SpN: To The Waters And The Wild part 5
10/29/08 12:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle:To The Waters And The Wild
Fandom:SpN
Author:roxy
Pairing:Dean/Sam
Rating:R
Word Count:1066
Summary:this poem is a pretty good summary of the story.
Come away O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand
The Stolen Child by W.B. Yeats
Boss, you there? Boss?" Sam rolled over, hissed when a sharp swift stab of pain shot through him from ass to chest, settled into a dull ache. "Sam? You there?"
His head was spinning and he couldn't remember where the answering machine was--Sam sat up and scrubbed at his face…why the fuck did Raph sound so worried? What the hell…he glanced at the clock and groaned. Well shit, that explained it…he was so fucking late.
He stretched, grimaced as the ache thumped him once or twice.
See? Serves you right…unfaithful bastard…
"Shut the fuck up, Dean," he muttered. He dragged himself out of bed and headed for the shower, bending to grab up the clothes he'd dropped on the floor. They stank of booze and smoke and…he held them away from him bare skin…vomit. "Ech."
A shower and a thorough tooth brushing later and he felt a little more human. He padded over to the phone and dialed Raph.
"Damn, you didn't call to let us know you were going to be late, Gay Danny was worried. Me too," he mumbled quickly. "But…you got laid, hunh?" Raph blew out a little breath.
Sam dropped down on the couch and stared at the ceiling. "Ah…I didn’t know consulting you was something I was supposed to do. And you do know I'm gay too, don’t you?"
"Yeah?" Raph responded, a world of puzzlement in that one word.
"You…Danny…never mind. What's on the table today?"
"Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork. No blood and guts today. And Miss Dana wants to talk about a radio spot."
"What? No! Raph—no."
"It's not that bad an idea; we can do it respectfully—"
"Raph, *no*. Tell her I said we're sticking to paper ads, okay? Damn." His eyeballs felt like they were coated in grit, his face felt three sizes too small. "Shit. I've got a headache that could kill a normal man."
"Yeah, 'cause only I know in reality, you're Superman. Say, does that make me Batman?"
"*No*--no. I'll be in to work in an hour."
~~~~~o0o~~~~~
It'd been another long day at the office, a stressful day revolving around paperwork that seemed endless, talking to clients, setting up a contract with a new medical waste company that seemed to go on and on and on…he was beat. His head was pounding, his stomach was a little queasy and he really had no desire to cook, so—take out for the fifth time this week. His gut was probably going to mutiny if he didn't eat real food pretty soon. He had a bag of egg rolls and fried rice clutched in his teeth, trying hard not to drool all over it, and a tub of sweet tea clutched in the hand that wasn't trying to jam door keys in the lock. He couldn't wait to get inside, rip the tie and jacket off and get comfortable. It was exhausting being Mr. Sympathetic. Sure, he was good at it, that's why Dean had always pushed him to the front when it came to dealing with the bereaved, the scared, the—the grumpy. Dean always looked good in the suits though, Sam thought. And anyway, it was Dean's face that got the doors opened for them….
He was stretched out on the sofa, licking egg roll grease from his hands, wiping them on the disreputable sweats he was wearing. He flicked the TV off with a sigh and grabbed a book from under the coffee table. He was about to settle in, and read himself to sleep but his skin buzzed, and his brain itched…sleep wasn't going to happen.
Visitors were a pain in the ass.
"Sam."
"Jesus. What do *you* want?"
Ruby winced—quickly wrapped a long strand of red hair around her finger and smiled sweetly. "Now is that any way to say hello? Especially since I come bearing good news. About your brother, remember him? Well, not exactly about him, so much as—unk."
His hand was around her neck before he was even aware that he'd moved. It shocked him for a quick second, as much as it shocked her but he tightened his hand and growled, "Get out. Now. Unless you really have something…." He knew that it wasn't just the hand around her neck that stopped her moving. He felt the energy bleed across his skin as he concentrated…she floated up from the couch, barely an inch, but her eyes grew large and frightened. She nodded and managed a small squeak. He eased his grip. "What?" he said, his voice was so flat and emotionless he hardly recognized it.
"I--I know someone who can help you…find a way in. To hell," she rasped.
"You're lying. You lied to us the whole time before and now, three years later you want to show up out of nowhere and lie again? Fuck you." He stood, and she shied back—caught herself and smirked.
"Well, you can whine about the past or you can do something now. You decided you didn’t need any help. Fine. But you were looking in the wrong places. That's why it didn't work. Stupid."
"I can kill you with the power of my mind, you know…"
She laughed as if he told a joke. "Here. You have three days to decide if you want help or not. The window closes after that." She had a small pale green card in her hand. It had a deckled edge, small neat lettering and a rabbit printed in the bottom right corner.
"What's this? Who is this?"
"They'll tell you every thing you need to know, if you go. If you want your brother back." She glanced at him, and away before speaking again. "Believe it or not, I did try. I guess these last couple of years have been…bad?" she said, and Sam was surprised—she looked as sympathetic as he guessed her kind was capable of, and it kind of lessened his desire to kill her. Kind of....
"They've…" how could he explain to someone like Ruby that they were and they weren't? He missed Dean every day with a fierce kind of longing, pain that never ever went away…but sometimes he'd find himself laughing--a real laugh--or smiling for no other reason except the sun felt warm, or the air was crisp, or the taste of ice cream or…or pie…made him feel good. He's made friends, and created a kind of family and…that was *traitorous*.
And it was wrong. Not when he *knew*, not when he should feel at all moments of the day, all the time, that his brother was suffering.
part 6
tbc
Fandom:SpN
Author:roxy
Pairing:Dean/Sam
Rating:R
Word Count:1066
Summary:this poem is a pretty good summary of the story.
Come away O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand
The Stolen Child by W.B. Yeats
Boss, you there? Boss?" Sam rolled over, hissed when a sharp swift stab of pain shot through him from ass to chest, settled into a dull ache. "Sam? You there?"
His head was spinning and he couldn't remember where the answering machine was--Sam sat up and scrubbed at his face…why the fuck did Raph sound so worried? What the hell…he glanced at the clock and groaned. Well shit, that explained it…he was so fucking late.
He stretched, grimaced as the ache thumped him once or twice.
See? Serves you right…unfaithful bastard…
"Shut the fuck up, Dean," he muttered. He dragged himself out of bed and headed for the shower, bending to grab up the clothes he'd dropped on the floor. They stank of booze and smoke and…he held them away from him bare skin…vomit. "Ech."
A shower and a thorough tooth brushing later and he felt a little more human. He padded over to the phone and dialed Raph.
"Damn, you didn't call to let us know you were going to be late, Gay Danny was worried. Me too," he mumbled quickly. "But…you got laid, hunh?" Raph blew out a little breath.
Sam dropped down on the couch and stared at the ceiling. "Ah…I didn’t know consulting you was something I was supposed to do. And you do know I'm gay too, don’t you?"
"Yeah?" Raph responded, a world of puzzlement in that one word.
"You…Danny…never mind. What's on the table today?"
"Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork. No blood and guts today. And Miss Dana wants to talk about a radio spot."
"What? No! Raph—no."
"It's not that bad an idea; we can do it respectfully—"
"Raph, *no*. Tell her I said we're sticking to paper ads, okay? Damn." His eyeballs felt like they were coated in grit, his face felt three sizes too small. "Shit. I've got a headache that could kill a normal man."
"Yeah, 'cause only I know in reality, you're Superman. Say, does that make me Batman?"
"*No*--no. I'll be in to work in an hour."
It'd been another long day at the office, a stressful day revolving around paperwork that seemed endless, talking to clients, setting up a contract with a new medical waste company that seemed to go on and on and on…he was beat. His head was pounding, his stomach was a little queasy and he really had no desire to cook, so—take out for the fifth time this week. His gut was probably going to mutiny if he didn't eat real food pretty soon. He had a bag of egg rolls and fried rice clutched in his teeth, trying hard not to drool all over it, and a tub of sweet tea clutched in the hand that wasn't trying to jam door keys in the lock. He couldn't wait to get inside, rip the tie and jacket off and get comfortable. It was exhausting being Mr. Sympathetic. Sure, he was good at it, that's why Dean had always pushed him to the front when it came to dealing with the bereaved, the scared, the—the grumpy. Dean always looked good in the suits though, Sam thought. And anyway, it was Dean's face that got the doors opened for them….
He was stretched out on the sofa, licking egg roll grease from his hands, wiping them on the disreputable sweats he was wearing. He flicked the TV off with a sigh and grabbed a book from under the coffee table. He was about to settle in, and read himself to sleep but his skin buzzed, and his brain itched…sleep wasn't going to happen.
Visitors were a pain in the ass.
"Sam."
"Jesus. What do *you* want?"
Ruby winced—quickly wrapped a long strand of red hair around her finger and smiled sweetly. "Now is that any way to say hello? Especially since I come bearing good news. About your brother, remember him? Well, not exactly about him, so much as—unk."
His hand was around her neck before he was even aware that he'd moved. It shocked him for a quick second, as much as it shocked her but he tightened his hand and growled, "Get out. Now. Unless you really have something…." He knew that it wasn't just the hand around her neck that stopped her moving. He felt the energy bleed across his skin as he concentrated…she floated up from the couch, barely an inch, but her eyes grew large and frightened. She nodded and managed a small squeak. He eased his grip. "What?" he said, his voice was so flat and emotionless he hardly recognized it.
"I--I know someone who can help you…find a way in. To hell," she rasped.
"You're lying. You lied to us the whole time before and now, three years later you want to show up out of nowhere and lie again? Fuck you." He stood, and she shied back—caught herself and smirked.
"Well, you can whine about the past or you can do something now. You decided you didn’t need any help. Fine. But you were looking in the wrong places. That's why it didn't work. Stupid."
"I can kill you with the power of my mind, you know…"
She laughed as if he told a joke. "Here. You have three days to decide if you want help or not. The window closes after that." She had a small pale green card in her hand. It had a deckled edge, small neat lettering and a rabbit printed in the bottom right corner.
"What's this? Who is this?"
"They'll tell you every thing you need to know, if you go. If you want your brother back." She glanced at him, and away before speaking again. "Believe it or not, I did try. I guess these last couple of years have been…bad?" she said, and Sam was surprised—she looked as sympathetic as he guessed her kind was capable of, and it kind of lessened his desire to kill her. Kind of....
"They've…" how could he explain to someone like Ruby that they were and they weren't? He missed Dean every day with a fierce kind of longing, pain that never ever went away…but sometimes he'd find himself laughing--a real laugh--or smiling for no other reason except the sun felt warm, or the air was crisp, or the taste of ice cream or…or pie…made him feel good. He's made friends, and created a kind of family and…that was *traitorous*.
And it was wrong. Not when he *knew*, not when he should feel at all moments of the day, all the time, that his brother was suffering.
part 6
tbc