eachdraidhean (
eachdraidhean) wrote2009-05-04 08:03 pm
Entry tags:
No Choice in Freedom
Title: No Choice in Freedom
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Dean, Sam, mentions of Castiel
Rating: PG
Beta
seleneheart
Word Count: 428
Disclaimer: Sadly, they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them for a while.
Notes: This is one of a set of unconnected fics which were written in reaction to and as codas of some of the season four episodes. They were written as gut reactions to each episode without prior knowledge of what was to come, and should be read as such.
Summary: Set in the last couple of minutes of "It's Me, God, Dean Winchester", Dean muses on his situation.
You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in.
Dean didn't want to think about Hell, so he denied the memories. Flashes of it caught him unawares sometimes, sharp, red flashes of horrors that he couldn't let himself remember.
But Dean's soul remembered too well. It flinched in Dean's chest as Castiel got closer. It fluttered, trying to find a corner to hide in it's tarnished cage. Dean swallowed as the angel invaded his space and he couldn't keep the fear that gripped him out of his eyes as Castiel's too sweet breath ghosted over his face.
He'd spent a year knowing that Hell would claim him, knowing he was going to die, but now? Now Heaven held his soul in a tighter grip. No finite number of days to count down. No sure knowledge of his approaching fate. If he didn't do as he was told ...
You should show me some respect.
.. if he screwed up in their eyes, he'd be flung back into the pit without warning.
He wasn't Hell's bitch anymore, he was Heaven's, and damned if Dean could tell the difference.
The angel scared him more than any demon ever had.
His bruised and battered soul curled in on itself as if it were making itself harder to find and his chest ached.
His well-honed fight-or-flight mechanism screamed flight. Now, run now, run long and hard and don't turn back, don't ever look back.
But Dean knew that running wouldn't solve anything, wouldn't save him. There was no where he could go to escape.
I can throw you back in.
Dean woke with a start and watched as Sam sat down on the sofa, still muzzy with sleep. A cracked mug of steaming coffee rested safely between Sam's sock covered feet as he pulled a worn shirt on over his tee and looked at Dean with concern.
"You alright? What's wrong, Dean?
Dean looked at Sam, looked at the real, solid form of his brother and the deep ache inside eased. The fluttering calmed and Dean's soul settled in his chest, content in the presence of a man others thought might be the anti-Christ.
Dean knew his little brother was keeping secrets, knew that there was too much being left unsaid on both sides, but he also knew he trusted Sam on a level that defied description.
Dean didn't have to make a choice. Whatever Sam was hiding, whatever he'd done, however much Dean disapproved, he could deal.
And to hell with angels.

Classroom Furniture
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Dean, Sam, mentions of Castiel
Rating: PG
Beta
Word Count: 428
Disclaimer: Sadly, they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them for a while.
Notes: This is one of a set of unconnected fics which were written in reaction to and as codas of some of the season four episodes. They were written as gut reactions to each episode without prior knowledge of what was to come, and should be read as such.
Summary: Set in the last couple of minutes of "It's Me, God, Dean Winchester", Dean muses on his situation.
You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in.
Dean didn't want to think about Hell, so he denied the memories. Flashes of it caught him unawares sometimes, sharp, red flashes of horrors that he couldn't let himself remember.
But Dean's soul remembered too well. It flinched in Dean's chest as Castiel got closer. It fluttered, trying to find a corner to hide in it's tarnished cage. Dean swallowed as the angel invaded his space and he couldn't keep the fear that gripped him out of his eyes as Castiel's too sweet breath ghosted over his face.
He'd spent a year knowing that Hell would claim him, knowing he was going to die, but now? Now Heaven held his soul in a tighter grip. No finite number of days to count down. No sure knowledge of his approaching fate. If he didn't do as he was told ...
You should show me some respect.
.. if he screwed up in their eyes, he'd be flung back into the pit without warning.
He wasn't Hell's bitch anymore, he was Heaven's, and damned if Dean could tell the difference.
The angel scared him more than any demon ever had.
His bruised and battered soul curled in on itself as if it were making itself harder to find and his chest ached.
His well-honed fight-or-flight mechanism screamed flight. Now, run now, run long and hard and don't turn back, don't ever look back.
But Dean knew that running wouldn't solve anything, wouldn't save him. There was no where he could go to escape.
I can throw you back in.
Dean woke with a start and watched as Sam sat down on the sofa, still muzzy with sleep. A cracked mug of steaming coffee rested safely between Sam's sock covered feet as he pulled a worn shirt on over his tee and looked at Dean with concern.
"You alright? What's wrong, Dean?
Dean looked at Sam, looked at the real, solid form of his brother and the deep ache inside eased. The fluttering calmed and Dean's soul settled in his chest, content in the presence of a man others thought might be the anti-Christ.
Dean knew his little brother was keeping secrets, knew that there was too much being left unsaid on both sides, but he also knew he trusted Sam on a level that defied description.
Dean didn't have to make a choice. Whatever Sam was hiding, whatever he'd done, however much Dean disapproved, he could deal.
And to hell with angels.
Classroom Furniture

no subject
Thank-you for this. It was lovely.
no subject
Yes, looking back at the way they once trusted each other and comparing it to what's happening now makes me so sad! *glares at Kripke*