FIC - You Are Mine
Oct. 24th, 2011 11:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
verucasalt123Title: You Are Mine
Pairing: Sam/Dean (but with no sex)
Rating: R for language and graphic violent images
Summary: A little ficlet loosely based on 7x01 (spoilers if you haven’t watched it yet) and also inspired by a hymn that’s been in my head all day. Those of you who grew up in the crunchy granola American Catholic church in the 70s with priests who played guitar and looked like John Denver will recognize the hymn, probably.
Do not be afraid, I am with you...I am the peace the world cannot give. I will call your name, embracing all your pain
Dean watched over Sam as he lay on the bed in Bobby’s guest room, waiting for another sign of trouble.
The past few days had been difficult for all of them. Bobby seemed angry, though Dean recognized the concern behind his dismissal of Sam’s admission about seeing, hearing, feeling Lucifer. To Dean, it was terrifying. When his time had come to face Alistair, Dean had been apprehensive, but not afraid. But that was only because he knew for sure he wasn’t in Hell anymore. Sam had no such luxury, most of the time. Lucifer was so far into his brain (thanks to Cas, fucking Cas) that more days than most, Sam honestly had a hard time believing that he wasn’t down in the Cage anymore.
And Dean…well, Dean didn’t know what to do. The overwhelming desire to fix his brother, to tear Lucifer from his mind, was futile. A dead end. Dean fixed things, it was just what he’d always done, whether it was Sam’s teddy bear whose arm Dean had stitched back on with dental floss and a sewing needle when Sam was four, or dragging him out of a fire (twice), or selling his soul to haul Sam back from the dead. Those memories all seemed so distant now, after what they’ d been through the past couple of months.
When Dean asked Sam if he understood that the Lucifer he was seeing wasn’t real, he’d expected any answer other than the one that he got.
“He says the same thing about you.”
No wonder Bobby had walked away. It was almost too much for Dean to bear, just hearing the words. For Bobby, it had obviously been more than too much.
Every now and then, though, even in the worst moments, there was something in Dean’s voice that seemed to bring Sammy back to reality, make him stop seeing things that weren’t there, feeling things that weren’t happening. So, he talked. Endlessly. Sometimes about what they were trying to figure out right now, sometimes about silly childhood memories, sometimes about what he’d had for lunch.
XXXXX
On the occasions when this strategy actually worked, Sam could see what was real, and what really was there in front of him. Dean. Always Dean. The words from an old hymn he’d learned from Pastor Jim when he was a kid floated to the surface, and he was able to find refuge in Dean’s words.
I will come to you in the silence, I will lift you from all your fear
All Sam could hear was Lucifer, reminding him that he was still “my bitch”. That everything that had happened since he got out was just an elaborate recreation designed to torture him more creatively than ripping out his eyeballs and stripping away his skin. A façade of being back with his brother which could be torn away in order to break him even further.
But then Dean would start talking, about an episode of Dr. Sexy, or a BLT he’d had earlier, or the time Rhonda Hurley had made him try on her panties. There were times when the sound of Dean’s voice seemed to overshadow all of this Hell-memories, and sometimes even Lucifer’s smirk and stinging reminders of being in the Cage.
You will hear my voice, I claim you as my choice, be still, and know I am near
Dean had chosen this, and in his lucid moments, Sam knew it. His brother could have left him in Bobby’s care and gone off to hunt, or taken a road trip, hell, just gotten up and walked around outside to escape these things that Sam knew must have torn Dean to shreds. But he hadn’t. His choice was to stay with Sam.
XXXXX
It was tearing Dean up from inside, watching his baby brother struggle with the effort of things as simple as getting out of bed or pouring his own cup of coffee. But times like this, when Sam openly admitting that he could hear Lucifer clear as day, see him sitting right there in the room with him, Dean thought only of the things that worked in the past to get Sam back to where needed to be. Sam flinched at even the briefest physical contact, so Dean couldn’t hold his hand. He couldn’t, as he was used to doing for so many years when his baby brother needed him, kiss Sam gently and hold him and whisper in his ear that everything was going to be all right, comforting him with intimacy neither of them had ever shared with anyone else before. He’d take on Sam’s pain in a hot second if it were possible. Better him to suffer than his sweet baby boy who’d only done the things he thought were right.
So, he just kept on doing what he’d been doing. It was the only thing that had worked so far. Today, Dean had told him that he’d replaced a part in the wrecked Impala, though he knew Sam had no idea what the name of that part meant. As he saw Sam continue to make quick, furtive glances to the corner of the room, Dean moved directly in to his line of sight and regaled him of today’s research. Told him Bobby was grilling steaks that night, even one medium well ”just for your pansy ass”. Anything, fucking anything that he thought might make Sam return a look of recognition, get out of the goddamn bed, just stand up, anything.
I will call your name, embracing all your pain. Stand up, now, walk, and live
XXXXX
Sam knew, sometimes, that Lucifer wasn’t real. But other times he didn’t. There was just no way to be sure, honestly, it wasn’t like he hadn’t used Dean’s form in the Cage to torture him, tease him, trick him.
But there was something about this Dean, the one standing between him and Lucifer, that was different. Lucifer was exceptionally talented, but not perfect. He’d never gotten Dean exactly right, no matter how close he’d come. Even in the Cage, Sam could tell the difference. It wasn’t even the look in Not-Dean’s eyes, not the way that Not-Dean moved. It was the voice. The first voice Sam ever remembered hearing, on his fourth birthday, whispering “Don’t forget to make a wish before you blow out the candles, Sammy”. Sam didn’t remember what he’d wished for, but he sure as hell remembered Dean’s voice. He knew the difference between real and not-real, of that he was absolutely certain.
He stood up and thanked his brother, wanting so badly to place his fingertips along Dean’s jawline, to let Dean hold onto him like before, but not physically able to do so.
“Dinner sounds good. I’ll take a shower and be down in a few minutes.”
He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but there was a chance. Maybe Dean could lead him out of this after all.
Come and follow me, I will bring you home. I love you and you are mine
Pairing: Sam/Dean (but with no sex)
Rating: R for language and graphic violent images
Summary: A little ficlet loosely based on 7x01 (spoilers if you haven’t watched it yet) and also inspired by a hymn that’s been in my head all day. Those of you who grew up in the crunchy granola American Catholic church in the 70s with priests who played guitar and looked like John Denver will recognize the hymn, probably.
Do not be afraid, I am with you...I am the peace the world cannot give. I will call your name, embracing all your pain
Dean watched over Sam as he lay on the bed in Bobby’s guest room, waiting for another sign of trouble.
The past few days had been difficult for all of them. Bobby seemed angry, though Dean recognized the concern behind his dismissal of Sam’s admission about seeing, hearing, feeling Lucifer. To Dean, it was terrifying. When his time had come to face Alistair, Dean had been apprehensive, but not afraid. But that was only because he knew for sure he wasn’t in Hell anymore. Sam had no such luxury, most of the time. Lucifer was so far into his brain (thanks to Cas, fucking Cas) that more days than most, Sam honestly had a hard time believing that he wasn’t down in the Cage anymore.
And Dean…well, Dean didn’t know what to do. The overwhelming desire to fix his brother, to tear Lucifer from his mind, was futile. A dead end. Dean fixed things, it was just what he’d always done, whether it was Sam’s teddy bear whose arm Dean had stitched back on with dental floss and a sewing needle when Sam was four, or dragging him out of a fire (twice), or selling his soul to haul Sam back from the dead. Those memories all seemed so distant now, after what they’ d been through the past couple of months.
When Dean asked Sam if he understood that the Lucifer he was seeing wasn’t real, he’d expected any answer other than the one that he got.
“He says the same thing about you.”
No wonder Bobby had walked away. It was almost too much for Dean to bear, just hearing the words. For Bobby, it had obviously been more than too much.
Every now and then, though, even in the worst moments, there was something in Dean’s voice that seemed to bring Sammy back to reality, make him stop seeing things that weren’t there, feeling things that weren’t happening. So, he talked. Endlessly. Sometimes about what they were trying to figure out right now, sometimes about silly childhood memories, sometimes about what he’d had for lunch.
XXXXX
On the occasions when this strategy actually worked, Sam could see what was real, and what really was there in front of him. Dean. Always Dean. The words from an old hymn he’d learned from Pastor Jim when he was a kid floated to the surface, and he was able to find refuge in Dean’s words.
I will come to you in the silence, I will lift you from all your fear
All Sam could hear was Lucifer, reminding him that he was still “my bitch”. That everything that had happened since he got out was just an elaborate recreation designed to torture him more creatively than ripping out his eyeballs and stripping away his skin. A façade of being back with his brother which could be torn away in order to break him even further.
But then Dean would start talking, about an episode of Dr. Sexy, or a BLT he’d had earlier, or the time Rhonda Hurley had made him try on her panties. There were times when the sound of Dean’s voice seemed to overshadow all of this Hell-memories, and sometimes even Lucifer’s smirk and stinging reminders of being in the Cage.
You will hear my voice, I claim you as my choice, be still, and know I am near
Dean had chosen this, and in his lucid moments, Sam knew it. His brother could have left him in Bobby’s care and gone off to hunt, or taken a road trip, hell, just gotten up and walked around outside to escape these things that Sam knew must have torn Dean to shreds. But he hadn’t. His choice was to stay with Sam.
XXXXX
It was tearing Dean up from inside, watching his baby brother struggle with the effort of things as simple as getting out of bed or pouring his own cup of coffee. But times like this, when Sam openly admitting that he could hear Lucifer clear as day, see him sitting right there in the room with him, Dean thought only of the things that worked in the past to get Sam back to where needed to be. Sam flinched at even the briefest physical contact, so Dean couldn’t hold his hand. He couldn’t, as he was used to doing for so many years when his baby brother needed him, kiss Sam gently and hold him and whisper in his ear that everything was going to be all right, comforting him with intimacy neither of them had ever shared with anyone else before. He’d take on Sam’s pain in a hot second if it were possible. Better him to suffer than his sweet baby boy who’d only done the things he thought were right.
So, he just kept on doing what he’d been doing. It was the only thing that had worked so far. Today, Dean had told him that he’d replaced a part in the wrecked Impala, though he knew Sam had no idea what the name of that part meant. As he saw Sam continue to make quick, furtive glances to the corner of the room, Dean moved directly in to his line of sight and regaled him of today’s research. Told him Bobby was grilling steaks that night, even one medium well ”just for your pansy ass”. Anything, fucking anything that he thought might make Sam return a look of recognition, get out of the goddamn bed, just stand up, anything.
I will call your name, embracing all your pain. Stand up, now, walk, and live
XXXXX
Sam knew, sometimes, that Lucifer wasn’t real. But other times he didn’t. There was just no way to be sure, honestly, it wasn’t like he hadn’t used Dean’s form in the Cage to torture him, tease him, trick him.
But there was something about this Dean, the one standing between him and Lucifer, that was different. Lucifer was exceptionally talented, but not perfect. He’d never gotten Dean exactly right, no matter how close he’d come. Even in the Cage, Sam could tell the difference. It wasn’t even the look in Not-Dean’s eyes, not the way that Not-Dean moved. It was the voice. The first voice Sam ever remembered hearing, on his fourth birthday, whispering “Don’t forget to make a wish before you blow out the candles, Sammy”. Sam didn’t remember what he’d wished for, but he sure as hell remembered Dean’s voice. He knew the difference between real and not-real, of that he was absolutely certain.
He stood up and thanked his brother, wanting so badly to place his fingertips along Dean’s jawline, to let Dean hold onto him like before, but not physically able to do so.
“Dinner sounds good. I’ll take a shower and be down in a few minutes.”
He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but there was a chance. Maybe Dean could lead him out of this after all.
Come and follow me, I will bring you home. I love you and you are mine
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no subject
Date: 2011-10-25 04:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-25 12:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-25 08:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-25 12:45 pm (UTC)I'm glad you liked it :)
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Date: 2011-10-25 03:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-25 04:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-28 06:41 pm (UTC)"even one medium well just for your pansy ass." Aww. Thumbs up :)
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