I'm not sure what's with me and going back to old stories! Geez!
So, this is something that has sat in my documents for going onto 8 months now. I've toyed with the idea a lot, and it hasn't fully come to me. I came across it when I was making a video edit (yes, I do those, low-key promo: KToonX on YouTube) in which was a request from somebody. It was about Amara, and while I was re-watching Season 11 to find clips, THIS SCENE came across me and just slapped me in the face.
It's where as a last resort, Chuck tries to transfer the Mark of Cain to Sam, in order to lock Amara away. It doesn't happen though, because Amara stops him. How many of you remember this scene? Because I sure didn't! I looked for some fanfiction on this episode, and didn't find much of anything. How?! This is the perfect setting for an AU.
This is not going to be a copy of when Dean had the Mark, of course. I have some ideas. I have a lot of ideas. What's missing is motivation. So, I feel like this is going to be my fall-back story, unless I get a lot of people who are interested by it. This means, when I have a writer's block, or am just bored and don't know what to do, then this will be the story I turn to in order to set myself straight. This also means no scheduled updates.
But, maybe with a tad confidence I'll write faster? Who knows? Hehehe.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything that isn't mine. (lol, you get what I mean.)
Enjoy! (Reviews are like candy: amazing.)
Dean's mind whirled.
He had no idea what to do, and had very little to no time to even think about what actions he could take in order to change what was happening to his little brother. It was the worst kind of torture.
Dean had bore the Mark for almost two years. He knew the sensation—the rage, the hate, the need to kill. But throughout the whole time he had donned the crimson tattoo on his forearm, there was one thing that he always thought of that kept him going. Excluding the time he was a demon, of course.
Sam didn't have to go through this. For once, Sam could catch a break. He didn't have to worry about demon blood, or Lucifer, or being soulless, or going crazy, or dealing with the trials. He could finally just be...Sammy.
That's why, right now, watching his brother receive the Mark was one of the worst feelings he had ever had. He felt so hopeless, so forlorn. He had failed once more at protecting his brother from the evils that were the hunting life, the persecution again targeting Sam because apparently that's just how life was nowadays. Sam always got the inferior of it.
And the worst part about this entire situation? Dean had agreed. He had freaking agreed to letting his little brother be consumed by the Mark, and he hated himself for his decision. But with everybody watching, especially the Lord Himself, Dean didn't really think he had too much of a choice.
God and I talked about this. Someone needs to bare the Mark.
Dean wasn't sure when Sam had been able to set up a private, confidential meeting with God beyond his knowledge, especially since they had been hovering around each other since the whole Amara thing started, but he was frustrated that Sam had lied to him...again. For a good cause? Sure. But for Dean? Debatable.
Well that should be me. I'm—I've had it before, I'm damaged goods.
Dean would be lying if he said he was fine with wielding the Mark for a second round. In fact, it was the very last thing he wanted to do. But if it meant Sam didn't have to go through that pain? Then he was one hundred percent on-board with the plan.
Exactly, you've already been tainted. I can't transfer it to you—Sam volunteered.
Just like that, his whole strategy before went out the window. Snap. Sam had volunteered. Willingly. Dean knew why, of course. Sam's kind-hearted nature wouldn't let him stand back and watch the world die, knowing he could do something to prevent it. He doubted he himself would either. But why Sam? Why was it always Sam?
And what happens when the Mark turns you psycho? Then what?
You lock me up where I can't hurt anyone, and throw away the key!
Again. There it is. The Winchester's self-sacrificing, throw-yourselves-in-the-face-of-danger demeanor that manages to get just everybody in trouble. But, at this point, Dean didn't have any other cards to play, and the apocalypse was nearing. So he agreed. He complied, and watched as the plan unfolded itself, regretting his decision immensely.
He could see Sam curled over in a fetal position, sinking to the ground and obviously in a great amount of pain. Clutching onto his brother, Dean helped to carefully lead him to the cement floor, in which Sam collapsed onto his knees, holding himself up by one arm and gazing intently at his other which was glowing bright red. Dean watched horror-struck as the familiar symbol began to engrave itself onto Sam's skin, the vermilion tones traveling through his veins as it latched onto his soul.
He wasn't sure who was screaming, but he definitely heard it. It could've been Amara, it could've been Sam, but it most certainly could've also been him. In fact, he was pretty sure it was all of the above.
Suddenly, a burst of light flashed amongst the room, turning everything a vibrant shade of white. He tried to shield his eyes, but failed miserably, falling and turning onto his back as he began to feel lightheaded.
Just like that, it was gone.
The room was restored to its normal color, and the only sounds were those of everybody around him breathing heavily. Blinking rapidly, he sat up into a sitting position, his mind instantly screaming Sam! at him. That was when he spotted the lax heap of limbs sprawled out face-down a few feet to his right, and he struggled to crawl over to his unmoving brother.
"Sammy?" he whispered, silently wishing, praying, for any sign of consciousness. Any sign that the Mark wasn't where he thought it was. "Sam?"
He could feel multiple pairs of eyes on him, those which he suspected to be Chuck's, Crowley's, Rowena's, and hell even Lucifer's. Not that he cared that the others were staring at him, all that mattered was Sam.
Grasping onto Sam's jacket, Dean gently tugged his body over so that Sam was on his back, face directed at the ceiling. Feeling for a pulse on his neck, he was relieved when he discovered the normal beat of his heart, no complexities that he at least could detect.
Then, remembering their predicament, he almost forgot to breathe. Panicking, he rolled up the sleeves of Sam's flannel, knowing but dreading what he was going to see hidden there. The Mark, bright and scarlet, was on his baby brother's arm, seemingly taunting him. His hands shaking, he softly touched the inflamed skin around the area.
The crushing realization hitting him full force, he let his body fall on top of Sam's limp one, and he cried. Dean Winchester cried, because the worst thing he could ever imagine was bestowing itself upon him, and he didn't know what to do. For the first time in forever, Dean was truly, utterly powerless.
"Hey, uh, God? Sorry, I mean Chuck?" Sam began, slowly walking into the room where the Lord was currently sitting in one of the main chairs, drinking whatever the hell was in that 'World's Best Dad' coffee mug.
Chuck looked up from his drink, his eyebrows arched, and Sam took that as a cue to sit in the seat across from him. "Yes, Sam?"
"I've, uh, I've got to talk to you about something." Sam was really dreading having this conversation, but he knew it had to be done at some point. They were running low on time, and by now this was pretty much the only solution that was rational. Dean wouldn't like it, Sam knew, but now Amara was gaining strength, and with Crowley, Rowena, and Lucifer (and didn't he hate to say that?) they actually had a shot at winning.
"Y'know, I've been thinking," Sam started, mentally preparing himself for the words he was about to speak, "if you were to just kill the Darkness, say, take her out of the equation, then that would end badly, wouldn't it?"
Chuck sighed, obviously knowing where this conversation was headed. "Yes, it would. Without the darkness, well…"
"The scales aren't balanced. The light vanquishes the dark, or so it goes, but without any darkness to vanquish, then that upsets the natural balance," Sam finished. "We can't just eliminate Amara."
"Exactly."
Sam took a deep breath. He had watched as the Mark had turned his brother into something he wasn't—the word monster comes to his mind—and how he had to sit witness and paralyzed, unable to do anything to stop it. So, with what he was going to say, he knew it would hurt Dean more than it would himself. Nevertheless, it was better to do it. Amara would be locked up, and things could be normal for once. Sam liked that.
Maybe Dean could lead an actual decent life. He recalls Lisa and Ben, but even with them Dean was never fully happy.
This made Sam chuckle. It was ironic how he, the one who always wanted the apple pie life, never got it, yet Dean, loyal to the hunting lifestyle, was given it by chance. Not that Sam minded—in fact, he always had and still does think that Dean deserved a life more than him, especially that destiny seemed to agree. He just found it funny.
Sam shifted in his seat. "Then that means someone else has to have the Mark. To keep her locked up, right? And since Dean has already been affected by it, as well as Lucifer, they can't have it again."
Chuck nodded absentmindedly. "How'd you figure that out?"
"It was pretty easy from the look on your face when we were in the main room, talking about ways to kill her," Sam stated.
Chuck laughed. "Yeah, I guess so. But even if it wouldn't be of effect when we kill her, she's still my sister. I don't want to kill her either way. You of all people should understand," he said with a thoughtful expression.
Sam thought back to all of the times in which he prayed, and how he would do it almost every night after Pastor Jim taught him in his church when he was only nine years old. He even did it sometimes after they discovered the truth and met Cas, begging for forgiveness and redemption for being tainted and a disgrace. Of course the host of Heaven didn't listen though, and rightly so. He was destined for hell the moment he turned six months old.
"I did hear your prayers," Chuck told him quietly. "All of them." Sam furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, and Chuck scrambled to continue. "Toledo, Ohio. 1998. You were fifteen years old. It was a black dog, I believe, and had shredded your brother up pretty bad. You fell asleep crying and praying to everyone who would listen for them not to take him. For being the chosen vessel it was pretty loud, and it was not necessarily easy to ignore."
"You…?"
"It was nothing, really. Just a nudge to get him through the night."
Sam didn't know what to say. "T-Thanks?" He didn't really want it to come out as a question, but it did. A few moments of silence passed, and Chuck gestured for him to continue. "Anyways, uh, back to what I wanted to ask you. The Mark?"
"Yes?"
"Well, if nobody else here is capable of wielding it, then that leaves one person remaining, right?"
"Unfortunately," Chuck responded sadly. "Sam, you have to understand what you're getting into, here. You saw what it did to your brother."
"I didn't just see it," Sam corrected, "I was running for my life while he was too busy playing a game of cat and mouse. He tried to kill me with a hammer. I think I know what I'm doing, no offense."
Chuck raised his hands. "I know you do, Sam. But just understand this. You will not be hurting yourself here, but as for your brother...Lord only knows what will happen." Chuck paused. "No pun intended," he added, "but do you remember how you felt when Dean was being consumed by the Mark?"
"I do. I don't want to be reminded, either."
"Good. So you know that it'll be ten times worse for Dean."
"What?"
"Sam, he's been looking out for you since that fire in Lawrence that destroyed your guys' lives. He had to be a mother, he had to be a father, and he had to be a brother, but he didn't care because all that mattered was keeping you safe. Losing you would destroy him."
Sam breathed out, trying to steady his breathing before continuing. "I know," he said, and hated the tremor that racked his words. "I know."
Chuck studied him. "But you're still going to do it, aren't you?"
Sam shook his head yes. "I have to. I've got no choice."
"You always have a choice. I just hope you're making the right one."
"I am," he said confidently, and stood up to leave.
tbc?
