back. “I came for the holy water, father. That’s all. That’s all I’ll ever want from your God.”
He slams the heavy door shut behind him, cutting off whatever retort the priest might have, and stands still on the church steps, swallowing the bile in his throat. The ground is covered in a thin layer of snow, an odd snowflake floating down from the black sky. Dean blinks, the weight on his chest suddenly lifting. He should feel horrified, even sick, but instead all he feels is relief.
He’s not going to stop. Not going to give up his brother or this thing they have, whatever it is. He can’t, and beside, Sam would never let him. So he’s damned.
A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Oh well, he can live with that.
He trots down the steps and heads for the car. His hands are already cold, his nose even colder. Well, Sammy’s the one who always wants to cuddle. Lets see how happy he’ll be when Dean crawls into bed.
Dean laughs quietly to himself as he swings away from the sidewalk and drives down the empty street, Highway To Hell blasting from the speakers. If that's where he's destined to go, he's gonna make sure he enjoys every minute of the ride.
fin