Fic: The Path We Choose- (4/?)
Tuesday, April 10th, 2012 01:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tenoko1Title: The Path We Choose
Author: Tenoko1
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Sarah
Spoilers: Takes place after season five with references through Season Seven.
Word Count: for this chapter 4,173
Warnings: None
Summary: They'd tried once before to defy Chuck's prophecies and failed, but Dean wouldn't be a Winchester if he was just willing to take God's Word as final answer.
NOTE: Please be kind and comment if you read.
Chapter Four Podfic
Chapter Four
Dean surged forward, throwing his arms around his brother and holding on with the desperation of a drowning man. Sam gripped him tight, softly whispering words Dean really couldn’t hear over the sounds of his heart pounding in his ears, the roaring of emotions that threatened to turn him into an emotional mess with a practical audience of witnesses.
“You’re alive,” Dean finally managed to whisper, choking back sobs, barely managing some level of control. He stepped back, hands still gripping his brother’s arms as he let his eyes play over the face he’d known he would never see again. “Sammy, you’re alive.” He swallowed thickly, shaking his head as confusion and a sense of betrayal swept in. “Why didn’t anybody tell me?”
“We were going to eventually, Dean,” Sam assured him. His expression was so apologetic and Dean knew it was that same face that had always gotten Sam his way with people where Dean failed. “We wanted you to give the apple pie life a real shot without distraction or feeling obligated to look after me.” He shook his head. “Besides, when I did come back, I was in no shape to do anything, so we were both forced out of the lifestyle.”
Releasing his brother, Dean looked him over from head to toe. He looked the same, okay, maybe leaner like he’d lost weight, in fact, what with his height, he almost had the same awkward skinny look he’d had when Dean came to him at Stanford all those years ago. With a smile, Sam leaned against the doorframe again, tiredly.
Dean’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, recognizing something wasn’t right. “What’s wrong? Why are you having to lean?”
Bobby coughed lightly, drawing Dean’s demanded glare. “Because when he came back, he was like a coma patient just waking up. He’s been having to relearn everything, even walking. His body’s fine, he’s just gotta get it back in prime condition is all.”
Green eyes snapped back to his brother. “But you’re okay, right? Healthy? No heart problems? Soul’s intact? Cas, check and make sure his soul is there.” This last part he ordered, spinning around to face the angel standing in the corner.
He frowned, angling his head. “Check his soul?” His frown deepened. “I don’t understand.”
“You know: roll up your sleeve, stick your arm in him, check if he has a soul.”
“Dean, why would-“
“Because in Chuck’s books Sam doesn’t have a soul so will you damn well check already!?”
Sam blinked in confusion, gaze sweeping back and forth between his brother and the angel. “Wait, what?”
The angel of the Lord was shaking his head, hands up in a placating manner. “Dean, I already told you those books are false prophecies as they were not written by Charles, therefore your concern over their content is unnecessary. I assure you that Sam has a soul and it is in perfect condition.”
“How?”
“Because I can see it, Dean.” The angel shook his head in aggravation. “Because being brought back after choosing to sacrifice himself for the sake of the world was God’s reward to Sam for his actions, much like how when his own son died so that humanity might be set free. God would not bring him back with a ravaged, broken, or missing soul. Not to mention that without a soul to occupy a body, the body is inanimate.”
“Just a meatsuit,” offered Crowley. “Empty.”
Dean’s gaze flicked to each of them in turn, gauging how much he was willing to trust them. Any other day when a hunter, an angel, and a demon all agreed it was generally a bad thing.
But he saw the logic in what they were saying as well. “Oh.” He turned back to Sam. “B-but you’re okay, right? No problems?”
“Dean, I’m fine.”
The brunette nodded rapidly. “Okay… okay. I can live with that. Then tell me again why no one told me and why you’re riding with training wheels again?”
The demon in the room sighed dramatically, drawing all attention to where he stood. He made a show of checking his watch.
“Well, I don’t have to be here for this and I do have a schedule to keep, so if you’ll be excusing me.” He had the audacity to wink at Dean. “Ta-ta.”
He vanished between on blink and the next, leaving the elder Winchester scowling at empty air. In the corner, Cas sighed in relief.
“Thought he’d never leave,” he admitted flatly, expression softening from anger to general curiosity in the situation at hand. He motioned to the love seat by the doorway. “You should probably sit down, Sam.”
Dean skittered out of his brother’s way, fighting back to urge to offer him help or hover like a worried mother hen in general. Looking grateful for the suggestion, the younger man eased down onto the worn cushion, head falling back with a sigh. Dean glanced around frantically, motioning at Sam.
“Why is he like this? Why are you like this? What went wrong? I thought you were brought back fine.”
His brother chuckled in amusement at his panic, which Dean didn’t appreciate. First his brother was dead, then possibly alive but without a soul, then still trapped in Hell, then alive again, but without the strength to stand. Forgive him if he wasn’t able to just accept things calmly; he wanted specifics about Sam’s current state.
“We die more than anyone else I know,” Sam said, laughing lightly.
“Ash said the same thing.”
“You still hold the crown on having died the most times, though.”
“Yeah, well, don’t go challenging my record. C’mon, Sammy, tell what’s going on.”
Sam shook his head, mouth wilting at the corners before he spoke. “Nothing much to tell. When I was brought back, it was like I fell into the pit mouth and landed in the middle of this very room about a few days later. Scared the hell out of Bobby, apparently.”
“Apparently?” echoed Dean. “You don’t know?”
His brother shook his head. “I was unconscious at the time.”
“In a damn coma was what you were, boy,” groused Bobby, causing Dean to pivot. “Couldn’t move you an inch to save my own life. Had to call Cas just to get you up off the floor and into a bed.” Conceding the point, Sam shrugged in a what-can-you-do manner.
“It was actually Crowley that made him wake up from that state,” interjected Cas softly. “And gave Sam at least enough strength he was not totally dependent on others for everything.”
“Also known as: no diapers or sponge bathes.”
“So I’m guessing his debt to you is paid, then?” questioned Dean, folding his arms as he let the scene play out in his head. He could only imagine the three of them standing around while Sam lay comatose and none of them knew why or how he was even alive.
“Least of their worries at the time; they were more concerned I’d wake up Lucifer at first-“
“But I assured them both that Sam was strictly Sam,” stated Cas, blue eyes locking on Dean’s. The hunter nodded in gratitude. “What Crowley did, he did of his own volition, said he’d been made King of Hell and was feeling… ‘a might generous’ not to mention, the only conclusion any of us could come up with was that God brought back Sam, and it was He who reduced Sam to such a state in order to keep him out of the hunter lifestyle just as you were.”
“You boys don’t slow down unless yer forced to.”
“And my Father knew this,” the angel agreed, nodding.
Sam shrugged. “Everything’s fine, it’s just a process of getting me back where I was and I’ve had plenty of help, so it won’t take long. Being tired right now is only because I’ve had a busy day of intense physical therapy.”
Frowning, Dean glanced at the other faces in the room, unable to imagine either of them helping Sam with physical therapy. Ellen or Jo would’ve, sure, but they were girls, so it was kind of different than a gruff old drunk and a socially inept Angel of the Lord helping the hunter relearn how to use his muscles. They had neither the mentality nor the nature for it.
“Someone scrounge up the money to hire a home care nurse way out here?”
Chuckling, Sam clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Well… we eventually did get one out here, but she was a friend called in as a favor just to run someone else through all the steps so they could do it at no charge.”
“Okay, so who?”
Dean’s frown deepened when a nervous laugh escaped his brother. “Well, ah… Sarah, actually.”
Vaguely familiar, but no one came to mind, after all it was a fairly common name with multiple spellings. “Who?”
“Y’know… Sarah. Works at an art gallery with her father, we met her when hunting the haunted painting that had the little girl in it that was murdering the buyers? Sarah.”
Snapping his fingers in realization, Dean nodded. “Oh! Yeah, the girl you need to marry. Hadn’t heard from her in a while- wait, how’d she even find you?”
His brother shrugged. “She’d been searching for a while, apparently. Since she actually knew our names and occupation it made it easier, then she stumbled across Chuck’s books, started searching for ‘recurring characters’, she said.” He used his fingers to make air quotations. “Ones that would lead her to us. Made her way through a long list of Bobbies with auto repair shops and junkyards till she found the right one.”
“Takes a whole mess of tenacity to manage something like that,” grumbled Bobby, even whilst sounding somewhat impressed by the impossible feat. “She damn well volunteered to be put through all the tests before I would let her in the house. I even dropped the word ‘Cristos’ a couple a times; she never flinched.”
“Did you test to see if an angel was wearing her instead of a demon or a shifter?” Cas raised a hand to signal he had. Motioning to his brother, Dean asked, “Now do you guys see why I told him he needed to marry her? The boy could have been crawling in rug rats by now.”
Blinking in confusion, Cas angled his head. “What manner of vermin is that and why would he want it?”
“Having half a dozen kids and a wife would have made his sacrifice a tad more difficult to go through with I would think, Dean.”
Conceding his surrogate father’s point, Dean waved him off. “Yeah, okay, timing is better now, I’ll admit. So, it took you going stupidly noble and sacrificing yourself to save the world in order for you to get a girl?” He gave a low whistle and shook his head, walking away.
A small cushion hit him in the back. “Shut up, jerk.”
He threw it back. “Get up and make me, bitch.”
“And Sarah and I are not together. We’re just friends, since apparently once the dust settled, you and I found ourselves with fewer allies than ever and can’t exactly be choosy.”
Yeah, well, that was true. Everyone they knew and trusted was practically present in the room. God, their lives sucked.
“So,” began Sam, clapping his hands together, “apparently we having a missing person’s case on our hands and Cas said something about… false prophecies?”
It took a while, but Dean got both Sam and Bobby up to speed on their current situation, how he was the one to have called Castiel to begin with out of concern that the future was about to turn very bleak, and that was when they realized something was wrong with the Prophet of the Lord. The night before, Cas had returned to Heaven in order to find out what he could there, but the angels that guarded Chuck had seemingly gone missing along with him. They could not be sensed by the higher up angels, they did not answer to summons, the archangels weren’t even sure they were receiving the summons. It was like they and Chuck had vanished off the face of the earth.
They each ran through possible scenarios of what could cause something like that, the best they had was something similar to the runes Castiel had carved into both the Winchester’s ribs so that the other angels couldn’t find him. Which made sense if Chuck had wanted out of his role badly enough to go into a sort of witness protection, if the angels couldn’t find him, maybe the visions would stop and his need for therapy would decrease. The part they couldn’t figure was where Chuck would find an angel to do it for him. In fact, it made no sense that an angel would, but then they also had no explanation as to where he was and why none of the host could find him other than he was being shielded.
They decided to split the nature of their research. Search for miracles, prophecies coming to pass, and fortunetellers. The other search would be for demonic activity, slaughtering of livestock, or sudden fleeing of the wild life in any particular area. Granted, they further narrowed their search by staying away from looking for weirdness involved in big cities, Chuck was too much a neurotic mess and a hermit living in suburbia, a big city really would have driven him off the deep end.
As they settled in with books, Cas sidled up next to Dean, glancing at the other two men before meeting the hunter’s gaze. “Dean, I would like to speak to you for a moment,” he said in a low tone. “In private, if I may.”
Frowning, Dean nodded and followed Castiel outside onto the porch, not speaking until after the door had closed behind them. “What’s up? Is this about Sam? Or Chuck?”
Dean noted the angel actually looked uncomfortable. He rubbed his hands together, glancing cautiously at the door and over his shoulder, only briefly glancing at Dean.
“Uh, no. This is about you, Dean.”
The taller man arched a brow, folding his arms. “Look, is this about me and Lisa again, because I already told you, I’m fine with the way things have turned out. Scan my brain if you don’t believe me, man.”
“It isn’t about that either.” His tongue darted out across his bottom lip, and Dean watched, almost intrigued by the sight. “It’s, well, Dean, you and Sam are also still shielded from the angels, just as we suspect Charles is.”
“Yeah, and?”
“I need to be able to find you if we separate while on this search.”
“You can, dude. You were there instantly the other day.”
Cas shook his head. “I heard you call for me, I felt your panic and agitation as it mounted through the week-“
“Wait. You ‘felt’?”
Serious blue eyes locked with Dean’s. “You and I do share a more profound bond, Dean.” The hunter blinked with a start at his choice in words, a sense of déjà vu washing over him. “Our… friendship is a first as far as I know. Rarely do angels raise souls from Perdition anymore, and certainly none they have ever come to actually have… comradery and affection-“
Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Affection?”
The angel furrowed his brows in confusion. “Yes, Dean, feelings of a positive nature that lead to loyalty and concern. ‘Affection’ is a better term than ‘feelings’ because feelings can be antagonistic, indifferent, distrustful, or affectionate, it’s too broad a word and the English language is severely limited.”
Realizing he was being silly, Dean nodded rapidly. “Right, right, we’re pals, gotcha. What’s it got to do with my ribs?”
“You and I are in sync,” agreed Castiel. “It is why I hear you call my name immediately as opposed to Sam or Bobby, where there is some time delay. Hearing you call for my help and being able to come to you are not the same things, though, Dean. The wards I placed on you still hide you even from me.”
“But you came the other day.”
“Only because I knew where you lived and it made the most sense that were you to call for me, it would be within the privacy of your own home rather than out in the open where you might risk exposing humans to the supernatural world around them. If there were an emergency, the cell phone method we have used in the past is most ineffective.”
“Spit it out, man. What have we got to do?”
Hesitating, Castiel glanced up to meet his eyes. “I would need to put a new sigil on you that allows me- and only me- to locate you instantly, whenever and wherever. I have to have your permission before I can do the sigil.”
A chuckle escaped the hunter. “Is that all? Dude, you didn’t ask us the first time you carved us up, don’t know why you’re so worried about it this time around.”
The angel instantly dropped his gaze again. If Dean didn’t know better, he’d have thought there was a hint of a blush to go with Castiel’s flustered behavior now. The hunter narrowed his gaze suspiciously.
“What aren’t you tell me?”
That tongue darted out across his lips again, Cas’s gaze flicking off in the distance. “It’s just… the sigil is a more personal one rather than standard. I’ve never done it before, had occasion to, or even really even thought about it. It… binds us together, you to me, me to you.” He looked up sharply, shaking his head as if to ward off any way Dean’s brain could take that and run with it. “It’s nothing invasive or that will cause you inconvenience, it will just effectively allow me to find you if, say, you find yourself in a fight and need my help.”
The hunter continued to watch him with narrowed gaze, heart still hammering from being caught off guard by Cas’s idea of binding them together permanently. Sounded too much like marriage vows to him. He liked the angel fine, but as far as Dean knew, Hell didn’t put in an ice skating rink recently, so marrying someone who was both an angel and a man were kind of completely unlikely for him.
“What exactly does the sigil translate to?” Cas’s gaze flicked up to meet his, and Dean wondered if it wasn’t taking everything in the angel not to look away again. “What does it say that has you so nervous?”
“It says that you belong to me,” admitted Cas softly. “That I chose you. That you agreed to it.”
Now Dean was blushing bright red. He coughed and ran a hand over his face. “Look Cas, I know you and I have, uh, gotten close in the past years, I mean, you’re the best friend I have, but that sounds an awful lot like-“
“The reasons behind the sigil varies from case to case,” interjected the angel quickly. Dean regarded him curiously. “In the beginning, I was assigned to you. I was a soldier. To raise you from hell, return you to your brother, offer what protection I could to you… those were under orders. It is a known fact among my siblings that I have a soft spot for ‘the Winchesters’, something the other angels found amusing at first but thought would wear off with time once you were no longer a novelty.”
Amusing like hearing what you think is going to turn out to be a joke would be amusing. Only until you find out it isn’t a joke. Then people tend to go from being amused to being angry. Dean knew Cas being his friend had already gotten more than a few people angry.
“The sigil would act as a warning to any angel that you might meet and would attempt to threaten you. It says that you are not a novelty to me, that I am quite serious in my loyalty to you, and that any harm that befalls you will be repaid some hundred fold by one… very pissed off Angel of the Lord.” A wry smile passed over his lips. “It says that if I’m forced to chose between my people and my friends, I’ve already made my decision. It says that I am not ashamed of my friendship with you or your family. It says I made a choice of my own free will and I will stand by it no matter what. It says you’re family.”
Now Dean was embarrassed for an entirely different reason- feeling deeply honored by Cas’s words. Granted, he knew Cas had been willing to defy his family for the sake of what he thought was right, which had included joining forces with a group of humans on their impossible mission. But purposefully defying them, bucking everything he’d come from just to stay loyal to those same people, the awkward alliance that had blossomed into true friendship, that… left Dean at a loss for words to properly express the humility he felt.
So he said the first thing that came to mind. “I believe you are the first person to ever tell me such a thing. It is… deeply comforting to know.” Cas looked up sharply in surprise, hearing his own words repeated back to him.
A smile passed over his lips. “I lost family that day. I won’t do it again. I can’t.”
They shared a smile.
Clearing his throat, Dean threw up a hand. “So, yeah, okay. Sigil. You have my permission. Let’s do this.” He narrowed his gaze again. “It is going to hurt?”
The angel laughed. “There may be minor discomfort, but I will heal it immediately.”
The hunter nodded, saying nothing as Castiel raised both of his hands, placing on in the center of Dean’s chest over his heart, and the other on Dean’s shoulder, fingers perfectly fitting over the scar hidden under Dean’s clothing.
The pain was instant, sharp, like accidentally touching a hot burner on the stove, only to have a cooling salve immediately applied that swept away the pain like a wave washing away foot prints on the sand. Then Cas stepped back to regard Dean like an artist regarding a painting. The hunter glanced down, giving himself a once over.
“Well? Did it work?” The angel nodded. Dean pulled the collar of his shirt out to look down at his own chest. “Am I gonna have some other weird mark on me now? Anti-possession tattoo is one thing, tats a tat to most people, your hand on my arm makes people thing I have Native American ancestors or something, and it’s some kind of tribal homeage or I’m some sort of a Brave.”
“I believe that is usually an animal print, rather than humanoid,” offered the angel distractedly. Dean let his shirt fall back into place and the angel blinked, coming back to himself. “And I do not know if you will have a new mark on the exterior. This is not something angels do with humans, it’s usually strictly between angels. I have very limited information on it other than what I have told you.”
Dean frowned. “Why use it on another angel? Ya’ll can defend yourselves.”
Cas shrugged, gaze drifting to look out over the yard. “I think it has to do with power levels. Say between an archangel and a foot soldier like myself. Becoming friends with someone out of your rank can cause problems. It’s just about the bond between them, that they are on equal footing, and that they are there for each other. Also, so you can immediately come to the aid of the other person should they need assistance. It helps them better protect one another.”
“Brothers in arms.”
Cas turned to offer a hint of a smile. “Should we go back in and continue with the research?”
They did, Dean feeling more at peace than he had in a while. Sure, rsearch sucked, but he was glad to be back in the swing of things again, to be doing something that felt natural to him. Not to mention, he kept glancing over at his little brother, almost as if to make sure this wasn’t a dream, that Sam was really there. He wound up getting caught grinning like a maniac more than once, and what was he supposed to say? He was as excited as a kid on Christmas because his little brother was back? That he gave up the suburban family life to go back to hunting monsters in the night with an angel as his wingman? He felt free in a world where he’d once felt trapped.
Wow, he was screwed up. Maybe this was how Dorothy felt when she finally got back home. What she’d wanted all along had been the very thing she’d run away from.
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no subject
Date: 2012-05-11 12:23 pm (UTC)I love this story. The freedom it gives you to completely take off from the end of season 5 in such an elegant way. Your Dean expressing some simple, honest appreciation of Cas and wanting him to hang around just for the company. Your take on Lisa and the way everything in this unfolding story makes sense while being suspenseful too. And Cas, oh Cas. ♥
no subject
Date: 2012-06-02 04:51 am (UTC)