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vail_kagamiFandom: Supernatural
Beta:
minviendhaCharacters (overall): Dean, Castiel, Sam, plus a number of angels and demons
Rating (overall): NC-17
Warnings (overall): violence, torture, drug use, insanity, mentions of rape
Spoilers: Going AU during episode 5.18: Point of No Return. No spoilers for after season five.
Words (this chapter): 9,083
Summary: A man wakes up in a ruined wasteland, without memories, without a name, without knowing the strange guy who claims he used to be an angel, or that he once had a little brother. All he knows is that the world is dying, everyone is lying to him and that somehow, somewhere, something went terribly wrong. Because someone said Yes when they should have said No, and someone else paid the price.
Masterpost
Jena does exactly what Dean expects her to do: she bleeds the demons out, fills two flasks with their blood and stores them away. Sam watches her do so sitting on a stone and rocking back and forth, his arms wrapped around himself, shivering endlessly. His lips are moving, but Dean can only make out his words when his brother finally looks at him and sobs, “I’m sorry.”
‘It’s okay,’ Dean wants to say. He can’t get his lips to move, his voice to work, though, and Sam looks crushed; heartbroken and guilty, and Dean’s doing that, he’s doing it again, which means he needs to make his brother (his little brother, fuck) understand that it’s not him he’s angry with but the whole fucking world. So he scoots over and pulls Sammy into his arms then, holds him close and lets him sob into his shoulder.
He rather feels like crying himself.
They have no time to linger and offer each other comfort, though. As soon as Jena got all the blood the flasks can hold out of the dead bodies, she urges them to move on, having no patience for either of their emotional states. She doesn’t mount her horse this time but only loads it with some lighter bags and leads it by the reins, walking at a brisk pace. They’re probably faster this way than if she were riding the weakening animal.
The wound on Dean’s neck doesn’t stop bleeding. He eventually gives up just applying pressure to it and wraps a makeshift bandage around it, nearly strangling himself in the process as the wagon rumbles over uneven ground. He’s taken the reins out of necessity, because Cas is hurt, his hand bleeding like crazy. He’s in the back, trying to bind his own hand and not quite succeeding. Sam sits beside him, eying the blood running over the fallen angel’s hand with something like insanity in his eyes, something that makes Dean want to jump over and hold him down whenever he looks back at them. But when Sam does move, it’s to help his friend, his own hands trembling so hard it doesn’t make much difference.
“Does it hurt?” Dean hears him ask quietly, and Cas replies, “It’ll heal. I’m not angel enough anymore for this to permanently disable me,” which isn’t really an answer.
The cut in Dean’s neck hurts like a bitch, but it’s only when he starts thinking about it that he even notices. It mostly hurts when he turns around, but that doesn’t stop him. It’s not just his brother and their friend he keeps looking at, he’s also keeping watch for any signs that they are being followed, by ghosts or by demons. There are none, but the demons they just met appeared out of nowhere, too, so that’s not actually very encouraging.
“How could they find us?” he asks Jena when she is walking right beside him. “I thought we were protected from discovery.”
“We’re protected from discovery by supernatural means,” Jena corrects him. “No angel or demon can sense us. But they can still track our traces. In this case, I fear they just got lucky. Maybe they were possessing someone from the village we passed. Now we can only hope that they were demons about it and neglected to tell anyone else about us, wanting to get all the praise for themselves. Otherwise, the rest of the journey is going to be decidedly less pleasant.”
“But it would be just demons, right?” Demons would be bad enough but angels would be much, much worse. If it was really by coincidence that these demons found them, they might have a chance, but if Crowley once had undercover-agents among Lucifer’s troops, maybe Lucifer has undercover-agents in Crowley’s.
“I would hope so. It really does look like a lucky find, though. The demons were speaking of rumors and didn’t know about me. They can’t know too much about what went down in Detroit beyond the fact that Sam is back now.” She throws a quick, somewhat worried glance at Dean’s brother and Dean automatically does the same. Sam is half-lying in Castiel’s lap, the angel’s good hand stroking his hair. He’s shivering constantly.
For once, Jena makes no comment to tease Dean about Sam’s and Castiel’s closeness.
They have to stop not long after because Jena’s horse can barely keep up anymore and even the one pulling the wagon is getting tired. It had the harder task for days now with its companion slowly giving up the ghost and in the end there is no other choice but to stop beside the first pond they find to let the horses drink and rest. No one likes it. Both angels are tense, their senses obviously set on the environment, listening for anything out of the ordinary so they won’t get surprised again. Dean is no less tense, his attention divided between the slope of the mountain to the right, the meager trees to the left and Sam, who is just as tense, but for entirely different reasons. He’s writhing weakly in Cas’ arms, his nails digging into his own arms. Dean isn’t sure the outside world even exists for his brother anymore.
Jena climbs around beside him, kicking parts of their luggage off the wagon – mostly the remaining logs they stole from the collection of the murdered villagers, and Dean is overcome by the absurd hope that the ghosts were only after these and will bother them no longer. For Dean and the others, the wood now only creates weight and takes up space they need for the stuff the brown horse was originally carrying, since they can’t risk making a fire anymore.
Even though they don’t intend to stay for long, Dean reluctantly frees the grey and white horse from its harness so it can rest properly. It drinks greedily while the other one just kind of sniffs at the water a little, but when he offers it food it turns its head away and trots off to lie down in the first available space. Dean’s stomach sinks. They still have two days to go.
Suddenly, randomly, he’s glad that they never gave the horses names.
In the end they can’t take the state of the animals into consideration too much, can’t rest for too long. They move on but it’s slower now. Jena keeps leading her horse, letting it carry their bags instead, and Cas is walking as well, further reducing the weight the other one has to pull. Still they barely keep going until nightfall when the weaker horse refuses to take another step.
They take another reluctant break. Jena keeps growling at both their horses as if they hadn’t worked themselves to death from them, but even if they’d been healthy, they wouldn’t have made it any further this day. It’s getting too dark to keep moving on in this area.
At least one of the horses still drinks, but even that one is starting to look unwell now. It might be better to abandon the wagon soon, but Sam is ill again, whimpering and tossing and feverish, and he can’t stay in the saddle all day. The whole situation pretty much sucks.
The brown horse disappears at some point that night. Dean notices its absence when the first light of morning lets the mountain loom over them as a giant shadow, and they get ready to move on. He finds it behind a rock and doesn’t recognize it at first, because it’s not only dead, it looks like it has been dead for days.
Smells like it, too. Up close, the stench of rotting flesh almost makes him gag.
“What’s with the fucking horse?” he hisses when he finds Jena not far away, tapping her foot impatiently as if just waiting for him so they can leave. She frowns at him before getting what he’s talking about. From where they are she can’t see the dead horse, but at least she’s looking in the right direction.
“Not a big loss at this point. It was past its expiration date anyway,” she shrugs.
“By a long time, by the look of it!” Dean isn’t confused because he’s been dealing with supernatural shit all his life. He’s just fucking incredulous.” Please tell me we didn’t travel with a zombie horse all this time!”
Jena, as expected, doesn’t seem to have a problem with that. “No normal horse would have been able to get us this far on so little and pulling one out of thin air would have attracted attention. It’s not a zombie as such.”
“What’s it, then?”
“Undead.”
Sometimes Dean feels like inflicting a similar state on her. Just possible without the ‘un-‘.
Beside him, the living horse snorts softly. Though ‘living’ might be too strong a word in this case. Dean looks into its dark eyes and can’t help the urge to take a step back.
But it can’t be helped. They have to leave – not just because they are on the run and actually feeling it for once, but also because they are running out of horse-power. They need to make it as far as possible with the one they have left, and they need to keep the wagon as long as they can. Their horse is running out of vitality, but at least it might be able to pull for another day.
One more day Sam can rest. Somehow, Dean expected him to get magically better now he got his demon blood. As much as Dean hates the thought of Sam using again, he’s actually shocked that it didn’t help.
It changed things for Sam, sure. But now he’s just miserable in another way. And probably hating himself, the fucking moron.
Dean knows he shouldn’t put too much weight on the wagon, which means he has to walk as Cas has already taken the place on the bench, but he climbs up to Sam anyway, just for a moment, to make him drink. They left him alone during the break, let him sleep while they all stayed awake and tense and watchful, but he needs to drink something, and despite everything it’s only water Dean brings to his dry and cracked lips, nothing else.
Sam blinks at him. He has slept but not rested, the nightmares being worse than ever. His body is hot when Dean touches him and most of the water runs down his chin.
The carriage isn’t moving yet; Cas and Jena are waiting for him to get done. Dean still takes his time to carefully settle Sam back down. With a sigh he takes in the state of his brother’s forearms, scratched raw by his own nails.
Sam immediately rolls away from him, curling up like a child. Dean covers him in a blanket without any hope he won’t kick it off in a matter of minutes. When he looks up the ghosts are standing not fifteen feet from then, just outside the line of symbols drawn around their camp.
Dean jumps, his hand instinctively closing around the knife in his belt. But the ghosts don’t try to attack. They just stand there, staring, with no expression on their faces. They’re staring at Sam, and Sam whimpers and cries out softly.
“Fuck off!” Dean tells them and one of them actually reacts, shifting his gaze ever so slightly so he looks into Dean’s face instead. His eyes are dull. Then he flickers out of existence, followed not a second later by his companions.
“They won’t come back,” Jena says when Dean finally climbs off the wagon and they start moving, up the path, toward a spot on the slope of the mountain Dean believes is their goal if only because it looks like a good place to cross.
“Did they get what they wanted?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps they just know they won’t. But they’re moving on now. I felt it.”
Maybe it were the ghosts the led the demons here. Either way, Dean is glad they are gone. They walk briskly and their undead horse can keep up for a long time. There’s a break around midday, as usual. They eat, and Dean falls asleep beside his brother, exhaustion putting him out like a light. When he’s woken, the light has barely changed and he feels like his limbs are covered in lead.
He is woken by Jena climbing over him and watches, torn and unhappy, as she sets the flask with the demon blood to his dying brother’s lips and makes him drink.
-
After the break, the remaining horse is a little fitter than before, but in the end its strength runs out more quickly than the other one’s had, since it still has to pull the wagon all the time. So after their rest for the night night, they take all their bags with supplies and clothes and weapons and leave the wagon behind. Instead of pulling the heavy thing all the time, the horse now just has to carry Sam, who can stay on its back without help and is so damn much better than he was before that night.
He also refuses to look Dean in the eyes.
“It’s not a big loss,” Jena explains when they move on, Dean leading the horse while keeping half an eye out for any evil zombie-tendencies. “A little further up and the path would have gotten too narrow for the wagon anyway.”
“How much further?” It’s Cas who asks. For once, he doesn’t seem to have much knowledge about the area, and for once Dean wishes he had, because that would mean they wouldn’t depend on Jena quite this much. The ghosts are gone but that doesn’t mean he has forgotten what she has done – and it is obvious that Sam doesn’t trust her anymore, not in the least.
“If the horse makes it that far, we should have to leave it by nightfall. There’s a bit of a labyrinth of possible paths up ahead, which is one reason why I chose this route.”
Dean can imagine that. And he likes it – the fact that so far there has been only one path to take, he never was comfortable with. It makes them far too easy to follow.
On the other hand it means that without Jena they’ll probably be lost.
The path is already a lot steeper than it was before. It’s narrower, too – passages with them walking along the steep edge of a canyon alternate with passages framed with rocks on both sides that soon get so narrow the wagon wouldn’t have fit through them. It gets increasingly hard for the horse, but it’s increasingly hard on Dean, too. His feet are hurting and his head pounding from lack of food and drink when they settle down for their last, short rest before nightfall.
Dean eats and drinks more than he has in days, his body finally demanding its right. Sam takes a small sip from the flask Jena hands him and doesn’t look at anyone. The horse refuses to drink and Sam refuses to get back on the horse claiming the poor thing can’t take it. In the end he only gives in because he doesn’t have the energy to argue. And because it’s getting dark and they’re running out of time. And perhaps because they all feel exposed at the side of the mountain, here, where hardly any trees grow to hide them, and he wants to move on as quickly as possible.
The horse makes it till nightfall and no further. They keep going until it gets too dark to move on safely and as soon as they stop, the horse collapses and dies. Or rather, it returns to its natural state. Whatever. Either way, it did not wait for Sam to get off before doing so and he falls hard against the rocks, getting half buried beneath the already rotting corpse. Jena curses a lot as they pull him away and upright and as she checks him over. Sam says he’s not hurt.
Dean just wants to put him in his pocket and keep him fucking safe.
They move away from the horse’s corpse even though it’s dark and they can barely make out anything. The air is thinner up here, though only a little colder than below, and the sky is hanging right above their heads. It seems darker by day than it did before, but by night it actually offers that little more light and they make it up some seemingly randomly chosen path – one of many. The damn horse couldn’t have chosen a better place to kick it.
Still, the path is full of shadows. At some points they need to crawl up on all fours and Dean managed to cut open his palm on a sharp edge. Sam tries not to show it but he’s limping visibly, for all he claims the fall didn’t hurt him. And Cas has trouble with the climbing, his injured hand bothering him more than he likes to admit.
As expected, it’s Sam who has to give up first. But by the time he lets himself fall against a rock and doesn’t get up, they are far enough from the horse not to smell it anymore, and Jena allows them to take a break. They try to get comfortable, with Cas coaxing Sam up so he can shove blankets under him and Sam fussing over the fact that he’s only using one hand to do so while Dean quietly wipes the blood off his own hand and rummages through his bag in search for food and water.
Mostly water. He’s been breathing hard with the effort of climbing and his throat feels like sandpaper.
So he drinks half a gallon and passes the bottle on to Sam who drinks two sips because his throat has to be dry as well and sometimes water helps better than anything else, even if Sam’s body barely knows what to do with it anymore. It hurts Dean to think that his brother is hardly human now so he doesn’t think about it and focuses instead on handing out food to Cas, who accepts it gratefully.
When a soft wind begins to blow and makes the subjective temperature drop by ten degrees, they share the blankets between them and sit huddled together in the dark with Sam drifting off between them and Jena keeping watch as a dark outline against the sky.
-
The view quickly gets worse the higher they wander. They are up inside the clouds of dust now and Dean half-expects them to get out on the other side any moment, to find blue sky and a bright sun waiting for them. But that won’t happen. He doesn’t need to ask to know that these clouds go higher than any mountain on earth.
It’s not surprising that Sam’s cough gets worse. There’s the thin, dusty air, and this is the first time in weeks he’s had to walk long stretches on his own. Now, running on demon blood, he’s stronger than he was ever since they saved him from Lucifer’s clutches, but that’s like saying a pebble is larger than a grain of sand. He’s far from being well, strong, or capable of climbing over rocks for long distances.
The dust is all round them. They can’t see the valley anymore and if there’s anyone coming up the path they wandered for so long they won’t know it until their pursuers are basically sitting on them. It does nothing to make them feel safer, and Dean feels like Sam’s painful coughs have to be heard for miles.
They have to take breaks more often now they all have to walk, and though those are mostly for Sam’s benefit, Dean appreciates them as well. It’s hard, dragging themselves and their stuff up a mountain like this, and while he’s healthy and well-fed in comparison to his brother, he also keeps losing weight due to too little food on too much exercise and his stamina is not what it used to be.
Even Castiel can’t quite keep up with Jena because his injured hand keeps him from climbing the more difficult passages with ease. They are hardly the most impressive or the most intimidating troupe ever out to kill the Devil. All they need now to make it perfect is Bobby in his wheelchair, Dean thinks, and then he has to think of something else before he can start to cry.
“You’d think she actually wasted some thought on choosing the most difficult trail,” he grumbles during a short break, when he changes the bandage around Castiel’s hand. “Fuck, this looks bad. Are you sure you can make it?”
“It looks worse than it is,” Cas claims. “It would heal faster if I could leave it uncovered, but as long as our activity makes the wound break open so often, it would leave too obvious a trail of blood.” His gaze falls on Dean’s hand, currently wrapping the gauze around his palm. “You are bleeding as well.”
Dean looks at his palm. He didn’t even notice it bleeding again, but it’s not bad, just a little blood smeared over his skin. “I don’t think that left any obvious traces.”
Cas looks at him as if he’s stupid. “You’re hurt.”
“Between the three of us, that scratch is hardly the gravest injury on display.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his brother drag himself up to them, apparently attracted by all the talk about injuries. “Sam’s about to collapse,” he says quietly, hoping only Cas can hear him.
Cas just makes a vague gesture that’s not even a shrug, as if to ask what he’s supposed to do about that.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re hurt?” Sam asks when he finally makes it up to them. He looks like a kicked puppy, like Dean somehow betrayed him by not lamenting his cut hand – or worse, like he feels guilty for not noticing, when he’s clearly been distracted by more important things like walking and breathing. He’s pale, his eyes are blood-shot, and he’s breathing so fucking hard and roughly. “Let me carry one of your bags.”
“Fuck off, Sammy,” Dean growls. “We actually want to make it somewhere this century and you rolling down the mountain under the weight of a few blankets would be quite the setback.”
Sam glares and tries to punch him in the arm, which means he’s miserable on a tolerable level. Getting his energy back. Thank you so fucking much, Demon Blood!
“Hey, do you, you know.” Dean can’t even fucking say it, he hates the stuff so much. “You need more? To go on? You really don’t look so peachy.”
“It’s fine,” Sam assures him the same moment Cas says, “It will do for today.” Dean turns to him because that’s easier than discussing this with Sam.
“How can you tell? He barely had anything at all and the day’s still long.”
“It’s going to be enough. We do not have much and do not know when we will get more.”
He says it without concern, as if Sam’s not breathing hard and twitching and trying so obviously to put on brave face (and wasn’t this supposed to be a miracle cure? Wasn’t this supposed to make him feel better, at least, while it destroyed him?), so Dean wonders how often his demon blood addicted brother got through their adventures on the skin of his teeth before. Because Sam shakes his head as well, fucking used to rationalizing.
It seems there’s not enough of anything, for him, in the world.
They are also running out of food, not having seen anything to hunt in days. Sam’s not the only one who has to be careful with his supplies and Dean is getting used to being constantly hungry again. The mountain still looms over them, and he just knows that there’ll be another one looming right behind this one once they made it to the other side. The wind has picked up, is making them shiver, is carrying dust that smells like ash (people burned in the cities and gone to the sky, if not to Heaven) and makes Sam cough all the time.
Up ahead, the rocks that cover them get less and less. Soon they will be utterly exposed on the side of the mountain, hidden from view only by insubstantial clouds Dean is pretty sure any demon or angel can see through. It’s not too steep – they are not crossing over the summit, after all, are just crawling along the side, but he still doesn’t look forward to spending another night up here.
Fortunately, they don’t have to. Even up here Jena can find caves. In fact, they come across a lot of caves, but she’s after a special one and picks her chosen opening in the mountain just before dark. It looks like all the other caves, but Dean is fine with it. Inside it’s dark. There are walls all around, it’s surprisingly airy but protected from the wind. It doesn’t smell like animal. That’s all Dean wants from a room anymore.
Well. A little more light would have been nice, too, and a fire for warmth and cooking.
Maybe there’s a plan to that, though. If they can’t find food, they can’t waste their supplies. Dean’s hungry when they settle down, but not so hungry he would bother searching for more than his water bottle without being able to see. In the dark he pulls Sam towards him and holds him close. Together, they sleep through the night.
-
The next morning finds Cas sitting in the mouth of the cave, keeping watch. Dean longs, more than in ages, for coffee as he makes his way over to him, and Sam reaches out to him in his sleep, whimpering quietly with loss.
“Where’s Gabriel?” Dean asks in a whisper so his voice won’t wake his brother. But Sam’s already stirring. He’s been restless all night.
“She left before you fell asleep last night.”
“How’s that an answer? When will she come back?” Dean realizes that he has accepted the reality of Sam’s dependence on demon blood when his first thought is that Jena has the flasks with the blood Sammy needs, and not that Jena apparently abandoned them in the mountains.
“Here I am! Fresh as spring and with more useful luggage!” Jena singsongs as she comes in, her small form only briefly blocking the light falling in through the narrow entrance. She walks straight past Cas, half-climbs over Dean and sits beside Sam who’s already rising to meet her. The damn flask appears, Jena cradling the back of Sam’s head as she sets it to his lips, and all too soon it is taken away again.
Since Sam had his breakfast, Dean and Cas eat as well, though not much and not taking their time. Sam keeps to the side, withdrawing to himself, and once Dean figures out that he’s ashamed because of the blood-drinking, he scoots over and half-pulls Sammy into his lap to let him know without words that he still loves him.
They don’t linger long for much longer, but instead of leaving the cave as Dean expected, they walk further into it. The presents Jena brought them, it turns out, are torches, and they each get one as they walk into the darkness.
The cave they slept in is but part of a whole system of caves and tunnels and apparently it leads all the way to the other side of the mountain. Which should be awesome: They are protected from the wind and from discovery and don’t have to climb up the slope all the time anymore. But these caves weren’t made for walking; they are natural constructs that don’t take into consideration that humans like their floor flat and even. There’s still enough climbing going on, except now they are also carrying torches they have to deal with.
It’s not too bad, though, and Jena knows her way around. Dean still doesn’t like it. He just doesn’t. The dark around them is oppressive and full of things they don’t see. The silence seems to be lurking and looming. His subconscious is constantly playing tricks on him, and all too easily someone (Sam) could get lost in here.
Altogether, it feels like they are walking into Moria, just without the Balrog and the dead dwarves.
He keeps close to Sam, more scared of losing sight of him than of Jena who is dancing up and down the rocks before them. But Sam keeps up with them fine, much better than he has any right to manage. There’s a determined expression on his face Dean has last seen when chasing Lilith and his eyes are almost glowing in the dark. But he’s also running a fever and needs all his determination to make it through their journey, so Dean has no reason for the shiver that runs down his spine.
“Hey Sammy,” he says at some point, his voice just loud enough to be heard over Sam’s harsh breaths. “Remember that one time you got lost in the mirror-maze at that carnival?”
“That haunted mirror-maze.” Sam smiles weakly and a little sourly. “Yeah, I kind of remember that.”
“Really? You were, what? Nine?”
“Exactly. I was nine and got lost in a haunted mirror maze with a ghost! It was a kind of traumatizing experience.”
“Dad had already killed the ghost.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t know that.”
Dean smiles at the memory. He’s had his fun teasing his little brother about it for months afterwards, but the truth is that at the time it happened it wasn’t funny at all. He remembers all to clearly the panic that had come over him the moment he realized his little brother was nowhere to be seen (watch out for Sammy he’s still small can barely handle a gun there’s a ghost out there no dad killed the ghost dad killed the ghost but there are people and big machines and Sammy must be scared Sammy might be hurt please don’t be hurt) and the relief that washed over him when Sam stumbled out of the mirror maze and buried his little face in Dean’s chest trying not to cry because he was supposed to be a big boy now.
Awesome memories.
“You bawled like a baby,” he says.
“Did not.”
“Did too. I thought you had reverted in age ten years.”
“I was nine! Dude, you did deserve your bad marks in math.”
“I only got bad marks because the teacher was too distracted by my handsome face.”
“Sometimes I think your ‘handsome face’ was the only reason you passed your classes at all.”
“Hey! I was awesome in school!”
“Yeah, awesome with the girls.”
“Is there another reason to go?” Dean grins. This feels nice. This feels so fucking nice and yet he knows he has to tread carefully so he doesn’t make any remark that turns Sam’s thoughts to the dreams he had to give up or the love of his life burning on the ceiling.
He used to be not quite this considerate. Banter was a lot easier then.
“Is that why you would rather spend your time in intercourse with a girl in the closet instead of participating in class?” Cas’ voice interrupts his thoughts.
Dean turns and sees the fallen angel right beside him, the flickering light of their torches casting shadows all over his face. “Dude,” he says. “Did you guys spy on teenage-me having sex? That’s just creepy. And disgusting. Seriously, didn’t you have anything better to do?”
“We did spy on you a great deal,” Cas admits without batting an eye. “Though I would not know of any of my brothers and sisters to purposefully seeking you out in such situations.”
“Well, what a relief.” It really is. Dean wouldn’t have liked to learn that he was living The Trueman Show: The Porn Edition. But the question remains, and the answer is possibly even more creepy. “Than how do you know that? Did you –”
“Sam told me,” Cas interrupts him with mild irritation on his face.
Dean turns to glare at his brother, who just shrugs and lacks any sign of guilt. “We spend a lot of time together,” he reminds Dean. “We talked.”
‘As if I could forget that,’ Dean nearly says – but the truth is, he almost has forgotten it, has over the new closeness with his brother (that he doesn’t deserve, that he treasures the way he should have all along) kind of lost focus on the fact that Sam and Cas spend more time together than Sam and Dean. They were brought close by the constant struggle and suffering Dean’s mistakes have brought them, but there was more to their life than that.
Even if it wasn’t a lot. Even if it was just making fun of Dean and his understanding of school.
“And you had nothing better to talk about but me?” he wonders, trying to keep the tone light. “I bet you left out all the embarrassing details about your own childhood.”
“You weren’t there to defend yourself.” Sam smiles as he says it but is biting his lip at the same time and not looking at his brother who wants to kick himself.
They have reached a point in their relationship where everything they bring up in some way or another hurts.
As if to underline that, Cas says, “Sam did tell me about his own childhood. He told me that when he was little he wanted to grow up to be just like you.” Yeah, he knows how to twist a knife, and from the way he looks at Dean, Dean knows without a doubt that he meant to.
“Cas,” Sam says quietly. Cas looks back at him with something hard in his eyes. Straight past Dean as if he weren’t there. “Sam.” His voice isn’t hard, but unrelenting. He has something to say and Dean gets the message, okay? He fucking gets it.
Even now, here, with Dean figuratively and literally between them, Sam is more at ease in Castiel’s presence than he has ever been before everything went down the drain.
“Boys,” Jena’s voice interrupts his thoughts and their conversation. “Watch where you’re going.”
She’s waiting for them, for the first time since they entered the caves, and as they come closer, Dean can see why. “The next bit is going to be hard,” she needlessly points out. “Guess we better rest now.”
Well, there’s a good idea. Dean would approve of it even if they weren’t travelling with someone who three days ago couldn’t even walk on his own. Not that he can see much of the way ahead with the darkness swallowing the light of the torches like ink, but he can tell that it’s steep, and narrow, with the ground opening and falling away on one side.
What Dean can see from here does not offer any place to just stop for a moment and rest. He can’t see far, so maybe it gets better.
He can’t see far, so he doesn’t have any idea how long this part is.
So Sam is feeling better. Awesome. Sam’s breathing hard already, and he looks sick in the light of the torches. They don’t let him carry a backpack because it would exhaust him too much. Jena has to be insane if she thinks he can make this.
Judging her insane was the first thing Dean did when he met her, long before he knew who she even was.
They take their time, sit on rocks without talking. The silence is absolute. If there was anything in the darkness coming for them, they would hear it, so why does Dean still feel like they are being stared at?
He and Cas drink from their bottles while they eye the path ahead apprehensively. Dean would worry about that part and falling to his death if he wasn’t more worried about Sam falling to his death.
While they drink and nibble some food, Jena comes over to Sam, fills some blood – just a few drops – into her open palm and has Sam lick it off. Dean hates that she does it like this, though it’s probably just to keep him from drinking too much. It looks too intimate.
If it has to be done like this she should leave it to him. (The expression on Sam’s face just fucking breaks his heart because Sam despises her but he needs this so, so much.)
One of the torches dies while they wait, reminding them that they have to hurry on top of everything else. Jena lights a new one and doesn’t seem worried, but Dean doesn’t know how many more she has. Their supply can’t be unlimited.
When they go, Jena goes first, of course. It looks ridiculously easy as she basically dances on the wall of rocks, but then, she can fucking fly. Cas is next, and he brings the rope and ties it around every rock that allows it while Dean ties the other end around Sammy and he still thinks Don’t fall, don’t fall, because they can’t rely on that rope and even if they could, it would hurt and Sam might injure himself and the rope would cut into him while they pulled him back up.
(He remembers being sick, how hard it seemed them to even lift a backpack with weak and trembling arms. The arms Sam’s life depends on are just like that. Like fucking rubber.)
Dean goes last, trying to stick close to Sam without getting in his way. He can’t fucking help him. If Sam falls, Dean won’t be able to do anything but watch.
His own heart is racing. He can feel a soft, cold breeze coming up from below, only notable because it’s the only movement in the air for hours, and thinks about letting his torch fall to see how deep it is and doesn’t. They need to be pragmatic and not dramatic.
It’s not as hard as he thought it would be. The wall isn’t quite as vertical, the path not quite as steep and narrow. Most of the time they can easily crawl upwards, but there are passages where they have to cling to the rocks while their feet are feeling for the next hold. One arm always wrapped around something while the weight of their bags seems to drag them down into the darkness. They’re only using two torches now, so the one facing a difficult part can always pass it back or forth and work with both hands. When he can, when there’s room for it, Cas is waiting on the other side of the obstacle, wrapping his arms around Sam as soon as possible to pull him over. Most of the time he can’t.
It’s easier than Dean thought it would be but it’s a far cry from being actually easy. And the passage is fucking long, and at some point, after a particularly long and difficult bit that had him depend solely on the strength of his arms more than once, Sam presses himself face first into a gap between the rocks, sinks down until he’s almost kneeling and doesn’t move on.
There’s just enough room for Dean to crouch beside him. “What’s wrong?” he asks, but Sam just shakes his head, his horsehead pressed against the stone before him. This close Dean can hear his brother’s ragged breathing and when he puts a hand to his shoulder, Sam is trembling so hard.
Cas is already behind the next obstacle, the next thing Sam has to get past. Followed by the next one and the next one. Dean strokes his back, feeling his own heart race with exhaustion and tension. “Take your time,” he says quietly and Sam slips further.
“Cas,” Dean calls into the dark. “We need a break.”
“This is not a good place.” Cas voice sounds closer than expected but he’s invisible from where they re sitting.
“Sam can’t move on.” It doesn’t leave much room for discussion.
“He can. It’s not much further.”
“He fucking can’t, okay? Just give us a minute.”
Dean can’t hear Cas sigh but he imagines him doing so. Sam turns his head just so as he shakes his head again and Dean can see the tears running down his face. “I can’t,” he whispers breathlessly. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Yes, you can,” Dean says gently, shifting a little, but the path is so narrow he has to be careful not to fall. This is hard enough on him, and he’s not dying, nor doomed for all eternity if he does. “It’s just that little bit further. Cas says he can already see Jena waiting for us at the end. Just take a few breaths and when you’re ready we’ll get there.”
Sam needs a while, but eventually he nods, shakily. Then he needs some more time before he stands up and turns around, and while Dean can’t see his face he can see his desperation in the tightening on his fingers around the rock.
Dean leaves his torch where he stuck it between two rocks and gives his brother a hand, guiding him with his arms, as far as he can without falling himself, and then it’s just a few terrible seconds before Cas’ hand reaches from the other side and he pulls Sam to safety, once again.
Dean hands over the torch and follows. It’s not even that hard. He needs all of thirty seconds.
But even for him it is getting harder as this strength is used up.
As expected, Jena is not waiting for them at the end of the difficult part. Or maybe she is, but if so, she’s well out of sight. She must have turned a corner at some point for Dean sees no glimmer of torchlight anywhere ahead. Either that, or she fell – something he very much doubts.
Sam needs another break now, and yet another after the next difficult bit. There’s a long passage eventually – one where neither Cas nor Dean can help him, and Dean sees Cas cling to the rope, keeping it as short as possible (keeping the fall as short as possible) and at some point Sam slips and Dean’s heart stops. But Sam keeps hanging on (because that is what Sam does) and finds his footing again and when Dean has followed after him he can finally see Jena, standing in the mouth of a tunnel with her torch in her hand, marking their goal.
Sammy still needs breaks, much more frequently so. Even on the easier last bit he has to stop every few steps, but now he has a goal before his eyes he doesn’t linger long but drags himself onwards, no matter how much it hurts.
Once they reach the end, can finally sink down and breathe, Dean feels just how much this part of the way took out of him. The tension that came with the worry for his brother drains out of him, leaving him feeling nothing but pure, physical exhaustion for a blessed minute or two.
It’s Sam’s coughs that pull him out of it in the end, and Jena’s voice telling them that they still have a long way to go.
-
They might have a long way to go, but for now they only go a little bit further. Just until they find a nice spot that doesn’t offer any risk of anyone rolling into an abyss in their sleep. Jena says it’s only another four hours or so until they reach the other side and that the worst is over, but it’s obvious that Sam won’t make another four hours, not today. Not even on demon blood. He basically collapses the moment they stop and once Dean and Cas made a comfortable nest for him out of their blankets they basically have to roll him onto it because Sam’s not moving anywhere on his own anytime soon.
He’s going to be so sore when he wakes up. Hell, Dean is going to be sore.
They eat, and when they are done, the bag with their supplies has considerably shrunk in size. There’s just enough left for maybe another day, two at best. They need to find something to hunt and eat as soon as possible once they emerge on the other side, and Dean doesn’t have any idea what it’s going to be like there. (On the side of the mountain they already saw there hadn’t been any living thing since they passed the tree line.)
Of course they are going to lose more time sitting here waiting for Sam to wake up – time to get hungry again. For once, Jena does not leave to come back with food, though Dean doesn’t know why, since it would be really helpful right now. Maybe she’s scared they will wander off and get lost around here, in the dark. It frightens Dean sometimes how much they depend on her. In the light of the one torch they left burning, he can make out three openings ahead of them and only Jena knows which one will get them to the exit.
What also worries Dean is how quiet Jena has been ever since they entered the caves. Okay, so she hasn’t been all that talkative before, but that was mainly because she was usually walking ahead, out of their general rage of conversation. Now they are all sitting together and she watches the darkness opening up around them and doesn’t speak.
“Can you see anything in the dark?” Dean eventually asks, because somehow, he always assumed angels could.
“I can see everything,” she tells him.
“Why are you carrying a torch, then?”
“So you can see me.”
That makes sense. If they had lost sight of their guide in here, Dean is pretty convinced that it would have been hard not to panic.
For him, at least. Maybe less so for Sam because Sam is a fucking champ.
Which forces Dean to wonder. Sam gave up there on that path. He didn’t see the end of the way and capitulated in the face of obstacles he was sure he couldn’t overcome. And that’s something that Dean doesn’t understand, because for decades Sam has been facing much worse, so much worse with no end in sight and he never gave up. He always kept going, no matter how hard it was. Never let go.
Understanding comes eventually, and when it does, it both crushes Dean and fills him with unexpected warmth: Sam allowed himself to give up here and now because he knew that Dean would not let him.
It’s pure instinct, now, that makes him run his hand through his brother’s hair, a primal need to be close to him. Sam turns ever so slightly into his touch but sleeps on, dead to the world. In the light of the torch Dean can just barely, make out the scars on his face and he runs his fingers over them, barely touching, hovering over the one the demon caressed as if it fucking belonged to him.
“Did he rape him?” he hears himself asking without making any conscious decision to use his voice.
At least his subconscious had the sense to speak quietly so he doesn’t wake Sam with this question about something Dean’s brother very certainly doesn’t want to think about.
“Who?” Cas asks, and Dean hates that that is even a question.
“The demon who attacked us.”
“Yes.” Such a simple answer, and Cas’ voice doesn’t even falter when he gives it. And then he has to go on and clarify, “At least I think so. I only came when it was mostly over. There were five of them and I do not know if this one had his turn.”
“How can you say it like that?” Dean whispers, fighting sudden tears and the almost irresistible urge to take Sam in his arms and keep him close to protect him from everything and everyone. It would wake him, though, and it wouldn’t do anything because everything already happened and the Sam it happened to is far out of Dean’s reach.
“I can, because it happened,” Castiel whispers back. His tone is matter-of-fact, but he’s whispering as well, just as unwilling to wake the boy sleeping between them. “I tried to protect him but I could not always succeed. I killed those who hurt him whenever I could but I was often too late. Denying it will not make it so it did not happen and it will not help Sam at all, only yourself. You need to know and accept that almost every demon who ever got his hands on Sam has tortured him in any way they could think of. It is what they do, you know that. Some humans have sexually assaulted him as well. And one angel.”
Jena’s laugh takes them both by surprise. It’s a harsh, ugly sound that makes Sam jerk in his sleep. Dean’s hand automatically runs through his hair in a soothing gesture and Sam calms down again even as his big brother glares as the archangel who has turned around to regard them with something like a sneer on her face.
“You really believe that?” she asks. Dean feels the urge rise up inside him to go over and punch her before she can say any more. Before she can tell them that no matter what he made himself believe, it really wasn’t Michael who hurt Sam that day, it was Dean and only him. But she says, “One angel? After all you have seen them do to you, to Sam, and the entire human race, how can you be so naïve, little brother?”
“What would you know about it?” Cas snaps. “You weren’t there!”
“But I know my brothers.”
“So do I. They have many, many faults, but they would not degrade themselves so without a proper motive, or what they believe to be such. They are too full of themselves.” The expression sounds odd, coming out of his mouth, but Dean notes it only subconsciously. He wants to cover Sam’s ears so he can’t hear any of this, but that would only wake him up.
“They were never above torture. You know that as well as I do,” Jena insists. “Rape is but a form of torture, and they all had their motives. Michael wanted to deceive you and prove a point, Raphael wanted to impress Michael. Hamael did it because he wanted to teach Sam what he is worth in the eyes of Heaven, Dumah did it because Hamael had done it. Essyel and Mural raped Sam because they were ordered to do so. Rochiel-”
“You’re making that up.” Cas’ own hand has found its way to Sam’s arm, right beside Dean’s. He’s glaring, looking defensive, and Dean hopes so much that he is right.
“Believe me, Cas,” Jena says, her voice almost gentle. “When Sam was banned from Heaven and could only go to Hell, it didn’t make his situation that much worse. And that one time he was taken by Raphael and his soldiers and you found him dead without many obvious external wounds? That wasn’t because those had already been healed, it was because they had quite literally fucked him to death.”
Cas shakes his head, as if denying it could make it go away. Doing just want he told Dean to avoid. Dean can’t call him out on his hypocrisy, though, because he is too busy hating Jena right now. “And where were you?” he snarls.
She regards him coolly. “I never touched him.”
“Yeah, and you did nothing to help either.”
“I wasn’t around. I did my best not to get involved in their business. The way they behaved did little to make me want to get back in touch with my family, and in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a bit of an outlaw now. I have my eyes and ears in Heaven, but most of my brothers think me a traitor. Back then, they would have detained me if they’d gotten their hands on me, forced me to join their fight. Now they might even kill me for what I’m doing for you.”
“I’m close to tears,” Dean spits. “They would have detained you? Wow, that’s really shocking in the face of them raping my brother all through the afterlife. You’re an archangel! You can’t tell me your word has no weight with the foot soldiers. If nothing else, you could have smited their asses and pulled Sammy out of there, given him back to Cas.”
“That’s still my family you’re talking about,” Jena reminds him, her voice suddenly icy. “Would you have beheaded your little brother for pulling the wings off an insect?”
It’s nice to know that this is what she thinks of them. Dean knows she’s so much more powerful than them, that the angels live forever and the human lifespan is nothing to them, the loss of such few years barely notable. But he doesn’t know how he can trust her, rely on her when she regards them like this and thinks their pain doesn’t matter.
“Sam never pulled the wings off any insects,” he mutters, and Jena shrugs.
“Maybe that is his problem.”
-
They have to wait and it’s still a long way to go, so Dean should sleep, should make use of the opportunity and get all the rest he can because there’s no telling when he’ll next get the chance. But he just lies there in the dark and can’t stop thinking, listing to his brother’s rough breathing all the time.
He falls asleep for minutes, and when he wakes up it’s to Cas pulling Sam upright just a little, holding a palm smeared with demon blood to Sam’s face. It’s to Sam licking the blood of an angel’s gracious hand like a fucking dog.
When they get ready to leave, Dean pulls Sam up and into his arms, engulfing him in a hug with his face buried in Sam’s hair.
“What’s this about?” Sam asks even as he returns the pressure of his brother’s arms.
“Nothing,” Dean replies. “Nothing. Just let me hold you.”
NEXT
blue worlds and otherwise
Date: 2012-05-11 05:41 pm (UTC)I simultaneously love and hate what you're doing with Jena. I love it because it feels *right*, that singing sense of holding to the true course of the character. I hate it because I'm fond of Gabriel, for all his deadly faults, and it hurts to be reminded of what he really is (at least here; but like I said, it feels right.)
This is also one long torment of a punishment for Dean's sin. But Sam still loves him. As much as Dean hates himself right now, it could be worse.
Re: blue worlds and otherwise
Date: 2012-05-17 02:03 pm (UTC)For all that Gabriel was a great characer mostly presented in comedy episodes, he was not necessarily a nice guy. It's actually quite fun wirting Jena and exploring the side of him fandom so often likes to forget.
Thank for your continued support!
no subject
Date: 2012-05-16 02:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-17 02:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-20 06:25 pm (UTC)I had this bookmarked for weeks now because i didn't have the time to really get into it and something told me that if I started to read it, I wouldn't be able to stop and I was right!
You made me cry, laugh and scream and so many other emotions, let me just say I really dig your style, you have a beautiful way with words and are truly talented! Thank you for an awesome read and please update as soon as possible!
no subject
Date: 2012-05-25 10:27 am (UTC)Updates happen regularly every other Friday. Like this, I have time to write in between and and able to keep a stack of finished, unpublished chapters so there won't be any large gabs in between.
no subject
Date: 2012-11-12 12:50 pm (UTC)