Title: Heaven Hath No Fury
Inspiration: Zachariah's torture scene in 5.1 – Sympathy for the Devil
Photo Inspiration: www (dot) hymnsandcarolsofchristmas (dot)
Summary: An encounter with a vengeful angel leaves Sam fighting for survival against an unbeatable adversary – the very air around him. This particular angel is holding a hell of a grudge against Dean, and hurting Sam is the perfect way to make him suffer.
Warnings: Air Constriction/Drowning/Repeated Character Death (non-permanent)/Excessive Cursing
Requested by (sort of): zemyx1995 (Sam without air)
Comments: I may have gone a teensy bit over the top with this one. I plan on doing another breathing related limp!Sam one shot very soon, so if this is too crazy that one may be more your cup of tea.
Now:
"Get the hell away from my brother, you bastard," Dean spat, hurling himself towards the man who was bending over Sam's prone form as he lay helpless and unmoving on the ground. Well, man wasn't an accurate description of him. Whilst he looked for all the world like a man, Dean was well aware that it was only a mask to shield the terrifying creature that now inhabited the poor man's body. Whoever this slim, well-groomed young man had been before he had been taken was long gone, leaving behind only his likeness and a meat suit for its current inhabitant; an inhabitant that was reaching out the man's hand to harm Sam.
"Make me," came the snarled response, as his attacker turned just in time to deflect Dean's assault and divert his trajectory into the nearby wall. All the air left Dean's lungs, not unlike how it had abandoned Sam only moments before, as he impacted upon the immovable marble with a sickening crunch, and then he fell to the floor in a heap and was still. With a slow, satisfied smirk spreading across his vacant vessel's face, the vengeful angel turned his attention back to the younger brother, unconscious at his feet.
"It's a pity that Dean isn't going to be awake to watch this, but I can still enjoy this," he said in a flat, calm tone, pressing a finger gently into Sam's still chest. "Goodbye, little Sammy."
2 Hours Earlier:
"Damn it, Sam. Why do you bother with that crap; I can remember what rounds to use on those things without you writing it down for me. I'm not stupid." Dean was complaining, again, but Sam had long since stopped listening. He was writing up his notes on their latest conquest into his Dad's journal, for future reference. Dean had insisted that wrought iron would smote the chimera; right up until the point it was close enough to rip his throat out, despite three smoking bullet holes in its stomach. Only Sam's quick thinking, and sporadic memories of a Greek myth class in high school had spared him his life, and Sam had thought Dean would be keen to avoid that sort of mess in the future. Apparently, however, Sam had thought wrong.
"I think it's important to make sure we remember everything, Dean," Sam insisted, quickly jotting down the need for lead lined rounds, and closed the book. He stood up and turned to face Dean who was pacing a restless furrow into the motel room carpet, so keen was he to get on the road. "Okay, I'm done. Let's go."
"Finally," Dean growled, grabbing Sam's duffel of the bed and thrusting it at him, whilst practically itching to run for the door. Once they were both inside the Impala and several miles from the motel, Sam asked the question that had been bugging him since they had started the current argument.
"What's up with you, man?" Dean looked irritated, and a little confused, but said nothing. Sam tried again, but with no avail. "Seriously man, what's wrong? You couldn't wait to get out of that town. Why the rush?" Sensing that there was something Dean wasn't telling him, Sam waited for an answer.
Several awkward, silent minutes past, and then Dean glanced over at his baby brother and decided to be honest. After all, this affected Sam just as much as it did him.
"Sam, I did something stupid," he told him hesitantly. "I did something really bad, and I do know what to do apart from to get as far away from here as possible."
"What did you do?"
"Well, d'you remember last night when you were researching the Chimera and I went out for a drink."
"Yeah, but you do that every night." Sam couldn't remember Dean seeming at all odd when he had come back to the room sometime in the wee hours. A little hung over perhaps, but that was nothing new. What could have gotten him so worked up?
"I know, but last night was different. I was sitting at the bar, minding my own business…"
"By which you mean that you were flirting with every girl in sight," Sam interrupted, and Dean actually flashed him a smile before turning his attention back on driving fast and not crashing.
"You know me too well, Sammy." Anyway, I was chatting to this cute bartender when an older chick comes over and sits down next to me and orders a drink. Now I'm not usually into older chicks, but this one was totally hot and really into me, you know?" Sam nodded; he had seen Dean's legendary magnetism at work more times than he could remember, and could imagine the situation perfectly.
"So we had a few drinks, all three of us and then the mature chick invites us back to her apartment. They were both up for it, Sam. How could I say no to that? Next thing I know we are outside in the parking lot and the bartender is dead. The hot bitch slit her throat the second we were out of sight of the door, and then she turned on me. She came at me and I just reacted, you know?" Sam said nothing, too caught up in Dean's story to move a muscle. "I ganked her, pure instinct, and then there was a huge flash of light like you wouldn't believe."
"Wait, a flash? Demons don't flare up when they die. They just die. What was she?" Dean could almost hear Sam's brain whirring as he put the pieces together, and could tell the moment he figured it out because he gasped aloud. "Oh shit, Dean!"
"Yeah Sam, I know. That makes her an angel. I killed a freakin' angel, and that's not even the worst part." Dean was shaking now, and Sam was keeping a cautious eye on the climbing speedometer.
"What could be worse?" Sam asked, although he wasn't sure that he actually wanted to know.
"Cas turned up just after I finished hiding the bodies. He told me that heaven had felt a 'great upheaval' or some crap like that. You know what he's like with the melodramatic language, but this time it was my fault. He told me that they had felt the death of an angel and that the others were coming to avenge her death… which means killing me."
"He knew it was you?" Sam asked, in shock.
"He didn't say it, but I think he suspected. He said that the killer would be dead before sunrise. I came straight back to the room and guarded all the walls and door with wards to stop anything finding us. I knew that you wouldn't leave until we killed the creature so we stayed put for the night, but we need to get as far away from there as possible right now."
"Holy crap, Dean," Sam breathed, and Dean nodded in agreement. He echoed Sam's sentiment exactly. "We've been in some deep shit before, but I think this could be a new record, even for us.
"Tell me about it." Dean was just opening his mouth to reassure Sam that everything would be okay when a resounding crack rippled through the air around them and they were no longer speeding along the I90 away from their unseen adversaries. In the blink of an eye the Impala was on a tiny dirt track careening towards a fast flowing river in full flood.
Dean slammed on the brakes, tyres squealing as they attempted to combat the slick mud from the riverbank and the excessive speed at which they found themselves spinning. The car came to a shuddering halt just inches from the edge of the rushing water, and Dean had just enough time to gasp in a breath that he hadn't realised he was holding before the doors of the car flung themselves open and the brothers were airborne.
"Dean," he heard Sam scream as he was thrown through the suddenly frigid air in the opposite direction, and then his back impacted with grass and earth. Scrambling to his feet he began to run to his brother, but before he could get closer than twenty feet he hit an invisible wall and was ricocheted backwards, away from Sam once again.
"Not so fast Dean," he heard an ice-cold voice say, and looked up to see a tall man standing over him looking like he wanted to kill something, or someone.
"Who are you," Sam asked, getting to his own feet and moving as close as the invisible wall would allow. He was close enough for Dean to be able to reach out and touch, but Dean suspected that that was nothing but an illusion. They were completely cut off from each other by this stranger, and Dean didn't think that he was here to do them any favours. "What do you want with us?"
"Oh yes, how rude of me to box you up without at least telling you my name. Howdy Sam, I'm Suriyel. You might have heard of me?" He made it sound like a question but he didn't seem to be under any doubts that Sam would recognise the name. And if the way Sam's eyes almost popped out of his head were any indication, he was right.
"Shit," was all Sam could manage, but Dean didn't hear him. Instead he had focused on the other part of the introduction. The man, or more accurately angel, had said that he had boxed them up. It took him only a moment to reach out and up to realise that he was indeed inside an invisible box only a foot wider and taller than he was. He had never come across anything like it before, and it didn't take Sam's brain to figure out that it meant that they were dealing with a pretty badass angel.
"Hmm, that's not nice," Suriyel frowned, and lifted a hand towards Sam, who had backed up into one wall of his transparent prison. He was about to click his fingers when Dean's shout stopped him, and he turned back to look at the older Winchester. "What now, I was about to have some fun?"
"You never answered Sam's other question. What do you want? Oh, and he might have heard of you but that doesn't make two of us."
"I'm insulted Dean. I expected better from a man of your reputation, even if you are a mere mortal. Sam, why don't you start and I'll fill in any gaps you might leave."
"He's an archangel, Dean," Sam told them both reluctantly, and Suriyel nodded as if he was giving gentle encouragement to a nervous student giving a speech. "One of the original primordial powers; we've met some of them before, but there are seven if the lore is correct. Gabriel, Michael, Raphael, Uriel, Raguel, Remiel and Saraqael. Suriyel is widely considered to be an inaccurate translation of the original pronunciation, Saraquel, but I guess the translators got that part wrong."
"They certainly did, Sammy," Suriyel nodded, and he even looked impressed as he took over. "I personally prefer the way I spell it, but I couldn't exactly correct them could I. That would scare the poor humans that write stories about us."
"Great, so you're a freakin' archangel?" Dean asked angrily, not believing how much worse their situation had just gotten. They were up against a creature of possibly limitless power and Dean had just accidently murdered an angel pal of his.
"Now Dean, I warned you. You have got to control that mouth of yours, or little Sam here is going to die before I tell you the end of my story." Dean's brow furrowed as he tried to work out what the archangel could mean, and was about to ask, when Sam was lifted a few inches off the ground and he clutched at his throat.
"Stop it," Dean yelled, throwing himself at the wall separating him from Sam. He was unable to look away as Sam's legs flailed in open air and his terrified eyes rolled back into his head. He was pulling against some invisible force around his neck, fighting as it constricted his windpipe, and he seemed to be losing the fight. "Please just stop it?"
"Why should I Dean?" The angel's face was suddenly inches from Dean's, so close that Dean could feel the hot breath of the vessel on his cheek. The voice that had been so jovial until this point was now clipped and dangerous, low and threatening. Dean shivered, but refused to take his eyes off Sam as he continued to fight, his movements growing ever slower as his body starved of air. "After all, you didn't show any mercy to the angel you slaughtered last night. That angel was my sister. You killed her in cold blood, and now I'm going to do the same to you. Only first, I think I'm going to kill your brother, and I am going to make you stand here and watch the light leave his eyes.
"I'm sorry," Dean whispered, as Sam caught his eye for a fraction of a second before closing as he went limp. "Just please, stop hurting him?" He was begging, but he didn't care. "I deserve to die, but he doesn't. He didn't even know."
The archangel sighed and then he was gone, reappearing a few feet away beside Sam as he allowed the younger brother's unmoving form to slump to the ground. Snapping his fingers once he nudged Sam's side with his foot, and Sam gasped in a breath as his life was poured back into him. He coughed a couple of times and tried to stand before he realised that Suriyel was standing beside him and shank back in fear.
"Thank you," Dean dropped to his knees in relief as he saw the colour flood back into his brother's cheeks, and they locked eyes. "Thank you."
"Sorry, Dean old boy, but I didn't do that for you," the archangel told him coldly, and Dean's blood felt like it had turned to ice. "You didn't really think that one insincere apology would get Sammy off the hook, did you? I just don't want to end his life too quickly; you haven't nearly suffered enough yet for that."
"Please, Suriyel, I'll do anything. Just leave him out of it," Dean repeated, but the angel didn't even acknowledge his words.
"No, I think that a hundred or so creative deaths should suffice for dear Sam before I let him die for good. At least until he passes into hell, that is, then the fun will begin again. Then I'll get to you, Dean, and believe me when I say that your death will not be nearly as quick. The light you extinguished was one I will sorely miss, and nothing will bring her back. I will avenge the life you took, and I will have justice for her passing no matter how long it takes."
The two brothers once again exchanged a look, one that they both took comfort from, but Dean could clearly see the fear in his brother's eyes. He didn't think that he would be able to save Sammy this time, but he was never going to stop begging and pleading for reprieve. Not until the archangel finally ended him, and he died trying. Maybe not even then, if Castiel's promises about his eternal destination were to be believed.
"Now, Sammy," the archangel said pleasantly, his tone once again changing in an instant. "Why don't I let you choose the next way you die, since I'm feeling generous and I have all the time in eternity." He folded his tall frame onto the long grass beside Sam and watched as the young man tried to recover enough strength to speak.
Dean could see Sam's lips move a few seconds later, but he couldn't make out what was being said. He did however hear Suriyel's next words, which echoed eerily inside the supernaturally enclosed space in the open field, as if the bastard wanted to make extra sure that Dean could hear every syllable as clear as a bell. The colour drained from his face and he began to plead once more, but to no response.
"It seems that little Sammy here wants to drown," the archangel announced to the sky, as if an audience of millions were watching, and then smiled viciously. "That can be arranged." Then Sam was drifting, floating, as his head snapped up and he flung his arms wide. The long, messy hair that hung across his head lifted as if he were floating in an unseen ocean, and bubbles poured from his mouth and nose. His eyes were wide and desperate as he clawed at the air, trying to pull himself to the surface that was not there, but that only expended his energy more quickly. The stream of bubbles began to slow, and his movements became more and more sluggish and feeble.
Dean never stopped his constant slew of pleading, mingled with increasingly desperate profanity, but it was as if he no longer existed. The archangel simply sat cross-legged below Sam and gazed up, as Sam floundered and once again lost his fight for air. It was as though he were watching a television show, and it held his almost complete attention. Dean knew that it was an illusion of rapture because the walls of his cage were still unmoving, but it meant that Dean was unable to do anything to stop him. All he could do was watch as Sam's eyes went glassy, and his arms slumped gently against his sides.
One final bubble slipped slowly from one nostril, and then he was gone. Dean let out an agonised roar of pain at seeing his brother's life extinguished, and the archangel finally looked up at him and smiled. A single tear slid down Dean's cheek before he swiped it away angrily. There was no time for that now, he told himself firmly. Now was the time to hurt some fucking angel butt.
He punched at the invisible barrier in front of him, again and again, until he swore that he felt it give a little. He increased his assault on the air stopping him getting to Sam, who was still suspended in the ocean of oxygen in which he had drowned, kicking and punching it with all the strength he had. Then he was yanked back from it, pinned to the back wall and screaming blue murder.
"Let me go, you bastard. I'm going to rip you apart for this. You aren't even letting him fight back, or try to defend himself. I knew angels were sadistic and all, but I didn't think that they were cowards."
"Don't you dare," Suriyel roared, and Dean could feel the snap of tendons as he was pressed even tighter to the flat wall. The archangel seemed to grow even taller, and Dean had to shield his eyes from the sudden angry white light pouring from the vessel's body. It could only hold back so much angel fury. "Don't you dare call me a coward, Dean Winchester. You have no idea who you are messing with, and absolutely no idea just what I am capable of." As if to prove his point, although whether it was to Dean or himself wasn't clear, he set Sam down onto the ground in a heap and revived him once more. This time, however, Sam was not so quick to fill his lungs as he frantically tried to expel enough water to make room for oxygen. Suriyel swept his arms upwards with a majesty and grace that no human could hope to emulate, and half an ocean was flung from his brother's body. It escaped from his very pores, through clothes and skin, and hung in the air around his still form in a million tiny droplets.
"Watch the water, Dean, and see my power manifest," the angel told him, and in an instant every droplet burst into flame, filling the air around Sam with fire and smoke. Dean heard Sam scream in agony as the fire consumed him, and then the fire was gone, replaced with a huge, solid block of ice. Dean could see Sam's still prone figure encased at the centre and bit his lower lip in an effort not to say anything further, before the ice was gone and the water instead remained. It hung in the air for a moment later before swirling outwards like a hurricane with Sam in the centre, and then it was as if it had never existed. Only Sam's terrified gasps and Dean's stunned silence remained as evidence that anything had happened.
"Impressive," Dean agreed, "but that does not give you the right to murder an innocent man over and over without a chance to fight back. You are not God, not even you have that right."
"God is gone, Dean. I'm as close as anyone can ever be. But as such I will be just and fair. Sam does have the right to fight, as much good as that will do." He waved a hand towards Sam and sighed again, as if this were the most mundane task in the world. "Get up Sammy, and show your brother what you are made of. Let's have it his way and make it a fair fight."
Sam didn't stir from where he lay, and Dean could see that he was barely moving at all. That meant that he was barely breathing.
"Come on Sammy, get up," Dean shouted, praying to whatever there was left of God that Sam was still able to get up. "You need to fight back, to survive." He heard the archangel laugh coldly from where he watched the one-sided exchange, and gritted his teeth with hatred against this hideous excuse for an immortal. To think that this thing was Gabriel's brother, Michael's brother; even Uriel had had his moments of redemption and honour.
"Come on Sammy." Dean was beginning to despair when he saw Sam's head twitch, and then his brother pushing himself slowly to his knees. His heart leapt and he found himself screaming and hoarse. "That's it, Sam, get up."
"Yes, Sammy, get up and fight. Dean thinks that you should have the chance to defend yourself, and it'll make it more fun this way." Suriyel paused, and then seemed to change his mind about something. "In fact, let's have a little change of scenery whilst we are at it." With a thought he transported them once again, this time into what looked like an empty museum gallery. Sculptures from mythology were scattered artfully around them as they materialised, and they were standing beneath a vast portrait.
Dean glanced at the portrait once without truly seeing it, before doing a double take when he realised what the depiction was of. Seven tall winged creatures artfully occupied the forefront, vanquishing what looked distinctly like a demon.
"Sick bastard," Dean whispered, awed that anyone, angel or not, could be so full of hubris as to fight beneath his own portrait. He hoped that Suriyel wouldn't hear him, but it just wasn't his day. The archangel turned his gaze back upon Dean and didn't even both to show off his powers as he rounded on him with rage distorting his features.
"You're going to regret that," he hissed, and Dean heard a sickening snap as Sam's spinal cord snapped and he slumped lifeless on the ground.
"No," Dean screamed, and slammed his palms against the wall of his transparent prison. He had a gut-wrenching feeling that their deaths warrants had finally been signed, permenantly, and couldn't help the overwhelming flood of sorrow at this being the last time he saw his baby brother before he died.
"There's been a change of plans, Dean. I'm going to smite your pathetic little demonic brother and then I'm going to end you. This earth will be rid of you, and then you can both go and rot in the deepest reaches of hell for what you have done." The archangel didn't even bother to look back at Dean as he focused on Sam; didn't notice how Dean's arms passed straight through where the barrier had been prior, and into open space. Dean didn't wait to figure out why the wall was gone, he simply reacted upon instinct.
"Get the hell away from my brother, you bastard," Dean spat, hurling himself towards the man who was bending over Sam's prone form as he lay helpless and unmoving on the ground. Well, man wasn't an accurate description of him. Whilst he looked for all the world like a man, Dean was well aware that it was only a mask to shield the terrifying creature that now inhabited the poor man's body. Whoever this slim, well-groomed young man had been before he had been taken was long gone, leaving behind only his likeness and a meat suit for its current inhabitant; an inhabitant that was reaching out the man's hand to send Sam somewhere Dean couldn't follow.
"Make me," came the snarled response, as his attacker turned just in time to deflect Dean's assault and divert his trajectory into the nearby wall, directly beneath the portrait. All the air left Dean's lungs, not unlike how it had abandoned Sam only moments before when his back had been broken, as he impacted upon the immovable marble with a sickening crunch, and then he fell to the floor in a heap and was still. With a slow, satisfied smirk spreading across his vacant vessel's face, the vengeful angel turned his attention back to the younger brother, unconscious at his feet.
"It's a pity that Dean isn't going to be awake to watch this, but I can still enjoy this," he said in a flat, calm tone, pressing a finger gently into Sam's still chest. "Goodbye, little Sammy."
"Suriyel!" A crackle in the air announced the presence of a fourth being to the vast gallery, and Suriyel looked up into the eyes of a furious Castiel. "You are to stop this immediately."
"By whose authority do you command me to do anything, Castiel. You forget your place." The archangel rose to his full height and towered over Castiel, who swallowed heavily yet held his ground and his superior's penetrating gaze.
"I come on behalf of one who does have that authority, Suriyel, and as such you have been ordered to leave these humans alive and undamaged. You know what must come to be, and why they cannot be harmed."
"I cannot just let them go, no matter what Michael's instructions are. This one," he gestured towards Dean's unconscious body, "slaughtered Selena in cold blood. She would have had no chance to defend herself. She…" Castiel held up a hand to silence the vehement speech, and the archangel was too stunned by his actions to react.
"Elena fell, Suriyel. You know that I cannot lie, so hear me. Raphael tried to stop her but her grace has left her."
"It cannot be so." Castiel shielded his eyes just in time to escape a blinding flash of light so agonisingly bright that it would blind all creatures but God and his archangels, and then Suriyel was gone. Castiel suspected that Michael would have to deal with his wayward brother momentarily, and couldn't help but empathise with the stricken archangel. He hadn't known Selena well, despite an eternity to mingle, but he had been aware of her deep significance to the archangel. She had been, if such a thing were permissible, Suriyel's favourite charge, and for her to have fallen was unthinkable. However, to have acted with such volatility was unforgivable.
"Oh God," Dean rubbed his head as he got gingerly to his feet, wincing at the pounding beneath his skull. That had been a really solid wall, and concussion was definitely not ruled out. "Sam?" His jumbled thoughts caught up with him and his eyes flew open. Archangel. Drowning. Snap. Sam! "Sam, Sammy!" He saw the familiar profile of Castiel standing unmoving a few feet away, and called out to the angel for help. "Castiel? Please, help Sam? Suriyel… I think he broke his spine."
Castiel broke out of his trance and strode over to Dean, laying a healing hand on his forehead as he helped him to his feet. Then he helped him to stagger over to Sam, Dean's back and legs still stiff and sore despite being healed of injury. Dean collapsed beside his brother as he lay, so still and lifeless, on the carpeted floor and pulled him into a fierce hug.
"Please, Castiel. He can't be dead. I can't face losing him again." The tears were now falling freely and he mumbled hysterically and incoherently at the overwhelmed Castiel. Human affection still baffled him, but he got the gist of the situation. Crouching down he lay a gentle hand on Sam's forehead and pulled him back to consciousness. Sam's back arched as his spine snapped back into place, and he let out a piercing scream. Dean tightened his grip on Sam's shirt as he shook and held him until he relaxed into his brother's arms.
"Sammy? Can you hear me? Talk to me," he asked, and his heart leapt when Sam lazily opened one eye to see who was talking to him.
"Dean?"
"Yeah, man, it's me. That bastard archangel is gone, hopefully forever, and Cas saved you. You're going to be fine." He loosened his grip on Sam, and carefully helped him to stand whilst checking for visible injuries. Besides being completely exhausted, and more than a little traumatised, he seemed to be in one piece, thanks to their friendly neighbourhood angel and his fucking perfect timing.
"Thanks Dean," Sam told him gratefully, as his brother helped him limp towards the exit to the gallery and to wherever they had ended up. They didn't know where the Impala was, and to Dean's dismay neither did Castiel, or where they were, but they were safe.
"No worries, it was mainly Castiel." Sam smiled, and Castiel waved it off in typical Castiel fashion.
"It was nothing."
"Where are we anyway, Cas?" Dean asked, and Castiel frowned.
"I never checked exactly, but I would suggest by the air pressure that we are somewhere in the Far East."
"Wow," Dean breathed. "Maybe we can visit India, and go for a curry." He winked at Sam, who just laughed.
"Maybe not right now, Dean," he reasoned. "Right now a bed sounds good." He gripped Dean's shoulder as he stumbled slightly from the uncomfortable but manageable twinge of pain in his back, but waved off Castiel when he moved in to help. "I'm fine."
"Sure, Sam, you're 'fine'. You are not even close to fine, but I'm sure a good night's sleep will help." Dean looked at Cas, and they were in the parking lot of a decent looking motel. Castiel assured Dean that he would find his car, and then left them alone to find a room. Minutes later Dean helped Sam into bed and then crashed himself.
"Hey Sam," he said, just before he closed his eyes to take some much needed rest. A thought had just occurred to him that he couldn't ignore.
"Yeah?"
"Did you really tell that scumbag that you wanted to drown?"
"Nope, he made that up all by himself. Could have been worse."
"Well then, what did you say to him? You seemed pretty out of it, but I hope it was good."
"I told him to go and fuck himself." Dean couldn't help but laugh at that, and pretty soon Sam was laughing too.
"That's my boy."
As I said at the end of the last one-shot, I will take requests for one-shots, short stories, drabbles, you name it. Thanks for reading, and don't forget to put me of the story on alert to see when I upload the next one-shot.