seriousfic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
seriousfic) wrote2008-02-09 11:02 am
seriousfic) wrote2008-02-09 11:02 am
Fic: The Eyes Have It (Supernatural)
Title: The Eyes Have It
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester
Spoilers: 3x10 - Dream A Little Dream
Word Count: 875
Summary: The demon in Sam is getting stronger. When Dean looked at his brother, all he could see were its yellow eyes.
Of course, there were warning signs. There always are, if you look for them. It started with the cough. Persistent, hacking, growing from just a slight hoarseness at the back of the throat to a deep, whooping attack. No matter how much Dean teased him about lozenges, Sam’s mood didn’t lift. Then one day he spat up a gob of something like pitch, that dissolved into black smoke after it hit the ground. They both saw it, but they only paused for a half-second before resuming their walk. They were on a case at the time, and it didn’t come up.
It was only after that they could really talk about it. Lying alone in a motel room, both unable to sleep, and nothing on the tube… what else was there?
“Sam,” Dean said, groping for the lamp.
Sam stilled him with a glance from the other bed. “You remember Jeremy?”
“Dream-walker, yeah.”
“I beat him to death with a baseball bat.”
“It was a righteous kill, Sammy.”
“He was human. More or less, I mean. I made him see his abusive father and then I just… kept… hitting him.”
“I would’ve done the same.”
“You wouldn’t have enjoyed it.”
There was a long quiet that made Dean wish for the usual motel acoustics… a loud TV next door, creaking bedsprings, anything.
“You don’t know how easy it was, taking control of that nightmare. And lately I’ve been running faster, shooting straighter…”
“That’s just a sign that you’re more delusional, not…”
Sam coughed, a hacking fit. When Dean turned the light on, Sam shrank back, black smoke issuing from his tear ducts and the sides of his mouth.
“Jesus Christ.”
***
Exorcism, standard procedure ever since the thing with Meg. Dean fumbling in Latin and Sam correcting him even while he was tied to a chair, then hacking up more pitch. In the end, all that it gave him was a bruise across half his face, encompassing the yellow bloodshot eye on that side.
***
The coughing got worse. A full-blown fever, perspiring off Sam’s skin and soaking his clothes with fumes like sulfur. Dean helped him to the bed, debating whether to keep him tied. He settled for putting a devil’s trap around the bed. That just made things worse. As dark as Sam’s good eye was, the bad one flashed as yellow as a harvest moon.
“He put himself in me, Dean,” Sam said, as small and lost as when he was a child. Dean’s little brother. “The Yellow-Eyed Demon just… broke off a chunk of himself and planted it like a seed. I can hear his thoughts… he’s thinking them for me.”
Dean did another exorcism. It made Sam break out in a rash, sores like a leper’s. Unclean.
His fever got higher, breaking the thermometer when Dean tried to take his temperature. Dean couldn’t remember the last time they’d stayed in a town so long. The motel room was clogged with medicine and fast food, looking lived in and homey and so terribly like how a friend’s house would look after they’d waited up for dad for a few weeks… or months.
“C’mon, Sammy, we need to get back on the road. Beat this thing, okay?”
Bobby was across the country and didn’t have any answers. Neither did Ellen. Neither did Ruby. Neither did Bela, even when he told her she could just keep the fucking Colt. Dean scrolled all the way down the contacts list on his cell-phone, hitting Dad’s number. He threw the phone across the room, watching the batteries fly out of it when it broke against the wall.
Ruby did help a little, though. She was pretty smart, really. When he asked for the demon-killing knife, she didn’t ask why she needed it. She just handed it over, quiet for once.
Dean went back inside, the knife stashed in his jean pocket, and sat down at Sam’s bedside. Both eyes were yellow now, his incisors slightly longer, his face drawn and cheekbones prominent.
“Sam, you…” Dean faltered for a moment, rubbing at his face, before recouping. “You remember Mom?”
“I saw her…”
“Yeah, when we went home, you got to see her. And Dad, Dad’s… could you tell him something for me.”
Sam closed his eyes. “Anything.”
“Tell him… I understand.”
Dean plunged the knife into Sam’s heart.
The rest was something of a blur. There was the sturm und drung of a demon’s death, flaring hellfire in a corpse’s shell, the scent of flesh roasting in brimstone, and a half-human howl that seemed to echo long after Sam was still and cool. Dean didn’t know how long it was before Ruby wrapped her fingers around the knife, pulled it out of Sam, then helped Dean to his feet. By the time he came awake, they were driving away from that town, leaving it far behind. He was blinking tears from his eyes and Ruby was staring straight ahead, like she didn’t notice.
“I’ve heard rumors of a witch’s coven in Arkansas,” Ruby said blankly. “They’re trying to summon up more power for their demon. We could stop them, if you like.”
“I like,” Dean said with barely any feeling in his voice. Barely any at all.
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester
Spoilers: 3x10 - Dream A Little Dream
Word Count: 875
Summary: The demon in Sam is getting stronger. When Dean looked at his brother, all he could see were its yellow eyes.
Of course, there were warning signs. There always are, if you look for them. It started with the cough. Persistent, hacking, growing from just a slight hoarseness at the back of the throat to a deep, whooping attack. No matter how much Dean teased him about lozenges, Sam’s mood didn’t lift. Then one day he spat up a gob of something like pitch, that dissolved into black smoke after it hit the ground. They both saw it, but they only paused for a half-second before resuming their walk. They were on a case at the time, and it didn’t come up.
It was only after that they could really talk about it. Lying alone in a motel room, both unable to sleep, and nothing on the tube… what else was there?
“Sam,” Dean said, groping for the lamp.
Sam stilled him with a glance from the other bed. “You remember Jeremy?”
“Dream-walker, yeah.”
“I beat him to death with a baseball bat.”
“It was a righteous kill, Sammy.”
“He was human. More or less, I mean. I made him see his abusive father and then I just… kept… hitting him.”
“I would’ve done the same.”
“You wouldn’t have enjoyed it.”
There was a long quiet that made Dean wish for the usual motel acoustics… a loud TV next door, creaking bedsprings, anything.
“You don’t know how easy it was, taking control of that nightmare. And lately I’ve been running faster, shooting straighter…”
“That’s just a sign that you’re more delusional, not…”
Sam coughed, a hacking fit. When Dean turned the light on, Sam shrank back, black smoke issuing from his tear ducts and the sides of his mouth.
“Jesus Christ.”
***
Exorcism, standard procedure ever since the thing with Meg. Dean fumbling in Latin and Sam correcting him even while he was tied to a chair, then hacking up more pitch. In the end, all that it gave him was a bruise across half his face, encompassing the yellow bloodshot eye on that side.
***
The coughing got worse. A full-blown fever, perspiring off Sam’s skin and soaking his clothes with fumes like sulfur. Dean helped him to the bed, debating whether to keep him tied. He settled for putting a devil’s trap around the bed. That just made things worse. As dark as Sam’s good eye was, the bad one flashed as yellow as a harvest moon.
“He put himself in me, Dean,” Sam said, as small and lost as when he was a child. Dean’s little brother. “The Yellow-Eyed Demon just… broke off a chunk of himself and planted it like a seed. I can hear his thoughts… he’s thinking them for me.”
Dean did another exorcism. It made Sam break out in a rash, sores like a leper’s. Unclean.
His fever got higher, breaking the thermometer when Dean tried to take his temperature. Dean couldn’t remember the last time they’d stayed in a town so long. The motel room was clogged with medicine and fast food, looking lived in and homey and so terribly like how a friend’s house would look after they’d waited up for dad for a few weeks… or months.
“C’mon, Sammy, we need to get back on the road. Beat this thing, okay?”
Bobby was across the country and didn’t have any answers. Neither did Ellen. Neither did Ruby. Neither did Bela, even when he told her she could just keep the fucking Colt. Dean scrolled all the way down the contacts list on his cell-phone, hitting Dad’s number. He threw the phone across the room, watching the batteries fly out of it when it broke against the wall.
Ruby did help a little, though. She was pretty smart, really. When he asked for the demon-killing knife, she didn’t ask why she needed it. She just handed it over, quiet for once.
Dean went back inside, the knife stashed in his jean pocket, and sat down at Sam’s bedside. Both eyes were yellow now, his incisors slightly longer, his face drawn and cheekbones prominent.
“Sam, you…” Dean faltered for a moment, rubbing at his face, before recouping. “You remember Mom?”
“I saw her…”
“Yeah, when we went home, you got to see her. And Dad, Dad’s… could you tell him something for me.”
Sam closed his eyes. “Anything.”
“Tell him… I understand.”
Dean plunged the knife into Sam’s heart.
The rest was something of a blur. There was the sturm und drung of a demon’s death, flaring hellfire in a corpse’s shell, the scent of flesh roasting in brimstone, and a half-human howl that seemed to echo long after Sam was still and cool. Dean didn’t know how long it was before Ruby wrapped her fingers around the knife, pulled it out of Sam, then helped Dean to his feet. By the time he came awake, they were driving away from that town, leaving it far behind. He was blinking tears from his eyes and Ruby was staring straight ahead, like she didn’t notice.
“I’ve heard rumors of a witch’s coven in Arkansas,” Ruby said blankly. “They’re trying to summon up more power for their demon. We could stop them, if you like.”
“I like,” Dean said with barely any feeling in his voice. Barely any at all.
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Yes, you've rendered me temporarily speechless lol.
This was awesome... and heartbreaking. I don't normally like deathfic much but this one... just wow.
Thanks for sharing it!
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*hugs you*