Title: Tell Me Your Secrets
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Gen
Pairing: Nothing significant — one instance of Sam/Jess and slight Dean/original female character
Characters: Sam, Dean, original characters
Word count: 24790 in total
Summary: Sam activates his Winchester luck by inadvertently touching some cursed bones. Dean is left with the task of rescuing his brother. Again.
Spoilers: Through to 8.21, The Great Escapist
Warnings: Sexual situations — not explicit, but can be perceived as dub con in a way, so please tread carefully, swearing, gratuitous Sam torture, and major character death which is different from regular character deaths in a way that I cannot explain
This fic was written for the following prompt at the ohsam challenge by indiachick: "Ill-from-the-Trials Sam finds bones in a room in the bunker while doing inventory. Not thinking much of it, he burns them. Naturally, if they were for burning, they would've been burned long back and not wrapped in a bundle and put in a box with a big scary seal on it. Gen, slash- no problem." I went with gen and very much enjoyed writing for this prompt, I must say. :)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise. I wouldn't be writing fanfiction if I did.
Acknowledgements: Okay, before I begin, there are several people I need to thank. First of all, a huge, gigantic thank-you to indiachick for the amazing prompt, which caught my eyes immediately. I knew I wanted to write it the moment I saw it. :D
Also, my beta, walking_tornado, who was awesome, professional and quick, and who made my manuscripts so much better with all the amazing inputs, suggestions and ideas. Also, I loved all the reassurances when I wasn't sure of myself, and it all added up to having a perfect beta.
Thank you! Without you, this story would have been awful — I'm sure of it!
Then there's Nadia, my beautiful sis, who's not in the fandom, and yet, is a constant source of encouragement. I love that I can always whine and rant to her, no matter what. Reading the Harry Potter books couldn't have given me a better gift. :)
And last, but not the least, thank you, THANK YOU, ratherastory and quickreaver, the mods of ohsam, for the challenge, and also for granting me a much-needed extension! You guys are awesome. :D
Notes: So this is probably the first multi-chaptered SPN story that I've completed. *lets out a breath* Should I be nervous? Probably. Hehe.
Anyway. This thing was the best and the worst thing to write. I love it, hate it, and have a number of emotions towards it, but I'm just hoping, mostly, that it's okay. :) The fic has five parts and a prologue and an epilogue, and I'm hoping they're all right!
Please read the warnings carefully before you proceed from here. It is still PG-13, because nothing I've written is that heavy, but I still don't want to upset anyone. Also, this fic includes some religious ideology, but no religion has been treated badly, or bashed. I respect everyone's beliefs.
Also, I do not apologise for all the Harry Potter terminology you might find in the fic. The religious concepts used in this fic can be found in the end notes. :)
Prologue
Somewhere in the Dwapara Yuga
(Millions of years ago)
The wind wails around her and brings grains of sand and tiny leaves with it. Her skirts, her hair billow about, but she pays no attention to this. She struggles to stand. Her eyes blink against both the bright light before her and the wind. He, however, remains undeterred in front of her, unharmed by the wind. The light comes from him and he gives off a heavenly smell — a smell which reminds her of freshly cut grass and lemon.
She takes in the sweet scent as she watches his long dreadlocks, some gathered in a bun on the top of his head, but the others scattered, hanging down his shoulders and reaching his elbows. His dark eyes are wide, compassionate, and he smiles as he speaks to her.
Ask, child.
His voice is low and rumbling, and it resonates from the depths of his blue-stained throat. She has heard stories—legends—of why his throat is blue, and she has also heard the truth, but looking at him this way only brings her more respect for him. She suddenly remembers every reason she chose to worship him and why she chose to work hard to please him.
Her whole body is stiff, aching from being in one position for too long, but the mere sight of him relieves it all. She is unable to speak. Instead, she just looks at the tall, bright form in front of her and listens to the perpetual sound of flowing water that he emanates and the mild hissing of his cobra, currently docile, but ready to strike. A rosary string dangles from one hand — the rudraksha—and in the other he carries a trident with an hourglass-shaped drum on the stalk.
Nobody's description of him is even half as magnificent as his true form.
His face radiates serene beauty that brings tears to her eyes. How long has she been waiting for this moment? How much has she worked to please him? And now he's here, and she can't believe it. She finds it difficult to even form words.
You have earned a wish, he says again. You have proven to be a true devotee.
"My Lord…" she mumbles. She falls to her knees, and raising wet eyes to him, overwhelmed by it all. "I just…"
My blessings are with you. Ask.
She takes a deep breath. This is the moment. This is it. "The Panchamahabhuta," she whispers. "The five elements. I want control over it. I want control over it all."
He looks at her, smiles, and raises a palm to her bowed head.
She breaks into sobs of gratitude.
~o~
Kill her! they say. She's a witch! they say.
She laughs. A witch. Sure. She's a witch who has seen their god. Pleased their god with her long, hard prayers. They don't know that. They're vermin — they can never know anything.
She killed my son, sobs a woman. She's an enchantress. A seductress!
"A seductress? Your son was the one who had no control over his lustful desires," she laughs.
She killed him because he was a danger to her survival, but no one can know that.
They don't leave it there. They find her house and set fire to it. They drag her out and set fire to her body.
She screams as the hot flames lick her, blistering and sizzling against her skin. "You will die!" she shrieks. "You will all die!"
They break into triumphant laughter. They slap each other on the backs, and she burns, watching them through half-destroyed eyes. And then she mutters in a low voice, through scalding lips:
Shan cha meh, mayas cha meh, priyam cha meh, nu kamas cha meh…
They don't hear it, but she doesn't expect them to. Ignorant vermin.
… soosh cha meh, sudhinam cha meh. Sadashivom.
She finishes the prayer, and it's her turn to laugh. She laughs not loudly, but in a low voice, before being silenced by the flames.
But not forever.
They can destroy her body, but they can never destroy her essence — her soul and her bones.
Amartyatva dadaati meh. Give me immortality.
She will kill them all.