Crescendemum

Crescendemum

Plans, he hears whispered, from the lips of angels and demons alike. Plans gone awry. Plans altered. What will the angels do now? Who will the demons follow? Boy King AU, Sam & Dean (borderline Sam/Dean), 2322 words. TW: Graphic description of Sam’s (temporary) death; Dean grieving.

The first time Sam dies, he dies young. Dean never sees the attack, but he sees the aftermath. Blood. Claw marks. Too-distant glassy eyes and too-cold skin on a young teen body too small, too soft, too good. They’d been gone five hours. Five hours and Sam’s dead in the woods behind the motel, a nightmare scenario come to real, visceral, horrifying life. Dean upends his stomach, but he can’t move his knees from the blood-spattered leaves and grime around Sam until Dad physically drags him away. Dean kicks and screams against him, lungs aching, chest burning, wild and volatile and howling with grief. Dad drags him away. For half a week, neither of them can will out words. Afterwards, Dean heads to the back of the Impala, to where Dad had brought Sam. He goes to give Sam a burial – because fuck hunters’ funerals, if there’s a way to bring his brother back he’ll find it and he’ll take it, no questions asked – but by then? By then, the body’s gone. Dean’s jaw twitches once, throat strained raw, heart blisteringly hollow, and suddenly the weight of the amulet against his chest is overwhelming. Dad. Dad beat him to it. He burned him. Neither John nor him bring it up – not once – but Dean never forgives him; not even a little bit. Afterwards, Dean does what he can. He grieves. And grieves. He blames himself, he blames Dad. He gets blackout drunk for the first time a mile away and wakes up handcuffed to their rented kitchenette counter, Dad asleep in a chair pointed towards him, unconscious from exhaustion, eyes red-rimmed. Dean feels like a monster. He picks the cuffs and buys Dad a big breakfast. Neither of them speak over the meal. Dad’s the first one to find a case after… it happens, and the look Dean gives him is blistering. Sam’s been desecrated enough, it says. And now, what, we’re just gonna move on? Pretend things are fine? But Dad calmly and quietly brings up Mary. Brings up their cause. Brings up how it’s doubly important, now more than ever. It’s a simple salt and burn, but Dean joins him. He ends up finding some small relief in it. The ache in his muscles takes away, momentarily, from the screaming grief inside him – like a numbing agent. Dean thinks about mom. About Sam. Wonders, are they next? Thinks, if they are, that maybe that’s a good thing. But Dad, it seems, is a veritable force for carrying on, and so when he stands up and carries on, Dean numbly follows.

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