Fic: Three X's for the Stone 2/2

[nilchance]

Title: Three X's for the Stone
Authors: nilchance and beanside
Rating: R
Spoilers: Through "Hunted"
Pairing: Gen
Disclaimer: We don't own them, sadly. Though, really, we don't play nice with our toys.
A/N: This could be read as a stand alone. There will however, be future fics in this universe that will be Wincest, and MPREG-->genderswitch.




Bobby glanced up from his paperwork as Sam ghosted past his den, heading for the kitchen. Time to shove another bottle of Ensure into John's tube, then. "When you're done, I did laundry. Let me know, and I'll change the sheets," he called.

Sam's steps faltered, then his dark head popped into the doorway, so much like his daddy for a minute that it made Bobby's chest ache. "We can do that-"

"Don't worry about it. I'm an old hand, and neither of you are up to pulling and tugging John around."

"Okay," Sam finally said. "If you don't mind."

Bobby’d almost finished the invoice for Johnson Auto when he heard John scream. He didn't really remember getting up, but then he was in the doorway, watching John thrash in the bed, blood streaking his arm where the iv had ripped free. John's hand flew up, and Sam reeled back, clutching at his nose.

"Dean, off the bed!" Sam barked. "Your ribs-"

The warning came a moment too late. As Dean turned to move off the bed, John's hand impacted squarely on Dean's side. Dean slid off the bed with a strangled noise and landed on his knees with a thump.

Sam didn't waste time, practically launching himself around the bed to check on Dean. Bobby focused on John instead, scooping up the syringe Sam had abandoned, and leaned his weight on John long enough to sink the needle into his arm. After a moment or two, John's struggles slowed, and Bobby came to his feet. "Jesus, John. You're still a royal pain in the ass."

John's only reply was to weakly lash out again. Bobby grunted as the back of his hand connected with Bobby's crotch. "Goddamn it. You did that on purpose," he accused, hurrying around the bed to check on the boys.

Dean was still curled in a little ball, gagging and clutching his ribs. Sam knelt over him, big hands supporting him gently. Bobby sighed. "Sam, get him out to the sofa, and I'll clean up in here."
Dean's pained eyes fixed on Bobby, glaring with everything he had. "'m fine," he gritted, "I can help-"

"Boy, you gonna make me throw you out of here?"

For a moment, Bobby was sure he was going to have to. Then, Dean's head dropped, and he let Sam help him up to his feet.

Bobby closed the door behind the boys before he turned back to John, watching him move restlessly. The drugs made him slow. Soft, pained noises slid from John's throat, and Bobby swallowed hard. "You're just a ball of sunshine, aren't you?"

John was a little heavier than Cindy had been, but old habits died hard. Bobby had the bed stripped and John cleaned up in no time flat. Then, before he replaced the sheets over the rubber mattress pad, he dialed Joshua.

"Hey, Dean," Joshua muttered, half-asleep. "Jus' got in, was gonna call you. What's going on?"

"It's Bobby."

"Oh, good. What's up?" Joshua's voice brightened a little.

"Don't sound so fucking happy."

"Look, you know I think of John as my brother, but let's be honest, he's fucked. They pulled him out of Hell, not off a spa trip to Cancun. The chances of him waking up at all are slim."

Bobby sat on the edge of the bed, leaning heavily against the frame. It was one thing to think it, another to hear Joshua blurt it out like that. "Jesus. What the hell is wrong with you, letting his boys think-"

"They're Winchesters. They'll think what they want, and you know it. How many damn times did you tell Dean not to pull a stunt like this? How many times did I tell Sam there was nothing he could do to bring John back?"

Bobby chuffed a tired laugh and closed his eyes. "Dunno. A few thousand."

"Yeah. But here we are. Better to let them realize things on their own, because if I try telling them they'll just go for a second opinion. If it's a good day, Dean might not even shoot me first."

"Harsh."

"Maybe. He's been riding that edge for years, Bobby."

"There's Sam," Bobby said curtly. "That'll be enough. What if John does wake up?"

Joshua sighed. "He spent the better part of a year with a demon. God only knows what it did to him. You might get a vegetable. You might get a psychopath... heh. Not that we'd be able to tell. It might have broken him completely. I don't know. I'm not his shrink or his priest."

"He was screaming just now. Thrashing around like he was in pain. Ripped out his iv."

Joshua was quiet for a moment, then blew out a hard breath. "Okay. Look, I'll be up tomorrow afternoon. Dump some water into his feeding tube, or Gatorade, he'll be fine until I get there. Make sure he doesn't pull out the catheter, okay?"

"Okay. Joshua," Bobby said, "seriously. What are the chances of this ending well?"

"If it was anyone but John, one in a billion. Since it's John, one in a million." Joshua sighed heavily. "Just be ready for the worst."

"Yeah. Got it." Bobby hung up the phone and stared down at John. "You're a pain in the ass, old friend."

John's mouth tightened, like it used to when Bobby stitched his wounds closed and John didn't want his boys to hear him swearing. Those had been good days: the boys sleeping in front of Bobby's kitchen stove, Jim and John and Caleb working out strategy at the table, John stretching to prod Dean with a foot when he got too close to the fire.

Jim and Caleb were dead, and the sweet-faced kids were hard men now. Bobby felt the rain in his bones, and knew it was only a matter of years before he went down, too. Might be good to see Cindy again.

With a snort, Bobby nudged John over to pull a new set of sheets on the bed. John went passively, head rolling with the motion. Bobby could see where Dean was coming from with the morphine. He'd seen his share of good men die, but not like this. Not so bad as this.

"Never figured you'd go down like a bitch," Bobby murmured, jerking the fitted sheet down over the corner of the mattress. "Your boys are on their own now. How long you think they're gonna last?"

John twitched.

Bobby paused, one hand holding the sheet steady as the other gripped John's shoulder. John had moved before, nothing remarkable about muscles spasming while they atrophied, but the timing... "Can you hear me?" Bobby asked.

Nothing.

Doctors had told him Cindy could hear every word he said. Bobby hadn't bought it, and hadn't figured it mattered anyhow. She was on her way out, and nothing he said would've stopped that. Cindy hadn't been a fighter, God save her. The pain had beaten all the will out of her.

John was different.

"All right, then," Bobby said. "You weak son of a bitch, you listen to me. Those boys of yours should've left your sorry ass in hell."

The heart monitor counted off the seconds.

"They didn't say how you went down to the demon, John, but any fool could work it out. You cut a deal. Probably told yourself it was damn noble. Your life for Dean's. Sounds real nice. Makes up for all the crap you put him through." Bobby snorted. "You got tired. You turned throat and left your kids to fend for themselves in the war that you threw them into. Christ, you're a sorry excuse for a father."

John's hand jerked where it rested on his hip, long fingers flexing. Bobby tilted him onto his back, onto the other hip, and moved around him to sort out the rest of the bed.

"How long do you think it'll take the demon to turn on Dean next? How long do you think Dean'll last right now, tired and torn up as he is? It'll go right through him. Might not even kill him. Hell, it'd be a waste to let a weapon like that go. No, it'll break him. Put him on his knees in a pretty dog collar with a bell on it. Make him crawl. And then it'll go for Sam.

"Now, I don't know what the deal is with that kid. Truth is, I don't want to. Whatever it is, Sam's something special. He's breaking up as it is. Has nightmares a lot. Wakes up screaming, when he even bothers to sleep. Most of the time he stays in here, talking to the daddy that didn't even waste words on him before he killed himself. Nice, right? Real heroic of you."

John's hand twisted in the bedsheet, knotting it around his fingers. There were long, livid bruises down John's back, blooming wherever he rested on the bed.

"You owe them better than this," Bobby said tightly. "Either come back or stop taking in air. Don't you fucking make that kid of yours kill you, or I swear to God I'll come down there and kick your ass myself."

John moaned again, hand clenching on the rails.

"Y'know, this doesn't look like any coma I've seen," Bobby muttered, sliding pillows behind John to keep him on his side. "There. You can lay there with your ass hanging out. It'll inspire you to hurry the fuck up."

By the time Bobby headed back out, the clock in the hallway was chiming midnight. Dean was on the sofa, still guarding his ribs, with Sam crouching in front of him, face drawn in concern.

"Get off me, dude!" Dean griped. "I'm fine."

"Dean," Sam began, voice low, concerned.

Whatever he'd planned to say was cut off as Dean caught sight of Bobby. "How is he?"

"'bout the same. I rolled him onto his side. He's got some red marks on his back that we'll need to watch. Try to keep him off his back when you can. Don't want 'em turning into pressure sores." Bobby watched the look on Dean's face shift, the self condemnation for letting John lay in one place for too long begin.

Sam laid a hand on Dean's shoulder, offering comfort. It was a pretty good measure of how badly Dean was hurting that he didn't shrug it off. Both of the boys looked like a stiff wind would take them out, much less a demon. The only thing Bobby could hope was that the wards held. If not, they were all done for.

Things were just great all over.

****
One bonus to Dad being on his side, Dean thought, was that he couldn't flail quite as much. It made things a little easier. He settled onto the cot, watching as Sam carefully poured Gatorade into the feeding tube.

"You should probably be glad you're getting this via tube," Sam said softly. "Somehow, I'm not thinking you'd be into Cool Blue." Sam stuck a finger into the lid and sucked the droplet off, making a disgusted face. "Dean, I think we're going against the Geneva convention, giving this to Dad."

"Well, then stop giving him anti-freeze."

It was weird, doing this. Trying to kid with Sam like he would any other day, while he pretended that he wasn't dying a little inside each time they did this. Each time they poured something into the tube, or shoved a syringe into Dad's veins.

"This is wrong," Dean said abruptly.

Sam looked at him. "It's not that bad. I mean, it's kind of assy, but it could be worse."

"No. I mean this." Dean waved his hand towards Dad. "You were right, Sammy. I should never have tried this."

"Dean, we don't know-"

"Look at him!" Dean snarled. "He's a fucking vegetable."

"We don't know that for sure. It's only been a few days!" Sam finished feeding Dad, and laid the tube back in place, fingers stroking over Dad's hair with an easy grace. So fucking calm. "We don't know."

"We know," Dean bit off. "You just don't want to deal with it. We can't leave him like this-"

"He's not conscious." The first sign of irritation bled into Sam's voice. He stopped petting Dad like a fucking throw rug, and visibly made himself calm down before he started again. "He doesn't know-"

"Oh, and that makes everything fine." Dean stared at the steady blip of the heart monitor. "It's great. We'll just keep the body around because it makes you feel better."

"He's not dead," Sam said tightly. "Goddamn it, Dean. You go to hell to bring him back, you make me kill you, and now because he's not up and around in three days you're deciding that he's a lost cause?"

"Yeah. That's exactly it. You got me." Scrubbing at his face, Dean glanced at their father. He needed a shave, the tube was taped to stubble, and none of mattered. The antiseptic smell of the room didn't matter. The taste of the Gatorade, the welt where the iv had been, the books Sam read or the condition of the Impala... there was nobody home.

Dean had done this for himself, sick as it was, and now all he wanted was for the fucking monitor to wail to a stop so he could sleep. So he could put his feet up and have a beer and know that his dad, his strong invincible half-crazy maddening dad, was peaceful somewhere. He was up with Jim drinking whiskey and laughing with Mom. He wasn't pinned in a dying body, pissing in a tube, flinching from the demon in his head.



Dad wasn't in hell. That had to count for something.

"Hey," Sam said. The chair scraped as Sam came around the bed, kneeling in Dean's space. He let go of Dad to do it. That was the way it went. On one side or the other, never with both. If Dad left, Dean went to Sam. When Sam left, he stayed with Dad.

If Dean lived, Dad died.

"Hey," Sam said again, gentler. "C'mon. Talk to me."

Dean looked over his head at the monitor and said, "Don't pet him like he's a goddamn dog."

Sam's hands twitched, then stilled. He gripped Dean's knees, hidden strength in those long fingers. They'd killed him and they'd brought him back. "I'm not giving up on him," Sam said. "He needs to know we're here."

"We were here before. Didn't stop him from making that fucking deal."

Sam made a disbelieving noise. "You're pissed at him? Now? For that? Dean, he saved your life."

"No. I'm not pissed." Moving his knee out from under Sam's hand, Dean scooted his chair back. "Look, I'm just telling you-"

"He did what he had to," Sam said. "You were dying-"

"And he should've let me."

"You don't mean that," Sam said. "Not after all this--Jesus, Dean!" He looked back at Dad. "He did this so you'd live. And that's what it's worth to you?"

"I don't want to die, Sam. That's not what this is about. I just-"

"You're tired. I remember." Sam rounded on him, eyes bright with unshed tears. "What about me, Dean? Do I get to be fucking tired? I lost my fiance, my father, and my brother in one year. I've got a fucking demon that thinks I'd be a swell puppet to play with, you might still have to kill me-"

"I won't let that happen."

"And now, when we have a chance at getting him back, it was a bad idea?"

Dean rocked back a little as Sam came to his feet, pacing the length of the small room. "Sam-"

"Just shut up. I've had it with you. You know what? I'm not sorry that Dad saved you! If I had thought of it, I'd have done the same. Don't you fucking get it? You're important to us. Sorry if that fucks up your little worldview, but yes, other people get to care about you. I get to care about you."

Dean stared, shaking his head. "No. Sammy, I'm not-"

Sam crooked an eyebrow, looking outright dangerous as he glared down at Dean. "Go on," he said, his voice a warning not to. "You're not what?"

Dean took a step back for the sake of his equilibrium. "Promise me. You won't ever do something like that."

"No, I won't fucking promise! I don't give up on people I care about. I didn't give up on you, and I'll be damned if I'm going to give up on Dad, so just shut the hell up. Got it?" Sam threw himself into the bedside chair hard enough that the wood creaked, and scooped up one of the books on the floor next to it.

Dean stared for a moment, head spinning. When it didn't stop after a moment, he shook his head, noting the woozy way his brain seemed to slosh in his skull. "Bobby!" he yelled.

The other man appeared in the doorway a moment later. "Yeah."

"What was'in that food?"

Bobby's lips twitched. "Codeine. Why?"

"Bastard," Dean muttered.

Dad made a soft noise that almost sounded like an assent to Dean's fogged mind. "See?" Dean said, "Dad agrees too. You're an asshole."

Sam laughed softly. It was a good sound. Then those big hands were back on him, tilting him onto the cot with a soothing murmur of noise. A blanket landed on Dean, and he let himself fall.

****

If Dean'd harbored any illusions that the codeine-induced sleep would help, it was disabused the moment he woke up. His head hurt, his mouth tasted like one of Bobby's dogs had put his paw in there overnight, and his brain felt fuzzy.

The machines were still beeping steadily, almost drowned out by Dad. Dean couldn't decide if he was moaning in pain, or snoring. Really, even before, they'd sounded a little bit alike. Sam was reading again, or maybe he hadn't stopped. Maybe he'd sat up all night. Who knew, with Sammy?

Dean laid still for a moment, let the soft murmur of Sam's voice wash over him.

"No," John moaned suddenly.

Dean sat up quickly, breath catching at the stab of pain in his ribs.

John was moving again, head thrasing on the pillow, hands pushing at something, trying to force it away from him. "Nonononono..."

"Dad!" Sam said sharply. "It's okay. It's all right. You're safe."

"What if he's not?" Dean asked dully.

"What?" Sam asked, glancing back. "Wait, Dad, no. You've gotta leave the feeding tube in." He gently moved Dad's hand away from the tube, then glanced back at Dean. "What are you talking about?"

"No, please, no," John moaned.

"The demon," Dean said suddenly. "It's in there, with him. Torturing him."

Sam shook his head. "We don't know that."

John made a horrible rending noise, something between a whimper and a sob.

Dean swallowed hard. "Are you listening to him?"

"So what? You think we should exorcise him?"

Dean stared at the floor. "I did that the day we brought him here."

"What then?" Sam was quiet for a moment, then he shook his head. "No. No way. You're not thinking that we should--no. God, Dean, we can't-"

"Look at him! He's in pain, and he's afraid, and it's hurting him! I can't handle that. I can't--look, you don't have to do anything, I'll handle it. I just--I can't do this to him." Dean stood up, pacing the narrow space between the bed and the cot. "I told him I'd keep this from happening. I promised he wouldn't die like this."

"You don't know what's going on in his head. It's only been five days! And let's face it, your judgement is a little shaky on this."

"Sammy-"

"I'm not putting Dad down like a dog that nobody wants," Sam said harshly. "Not until I know that we've done everything, given him every chance to get better."

John made a sharp noise, and Dean swallowed hard. "We've gotta be realistic. He's not getting better."

"How can you say that?" Sam threw his hands out . "For three days, he didn't move. He didn't respond to pain. Now, he's moving, he's responding to pain-"

Dean choked on a bitter laugh. "That's my point."

"He's even verbal. He's getting better."

"Sam," Dean said, voice cold.

"No. We're not talking about this right now. You're sleep deprived, you've got a codeine hangover-"

"Whose fault is that?"

"-And you're being irrational. No. Not now, maybe not ever." Sam shook his head. "And don't think you'll just wait until I go to sleep and do it anyway. I wouldn't forgive you for that."

John made another noise. Dean shook his head, thoughts swirling until he thought his head would explode. One more goddamn minute in that room and he was going to hit something. "I--I'm going to take a walk."

"Fine," Sam said tersely, his attention locked on Dad's twitching fingers. "Take your time."
***
"C'mon. Lestat isn't that bad."

Dad jerked against the restraints, his head rolling on the pillow, and honest-to-God growled. It was better than the pained moans, but not by much. Sam felt like he'd been transferred from Night of the Living Dead to the Howling, possibly with a brief stop in his freshman year of high school. It was that kind of growl.

Lowering the book, Sam watched his father for a minute. Like with all the other vocalizations, Dad followed up by trying to swat the feeding tube away from his face. His coordination improved with every round; this time, he actually almost hooked his fingers under the tape.

Sam grabbed his wrist and set it back on the bed. "Dad," he said tiredly, "no. Joshua's gonna be pissed enough about the iv. Knock it off."

"No," John muttered, turning his face towards the door. "No."

"You said that." Propping the book up on John's arm, Sam found his place again. "If you've got a problem with my taste, wake up."

His only reply from Dad was a low, vicious sounding growl. Well, if the demon was in there, at least it sounded like Dad was kicking its ass now.

"There was meaning in the world, yes, and laws, and inevitability, but they had only to do with the aesthetic. And in this Savage Garden, these innocent ones belonged in the vampire's arms. A thousand other things can be said about the world, but only aesthetic principles can be verified, and these things alone remain the same," Sam read.

A moment later, his brain tried to process the words he'd just spoken. "I may be more tired than I thought," he muttered, leaning his head on his father's arm. "That almost made sense."

An odd noise sounded above his head, a sharp intake of breath. It came again, and Sam jerked upright, grabbing the oxygen saturation probe and clipping it onto John's finger. The machine beeped, reading out a steady 99%, just about as good as you could get. "Okay," he murmured, laying his head back down.

The noise came again, sharp and insistent.

Sam lifted his head, looking up at his father. "Are yousniffing me? Dude, I took a bath yesterday."

When there was no response, not even a growl, Sam sighed, letting his head fall back onto John's arm.

His father sniffed--and dammit, that was a sniff, Sam thought--twice more, then let out a long, deep sigh. Sam glanced up and stilled, breath catching in his throat. Dad's eyes were open.

"Dad?" he whispered. "Can you hear me?"

John stared blankly at the ceiling. If he heard Sam, he wasn't showing it.

After a long moment, Sam reached up, using the lightest touch of his fingertips to close his father's eyes. It shouldn't have felt ...final. "Don't want them getting dried out," Sam said, forcing his voice to stay light.

John's eyes popped open again.

"Dad, cut it out. You're gonna-"

John blinked slowly, his gaze still vacant.

"Oh. Okay, I guess that's good." Sam sighed, resting his chin on his father's arm. "God, we've made a mess of things. I'm sorry, Dad. If you're in pain, or the demon's in there with you, I'm sorry. I thought this would help Dean. Thought maybe this would pull him back, but it's just made everything worse."

John's hand twitched, and Sam corralled it before he could reach for his feeding tube. "And now, he's talking about--God, about killing you. Letting you go. And that'll kill him, Dad. If it has to be done, I'll do it, or Bobby will."

Lost in his grief, it took Sam a moment to realize that his father's hand was squeezing back. He let go quickly, jerking upright to stare at John's face.

Familiar hazel eyes met Sam's, and for a minute he forgot to breathe. "Dad?" he finally said.

John blinked, lips moving silently for a second. Then, he cleared his throat. In a voice like miles of bad road, he rasped, "S-Sammy?"

"Dad?"

John nodded slowly, throat working hard. Then his lip curled in a tiny smile. "Hey, Sammy."

Fuck. Oh God, oh God. He was hallucinating. Or-- "Christo," Sam blurted.

For a moment, John froze, and Sam got ready to push back from the bed.

"Bless you," John finally rumbled, the smile widening.

Sam's answering laugh could have been a sob. "Dad," he said again. "You're you."

John coughed low and brutal, and Sam scrambled to tilt the bed up a little more, to nudge a straw between his lips. "Here, drink some water. And try to take it easy."

"Where's your brother?" John's attention darted around the room, suddenly on edge.

"He's fine. He just took a walk." Sam hesitated, steadying the cup of stale water. Everything in him screamed that he couldn't turn his back on Dad, couldn't leave the room in case this was just a screwed-up vision. "Do, um. Do you want me to go get him?"

John gave him a silent look that said volumes, and tried to take another sip of water.

"Yeah," Sam said, "I guess you would. Stupid question. Sorry."

Waving that off impatiently, John cleared his throat again. His smile was lopsided. "You could yell." With a sigh, he reached up, pulling the tape off his face. "This has got to go. Can't swallow right with the tube there." Before Sam could suggest that he leave it, Dad was gagging, pulling the tube out of his nose. "Much better." He laid his head back on the pillow with a sigh.

Swallowing hard, Sam nodded, going to the window. "Dean!" he bellowed. "Dean, get in here now!

Dean was there almost before Sam's voice stopped. "What?" He stepped close to Dad, who had closed his eyes again. "Aw, Christ. He pulled out the feeding tube? Fuck-" His voice broke as John's eyes opened. "Well, that's new."

Proving something, Sam guessed, about their family, Dean gently tried to close John's eyes, too, only to have them pop open again. Sam watched Dean's face go from concern to mild exasperation. Dean was reaching for Dad's eyelids again when Dad crossed his eyes at Dean.

Rubbing his face, Dean glanced at Sam, who quickly schooled his face into mild curiousity.

Dean looked back down, and Sam bit his lip hard to keep from laughing. Dad had his eyes crossed again, with the added attraction of his cheeks puffed out and tongue poking through his lips.

This time, Dean couldn't shake it off as a trick of the light. He barked a short laugh, then looked down. "Dad?"

John's face melted in a fond smile. "Hey, dude."

Sam felt his face split into a smile as Dean just crumpled. He bent down to throw his arms around Dad, murmuring choked half words that Sam couldn't quite hear.

This was it. This was utter perfection, everything they'd hoped for, everything they could have dreamed of. If the demon showed up in five minutes and killed all of them, it was all right. Because they'd had this.

Of course, Sam would rather they kill the damn thing.

"Good job, son," John murmured. "And thanks for the Metallica."

Dean gave a watery laugh, burying his face against John's throat. "Not much metal in hell? Dude, false advertisement. Somebody should sue.”

"Not exactly," John said. "I knew there was only one person crazy enough to wander through hell humming Enter Sandman."

Sam chuckled, laying his hand over Dad's, resting on Dean's back. "Dean's got crazy to spare, all right."

Dean flipped him off, and Dad smiled, and Sam felt something in his stomach uncoil.


Everything was going to be okay. After all this, it was finally going to work out right.

Comments

[janissa11.livejournal.com]

HOLY CRAP. SAM KILLED DEAN AND THEY BROUGHT JOHN BACK.

Okay, I, ah, realize you KNOW that. Um. But. Yeah, CAPLOCKS OF DOOM BECAUSE GAHHHHHHHHHHHH! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK! YAYZ JOHN IS BAAAACK!!

[aithne414.livejournal.com]

*flails* This is... just... OMG! Absolutely perfect! The show would be lucky to do it this well, if/when they decide to rescue John out of hell. Absolutely fantastic.

[khek.livejournal.com]

I want this to be canon!!!!!!!

:)

Loved the crossed eyes, puffed cheeks and tongue.

[phantomas.livejournal.com]

WHAT JANISSA SAID!

*g*

*flails around. A lot*

*loves you both. A lot*

You don't expect ME to say anything SENSIBLE, right? Because with the Sammy killing and the Dean dyingb and the John waking up (and Bobby and Joshua and...) well. *flails some more*

[fureux.livejournal.com]

ladies your words are golden. oh, for this to be real. *blows kisses*

[velvetmagras.livejournal.com]

*flails*

OMG!

*flails some more*

You rock! You both ROCK. SO. HARD!

[aesvir.livejournal.com]

Sam killed Dean!!!!! And Dean hummed Metallica to bring John back!!!!

*swoons*

[aesvir.livejournal.com]

There will however, be future fics in this universe that will be Wincest, and MPREG-->genderswitch.

Hahaha, yes, please have MPreg! :p (Though, honestly, Dean/Jensen makes a more convincing woman. I can't handle a seven-foot tall Sam as a pregnant lady.)

[topaz119.livejournal.com]

"Not exactly," John said. "I knew there was only one person crazy enough to wander through hell humming Enter Sandman."

Right-fucking-on.

General reactions include: Oh, Dean. Oh, Sam. Bobby! Dude, fucking righteous. and uh, genderswap, mpreg? oh, I can't wait.

[coiledsoul.livejournal.com]

I'M N UR UNDERWORLD, HUMMIN METALLICA.

You may lose me at the mpreg, but I'm stayin' tuned until then. Great work gals.

[bluesister.livejournal.com]

*claps*

[staceey.livejournal.com]

YES! You guys are writing again and this rocked! You brought John back! Woohoo! I love this story! Its brillant and I adding this to my memories right the heck now. Thank you sooooo much for sharing this brillant piece of work! *dances*

[eloise-bright.livejournal.com]

You two rock, you know that?

This is so very good and so very fucked up and so very Winchester. I almost couldn't read this chapter. The thought of what they'd done, so awful and terrifying and ENTER SANDMAN IN HELL. Your Dean is awesome.

John's mouth tightened, like it used to when Bobby stitched his wounds closed and John didn't want his boys to hear him swearing. Those had been good days: the boys sleeping in front of Bobby's kitchen stove, Jim and John and Caleb working out strategy at the table, John stretching to prod Dean with a foot when he got too close to the fire.

And the tears started right about there.

John's face melted in a fond smile. "Hey, dude."

Sam felt his face split into a smile as Dean just crumpled. He bent down to throw his arms around Dad, murmuring choked half words that Sam couldn't quite hear.

This was it. This was utter perfection, everything they'd hoped for, everything they could have dreamed of. If the demon showed up in five minutes and killed all of them, it was all right. Because they'd had this.
<

And I'm still crying.

Fanbloodytastic.

[amalthia]

can't wait to see where you guys go after this. :)

[cetpar.livejournal.com]

Very cool. I enjoyed this story very much and will definitely be sticking around for the rest of the ride. *g*

[shotofjack.livejournal.com]

I got nothing coherent.

Love this..... *hugs*

[apieceofcake.livejournal.com]

That had everything...bloody wonderful!!

Thank you :-)

[ginnytonnick.livejournal.com]

I may have made squeaky toy noises. This is a great start.

[killabeez.livejournal.com]

That, right there, is the best thing ever in the history of ever. I may possibly worship you both a little right now. Holy crap, dudes. Fucking brilliant and so much better than anything I could have wished for. I want to make you cookies, or buy you a yacht or something.

[luminosity]

OMG! I'm all teary and upset and thrilled. OMG! This was just fantastic. Thanks so much for posting it. And thank you killabeez for making sure I read it. Oh John. Oh Dean. Oh Sam. Oh BOYS.

[trishabooms.livejournal.com]

How the hell I missed you posting this I have no idea!!

Stunningly good girls as always. I look forward to more.

[a2zmom.livejournal.com]

here from sockkpupett. Wonderful characterizations, this is exactly how Sam and Dean would react in this situation. And I thoroughly loved Bobby here also, his quiet efficiency and pain.

[hellesgift.livejournal.com]

oh man, I enjoyed this so much! Very well written, as always, and amazingly skillful handling of mood...within two parts (and only a short time in the story) you had me biting my nails with nerves and laughing out loud. Can't wait to read more!

[offbeat-style.livejournal.com]

This. Is. Beautiful.
Sammy killed Dean and John is back (!!!!) and Metallica! Do you know how much I love that song?
I want to see this happen...Kripke, are you listening? THIS is what you do, okay?
You guys, I think I love you :D

[cookie-junkie.livejournal.com]

*wibble*

amel...bren... du?

*bursts into tears and clings to you*

THAT WAS SO WONDERFUL.

[elmathelas.livejournal.com]

Wow, very nice. I wish this was more the way it had gone.

::sigh::

[redheadforever.livejournal.com]

This was phenomenal!!! *does the happy dance*

Dean marched right into hell and retrieved their father after talking Sammy into running the spell, rendering him clinically dead and reviving him. Unbelievable.

Of COURSE he'd be humming Metallica.

Sammy didn't spend most of the story whining and putting on the Bitchface like he so often does on the screen, but was a frightened but mature partner in the endeavor, a pleasure to read.

Dean did what he had to do every step of the way. He got Sammy to suffocate him and trusted he'd be able to get back out to a body undamaged and waiting for his return. He literally "marched into hell for a heavenly cause," as the musical says. Not a handholder "emo chick," as he calls Sam, his caring is expressed in nursing care, hands-on and hands-dirty and hands skilled at whatever must be done. Dean won't flinch in the clinch, even if it means ending his father's life once again to spare him suffering. Your Dean was magnificent.

And lots of Bobby! After Dean, he's my favorite character, and he kicked some excellent ass in this story. Your Joshua was an intriguing take on the man, too.

I'm hoping you won't abandon this 'verse however you take it forward. They just got him back: NOW what happens? Or is that really the fitting end of the story -- it all opens up for them again...

Whatever.

Red

Happy Deangirl glad she found this by accident

[bookstorequeer.livejournal.com]

I love that song! What a trip. What a rough, rough trip. But omg a happy ending. *dies a little* LOVELY.

[gilesgirl.livejournal.com]

I'm really loving this & PLEEEEEEEASE say you've gotten more of this written now!!! :)

[roque-clasique.livejournal.com]

Amazing, thank you!

[elenies-mind.livejournal.com]

Hi there, i just read this fic and i really enjoyed it!
But i was wondering if you actually wrote a sequel with the wincest and Mpreg part.