FIC: Of Bastard Saints, 36/36
Jun. 11th, 2006 01:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Title: Of Bastard Saints
Authors:
nilchance and
beanside
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: We make no claim of ownership on the Brothers and Daddy Winchester. No infringement is intended, no money is made.
Author Notes: Set after the episode "Devil's Trap."
WARNINGS: Character maiming, violence, more angst than you can shake a stick at.
Okay, before we let you get to the fic, we wanted to say a few words. This has been a hell of ride for us, and we'd like to offer our sincere thanks to everyone who has made it so much fun. The response has been thoroughly overwhelming, between all the feedback and the recs.
We're especially thrilled with the response to our John, since we know he's not exactly the most popular person in fandom. *grin* So, for so many of you to let us know that you enjoyed him really means a lot.
So, from the bottom of our cold, black hearts, thank you! We'll see you soon with the sequel.
nilchance and
beanside
****
Dean closed the door behind him carefully, quietly, feeling like a bastard.
He'd left a note on the counter for Dad and Sam. He'd been careful to take the cell phone Dad bought for him last week. He had the feeling Dad had been expecting this.
Still, he was sneaking out before dawn like a fucking criminal. It didn't sit easy. But better that than some bullshit tearful goodbye, having to wish Sam luck at school or look at Dad and tell him that sorry, but Dean just couldn't sit still for anybody. The road called, and Dean couldn't ignore it anymore.
Yeah. Nice way of saying that Dean was running like hell.
Shifting his duffel bag's strap higher on his shoulder, Dean walked towards the Impala. He slid his hand over the arch of her window, patting her absently as he opened the driver's side door. He'd missed that sound.
Dean went to climb in, tossing his bag over into the passenger seat. It hit him in the chest a moment later. Startled, Dean caught it and stared at Sam, slid low in the passenger seat.
With a yawn, Sam rubbed at his face and muttered, "Jerk."
"Sam," Dean said, his voice low, "no. Get your ass back inside."
Sam arched an eyebrow. "Dude, you should've told me that before I put all my stuff in the trunk. Too late now."
"Not funny," Dean snapped. "Get out."
Sam gave him an aggravating, bland look and put his feet up on the dash. "Where are we going?"
"Don't give me the stubborn face. I taught you that look." Dean shook his head. "Sammy, I'm not going to the fucking grocery store here. I'm leaving. I'm going back to hunt."
"Yeah," Sam said, "duh. I need to know what coast, Dean. Otherwise I can't exactly pinpoint 'the land of not here' on the atlas."
Dean's head hurt. A lot. Taking a deep breath, he stared through the windshield. Not looking at Sam, he said, "Okay. I'm sorry I was leaving without saying anything. I left a note." When Sam didn't move, Dean gritted, "Go read the damn note."
"I don't want to," Sam said obstinately. "And I don't need to. You're right here."
Gripping the steering wheel hard, Dean told it, keeping his voice carefully level, "It's over. You don't have to do this anymore. Go live your life. Just... out."
"Dean," Sam murmured. "I'm not leaving."
Dean looked at him. "I'm not saying it again."
"Yeah, like I'm that lucky."
"Sam," Dean said savagely. "Out, or I'm going to kick your skinny ass."
Sam's mouth quirked. Then he twisted in his seat, leaning over into the back to rummage in his bag.
Watching, feeling horribly helpless, Dean told Sam's back, "If this is about what I said back there... y'know. The camping. I didn't mean half of that shit. I want you to have your life-"
With a little 'aha!' noise, Sam slid back down into his seat. There was an envelope in his hands, which he pushed at Dean. "Read it."
Dean stared at him.
"Read it, jackass." Looking perversely pleased with himself, Sam laid his head back against the window. "There aren't even any big words."
Flipping him off mostly out of habit, Dean pulled the letter out of its envelope. He skimmed the first few lines, and then his brain caught 'Sam Winchester' and 'formal withdrawal', and he couldn't think to read. He looked at the words, frozen to his seat for a few long moments.
"I'm not leaving," Sam repeated softly.
Dean raised his head, staring at Sam through narrowed eyes. His throat was tight as he said, "You stupid fucking bastard."
Quirking an eyebrow, Sam said, "They didn't offer Con Job 101, Dean. You want to stop swearing at me?"
"No!" Dean tossed the letter at him, angrily. Then he shoved his duffel bag at Sam, and got a satisfying grunt as it hit Sam in the stomach. "You had a chance, you dumb- you could've-"
"I could've been bored shitless," Sam said dryly. "I could be half alive. I could live a 24 hour con job where there aren't demons out there, and where I'm up nights afraid for you-"
Dean shook his head. "I'm fucking fine, Sam, Jesus Christ-"
"Afraid for Dad. Hell, afraid for me and for whatever person I would've ended up marrying. Belial's not the end of it, Dean, and we both know it." Sam held Dean's eyes, not flinching. "There are other children out there like me. Like Meg. They're going to be very, very pissed that we killed their daddy. Tell me I'm wrong."
"All the more reason not to be around me." Dean tapped his hands on the wheel, restlessly. "I'm the one they'll want to hit. I'm the one who bound him."
"Stop," Sam said fiercely. "Stop the goddamn martyr bullshit, dude. If it's after you, it's after all of us. I'm not losing you twice."
Dean slanted Sam a look. Sam stared back at him, jaw set so tight he was shaking a little, his fists clenched in his lap and his eyes doing that too-bright thing.
"This really fucked you up," Dean said finally, quietly. "You're not okay."
"You're goddamn right it fucked me up. Jesus, Dean, I thought you were-" Sam looked around, grabbing for the leather cord around his neck and fumbling absently with it. "I thought you were gone. There was just this... gap in my life, this empty space, and... yeah. I'm still a little screwed up, okay?"
Dean sighed, looking down at his hands. Then he gripped the wheel, tight enough to see his knuckles through the skin. "Okay."
Sam raised his head, eyes shadowed. "Okay?" he asked, quietly.
"Yeah. Okay. I'm not going anywhere you can't follow, all right?" Dean flexed his fingers. "You don't have to do this."
"I want to," Sam said firmly. Then he cracked a grin. "Besides, I'm losing my mind in there. So. Goddamn. Bored."
"Yeah. Poor Dad. Oh well, soon Missouri'll be home to nag him to death." Dean pried his hands off the wheel, reached out and picked up the cord off Sam's throat. He studied the screw twined with cord, then looked at Sam, who wouldn't meet his eyes. "Dude. If you didn't use this to pick up chicks, I'm going to be so disappointed."
"What?" Sam asked, his nose wrinkling. "Yeah, women love hardware."
With an exaggerated sigh, Dean held up the cord and said, "Hey baby, want a screw?" As he held the cord up, something slid down under Sam's shirt. Dean grabbed it. "Dude! You kept my radio knob?"
Sam gave him a sheepish shrug. "Want your toe tag? It's in my wallet."
"Hey, I bit that wallet! Ugh." Dean wiped his mouth, then his tongue, on Dad's jacket. "Bleh. I got dead drug dealer in my mouth."
"And I have teeth-marks in my wallet," Sam said sourly. "Don't bitch or you're buying me a new one."
"Yeah, yeah." Dean slid the key in the ignition, hesitated for a second. "Sam? Last chance to-"
With an irritated noise, Sam reached out and grabbed Dean's hand, turning the key. The Impala purred to life, and Sam took his hand back. He tossed the duffel bag into the backseat and pulled his seatbelt on. "So. Dad suggested we hit this little town in Colorado," Sam said, rummaging for the atlas. "Leftover zombies.
Dean glanced at the house. Through the kitchen window, he could see a shadow. Dad, waiting to see them pull away safely. With a sigh, Dean snatch the radio knob off Sam's cord and pressed it into place. "Did everyone know I was leaving today but me?"
"Yeah, pretty much," Sam said cheerfully. Having flipped to the right page in the atlas, he reached out and opened the glove compartment. A small mountain of tapes tumbled out at Sam's feet.
"Thought those were dead," Dean said.
"Um. They kind of were. I made new ones. Had a lot of time to kill in the hospital."
While he still thought Dean was dead. Dean rubbed at the ache in his chest. "Uh-huh."
"Don't make a thing out of it," Sam muttered, but he was smiling as he shoved in the tape. "You pulling out or what?"
"Sounds like my prom date," Dean said. He grinned at the disgusted noise Sam made, and at the opening riff to Highway to Hell on the tape player. Putting the car in gear, he let her ease onto the road. Once she was there, he remembered the power under her hood, the smooth ride, and patted her wheel fondly. "We've got one stop to make before we go."
"Whatever," Sam said with a shrug. "We've got time."
Dean flashed him a grin, driving a little faster than was strictly necessary through the deserted streets. Dawn was breaking as they whipped into the parking lot outside the church where their hunt for the demon had ended. Sam turned to give Dean a curious look, but had his question answered as they rolled to a stop in front of the church steps.
Andrew was there in the priest garb and collar, gently ushering in a bevy of blue-haired women through the church doors. One of them had hold of his elbow and was talking his ear off, judging from Andrew's slightly pained look.
With a grin, Dean threw the brake on and eased out of the car. "C'mon, Sammy. Let's get some holy water."
"Yeah," Sam drawled. "Riiiight. Dude, so not blind."
Dean paused halfway up the steps, wincing at the sudden flare of memory that accompanied Sam's knowing little brother smirk. Sudden, graphic memory. It was one thing to know intellectually that he and Andrew had... been together. Known each other biblically. Whatever it was when you screwed a priest, Episcopalian or not. It was another to have it pop in his brain in vibrant technicolor, and wow, Andrew was flexible. And kinky. And loud.
Shaking it off, Dean opened his mouth to say hello. What came out was, "Hi, pumpkin."
Andrew turned sharply, staring at Dean. Then he laughed low in his throat, a promising sound. "Be with you in a minute." Going back to the old woman, he murmured something and patted her gently, helping her up the last step and into the church. He watched for a minute, making sure she got in all right, before spinning around to grin delightedly at Dean. "You would remember that first, you asshole. You look good."
"I'm pretty. You can say it." When Andrew made a rude noise, Dean punched him gently in the arm. "I need holy water. And a blessing, if you've got a second. The car, the weapons in the trunk and Sammy."
"And Dean," Sam said with a sigh, even as Andrew was saying sternly, "And you."
"Whatever," Dean said with a shrug, sliding his hands in his pockets. "Can't hurt."
"Dean, if anybody in this world could use a damn blessing..." Andrew dug in his jacket pocket, coming up with a little bottle of holy water. "Pop the trunk."
Dean tossed Sam the keys, let him pop the trunk. Andrew considered the arsenal inside with a muttered "niiiice", slapping Sam's shoulder absently. Then he cleared his throat, coughed into his fist and intoned, "Oh lord, bless this holy hand grenade..." As Sam snickered, Andrew glanced up at them both and winked. "Just fucking with you."
The car and the trunk got the quick Catholic-lite treatment, a bit of Latin and some holy water, Andrew making vague signs of the cross. Then he thumped the hood and turned to Sam. "C'mere. For you... any preference on pantheon? Because I've got 31 flavors."
"You're in a weird mood," Sam said, smiling.
"I got two hours of sleep. I'm punchy." Andrew shook his head, searching another jacket pocket. "You all are hard on my sleeping patterns. You're lucky I didn't show up naked again."
"Again?" Dean asked. "Well, that explains the senior citizen estrogen brigade."
Andrew ignored him, pulling out a pendant from his shirt pocket. It seemed to be one of about twenty. He rubbed the lint off, then twined the cord around his fingers and looked at Sam. "Come down here or get me a ladder."
Rolling his eyes, Sam leaned down. "What are you hitting me with?"
"Sumerian. Protection ward from one of the old gods." Andrew licked his thumb and pressed it to the pendant, and then the pendant to the center of Sam's forehead. "Hold still. This might sting."
Sam had a second to raise his eyebrows, a silent 'you could've mentioned that'. Then Andrew was speaking, low and quiet and fast, the words blurring into sounds that were lost under the hum of a truck passing on the highway. With a feeling like being snapped by a rubber band, right in the forehead, something rolled over Sam. He blinked away the afterimages as Andrew pulled the pendant away, leaning in to press a light kiss to the center of Sam's forehead.
Andrew murmured, too low for Dean to hear, "Don't let him con you. He needs you."
"I know," Sam said quietly.
"All right." Andrew thumped his shoulder, draped the pendant around Sam's neck and drew back. "You did good. Now go get some holy water. If you see my lousy mutt, take him for a walk around the side of the church."
Read: get out of our hair. Got it. With a smile, Sam rubbed his forehead. "Did that leave a giant kick me sign on my forehead?"
"Not that you can see," Andrew said dryly.
"That's comforting." Catching the bottle as Dean tossed it to him, Sam saluted Andrew with it. Then he looked at Dean. "I'm keeping the keys."
"I figured. Paranoid little bitch, aren't you?" Dean grinned as Sam flipped him off, turning to stride towards the church. "Hey, keep the old ladies occupied while you're in there! More action than you've gotten in months."
As the door closed, Andrew said from dangerously close to Dean, "He's a good kid."
Dean turned to look at him. He could feel the warmth of Andrew's breath on his throat. He swallowed, then smiled his best aggravating, cocky smile. "He does all right. So what do I get, Pig Latin?"
"Mm. No, I was thinking of an old Hebrew blessing," Andrew murmured.
"Hate Hebrew. Never could make sense of it. Can't you use Latin?" Dean asked.
"Nope. I'm set on the Hebrew." Andrew leaned in, touching Dean's cheek lightly. There was an intimacy in the touch that drew Dean's spine tight, and he was grateful when Andrew's eyes fluttered closed.
Andrew chanted, his voice rolling into an odd, harsh cadence. Dean felt the power, pressing down on him, over him like a warm touch. It tightened for a moment, almost choking, then released, laying over his skin with liquid heat.
Andrew leaned up, his lips brushing Dean's gently.
Memories swirled through Dean's head as Andrew's hand curled around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. He remembered those hands touching, comforting, stroking slow over his skin. Dean relaxed, purring into the contact.
Surprised, Andrew teased his tongue along Dean's lips, testing.
Power and pleasure shivered through Dean, branding him, sinking into his skin. His hands slid down to Andrew's hips, pulling him closer, letting him deepen the kiss as Dean shuddered at the press of Andrew's lithe body against his.
After a long minute, Andrew pulled back, resting his forehead against Dean's. "Jesus. I really have to do Mass."
Dean blinked at him, lips curling in a vague smile. "Hell of a blessing, Andrew."
"I try." Andrew carefully stepped back, hand lingering on Dean's cheek. He stroked Dean's mouth with his thumb and shivered visibly. "Don't suppose you'd like to stay until after I finish?"
The memory of the last few weeks pushed through his lust fogged brain. Dean remembered the rough heat of other hands on him, scalding fresh burns on his hips, pinning him down. Dean felt his body tense, pulling back a little.
So much for nice, uncomplicated sex. Dammit.
With a sigh, Dean shook his head. "Have zombies in Colorado to deal with," he murmured. "We'll be back soon, though. Month, month and a half. Can I stop by then?"
"You'd better," Andrew smirked. He glanced up as Sam came down the stairs, Andrew's dog in his arms. "Thanks, Sam. Did he do anything?"
"Nah, he was too busy getting fussed over by the ladies," Sam murmured, looking at Dean's slightly befuddled smile and swollen lips. "You about ready?"
"Yeah. You can drive," Dean said, walking carefully to the car.
"Does that mean I get to pick the music?" Sam asked, turning over the engine.
"Don't push it, Sammy." Dean turned up AC/DC as they pulled out onto the highway.
EPILOGUE
Andrew watched as the Impala slid out of sight, then looked down at Darcy, who was sniffing around on the grass. "C'mon, baby. Daddy's got to say mass so we can go the hell back to bed."
A shrill tone made Darcy cock her head, and Andrew slid his phone from his pocket and flipped it open. "Father Murphy."
"They've left the city limits. Should we move on them?" a harsh voice asked, the sound like huge stones grinding together beneath the earth.
Andrew rolled his eyes. "Who's left the city limits?"
A pause. "The Winchester boys," it said slowly. "Sir, maybe you should consider a vacation."
"Their names?" Andrew asked pointedly.
"Sam and Dean?" the voice asked, sounding like nothing more than a child called to task by their teacher.
"Their full names?"
"Uh. I don't-"
"Samuel Gabe, as in Gabriel, and Dean Michael. Or did you miss the flaming sword in the cemetery, you idiot?"
"Yes, sir." At least he had the sense to sound sheepish. "Should we move on them?"
Andrew rubbed the bridge of his nose. "No. Let me make this clear. If they attack, by all means, defend yourself. Do it head on, no bullshit. No tractor trailers, no backstabbing, no dream-walking. But otherwise, leave them alone. Actually, just stay the fuck out of their way. Anyone who touches any of them without just cause will answer to me. And I decide what constitutes just cause. Do you understand?" he asked, voice hard. "They belong to me. I have final word."
"Yes sir." The other man sounded grudging. "May I say something?"
"No. Particularly if it's about objectivity. Now fuck off, and don't call me until it's something important." With a sigh, Andrew snapped his cell phone shut. Then he looked to the sky, shaking his head. "You gave me all the idiots. And you could've warned me that your wrath has freckles."
There was no answer. There usually wasn't.
With a last look down the road, he-- who was called many names: Arawn, Hades, Shiva, Set, Loki and more recently Lucifer, the Adversary, Lord of Lies, the patron saint of the left-hand son, the Prince of Darkness-- went in to say morning Mass.
****
The End.
Authors:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: We make no claim of ownership on the Brothers and Daddy Winchester. No infringement is intended, no money is made.
Author Notes: Set after the episode "Devil's Trap."
WARNINGS: Character maiming, violence, more angst than you can shake a stick at.
Okay, before we let you get to the fic, we wanted to say a few words. This has been a hell of ride for us, and we'd like to offer our sincere thanks to everyone who has made it so much fun. The response has been thoroughly overwhelming, between all the feedback and the recs.
We're especially thrilled with the response to our John, since we know he's not exactly the most popular person in fandom. *grin* So, for so many of you to let us know that you enjoyed him really means a lot.
So, from the bottom of our cold, black hearts, thank you! We'll see you soon with the sequel.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
****
Dean closed the door behind him carefully, quietly, feeling like a bastard.
He'd left a note on the counter for Dad and Sam. He'd been careful to take the cell phone Dad bought for him last week. He had the feeling Dad had been expecting this.
Still, he was sneaking out before dawn like a fucking criminal. It didn't sit easy. But better that than some bullshit tearful goodbye, having to wish Sam luck at school or look at Dad and tell him that sorry, but Dean just couldn't sit still for anybody. The road called, and Dean couldn't ignore it anymore.
Yeah. Nice way of saying that Dean was running like hell.
Shifting his duffel bag's strap higher on his shoulder, Dean walked towards the Impala. He slid his hand over the arch of her window, patting her absently as he opened the driver's side door. He'd missed that sound.
Dean went to climb in, tossing his bag over into the passenger seat. It hit him in the chest a moment later. Startled, Dean caught it and stared at Sam, slid low in the passenger seat.
With a yawn, Sam rubbed at his face and muttered, "Jerk."
"Sam," Dean said, his voice low, "no. Get your ass back inside."
Sam arched an eyebrow. "Dude, you should've told me that before I put all my stuff in the trunk. Too late now."
"Not funny," Dean snapped. "Get out."
Sam gave him an aggravating, bland look and put his feet up on the dash. "Where are we going?"
"Don't give me the stubborn face. I taught you that look." Dean shook his head. "Sammy, I'm not going to the fucking grocery store here. I'm leaving. I'm going back to hunt."
"Yeah," Sam said, "duh. I need to know what coast, Dean. Otherwise I can't exactly pinpoint 'the land of not here' on the atlas."
Dean's head hurt. A lot. Taking a deep breath, he stared through the windshield. Not looking at Sam, he said, "Okay. I'm sorry I was leaving without saying anything. I left a note." When Sam didn't move, Dean gritted, "Go read the damn note."
"I don't want to," Sam said obstinately. "And I don't need to. You're right here."
Gripping the steering wheel hard, Dean told it, keeping his voice carefully level, "It's over. You don't have to do this anymore. Go live your life. Just... out."
"Dean," Sam murmured. "I'm not leaving."
Dean looked at him. "I'm not saying it again."
"Yeah, like I'm that lucky."
"Sam," Dean said savagely. "Out, or I'm going to kick your skinny ass."
Sam's mouth quirked. Then he twisted in his seat, leaning over into the back to rummage in his bag.
Watching, feeling horribly helpless, Dean told Sam's back, "If this is about what I said back there... y'know. The camping. I didn't mean half of that shit. I want you to have your life-"
With a little 'aha!' noise, Sam slid back down into his seat. There was an envelope in his hands, which he pushed at Dean. "Read it."
Dean stared at him.
"Read it, jackass." Looking perversely pleased with himself, Sam laid his head back against the window. "There aren't even any big words."
Flipping him off mostly out of habit, Dean pulled the letter out of its envelope. He skimmed the first few lines, and then his brain caught 'Sam Winchester' and 'formal withdrawal', and he couldn't think to read. He looked at the words, frozen to his seat for a few long moments.
"I'm not leaving," Sam repeated softly.
Dean raised his head, staring at Sam through narrowed eyes. His throat was tight as he said, "You stupid fucking bastard."
Quirking an eyebrow, Sam said, "They didn't offer Con Job 101, Dean. You want to stop swearing at me?"
"No!" Dean tossed the letter at him, angrily. Then he shoved his duffel bag at Sam, and got a satisfying grunt as it hit Sam in the stomach. "You had a chance, you dumb- you could've-"
"I could've been bored shitless," Sam said dryly. "I could be half alive. I could live a 24 hour con job where there aren't demons out there, and where I'm up nights afraid for you-"
Dean shook his head. "I'm fucking fine, Sam, Jesus Christ-"
"Afraid for Dad. Hell, afraid for me and for whatever person I would've ended up marrying. Belial's not the end of it, Dean, and we both know it." Sam held Dean's eyes, not flinching. "There are other children out there like me. Like Meg. They're going to be very, very pissed that we killed their daddy. Tell me I'm wrong."
"All the more reason not to be around me." Dean tapped his hands on the wheel, restlessly. "I'm the one they'll want to hit. I'm the one who bound him."
"Stop," Sam said fiercely. "Stop the goddamn martyr bullshit, dude. If it's after you, it's after all of us. I'm not losing you twice."
Dean slanted Sam a look. Sam stared back at him, jaw set so tight he was shaking a little, his fists clenched in his lap and his eyes doing that too-bright thing.
"This really fucked you up," Dean said finally, quietly. "You're not okay."
"You're goddamn right it fucked me up. Jesus, Dean, I thought you were-" Sam looked around, grabbing for the leather cord around his neck and fumbling absently with it. "I thought you were gone. There was just this... gap in my life, this empty space, and... yeah. I'm still a little screwed up, okay?"
Dean sighed, looking down at his hands. Then he gripped the wheel, tight enough to see his knuckles through the skin. "Okay."
Sam raised his head, eyes shadowed. "Okay?" he asked, quietly.
"Yeah. Okay. I'm not going anywhere you can't follow, all right?" Dean flexed his fingers. "You don't have to do this."
"I want to," Sam said firmly. Then he cracked a grin. "Besides, I'm losing my mind in there. So. Goddamn. Bored."
"Yeah. Poor Dad. Oh well, soon Missouri'll be home to nag him to death." Dean pried his hands off the wheel, reached out and picked up the cord off Sam's throat. He studied the screw twined with cord, then looked at Sam, who wouldn't meet his eyes. "Dude. If you didn't use this to pick up chicks, I'm going to be so disappointed."
"What?" Sam asked, his nose wrinkling. "Yeah, women love hardware."
With an exaggerated sigh, Dean held up the cord and said, "Hey baby, want a screw?" As he held the cord up, something slid down under Sam's shirt. Dean grabbed it. "Dude! You kept my radio knob?"
Sam gave him a sheepish shrug. "Want your toe tag? It's in my wallet."
"Hey, I bit that wallet! Ugh." Dean wiped his mouth, then his tongue, on Dad's jacket. "Bleh. I got dead drug dealer in my mouth."
"And I have teeth-marks in my wallet," Sam said sourly. "Don't bitch or you're buying me a new one."
"Yeah, yeah." Dean slid the key in the ignition, hesitated for a second. "Sam? Last chance to-"
With an irritated noise, Sam reached out and grabbed Dean's hand, turning the key. The Impala purred to life, and Sam took his hand back. He tossed the duffel bag into the backseat and pulled his seatbelt on. "So. Dad suggested we hit this little town in Colorado," Sam said, rummaging for the atlas. "Leftover zombies.
Dean glanced at the house. Through the kitchen window, he could see a shadow. Dad, waiting to see them pull away safely. With a sigh, Dean snatch the radio knob off Sam's cord and pressed it into place. "Did everyone know I was leaving today but me?"
"Yeah, pretty much," Sam said cheerfully. Having flipped to the right page in the atlas, he reached out and opened the glove compartment. A small mountain of tapes tumbled out at Sam's feet.
"Thought those were dead," Dean said.
"Um. They kind of were. I made new ones. Had a lot of time to kill in the hospital."
While he still thought Dean was dead. Dean rubbed at the ache in his chest. "Uh-huh."
"Don't make a thing out of it," Sam muttered, but he was smiling as he shoved in the tape. "You pulling out or what?"
"Sounds like my prom date," Dean said. He grinned at the disgusted noise Sam made, and at the opening riff to Highway to Hell on the tape player. Putting the car in gear, he let her ease onto the road. Once she was there, he remembered the power under her hood, the smooth ride, and patted her wheel fondly. "We've got one stop to make before we go."
"Whatever," Sam said with a shrug. "We've got time."
Dean flashed him a grin, driving a little faster than was strictly necessary through the deserted streets. Dawn was breaking as they whipped into the parking lot outside the church where their hunt for the demon had ended. Sam turned to give Dean a curious look, but had his question answered as they rolled to a stop in front of the church steps.
Andrew was there in the priest garb and collar, gently ushering in a bevy of blue-haired women through the church doors. One of them had hold of his elbow and was talking his ear off, judging from Andrew's slightly pained look.
With a grin, Dean threw the brake on and eased out of the car. "C'mon, Sammy. Let's get some holy water."
"Yeah," Sam drawled. "Riiiight. Dude, so not blind."
Dean paused halfway up the steps, wincing at the sudden flare of memory that accompanied Sam's knowing little brother smirk. Sudden, graphic memory. It was one thing to know intellectually that he and Andrew had... been together. Known each other biblically. Whatever it was when you screwed a priest, Episcopalian or not. It was another to have it pop in his brain in vibrant technicolor, and wow, Andrew was flexible. And kinky. And loud.
Shaking it off, Dean opened his mouth to say hello. What came out was, "Hi, pumpkin."
Andrew turned sharply, staring at Dean. Then he laughed low in his throat, a promising sound. "Be with you in a minute." Going back to the old woman, he murmured something and patted her gently, helping her up the last step and into the church. He watched for a minute, making sure she got in all right, before spinning around to grin delightedly at Dean. "You would remember that first, you asshole. You look good."
"I'm pretty. You can say it." When Andrew made a rude noise, Dean punched him gently in the arm. "I need holy water. And a blessing, if you've got a second. The car, the weapons in the trunk and Sammy."
"And Dean," Sam said with a sigh, even as Andrew was saying sternly, "And you."
"Whatever," Dean said with a shrug, sliding his hands in his pockets. "Can't hurt."
"Dean, if anybody in this world could use a damn blessing..." Andrew dug in his jacket pocket, coming up with a little bottle of holy water. "Pop the trunk."
Dean tossed Sam the keys, let him pop the trunk. Andrew considered the arsenal inside with a muttered "niiiice", slapping Sam's shoulder absently. Then he cleared his throat, coughed into his fist and intoned, "Oh lord, bless this holy hand grenade..." As Sam snickered, Andrew glanced up at them both and winked. "Just fucking with you."
The car and the trunk got the quick Catholic-lite treatment, a bit of Latin and some holy water, Andrew making vague signs of the cross. Then he thumped the hood and turned to Sam. "C'mere. For you... any preference on pantheon? Because I've got 31 flavors."
"You're in a weird mood," Sam said, smiling.
"I got two hours of sleep. I'm punchy." Andrew shook his head, searching another jacket pocket. "You all are hard on my sleeping patterns. You're lucky I didn't show up naked again."
"Again?" Dean asked. "Well, that explains the senior citizen estrogen brigade."
Andrew ignored him, pulling out a pendant from his shirt pocket. It seemed to be one of about twenty. He rubbed the lint off, then twined the cord around his fingers and looked at Sam. "Come down here or get me a ladder."
Rolling his eyes, Sam leaned down. "What are you hitting me with?"
"Sumerian. Protection ward from one of the old gods." Andrew licked his thumb and pressed it to the pendant, and then the pendant to the center of Sam's forehead. "Hold still. This might sting."
Sam had a second to raise his eyebrows, a silent 'you could've mentioned that'. Then Andrew was speaking, low and quiet and fast, the words blurring into sounds that were lost under the hum of a truck passing on the highway. With a feeling like being snapped by a rubber band, right in the forehead, something rolled over Sam. He blinked away the afterimages as Andrew pulled the pendant away, leaning in to press a light kiss to the center of Sam's forehead.
Andrew murmured, too low for Dean to hear, "Don't let him con you. He needs you."
"I know," Sam said quietly.
"All right." Andrew thumped his shoulder, draped the pendant around Sam's neck and drew back. "You did good. Now go get some holy water. If you see my lousy mutt, take him for a walk around the side of the church."
Read: get out of our hair. Got it. With a smile, Sam rubbed his forehead. "Did that leave a giant kick me sign on my forehead?"
"Not that you can see," Andrew said dryly.
"That's comforting." Catching the bottle as Dean tossed it to him, Sam saluted Andrew with it. Then he looked at Dean. "I'm keeping the keys."
"I figured. Paranoid little bitch, aren't you?" Dean grinned as Sam flipped him off, turning to stride towards the church. "Hey, keep the old ladies occupied while you're in there! More action than you've gotten in months."
As the door closed, Andrew said from dangerously close to Dean, "He's a good kid."
Dean turned to look at him. He could feel the warmth of Andrew's breath on his throat. He swallowed, then smiled his best aggravating, cocky smile. "He does all right. So what do I get, Pig Latin?"
"Mm. No, I was thinking of an old Hebrew blessing," Andrew murmured.
"Hate Hebrew. Never could make sense of it. Can't you use Latin?" Dean asked.
"Nope. I'm set on the Hebrew." Andrew leaned in, touching Dean's cheek lightly. There was an intimacy in the touch that drew Dean's spine tight, and he was grateful when Andrew's eyes fluttered closed.
Andrew chanted, his voice rolling into an odd, harsh cadence. Dean felt the power, pressing down on him, over him like a warm touch. It tightened for a moment, almost choking, then released, laying over his skin with liquid heat.
Andrew leaned up, his lips brushing Dean's gently.
Memories swirled through Dean's head as Andrew's hand curled around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. He remembered those hands touching, comforting, stroking slow over his skin. Dean relaxed, purring into the contact.
Surprised, Andrew teased his tongue along Dean's lips, testing.
Power and pleasure shivered through Dean, branding him, sinking into his skin. His hands slid down to Andrew's hips, pulling him closer, letting him deepen the kiss as Dean shuddered at the press of Andrew's lithe body against his.
After a long minute, Andrew pulled back, resting his forehead against Dean's. "Jesus. I really have to do Mass."
Dean blinked at him, lips curling in a vague smile. "Hell of a blessing, Andrew."
"I try." Andrew carefully stepped back, hand lingering on Dean's cheek. He stroked Dean's mouth with his thumb and shivered visibly. "Don't suppose you'd like to stay until after I finish?"
The memory of the last few weeks pushed through his lust fogged brain. Dean remembered the rough heat of other hands on him, scalding fresh burns on his hips, pinning him down. Dean felt his body tense, pulling back a little.
So much for nice, uncomplicated sex. Dammit.
With a sigh, Dean shook his head. "Have zombies in Colorado to deal with," he murmured. "We'll be back soon, though. Month, month and a half. Can I stop by then?"
"You'd better," Andrew smirked. He glanced up as Sam came down the stairs, Andrew's dog in his arms. "Thanks, Sam. Did he do anything?"
"Nah, he was too busy getting fussed over by the ladies," Sam murmured, looking at Dean's slightly befuddled smile and swollen lips. "You about ready?"
"Yeah. You can drive," Dean said, walking carefully to the car.
"Does that mean I get to pick the music?" Sam asked, turning over the engine.
"Don't push it, Sammy." Dean turned up AC/DC as they pulled out onto the highway.
Andrew watched as the Impala slid out of sight, then looked down at Darcy, who was sniffing around on the grass. "C'mon, baby. Daddy's got to say mass so we can go the hell back to bed."
A shrill tone made Darcy cock her head, and Andrew slid his phone from his pocket and flipped it open. "Father Murphy."
"They've left the city limits. Should we move on them?" a harsh voice asked, the sound like huge stones grinding together beneath the earth.
Andrew rolled his eyes. "Who's left the city limits?"
A pause. "The Winchester boys," it said slowly. "Sir, maybe you should consider a vacation."
"Their names?" Andrew asked pointedly.
"Sam and Dean?" the voice asked, sounding like nothing more than a child called to task by their teacher.
"Their full names?"
"Uh. I don't-"
"Samuel Gabe, as in Gabriel, and Dean Michael. Or did you miss the flaming sword in the cemetery, you idiot?"
"Yes, sir." At least he had the sense to sound sheepish. "Should we move on them?"
Andrew rubbed the bridge of his nose. "No. Let me make this clear. If they attack, by all means, defend yourself. Do it head on, no bullshit. No tractor trailers, no backstabbing, no dream-walking. But otherwise, leave them alone. Actually, just stay the fuck out of their way. Anyone who touches any of them without just cause will answer to me. And I decide what constitutes just cause. Do you understand?" he asked, voice hard. "They belong to me. I have final word."
"Yes sir." The other man sounded grudging. "May I say something?"
"No. Particularly if it's about objectivity. Now fuck off, and don't call me until it's something important." With a sigh, Andrew snapped his cell phone shut. Then he looked to the sky, shaking his head. "You gave me all the idiots. And you could've warned me that your wrath has freckles."
There was no answer. There usually wasn't.
With a last look down the road, he-- who was called many names: Arawn, Hades, Shiva, Set, Loki and more recently Lucifer, the Adversary, Lord of Lies, the patron saint of the left-hand son, the Prince of Darkness-- went in to say morning Mass.
****
The End.
no subject
Date: 2006-06-14 08:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-06-15 01:17 am (UTC)This has been an excellent story, great characterisation and a compulsive, page-turner of a plot.
The ending was just superb, never for a minute did I see Andrew as the fallen angel, but it worked beautifully. So much so that I'd really like to see more of him with Dean.
Great work girls, thank you for a thoroughly entertaining read!
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-06-16 01:15 am (UTC)Best storyending ever. More feedback when my brain reconnects. STUNNING fic, truly stunning.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-06-16 02:46 am (UTC)I think one of the things I loved with this was that you left things not explained in certain areas that have left me curious and yet, not everything in life has explanations, they just are and that made this that much better. Also, knowing there is a sequal and a prequal, I know some of those things are going to get explained through the reveal that happens to the characters.
I never would have guessed, though I knew it couldn't be good, who Andrew really was. That just rocked me back and made me laugh a bit and wonder what exactly Andrew has planned for the boys. I need to go back and reread who exactly it was that told John that by binding them all to the hourglass then if one died all would, because if it was Andrew then, man was he lying?
I liked that as the guys are going away, they are both so far from ok still, and yet they just have to keep moving. It's them. I like that you took the time to have the repercussions of everything be actual repercussions. We don't even know the full extent of what Dean can do. And we only have a vague idea of how that has affected him in a negative and positive manner, same with how Sams abilities have changed and adapted. The description of the battle was brilliant. You made Dean so glorious and so ready to break and then his family is right there filling in the gaps with their own gifts and it was wonderful. And yes, I so loved your John.
The way Dean was trying to sneak away cracked me up and that they were on to him and the banter that followed was great. I'm so curious to see what you will do with the lingering after affects of all of this in the follow up. The introduction to the hunters network was terrific, and really is there anyone Dean hasn't slept with? I also hope the Viking biker bar people will come back in cause they were a bit of brilliance on your part. How much of Dean is still on the edge and how long will he stay there? John isn't the type to stay still, how is he going to reform his life to meet his knew limitations? Sam has accepted everything and has found this control he never had and yet he is also so fucked up and I can't wait to see if this new way he has learned to be will remain. How much will his fear of losing Dean affect his decision making?
I'm not done thinking or asking or anything. But I am going to walk away and think for a while. And just so much respect to you guys for writing this and thanks for sharing it. Also, trust me on this, you've got some real serious fangirl squeeing breaking the sound barrier over the angst, hurt/comfort, beautiful Dean and general sexy representations of Dean and Sam and John in so many different ways throughout. You bitch slapped my hormones into the background with the intensity of the story - go you, that's a difficult thing to do these days. More soon.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-06-16 07:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-06-18 01:51 pm (UTC)And I love the sequel hook -- you could've warned me that your wrath has freckles -- marvelous!
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-06-19 01:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:Awesome
Date: 2006-06-20 12:53 am (UTC)And, I concur with some -- Andrew just got much more interesting!
And, you used the magic word: sequel!
Nice writing. Good plotting and good characterization.
Thank you. And, please, can I have some more?
ndm
Re: Awesome
From:no subject
Date: 2006-06-21 05:17 pm (UTC)I have to admit to being confused about John's concern about Andrew. I agree that I found Andrew - odd, but not evil perse, just odd. Not quite what he was saying but I couldn't pinpoint what he was hiding. So you leave us with him hiding that he's the devil? That's just peachy. And then you hint that maybe Sam and Dean are fallen angels, at least I took it to be that way. (And how long as he (Lucifer) been Andrew? Always? After macking with Dean?) And how did Mary not know? I found her order of Andrew not to touch the cooler odd, as though she were afraid he wanted the power for himself. And maybe she did think that, but how, in the afterlife, does she not know the true identity of Andrew? Questions questions!!
Fallen angels, or angels sent by God to protect. I have to question why Andrew is so interested in them, why he does seem to care (in the good way) and not just want them dead. If they are causing him problems, sending the evil things back to hell, why doesn't he kill them? Better to keep them close, or better to not really piss off God?
I am very intrigued.
I also found Sam's mental abilities interesting. John mentioned that there wasn't much left of them, but they seem strong. Stronger than before in regards to moving things, but lacking in the "seeing" power. But he was able to see Dean, and see him in a way that wasn't available before. Before the visions were all about the future, hours into the future, no immediate-let-me-duck-the-punch future. And Dean still has some of the demon's powers, which he did not share with John or Sam. In the end, these two are going to be very hard to stop as they are very powerful.
I hope that the sequel is as much fun to write as this one as I'm really looking forward to learning more about Sam and Dean's powers, Andrew and how the Winchesters are bound together.
Really enjoyed the story, took me a long time to get through it -- stupid work and stuff. But you guys rock with this. *g*
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-06-23 04:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-06-24 04:52 am (UTC)I almost bought a rename token to use Pseudonym McAlias.
Your wrath has freckles. hjjmihn. You own me.
ps. Dean's unending love for Sam. You nailed that so fucking hard, I think you knocked a hole in the wall.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-06-26 08:32 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-07-01 08:38 pm (UTC)I'm soooo looking forward to more. And you managed to make Dean/Andrew an OTP of mine, which in itself is quite a feat since I generally don't like OC - but yours, yours are just brilliant! MORE!!
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-07-10 06:17 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-07-18 06:51 pm (UTC)Thank you for the wonderful read! I'm gonna go read that prequel now.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-07-21 11:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:amazing
Date: 2006-07-23 06:29 am (UTC)Re: amazing
From:Re: amazing
From:no subject
Date: 2006-07-31 09:56 am (UTC)I know the two of you have this archived, but I wondered if you'd consider letting me archive it at Moonlight Fiction.com (http://www.moonlightfiction.com). It's a multi-fandom archive, currently under reconstruction and I have this wish list of new stories I'd love to give a home to, this being firmly at the top of that list.
Can I, please, huh???
no subject
Date: 2006-08-13 07:49 am (UTC)My friend tried to get me to watch a TV show last night, which proved really bad timing, because I was in the middle of this story, so during the first commercial break I returned here and didn't look back. I finished the story at about one thirty, and then I decided to go to bed before I attempted anything like feedback.
So here I am, rested and full of random squeeing that I need to sort into words. (And this is for both of you - if only one reads this journal, please pass the note along.)
First of all, kudos to making such a long, interesting, suspenseful, and compassionate story. I loved every step of the way (and wow, there are few things I love more than a fic that's really good and lasts for a really long time. And yeah, an evening is a really long time for me. *g*) I'm so thrilled to hear that there'll be a sequel, because maybe then I'll have a chance of following it chapter for chapter - agonizing, I'm sure, but how delightful! I did notice that there's a prequel; I haven't come that far yet, thought I'd do the feedback first.
I loved the mix of angst and lighter moments, and that the ending was happy without being unrealistically so; it felt logical without being predictable. (I must say, if the story had ended with the demon not exorcised, I might have felt cheated...) You did really well with the pacing, keeping the story interesting without throwing too much trauma in. (There are fics that just make me go, "Good Lord, more trouble? Surely that's overkill!" This was not such a fic.)
And I can't begin to say how much I love to see a three-dimensional, human John instead of a one-note ogre. (Seriously. I started watching the show less than two weeks ago and have read fics slightly shorter, and already I'm far too tired of exclaiming, "John doesn't love Dean? In what fricking universe?) You did a great job of not white-washing him while still showing things from his perspective. Your views on Sam and Dean were also great, taking what canon gave us and moving to logical conclusions about the way they might act. (Obviously, I can't know that Dean would react like that to being trapped with a demon, since he never has in canon, but I fully believe that he could.) I love how you managed to show all three of them from the inside, making me understand all their quirks and thoughts. And it was really fabulous the way you made Sam convinced that Dean wasn't dead - he's such a stubborn bastard, and he's right to be such a stubborn bastard, yay!
The way you used mythology during the story was very creative - bringing new spooks in and varying the existing one without ever reaching a point where it got tedious or over the top. The end revelation about Andrew is very interesting, and I'm curious to see what it'll mean in practical terms, since the mythological characters he represents are interpreted in such different ways in different sources, and aren't always entirely like each other. (For instance, Lucifer might be considered more evil than Hades, who is a lot gloomier than Loke, and so on... But it all depends on the source.)
That comment about "You gave me all the idiots. And you could've warned me that your wrath has freckles." reminded me of a scene in Sandman when Lucifer grudginly admits that God makes "bloody marvelous" sunsets. Which is a compliment, because I love Sandman. (Actually, a lot of things in the story reminded me of that kind of "weird shit" fantasy/horror/magic realism that I like so much. Also, hee! on the freckles. It took me a while to get - I'm slow - but I loved it once I did.)
I'm sure in a minute or two I'll go "Oh damn! I forgot about --- " but for now, I feel like I've gotten the essentials through in this feedback. Now excuse me while I go and pimp the fic in my LJ, for those latecomers like me who haven't read it already.
no subject
Date: 2006-09-04 12:08 am (UTC)I've spent the last five hours or so just setting here in front of my computer mesmerized by this story, unable to stop reading.
Well written, in character, it brought the angst and it was plotty as hell. Plus a little Dean slash--which was great.
You guys really deserve more then a little paragraph telling you how great it is, but I suck at feed back. But if I could only read one story from this fandom for the rest of my life? This would be it. From the first chapter to the last, I feel like I've just been to a million different places... this was just completely amazing, and I can't even really describe HOW amazing. Just wonderful.
I give you all the praise in the world... just wow. The emotions, and the action were all just on key, I loved your John and your Sam (and of course your Dean). I feel like you got the depth of them all just completely right.
I'm going to stop babbling now before I take another five or so hours just sitting here talking about how much I love this story. Amazing job, and I'm sure that I'll be reading and rereading this more than a few times.
Just one more time: Wonderful amazing awesome job!
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2006-09-10 02:46 pm (UTC)The fact that I could read all 36 chapters in less than 24 hours is a testament to how good this is.
Wow - you guys rock.
On to the sequel.
no subject
Date: 2006-09-13 03:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-24 08:23 am (UTC)And Dean/Andrew? Whoo, hot. ;)
no subject
Date: 2006-10-02 02:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-06 07:35 pm (UTC)I hope you both write lots more and I wish like anything that this were canon, but in a way I'm glad it's not because I think reading it was so much fun. Thanks a million. /gush over