Title: Narcolepsy
Chapter: (3/?)
Series: Supernatural
Author: Alex Graves
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Ruby implied.
Rating:Warnings: Spoilers for 4.16, angst, violence, and slash.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. It belongs to its creators and the network that runs it. No copywrite infringement intended.
A/N: Third chapter. Gave me a bit of trouble and went three different ways before I finally settled on one but I think it's pretty good if not horribly angsty. Because seriously, I am all about the angst. Anyways, enjoy!
Summary: The Winchesters visit a town that seems to suffer the nightmares of a narcoleptic. Can the boys save them or will it be the last straw for Dean
Chapter Three
And I say I, I try to keep awake
I try to swim beneath; I try to keep awake but I…
Sam pushed the door to the room open slowly, his head popping through the space as he gave an awkward smile, looking at the two men already inside of the room. "Is it okay for me to come in now?" he asked, looking back and forth between Castiel and Dean. Dean who turned away, his hand covering his eyes and his lips pulled in a grimace. Castiel looked the picture of calm like always. Sam pushed the door open all the way and entered fully, concern written clearly on his face as he pushed the door close and made his way towards his brother. "Dean? Are you okay?" he asked, reaching out but Dean backed up quickly, dropping his hand and sniffling slightly.
"Yeah man. I'm cool. I'm great," he stated with a smile, the left corner of his mouth lifting higher than the right as he waved off his brother. But Sam saw his eyes, tinted slightly red and knew that his brother was lying yet again. "I was just talking to Cas about why we're here in Hell," Dean quipped. Sam looked at the angel to find him once again cocking his head to the side, looking at Dean in confusion. Dean sputtered a sad, awkward laugh as he looked back and forth between Sam and Castiel who were both wearing similar expressions but for different reasons. "Michigan. We're in Hell Michigan." Castiel's brows furrowed deeper and Sam rolled his eyes to the ceiling. Obviously he wasn't going to find out what was going on between his brother and the angel from them. "Jeez, tough crowd," Dean huffed before he plopped down onto the bed he had been sitting on earlier.
"Right. Castiel, earlier you said you couldn't find us? Why?" Sam asked and the angel turned his gaze away from Dean and fixed it on the taller Winchester.
"Dean was blocking me," he stated simply. Sam turned to his brother who was looking out the window, whistling.
"Dean?" Dean didn't answer which Sam expected and was used to but that didn't mean it didn't annoy him. "Dean," he snapped, gaining his brother's attention who stared at him frowning. "Was there a reason you decided to hide us from Castiel with out telling me?" Dean stood up, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"Well, I was kind of hoping you wouldn't notice," Dean smiled, his eyebrows raised as he looked up at his brother. Sam bit his lip and puffed up a bit as if trying to hold in all his anger that seemed about to explode.
"You were hoping I wouldn't notice? Dean what is going on? First you're taken from me, forced to torture Alistair. Then when I finally find you, you're knocked out, looking like you were the one who got tortured instead. I find Castiel about to be blown from his body. And afterwards! I left you for one hour Dean! One hour! Now something must have happened in that one hour because I come back and you can't wait to leave. And now it turns out you were preventing an angel, a freaking angel Dean, from reaching us?" Sam took a breath and raked both hands through his hair in frustration. "Just tell me what the hell is going on Dean!"
Dean wasn't looking at Sam anymore. His eyes were locked on the figure standing behind Sam and he looked scared. Like he would give anything in the world not to answer the one question Dean just asked. And Castiel? He still had that damn calm blank expression on his face, not giving anything away. Sam was sure this wasn't helping Dean who was staring at the angel as if begging him to help Dean out of it. But Castiel didn't say a word and Dean sat down heavily on the bed. "Just tell me what's wrong," Sam said.
"Okay." He paused and looked up at his brother. "You might want to sit down." Sam sighed but pulled a chair from and adjacent table and set it in front of Dean, sitting down calmly though inside his heart was beating terribly fast. "There's something you should know about the first seal."
"Why? It's broken. Why should it matter?"
"Because Dean broke it," Castiel answered after Dean sat silent for a few moments, startling Sam. He turned around and looked at the angel, who stood completely still staring at the opposite wall, his eyes distant. Sam looked back at Dean, the expression he wore begging Dean to tell him it wasn't true. It couldn't be. Dean had gone through enough, done enough and if it was true, it would have been better had he not known. And Dean didn't answer, just bowed his head, bit his lip and covered his eyes and Sam could tell that his brother was trying hard not to cry.
"I don't understand. How? He wasn't here, he was in hell," Sam whispered.
"To break the first seal, a righteous man had to fall. Dean was that righteous man. When he came down off the rack and cut into that first soul, the seal was broken." Castiel did not look at either Dean or Sam during his explanation and this just served to piss off Sam even more.
The next thing Dean knew, Sam had slammed the angel up against the wall, holding him up by the lapels of his trench coat. "Sam!" Dean cried jumping up from the bed.
"Why did you tell him? Hasn't he gone through enough? Hasn't he done enough?" Sam yelled, shaking the angel who finally settled his eyes on him. Sam glared at the angel noticing how he still showed no emotion but Sam could feel the power building beneath his fingertips and Castiel's eyes now held anger in them. Dean had crossed the room and was now trying to pull his brother off the angel, not to protect Castiel but to protect Sam. But Sam pushed Dean away and pressed Castiel even harder against the wall. "Why? What could you possibly gain by telling him? It seems like you angels only want to see us suffer, only want to see him suffer!"
"Sam, stop it!" Dean tried yet again to pull his brother away but felt himself held back by some force. Dean looked at Castiel, trying to gauge whether or not it was the angel holding him back but Dean could tell by the tension in Castiel's shoulders that he was holding himself back. It wasn't Castiel holding him back; it was Sam. "Sammy! Let me go!"
"Samuel Winchester, you are walking a very fine line," Castiel said softly, but his voice held the fury of something far bigger than Sam or Dean had ever come up against. Dean pushed against the force holding him back but he couldn't budge, couldn't do anything to stop what was happening. Sam had gotten stronger but Dean knew that he would still be no match for Castiel.
"No! You're walking the fine line! All you do is order us around, force us to do things we should never have to do! Do you really think God approves of torture?" Sam continued, shaking Castiel hard enough that the angel banged his head on the wall behind him, wincing slightly at the pain which he had not expected and Dean gasped as he began pushing in earnest at the force.
"Sam he didn't tell me!" Dean gasped and finally Sam dropped both Castiel and Dean who fell forward and braced himself on his hands and knees as he took a deep breath. He stood up and grabbed Sam, pulling him away from Castiel. "He didn't tell me. Alistair told me, not Castiel."
"Alistair told you," Sam growled and Dean nodded, watching his brother well up in another surge of anger. "Well what do you know," Sam said softly, turning towards the angel yet again. "Alistair wouldn't have told him if you hadn't forced Dean to torture him!"
"I was only fallowing orders. I did not wish it. God willed it therefore it must be so," Castiel ground out. Dean knew that Castiel was trying to keep calm, trying to keep his anger in check, knew that he was still learning about human emotions and that meant he was probably only just really learning this one.
"Fuck that!" Sam yelled as he took at step towards the angel but Dean quickly stepped in the way, putting himself between them, his hands grabbing Sam's shirt collar so he could pull him down.
"Stop this! It's not his fault, you here me? Castiel is not to blame, I am. You want to get angry at someone, you get angry at me. Not at him. You got me?" Dean growled as Sam's eyes widened a fraction. Sam swallowed the spit in his mouth, working his throat as he shook his head.
"No. No it's not your fault. You can't think that!" Sam stated softly, shaking his head as Dean nodded his. "No it isn't! You didn't know about the seals! You didn't know what you were doing!"
"I knew perfectly well what I was doing, Sam," Dean said gruffly, shaking his younger brother for emphasis. "I knew exactly what I was doing when I came down off that rack. I've done things Sam that I am not proud of. I wasn't crazed. I wasn't insane. I knew exactly what I was doing. It doesn't matter if I didn't know about the seals, I hurt people, Sammy. I tortured them. I was their hell." Sam shook his head and closed his eyes, biting his lip and asking Dean to stop. "No. You want to know, don't you? You want all the gory details. You want to know exactly what your big brother became?" Sam pulled back from Dean who held on steadfastly. Sam needed to hear it and Dean; well Dean realized he needed to hear it too. Needed to accept what happened and move on. Because if he didn't then the world really was screwed.
"Dean, please-"
"I was a monster Sam. I became the thing we hunted, the shit we still hunt. I hurt people. I put them on that rack, I tortured them, and I gave them a bit of pleasure only to take it back the next second. I broke them and I fucking enjoyed it. I enjoyed what I did. Because it meant that I wasn't up there. Meant that I wasn't the one being sliced into."
"Dean, stop it," Sam begged, shaking his head. But Dean continued, his grip on Sam's shirt loosening as he went into detail, recalling people who he tortured, who they were before Dean snapped them in two.
"Alistair said I was his best student," Dean sneered when Sam finally broke free, shaking his head. "Said I had a lot of talent. Said that old yellow eyes should have filled me with that demon blood and not you."
"No!" Sam cried out, back tracking so that he was in front Dean, grabbing at his loose shirt as if to hold onto him, to bring his brother back. "No Dean. Not you!"
"Yes me! Hell I'm beginning to think he was right! Because then I wouldn't have been a righteous man! Then I would still be in hell and you; you could have gone back to your life! You could have started over. You could have been a lawyer like you wanted and you would have been happy, and you would have been safe, you'd be safe!" And before Dean could say another word, he was engulfed in his younger brother, face smothered in his shoulder, nose inhaling the scent of his shirt that was becoming quickly damp with what Dean could only guess were his own tears. And instead of standing still or pushing his brother away, Dean held on just as tightly as he let go and cried. Cried for the life he lost, the life he never had. Cried for his father who never got to see his mom right after he died like he should have. Cried for his father who had to suffer a century of hell before he was finally able to rest. Cried for Sam who didn't get the life he wanted, he deserved. For all the shitty Christmases without gifts, or Santa Cause or their dad. For Jessica who went up in flames just like their mother, all because she loved Sam. Cried for the fact that his brother was forced fed demon blood when he was only six months old. Cried for the fact that even the angels didn't think that he was worthy of being saved because he was. If anyone was worthy of those pearly white gates it was Sam. Beautiful, naïve, stupid Sam who only wanted to help, only wanted to use what crap cards he had been given to do good, to bring about something good. Sam who had faith, who believed that you were rewarded for the good you did and that God forgave but he didn't. And Sam deserved to be forgiven. Hell, shouldn't have to be forgiven. Sam fucking deserved apologies from God, from his father, from Castiel, Uriel, Azazel, and even Dean himself.
And Sam just held on silently, crying just as much as Dean, burying his nose in Dean's hair, his tears dampening Dean's stupid gelled to perfection, foul but wonderful smelling hair which pricked at his eyes and his cheeks and his lips but he didn't care. Didn't care because finally Dean was leaning on him for once. Finally letting Sam take some of the weight that was bogging him down off of him and onto himself. And damn it all if Sam didn't hold on just a bit tighter, just a bit longer than perhaps reasonable or socially acceptable because Sam fucking loved his brother, needed him like oxygen because Dean's always been constant, always been there and strong, and wonderful and even if Sam gave him tons of shit when they were growing up and still did, he wouldn't trade Dean for anything in the world. Wouldn't change anything. Wouldn't change one god damn thing about his life with Dean because then it wouldn't have been his, wouldn't have been worth living, it wouldn't have been right because without Dean there was nothing. He learned that quickly during the six months he had been without Dean while facing the Trickster. Relearned it again when Dean finally went to hell for another four months. His own personal hell and Sam still wondered how he had managed when he had been at Stanford. But it didn't matter now because Dean was there, in his arms, holding onto him just as tightly if not a bit more and god damn there was a burning in his chest.
And Sam prayed. Prayed to God that if he could just answer one prayer it would be this. Because he prayed for Dean. Prayed that after all was said and done, after everything was through, that Dean be rewarded. That when it was finally time, his time and he was good and ready that Dean got something better than this. Got his rest, his peace. And if Dean got that? Well Sam would happily let any angel destroy him. Sam would happily welcome oblivion and hell and demons and yellow eyes. Would happily be strung up on that rack for thirty years and more because he would know that Dean was happy, that he was at peace and that's all that mattered.
And Castiel could hear it all. He could hear the sobs that racked both bodies that gripped at each other tight as if their entire being depended on it. Could hear the thoughts that ran through their heads, so very different and yet so frighteningly the same. Both just praying for the other, praying for the salvation of not themselves like so many other mortals but for some one else, some one dear. Sacrifice. And even though Castiel had been alive for more than two millennia, had watched humans discover and grow, he never truly understood what true love and sacrifice was until this very instant. Until he heard the Winchester's thoughts and prayers scream out deafeningly to a God Castiel was having a hard time believing that he was even there. Before Castiel even knew what was happening, he felt a dampening on his cheeks and he touched them in surprise, feeling the wetness there beneath his fingertips and atop his cheek that was heated, warm, flushed. He could feel his brows pull together as he looked at his fingertips, tears glistening wetly as light hit them and refracted before he looked back at the brothers and he knew. Knew that he shouldn't be there, shouldn't be witnessing something so personal, something so intimate, something so unbelievably beautiful. But instead of leaving like he knew a normal person would, excusing themselves awkwardly out the door, he stood there, taking it all in.
And he prayed. Prayed that God heard their prayers and answered both of them. Prayed that his faith would be enough to get him heard. Because if an angel's prayers couldn't reach him, Castiel knew there was no way Dean's or Sam's could.
