Yes, there is triggering material in this fic. so much so that I feel for certain chapters I'll post warnings ahead of time. (like this one.)
in this chapter: mentions of War, PTSD, Homophobia and Homophobic slurs, violence. (obvious for the last one, this is an M rated fic)
so if any of that upsets you, stop here. Seriously.
warnings for future chapters: War (bombings, riots, starvation), PTSD, Homophobia, Homophobic slurs, violence including attempted rape and murder, major character death.
Parings: established Sabriel and Balcifer.
soundtrack: The Chemical Brothers- Escape 700, Puscifer- Conditions of my Parole, Man Overboard, System of a Down- Aerials, Nothing Else Matters- Apocalyptica.
Beta'd by: L. Greene thank you again!
Gabriel sighed and sunk further into the chair as he scrunched his nose at the T.V. Another state had seceded and Alabama had a few hours earlier. A part of him craved for the years where he could actually turn it on without seeing this… Seeing his now fellow American citizens giving up on the Old Government and seceding to the New Republic of the South.
He glanced to his left and watched as his elder cousin Balthazar warmed up some Campbell's soup on a gas camp stove. The man had been back from the war in Afghanistan for two years and still couldn't sleep right. Gabe's heart pounded loudly in his ears, making it hard to focus on the evening news. Somehow, Cass had gotten the generator to power the T.V. and the water. He never asked how or where he had learned to do such things.
The national debt clock appeared on the screen and he gripped the arm of his leather recliner. His eyes followed the numbers as they rapidly increased. How had the Old Government economy survived? Even if it did manage to bounce back, the United States would never be the same.
A loud crash echoed through the two-bedroom flat and Gabriel did a complete one-eighty in the living room. Lucifer rushed into the adjoining kitchen and knelt beside Balthazar on the floor.
"Hush love, hush," he whispered as Balthazar whimpered. "It's alright, you're okay."
Gabriel sighed and quickly switched off the T.V. Lucifer would need help getting Balthazar up off the floor and the stove would burn a hole through the pot if it wasn't taken off. Gabe navigated around the center island and grabbed the metal pot by the handle. Balthazar glanced up at him, his eyes wide and pupils fully dilated.
"S…sorry." he choked as his right arm began to twitch in Luce's grasp.
"Balthie," the younger blonde whispered, "Can you stand for me?"
The elder man shook his head and curled into a ball. Gabriel placed the pot on the center island on top of a cooling pad before he knelt down on Balthazar's left side.
"We need to get you into the bedroom, cousin," he said softly and gently touched Balthazar's shoulder. "Come on, now."
With a rough tug, Gabe had draped Balthazar's left arm across his shoulder and Lucifer had managed to get Balthazar's right arm around his waist. Together, they slowly dragged him out of the kitchen and down the hall to the door of one of the bedrooms. Gabriel let the arm drop from his shoulder and held the door open for Luce. A flash illuminated the room from the opposite side of the hallway and Balthazar cried out in fear. The next door neighbors must've been tossing homemade Molotov cocktails at the NRS supporters across the street from them. Lucifer frowned at him as he closed the door to give them some privacy. He knew they would have to leave and it had to be soon.
Castiel sighed as he listened to Lucifer whisper soothing words to Balthazar. He could imagine Lu's face, his eyes closed with his mouth set in a soft, reassuring smile and his arms wrapped around Balthazar's shoulders while the older man cried into Lu's white cotton shirt. He glanced back at his laptop screen and focused on the man that sat in front of the other camera. He had kept his silence about this man for so long, he couldn't imagine the day when he finally told his housemates. When he would tell them about Dean Winchester.
Dean frowned as he listened to the background noise from Castiel's Skype feed. He had been on a Skype call with Cass one too many times where Balthazar had slipped into a PTSD-induced episode but he knew Balthazar's pain. He'd come back from war a year before Balthazar had and holed himself up in a slummy apartment outside of Wichita. His brother had pushed him a little too hard to get back into society and it hadn't ended well—he had jumped out of a public bus on the highway. He still couldn't function completely in places packed with people. He was always searching the crowd for a potential threat.
So he smiled sadly as Balthazar slammed his fists into the wall and sobbed against the chipped plaster. Cass looked at the picture frame that had fallen off the wall and crashed onto the floor because of the impact. He bit his lip and looked back to Dean for support.
"It's alright," he whispered into his headset. He continued to smile at Cass. "Lu knows what to do. He'll calm him down."
Cass nodded solemnly and looked past Dean to the flag on his off-white wall. There was a time when he believed every word that had come out of the elder Winchester's mouth. The man had said he loved him once. Cass sighed as he ran his hand through his dark, unkempt hair. Dean had sent his younger brother back to the Old Government a few months ago and accepted the position as President.
Dean Winchester, President of the New Republic of the South.
He knew he'd never wrap his head around Dean's decision. He passed laws in the Old Southern states that prohibited any public displays of affection, civil unions, or marriages for gay and lesbian couples. Then he took away their rights to vote and to hold office, among many more basic rights. The man was a hypocrite and Castiel shivered at the inclination that the NRS and USS main foundations were flawed from the get go.
"Dean…" Castiel glanced over his shoulder as he heard Gabriel's feet pad against the cracked wood floor. "I can't do this anymore."
The smile quickly vanished from Dean's face. He sat up and placed his laptop on a cooling tray in front of him.
"I don't understand, Cass," he whispered as his fingers traced near his camera. "I need you…"
"You don't need me," Cass said, gritting his teeth. A sudden wave of don't give a damn swept over him. "You've made that abundantly clear, Dean Winchester."
Dean's hand closed as he placed it on the edge of his laptop's keyboard. A single tear rolled down his cheek. "Cass…"
"Don't call me," Cass growled loud enough for Gabriel to hear it in the next room. "You hypocritical son of a bitch."
Dean said nothing as Castiel ended the call. He couldn't. Not without any of his subordinates hearing his desperate pleas. He slowly removed his head set and placed it on the bed beside him. He knew Castiel was right.
With a slight snarl, Dean lifted the laptop off the tray and slammed it into the cement wall beside his barely open bedroom window. He couldn't fully call it a window because it opened out to the Tactical Unit training yard. He lived in a reserve bunker below the now-sleeping Kansas streets.
Castiel had only once asked something of him after everything Dean had put him through in the past year: to let his little brother Sam flee to the North to be with Gabriel. Neither of them had been discreet about their relationship and it had nearly gotten Sammy killed on his trip to Alabama. Dean had been a general back then, but not by choice. He had a chance. A chance to flee with Sam to be with Cass, and he flat-out refused. He was no fag but his brother sure as Hell was.
He wasn't angry at Sam. His brother was his own separate human being and had his own life to live, and Dean… Well, he had never fully despised homosexuals, unlike many of his Cabinet members and the residents of his newly formed country.
An alarm sounded down the hall before a woman's rough voice crackled over the PA system.
"Code 700." Dean sighed as it droned incessantly. "Code 700."
Dean tossed the remnants of his laptop onto his bed and forced his closet door open. He sighed as he slipped into a Kevlar vest and pants. He glanced at the Colt .45 Castiel had given him as a birthday present as he strapped his helmet onto his head and reached out for the BAR that rested before him. He shook his head and situated the BAR strap onto his body before he slid the gun's butt into its section on the strap. He wished they'd stop finding their way in. He didn't want to kill anyone. Not anymore.
if you've never seen or heard of a BAR (Browning Automatic Rifle), it is one of the guns Bonnie and Clyde used.