The Angel and The Devil, Heavy On Your Shoulders [3/22] Sam/Dean, R
MASTER POST for warnings, author's notes, and link to art
PROLOGUE. I’m In a Bad Place Right Now.
--Chapter 3--
“We’ve been through a hell of a lot together, haven’t we, Dean?”
Dean twisted and screamed on his rack, as Sam dug in a little deeper.
“We’re close. Really close. Always have been, right?”
“Please, please, Sam. Don’t! No!”
“You’re my big brother. You protect me. You know, except for when you didn’t. You always saved me, right? Except for when you couldn’t.” Sam let out a little sigh, reflective. “You remember that, don’t you Dean? That night?”
Dean shrieked as Sam’s fingers grazed lightly over the chambers of his heart.
“Course you do. We’ve shared practically everything. All our lives, we had to share everything.”
Sam’s fingernail tickled Dean’s spine from the inside. It felt odd and god awful and given the use of his arms, Dean would have torn his own head off to not have to feel it.
“It occurs to me Dean, of all the shit I had to share with you, only I know what it’s like to have your spinal cord severed.”
“No, no, no no no, Sammy, please no!”
Dean was strapped down with strips of hide-hide of what, Dean never wanted to know. Sam leaned close to Dean’s neck, his hot breath sweeping over Dean’s collarbone and breezing over his open, pulsating chest. Dean tried frantically to turn, to keep Sam’s teeth in sight-in all the years that Sam was in charge of Dean’s everlasting torment, Dean had learned to watch the teeth. At present, however, Sam only whispered into Dean’s ear.
“You wanna share, Dean?”
Something--something of pretty significant fucking importance--snapped inside Dean between Sam’s fingers. Dean’s eyes rolled back, and his jaw hurt from screaming-except, only gurgling mindless noises foamed from his mouth. His limbs went limp and Hell strobed black and red and white with the forced beating of his heart, which was begging, just begging, to stop.
“Let’s call this a bonding moment, hmm, big brother?” Sam said softly into Dean’s ear.
Dean took a deep breath and realized with dismay that he was whole again. He choked on a sob. A fluffy white towel appeared in Sam’s hands, and he wiped off the arm coated in ruby red up to the elbow. “I’m glad we did that together,” Sam said with a satisfied grin. “I feel closer to you than ever, man.”
There weren’t many words left in Dean’s mind, Hell had burned most of them away. But there were still three left at least, always on his tongue.
“Sammy, please…no…”
Sam’s expression shifted like lava, from pleased calm to rage. He stomped his way to Dean, bunched the blood-soaked towel and pressed it hard over Dean’s mouth and nose as he tsk-ed at his brother angrily.
“Dean, Dean, Dean. You know how to make it stop. So quit begging me like a pathetic little bitch. You know how to stop this Dean. You choose to go through this-to put me through this. You think I enjoy doing these things to you?”
Dean struggled against the leathery bonds holding him down. Sam’s sheer force was going to crush his skull eventually, but his first concern was breathing. He reminded himself that he was dead-he didn’t need air, couldn’t suffocate, and couldn’t die.
It didn’t help.
“Well, alright, you got me,” Sam went on. “Maybe I do enjoy it, a little. But still, Dean, come on! Jesus Christ, you were supposed to be the badass one, here. Now look at you. Shitting yourself over a little asphyxiation. Loser.”
Sam relaxed, letting the towel slip away and smiling cruelly at Dean’s strangled gasp.
“Climb off your big dumb cross already, will you? You need to learn, Dean.”
Sam’s hand came up to crush Dean’s jaw in his tight grasp, just to make sure he was paying attention. Dean was all fucking ears.
“You need to learn that sometimes, you can’t be a savior. You need to learn that sometimes, you gotta get dirty. You can’t save everyone, Dean, didn’t you say that to me?” Sam gripped his knife, that same ivory-handled knife, and held it just a scant inch above the faded jade of Dean’s eye. “Sometimes, there is no happy ending. Remember that.”
In an inhuman flash, Sam tossed the knife to his other hand and sliced Dean from neck to nuts like he was cutting through butter. Taking no notice of Dean’s screams, he shoved a hand through the gaping slash in Dean’s skin again and a fist clenched around Dean’s heart, and he could see Sam breathe in and prepare to pull.
“No one likes a bleeding heart, Dean. Well. Almost no one.” Sam smiled.
“No! Sammy, wait! Wait! Please!”
The pressure wrapped around his heart weakened, but never went away.
“Yeah, Dean?” Sam asked cheerfully.
“If..if I do this…” Dean huffed slowly, struggling to form words with what might have been a broken jaw and collapsed trachea, “if I take…take the deal…will you go?”
“Away?”
“Away. Yes. Fuck…fucking far away.”
Sam slipped his arm out of Dean with a squelch that made him dizzy, and tapped a bloody finger against his chin, thoughtful.
“Well, Dean, you know as well as I do that I’m not the head honcho here. I might have been, maybe I could have been, but you and Dad fucked that chance to Hell. You just made me a freak when I could have been a king if you hadn’t both been such pussies. You morons never thought it might come in handy to have a demon in the family.”
Sam took a handful of his hair and pulled, staring into Dean in a way that made him feel like Sam’s fingers were still playing across his vertebrae.
“Prejudice is an ugly thing, Dean.”
He let Dean’s head fall back against his rack with a crack that lit up Dean’s sore skull.
“Anyway, even though I’m not calling the shots, I think it can be arranged. So is that it then? You’ll take the deal? Your fat out of the fire if you put someone else’s in? Oh, fine, don’t answer--I’ll just take your snot and tears for a yes.”
Sam slapped his hands against his jeans, wiping off blood and looking thoroughly satisfied…even friendly. It terrified Dean. Sam clapped a hand on Dean’s shoulder and appeared to not notice how Dean shuddered and trembled under his harmless touch.
“Man, this is awesome. I was starting to think you’d never crack. And tell you the truth, I was starting to kinda run out of ideas here. So let’s celebrate just a little, hunh? I think we deserve it. Just tell me Dean, who do you want to do first, hmm? Anyone. Who do you want slapped up on this rack? Whose insides do you want to see?”
Dean was consumed with the task of breathing, staring straight out into his own fiery corner of Hades. His home.
“Okay, I’ll get you started. How about…let’s see…Missouri? I think she’s probably around here somewhere, and she always was kind of a bitch to you, wasn’t she? Not your flavor? Okay…remember those Stepford witches we iced about a million years ago? I know you have a thing about witches. Help me out here, Dean. Pick a soul, any soul.”
Silence echoed in the Pit.
"Dean. You know how it bothers me when you don't answer--"
“You,” Dean snarled, low and clear. “I want you.”
Sam nodded with a sympathetic expression. “Just not that soul. Sorry, Dean. It’s understandable, believe me, I get it, but that’s just not an option. My soul’s not on the table…or the rack….whatever.”
Dean let his head drop back and fall away from Sam’s smiling, shining face. He tingled slightly all over, like he had fallen asleep from head to toe. His body throbbed, like his skin was too tight. He didn’t feel the tears crawl down his face, but he did feel Sam’s hand ruffling his hair. He strained his neck trying to yank away from it.
“Oh, Dean. Don’t worry. I’ll pick someone for you. I’ll pick someone you’ll like. Trust me-I know you. Oh, and, here. You’ll need this. At least, to start with.” Dean felt Sam tenderly wrap his hand around carved ivory-the knife that had been taking him to pieces for what seemed like forever. “I know it’s in good hands.”
Dean couldn't move, couldn't think, could just barely hold his body in check as it shook violently, trying to break itself apart. He clutched the handle of the blade like it was a friend, his only god damn friend in all of Hell-fuck, in all of everywhere.
It was then Dean was free, bonds gone and body whole, and Sam had vanished. Experimentally, he moved his arms, his legs, suddenly all in one piece and clothed. His body belonged to him. Dean brought the glinting blade closer to his face and examined it coolly. It still looked new. Without much thought, he brought the broad side of the knife to his mouth and ran his tongue up the blade. It was a part of him. He was whole, and he was ready.
Dean smiled.
"Everybody's talkin' crazy...some think I am a dare and maybe...don't want to hear about it...don't want to have to scream and shout at fools no more..." he sang softly, rubbing a thumb on the edge of the blade.
If Dean never saw his brother again for all the rest of his god-forsaken fucking eternity, well, that would really be for the best.
-part I.one-
PROLOGUE. I’m In a Bad Place Right Now.
--Chapter 3--
“We’ve been through a hell of a lot together, haven’t we, Dean?”
Dean twisted and screamed on his rack, as Sam dug in a little deeper.
“We’re close. Really close. Always have been, right?”
“Please, please, Sam. Don’t! No!”
“You’re my big brother. You protect me. You know, except for when you didn’t. You always saved me, right? Except for when you couldn’t.” Sam let out a little sigh, reflective. “You remember that, don’t you Dean? That night?”
Dean shrieked as Sam’s fingers grazed lightly over the chambers of his heart.
“Course you do. We’ve shared practically everything. All our lives, we had to share everything.”
Sam’s fingernail tickled Dean’s spine from the inside. It felt odd and god awful and given the use of his arms, Dean would have torn his own head off to not have to feel it.
“It occurs to me Dean, of all the shit I had to share with you, only I know what it’s like to have your spinal cord severed.”
“No, no, no no no, Sammy, please no!”
Dean was strapped down with strips of hide-hide of what, Dean never wanted to know. Sam leaned close to Dean’s neck, his hot breath sweeping over Dean’s collarbone and breezing over his open, pulsating chest. Dean tried frantically to turn, to keep Sam’s teeth in sight-in all the years that Sam was in charge of Dean’s everlasting torment, Dean had learned to watch the teeth. At present, however, Sam only whispered into Dean’s ear.
“You wanna share, Dean?”
Something--something of pretty significant fucking importance--snapped inside Dean between Sam’s fingers. Dean’s eyes rolled back, and his jaw hurt from screaming-except, only gurgling mindless noises foamed from his mouth. His limbs went limp and Hell strobed black and red and white with the forced beating of his heart, which was begging, just begging, to stop.
“Let’s call this a bonding moment, hmm, big brother?” Sam said softly into Dean’s ear.
Dean took a deep breath and realized with dismay that he was whole again. He choked on a sob. A fluffy white towel appeared in Sam’s hands, and he wiped off the arm coated in ruby red up to the elbow. “I’m glad we did that together,” Sam said with a satisfied grin. “I feel closer to you than ever, man.”
There weren’t many words left in Dean’s mind, Hell had burned most of them away. But there were still three left at least, always on his tongue.
“Sammy, please…no…”
Sam’s expression shifted like lava, from pleased calm to rage. He stomped his way to Dean, bunched the blood-soaked towel and pressed it hard over Dean’s mouth and nose as he tsk-ed at his brother angrily.
“Dean, Dean, Dean. You know how to make it stop. So quit begging me like a pathetic little bitch. You know how to stop this Dean. You choose to go through this-to put me through this. You think I enjoy doing these things to you?”
Dean struggled against the leathery bonds holding him down. Sam’s sheer force was going to crush his skull eventually, but his first concern was breathing. He reminded himself that he was dead-he didn’t need air, couldn’t suffocate, and couldn’t die.
It didn’t help.
“Well, alright, you got me,” Sam went on. “Maybe I do enjoy it, a little. But still, Dean, come on! Jesus Christ, you were supposed to be the badass one, here. Now look at you. Shitting yourself over a little asphyxiation. Loser.”
Sam relaxed, letting the towel slip away and smiling cruelly at Dean’s strangled gasp.
“Climb off your big dumb cross already, will you? You need to learn, Dean.”
Sam’s hand came up to crush Dean’s jaw in his tight grasp, just to make sure he was paying attention. Dean was all fucking ears.
“You need to learn that sometimes, you can’t be a savior. You need to learn that sometimes, you gotta get dirty. You can’t save everyone, Dean, didn’t you say that to me?” Sam gripped his knife, that same ivory-handled knife, and held it just a scant inch above the faded jade of Dean’s eye. “Sometimes, there is no happy ending. Remember that.”
In an inhuman flash, Sam tossed the knife to his other hand and sliced Dean from neck to nuts like he was cutting through butter. Taking no notice of Dean’s screams, he shoved a hand through the gaping slash in Dean’s skin again and a fist clenched around Dean’s heart, and he could see Sam breathe in and prepare to pull.
“No one likes a bleeding heart, Dean. Well. Almost no one.” Sam smiled.
“No! Sammy, wait! Wait! Please!”
The pressure wrapped around his heart weakened, but never went away.
“Yeah, Dean?” Sam asked cheerfully.
“If..if I do this…” Dean huffed slowly, struggling to form words with what might have been a broken jaw and collapsed trachea, “if I take…take the deal…will you go?”
“Away?”
“Away. Yes. Fuck…fucking far away.”
Sam slipped his arm out of Dean with a squelch that made him dizzy, and tapped a bloody finger against his chin, thoughtful.
“Well, Dean, you know as well as I do that I’m not the head honcho here. I might have been, maybe I could have been, but you and Dad fucked that chance to Hell. You just made me a freak when I could have been a king if you hadn’t both been such pussies. You morons never thought it might come in handy to have a demon in the family.”
Sam took a handful of his hair and pulled, staring into Dean in a way that made him feel like Sam’s fingers were still playing across his vertebrae.
“Prejudice is an ugly thing, Dean.”
He let Dean’s head fall back against his rack with a crack that lit up Dean’s sore skull.
“Anyway, even though I’m not calling the shots, I think it can be arranged. So is that it then? You’ll take the deal? Your fat out of the fire if you put someone else’s in? Oh, fine, don’t answer--I’ll just take your snot and tears for a yes.”
Sam slapped his hands against his jeans, wiping off blood and looking thoroughly satisfied…even friendly. It terrified Dean. Sam clapped a hand on Dean’s shoulder and appeared to not notice how Dean shuddered and trembled under his harmless touch.
“Man, this is awesome. I was starting to think you’d never crack. And tell you the truth, I was starting to kinda run out of ideas here. So let’s celebrate just a little, hunh? I think we deserve it. Just tell me Dean, who do you want to do first, hmm? Anyone. Who do you want slapped up on this rack? Whose insides do you want to see?”
Dean was consumed with the task of breathing, staring straight out into his own fiery corner of Hades. His home.
“Okay, I’ll get you started. How about…let’s see…Missouri? I think she’s probably around here somewhere, and she always was kind of a bitch to you, wasn’t she? Not your flavor? Okay…remember those Stepford witches we iced about a million years ago? I know you have a thing about witches. Help me out here, Dean. Pick a soul, any soul.”
Silence echoed in the Pit.
"Dean. You know how it bothers me when you don't answer--"
“You,” Dean snarled, low and clear. “I want you.”
Sam nodded with a sympathetic expression. “Just not that soul. Sorry, Dean. It’s understandable, believe me, I get it, but that’s just not an option. My soul’s not on the table…or the rack….whatever.”
Dean let his head drop back and fall away from Sam’s smiling, shining face. He tingled slightly all over, like he had fallen asleep from head to toe. His body throbbed, like his skin was too tight. He didn’t feel the tears crawl down his face, but he did feel Sam’s hand ruffling his hair. He strained his neck trying to yank away from it.
“Oh, Dean. Don’t worry. I’ll pick someone for you. I’ll pick someone you’ll like. Trust me-I know you. Oh, and, here. You’ll need this. At least, to start with.” Dean felt Sam tenderly wrap his hand around carved ivory-the knife that had been taking him to pieces for what seemed like forever. “I know it’s in good hands.”
Dean couldn't move, couldn't think, could just barely hold his body in check as it shook violently, trying to break itself apart. He clutched the handle of the blade like it was a friend, his only god damn friend in all of Hell-fuck, in all of everywhere.
It was then Dean was free, bonds gone and body whole, and Sam had vanished. Experimentally, he moved his arms, his legs, suddenly all in one piece and clothed. His body belonged to him. Dean brought the glinting blade closer to his face and examined it coolly. It still looked new. Without much thought, he brought the broad side of the knife to his mouth and ran his tongue up the blade. It was a part of him. He was whole, and he was ready.
Dean smiled.
"Everybody's talkin' crazy...some think I am a dare and maybe...don't want to hear about it...don't want to have to scream and shout at fools no more..." he sang softly, rubbing a thumb on the edge of the blade.
If Dean never saw his brother again for all the rest of his god-forsaken fucking eternity, well, that would really be for the best.
-part I.one-