To The Waters And The Wild 20
5/21/09 11:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle:To The Waters And The Wild 20
Fandom:SpN
Author:roxy
PairingsDean/Sam
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: 2337
A/N: Remember when I said it was going to get a little weird? *koff*
Dean was walking through the woods, on the trail that Sam had told him led to a lake. The thought of a swim was nice, water, a little sun…the quiet. He needed a little time alone. It itched under his skull, this need for a little distance, just for a little bit….
The forest floor was thick with decaying vegetation, air full of the odd dark chocolate smell of fertile soil, the bright, almost sour green scent of growing things laced through it. He felt light, alive, felt like he was holding something bright and warm inside himself. Sam.
Something big was coming through the trees, heading up the trail instead of down to the lake—Dean froze. It smelled alive--rank, dark, smelled of blood and pain--it crashed through the woods higher up the trail and Dean couldn't stand it anymore, he tore after it, breath whistling in his throat, his heart pounding with excitement. It moaned, whatever it was, the moan tinged with the thick salt flavor of pain. Dean swallowed, scrubbed his hand over his wet mouth as he ran and the faster he ran, the more he wanted.
He leaped logs and roots, broke past clinging, whipping branches, pushed through tangled clots of vines, until he burst into a little clearing and the smell of meat and blood nearly rocked him, overloaded his senses—there was a stag in front of him, antlers filling the pathway from side to side, and nearly as tall at the shoulder as Dean—it was the color of sunlight, but the eye it turned to him was red and yellow and whirled like flames in its skull and then—
And then it was gone and the world went white.
An angel—no, a demon. Demon. It spread wings, or maybe a cloak or maybe hair or just its arms wide, it smiled, and all around them leaves curled and blackened or burst into flames, little gnats dropped out of the air. dog! i missed you!
Dean scrambled backward out of its reach. "I don’t know you."
oh my, you hurt us. It touched its chest, and made a frown, its features writhing a bit until it settled on the appropriate expression. come here.
Dean found himself moving right into its arms. It touched his forehead. remember.
The trail, the forest, the sun disappeared. It was dark, fire snapped and roared all around them, ice creaked and erupted from the ground before flaming off into the endless limitless darkness….
The thing in front of Dean moved restlessly, continuously, as if it was over-filled with energy—it ran claw-tipped fingers between its double row of breasts, with the other hand, played with it's dick, another hand gripped Dean's shoulder so hard, blood ran, another gripped a handful of hair, claws digging deep into Dean's scalp. Dean cried, tears ran down his cheeks and the thing leaned forward to lick them away, leaving burning blisters in the wake of its tongue. Dean shuddered and fell to his knees. The hand gripping his hair pulled him to its dick, long, curved and barbed. Its flesh was like razors, the fluid dripping onto Dean's tongue like acid. It shoved forward until it was seated in his throat. He couldn't scream, couldn’t breathe, his heart pounded, chest heaved and his throat was bleeding inside….
It twisted its long red face down to Dean's. oh, you can't breathe. i'm sorry…It poked a finger through his throat. there. now you can--
When it came, his throat was swimming in acid and blood and it poured out of the breathing hole and made his skin smoke. It jerked out of his throat and his flesh felt like it was turning inside out. It waited until Dean managed to croak, "Thank you." It snapped its fingers and Dean came….
He was on his knees in the dirt, back in the forest, back on the trail again and the demon looked like some average camper come wandering out in the woods, pleasant and boring and filled to the brim with bad. It had its seamed, too soft hands wrapped around Dean's face. Watery blue eyes in a nest of wrinkles twinkled at him. "Here you are, our lost pet. Stolen before we finished you. Head's rolled, pretty, blood was spilled…but in the end, it seems it's all worked out for the best, dear. You were quite the project, courser. Taking apart what you were--you had to want to be more, to love another. Too amusing," it said, and shook its head, flinging thin white braids back and forth. "You had no voice to express it, no experience in it. Taking something that only knew chase and kill and eat—twisting, altering those desires just enough to make it think it felt love. Giving you a voice, ah darling, that was the best joke of all. Even better than redrawing your blueprint." It stroked its wrinkled tiny hand along Dean's cheek; the expression a fond grandmother might make creasing its face. "And when those concepts were deep in your brain, we opened the tops of your heads and mixed you like salad. All Dean Winchester felt, all he was, you also know."
Dean shook, his stomach churned…"You're lying--you fucking *bitch*!" Memories came pouring up into his head but he pushed them away. "I know who I am," he gargled, the words impossibly pushing past the ruin of his throat. "I'm Dean Winchester, John and Mary's son, Sam's brother and you're the—the prince of lies. Fuck you."
"Well, not actually the prince—more of a—duke? But in this instance, we're telling you the truth, dear courser. We have no reason to lie to something like you. You are our precious pet, always have been. We had such a lovely plan, now smashed to bits," it hissed. Suddenly, it was furious—beyond the capacity of its stolen body to contain. The frail bones creaked, seamed skin smoked, blistered and white braids curled up and blew away in wisps of grey ash.
Dean moaned in fear and fell to his face, covered his eyes. "But you, changeling. You still have the chance to be the weapon we created you for. It's wonderful, how every moment you spend with him changes him, tweaks him….
"Do you like how Sam's thoughts mold you? Do you like Dean's memories—" It stopped and pushed its fingers into Dean's head, the snap and crunch of breaking bone was deafening. Dean lost the way to breathe, or move, or scream.
"Oh, ho. Now that's interesting. Surely this wasn't in the…master piece." It grinned and teeth shone all over and Dean went blind.
~~~~~o0o~~~~~
Sam blinks. First there was dark and then there was light, and a thousand, thousand doors, all around him, climbing into the sky, and dropping down below his feet, and left and right, all he could see. A thousand, thousand different kinds of doors. A thousand, thousand colors and shapes and outlines….
There's a man sitting in the air draped in robes that cover him from head to toe ands Sam's kind of glad about that. He's tall, and seems to have an animal's skull, a greyhound's thin, curved, head, two stiff tall ears on either side of his bone-white skull hold the fabric of the robe over his head and then—he's just a person. Just a person—Sam laughs at himself. How fucked up is his life that he can even think that—' just a person'. A person who's floating in nothingness, surrounded by doors ranging from fantastic to ordinary, and all of them floating in a void. The robe slides and reveals a pleasant face, but white, white skin and dull red hair, eyes the color of milky jade. He looks familiar. "sit, my friend." He curls his hand towards Sam and pats the space next to him. Sam drops down. "so, Samuel, life has taken an interesting turn for you, has it not?"
~~~~~o0o~~~~~
"So, Samuel…and his brother? It laughed like breaking crystal. "This is perfect, he's put an even sharper edge on the knife." It withdrew its fingers, dropped Dean to the ground. He pulled himself up, arms shaking with the strain as the world came back, fear came back. Blood poured over his chin when he opened his mouth but he forced the words out, wanting the thing to hear him, believe him.
"I'm Dean Winchester, I'm real, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for my brother—including dying for him, you bitch."
It rolled its eyes, and exhaled a sharp, impatient breath. Snapped its fingers and there was no Dean. Just howling and screaming, the smell of blood and offal, the taste of meat and marrow. Who are you? The question had no meaning, none at all. What are you?
Knife, axe, arrow, your quiver…It snapped its fingers again, and Dean rolled across the ground, screaming.
~~~~~o0o~~~~~
An interesting turn? Well, I suppose that depends on what you're talking about…my current job can be interesting. My social life kind of sucks, what with you guys poking your noses in everywhere. That's annoying more than interesting—"
"Ah, a sense of humor. Very good. Tell me; do you have any idea what the demons want with you?"
"I have an idea, yes…I think. I think they want me to open…well, a door to hell." Sam looked around himself. "I had no idea it was meant literally. It's kind of silly, isn't it? All these doors?"
Set shrugs. "We let you see it however you want—saves brain cells." He nods and points in a direction, his eyes locked on Sam's. "The beings you call demons are just one of a species of "outworlders". If you open a door to their world, it boils out here and they'll own your world—what they leave of it. . But if you open many doors—"
Sam grimaced. "Wouldn't that be chaos?"
The long skull bobbed. "Yes. But of course, chaos is divine." It smiled with blue white teeth, as if it should be obvious to anyone what a good idea that was.
Sam wasn't sure that its definition of divine, and his, were quite the same thing. "What if I open no doors?"
"Well…that's certainly a possibility, certainly an option. A boring one. Not likely, though. Destiny, fate…" It shrugged and Sam winced. There was a suggestion of way too much movement under those robes…. "I have something here." It held up a box covered on every side with small squares that had the look of tiny windows—or doors.
Sam snorted with a show of contempt he was absolutely not feeling. "What, is it a medieval Rubik's cube?"
"You really do have a wonderful sense of humor," it said brightly. "I'm sure that comes in handy. Would you care to look inside?"
The box opened, with no fanfare at all—no bright blinding light, no bizarre buzzing as of a million flies, no eldritch moaning, but Sam's hand shot out in a panic, struggling to shut the box. He had no doubt what was inside was nothing he should see, or could see—"No, I don't—"
no—it was everywhere and nowhere. It was inside and it was outside and he screamed when his body tried to follow it, take him in and pull him out at once. It felt like…bathing in and breathing in glass--
When he could breathe again, he was ten feet from where he had been, drenched in sweat and alone.
"Now, that's a taste of what happens when you open the doors."
Sam shrieked and whirled around, his lungs working overtime. The red-headed thing was still there, smiling at him like he was a toddler who'd done something particularly adorable. "Not to worry, you'll figure it out after a while. And the best thing of all is you don't have to do it alone. I know how you boys are about that. The funny thing is, those demons gave you the only thing that can follow *you* anywhere. Anywhere, any-when you care to go. Now, that—*that's* funny," it said, and smiled.
"I don't know what you're talking about—demons and doors and fuck all! I stepped away from this shit the moment they took—
"But you took the gift, and you're back in the game. Now, you just have to decide—one door or all doors. Maybe the door you know. It might not go that badly after all. I could live with it," it said, and laughed. "See? Humor, I have it too."
Sam rubbed at his eyes, hoping that this was just a dream and in a moment, he'd wake up and everything would be no more fucked up than usual....
It kept on smiling, nodding and its skin flushed with color as it nodded, and Esu's caramel green-eyed face was peering up at him from under the robe…"This I tell you, Samuel, is the most important thing of all. Trust no one."
~~~~~o0o~~~~~
Shuddering all over with a deep indrawn breath, Sam woke up. A wave of disorientation swept him before he remembered—the cabin, they were safe at the cabin. A warm weight pressed against him, Dean spread over the bed, and a leg thrown over him. Sam blinked hard, chasing sleep away. He'd had a dream, pretty sure it was a weird one about…the X-Files? And being late for school? Something odd.
Dean whimpered in his sleep, and Sam rubbed his shoulder, "Hey. Psst. Wake up—Dean, wake—"
Dean woke up all at once and launched himself at Sam. "God, you're real—I had this awful dream you were—you were gone and I was all alone and something horrible was chasing me, and…and a lake?"
"What?"
Dean shrugged. "I wanted to go swimming? But now, I'm hungry."
Sam smiled. "Wow, that's a shock."
"Shut up. Feed me. And it better clog my veins, bitch. No healthy shit."
part 21
TBC
Fandom:SpN
Author:roxy
PairingsDean/Sam
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: 2337
A/N: Remember when I said it was going to get a little weird? *koff*
Dean was walking through the woods, on the trail that Sam had told him led to a lake. The thought of a swim was nice, water, a little sun…the quiet. He needed a little time alone. It itched under his skull, this need for a little distance, just for a little bit….
The forest floor was thick with decaying vegetation, air full of the odd dark chocolate smell of fertile soil, the bright, almost sour green scent of growing things laced through it. He felt light, alive, felt like he was holding something bright and warm inside himself. Sam.
Something big was coming through the trees, heading up the trail instead of down to the lake—Dean froze. It smelled alive--rank, dark, smelled of blood and pain--it crashed through the woods higher up the trail and Dean couldn't stand it anymore, he tore after it, breath whistling in his throat, his heart pounding with excitement. It moaned, whatever it was, the moan tinged with the thick salt flavor of pain. Dean swallowed, scrubbed his hand over his wet mouth as he ran and the faster he ran, the more he wanted.
He leaped logs and roots, broke past clinging, whipping branches, pushed through tangled clots of vines, until he burst into a little clearing and the smell of meat and blood nearly rocked him, overloaded his senses—there was a stag in front of him, antlers filling the pathway from side to side, and nearly as tall at the shoulder as Dean—it was the color of sunlight, but the eye it turned to him was red and yellow and whirled like flames in its skull and then—
And then it was gone and the world went white.
An angel—no, a demon. Demon. It spread wings, or maybe a cloak or maybe hair or just its arms wide, it smiled, and all around them leaves curled and blackened or burst into flames, little gnats dropped out of the air. dog! i missed you!
Dean scrambled backward out of its reach. "I don’t know you."
oh my, you hurt us. It touched its chest, and made a frown, its features writhing a bit until it settled on the appropriate expression. come here.
Dean found himself moving right into its arms. It touched his forehead. remember.
The trail, the forest, the sun disappeared. It was dark, fire snapped and roared all around them, ice creaked and erupted from the ground before flaming off into the endless limitless darkness….
The thing in front of Dean moved restlessly, continuously, as if it was over-filled with energy—it ran claw-tipped fingers between its double row of breasts, with the other hand, played with it's dick, another hand gripped Dean's shoulder so hard, blood ran, another gripped a handful of hair, claws digging deep into Dean's scalp. Dean cried, tears ran down his cheeks and the thing leaned forward to lick them away, leaving burning blisters in the wake of its tongue. Dean shuddered and fell to his knees. The hand gripping his hair pulled him to its dick, long, curved and barbed. Its flesh was like razors, the fluid dripping onto Dean's tongue like acid. It shoved forward until it was seated in his throat. He couldn't scream, couldn’t breathe, his heart pounded, chest heaved and his throat was bleeding inside….
It twisted its long red face down to Dean's. oh, you can't breathe. i'm sorry…It poked a finger through his throat. there. now you can--
When it came, his throat was swimming in acid and blood and it poured out of the breathing hole and made his skin smoke. It jerked out of his throat and his flesh felt like it was turning inside out. It waited until Dean managed to croak, "Thank you." It snapped its fingers and Dean came….
He was on his knees in the dirt, back in the forest, back on the trail again and the demon looked like some average camper come wandering out in the woods, pleasant and boring and filled to the brim with bad. It had its seamed, too soft hands wrapped around Dean's face. Watery blue eyes in a nest of wrinkles twinkled at him. "Here you are, our lost pet. Stolen before we finished you. Head's rolled, pretty, blood was spilled…but in the end, it seems it's all worked out for the best, dear. You were quite the project, courser. Taking apart what you were--you had to want to be more, to love another. Too amusing," it said, and shook its head, flinging thin white braids back and forth. "You had no voice to express it, no experience in it. Taking something that only knew chase and kill and eat—twisting, altering those desires just enough to make it think it felt love. Giving you a voice, ah darling, that was the best joke of all. Even better than redrawing your blueprint." It stroked its wrinkled tiny hand along Dean's cheek; the expression a fond grandmother might make creasing its face. "And when those concepts were deep in your brain, we opened the tops of your heads and mixed you like salad. All Dean Winchester felt, all he was, you also know."
Dean shook, his stomach churned…"You're lying--you fucking *bitch*!" Memories came pouring up into his head but he pushed them away. "I know who I am," he gargled, the words impossibly pushing past the ruin of his throat. "I'm Dean Winchester, John and Mary's son, Sam's brother and you're the—the prince of lies. Fuck you."
"Well, not actually the prince—more of a—duke? But in this instance, we're telling you the truth, dear courser. We have no reason to lie to something like you. You are our precious pet, always have been. We had such a lovely plan, now smashed to bits," it hissed. Suddenly, it was furious—beyond the capacity of its stolen body to contain. The frail bones creaked, seamed skin smoked, blistered and white braids curled up and blew away in wisps of grey ash.
Dean moaned in fear and fell to his face, covered his eyes. "But you, changeling. You still have the chance to be the weapon we created you for. It's wonderful, how every moment you spend with him changes him, tweaks him….
"Do you like how Sam's thoughts mold you? Do you like Dean's memories—" It stopped and pushed its fingers into Dean's head, the snap and crunch of breaking bone was deafening. Dean lost the way to breathe, or move, or scream.
"Oh, ho. Now that's interesting. Surely this wasn't in the…master piece." It grinned and teeth shone all over and Dean went blind.
Sam blinks. First there was dark and then there was light, and a thousand, thousand doors, all around him, climbing into the sky, and dropping down below his feet, and left and right, all he could see. A thousand, thousand different kinds of doors. A thousand, thousand colors and shapes and outlines….
There's a man sitting in the air draped in robes that cover him from head to toe ands Sam's kind of glad about that. He's tall, and seems to have an animal's skull, a greyhound's thin, curved, head, two stiff tall ears on either side of his bone-white skull hold the fabric of the robe over his head and then—he's just a person. Just a person—Sam laughs at himself. How fucked up is his life that he can even think that—' just a person'. A person who's floating in nothingness, surrounded by doors ranging from fantastic to ordinary, and all of them floating in a void. The robe slides and reveals a pleasant face, but white, white skin and dull red hair, eyes the color of milky jade. He looks familiar. "sit, my friend." He curls his hand towards Sam and pats the space next to him. Sam drops down. "so, Samuel, life has taken an interesting turn for you, has it not?"
"So, Samuel…and his brother? It laughed like breaking crystal. "This is perfect, he's put an even sharper edge on the knife." It withdrew its fingers, dropped Dean to the ground. He pulled himself up, arms shaking with the strain as the world came back, fear came back. Blood poured over his chin when he opened his mouth but he forced the words out, wanting the thing to hear him, believe him.
"I'm Dean Winchester, I'm real, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for my brother—including dying for him, you bitch."
It rolled its eyes, and exhaled a sharp, impatient breath. Snapped its fingers and there was no Dean. Just howling and screaming, the smell of blood and offal, the taste of meat and marrow. Who are you? The question had no meaning, none at all. What are you?
Knife, axe, arrow, your quiver…It snapped its fingers again, and Dean rolled across the ground, screaming.
An interesting turn? Well, I suppose that depends on what you're talking about…my current job can be interesting. My social life kind of sucks, what with you guys poking your noses in everywhere. That's annoying more than interesting—"
"Ah, a sense of humor. Very good. Tell me; do you have any idea what the demons want with you?"
"I have an idea, yes…I think. I think they want me to open…well, a door to hell." Sam looked around himself. "I had no idea it was meant literally. It's kind of silly, isn't it? All these doors?"
Set shrugs. "We let you see it however you want—saves brain cells." He nods and points in a direction, his eyes locked on Sam's. "The beings you call demons are just one of a species of "outworlders". If you open a door to their world, it boils out here and they'll own your world—what they leave of it. . But if you open many doors—"
Sam grimaced. "Wouldn't that be chaos?"
The long skull bobbed. "Yes. But of course, chaos is divine." It smiled with blue white teeth, as if it should be obvious to anyone what a good idea that was.
Sam wasn't sure that its definition of divine, and his, were quite the same thing. "What if I open no doors?"
"Well…that's certainly a possibility, certainly an option. A boring one. Not likely, though. Destiny, fate…" It shrugged and Sam winced. There was a suggestion of way too much movement under those robes…. "I have something here." It held up a box covered on every side with small squares that had the look of tiny windows—or doors.
Sam snorted with a show of contempt he was absolutely not feeling. "What, is it a medieval Rubik's cube?"
"You really do have a wonderful sense of humor," it said brightly. "I'm sure that comes in handy. Would you care to look inside?"
The box opened, with no fanfare at all—no bright blinding light, no bizarre buzzing as of a million flies, no eldritch moaning, but Sam's hand shot out in a panic, struggling to shut the box. He had no doubt what was inside was nothing he should see, or could see—"No, I don't—"
no—it was everywhere and nowhere. It was inside and it was outside and he screamed when his body tried to follow it, take him in and pull him out at once. It felt like…bathing in and breathing in glass--
When he could breathe again, he was ten feet from where he had been, drenched in sweat and alone.
"Now, that's a taste of what happens when you open the doors."
Sam shrieked and whirled around, his lungs working overtime. The red-headed thing was still there, smiling at him like he was a toddler who'd done something particularly adorable. "Not to worry, you'll figure it out after a while. And the best thing of all is you don't have to do it alone. I know how you boys are about that. The funny thing is, those demons gave you the only thing that can follow *you* anywhere. Anywhere, any-when you care to go. Now, that—*that's* funny," it said, and smiled.
"I don't know what you're talking about—demons and doors and fuck all! I stepped away from this shit the moment they took—
"But you took the gift, and you're back in the game. Now, you just have to decide—one door or all doors. Maybe the door you know. It might not go that badly after all. I could live with it," it said, and laughed. "See? Humor, I have it too."
Sam rubbed at his eyes, hoping that this was just a dream and in a moment, he'd wake up and everything would be no more fucked up than usual....
It kept on smiling, nodding and its skin flushed with color as it nodded, and Esu's caramel green-eyed face was peering up at him from under the robe…"This I tell you, Samuel, is the most important thing of all. Trust no one."
Shuddering all over with a deep indrawn breath, Sam woke up. A wave of disorientation swept him before he remembered—the cabin, they were safe at the cabin. A warm weight pressed against him, Dean spread over the bed, and a leg thrown over him. Sam blinked hard, chasing sleep away. He'd had a dream, pretty sure it was a weird one about…the X-Files? And being late for school? Something odd.
Dean whimpered in his sleep, and Sam rubbed his shoulder, "Hey. Psst. Wake up—Dean, wake—"
Dean woke up all at once and launched himself at Sam. "God, you're real—I had this awful dream you were—you were gone and I was all alone and something horrible was chasing me, and…and a lake?"
"What?"
Dean shrugged. "I wanted to go swimming? But now, I'm hungry."
Sam smiled. "Wow, that's a shock."
"Shut up. Feed me. And it better clog my veins, bitch. No healthy shit."
part 21
TBC
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
5/22/09 06:35 am (UTC)Scary, scary...The plot thickens and, while we can't trust or believe any of these things, there's sure as hell something not right with Dean...
(no subject)
5/22/09 07:11 am (UTC)(no subject)
5/22/09 11:56 am (UTC)And I managed to drop a fork and stab myself in the pinky toe! I was bleeding like a stuck pig and it HURT.
(no subject)
5/25/09 11:19 pm (UTC)I love your comments!
How's your poor toe? I've been gone for a while--hope your foot is better. A fork???
(no subject)
5/25/09 11:22 pm (UTC)it's still feeling slightly bruised, but it's ok, didn't get infected,
(no subject)
5/22/09 02:36 pm (UTC)I'm all kinds of excited to see what's going to happen :)
*eagerly awaits more*
(no subject)
5/25/09 11:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/22/09 09:16 pm (UTC)You are twisted, my dearest roxy. Your mind is a very strange place, methinks, but damn if I don't want to live there! Hee! It's my rambly-time. How do you come up with this stuff?
*bows before you* Goddamn. :)
Man, if what I think happened, happened. . . *shakes head* then where the hell is Dean? Or maybe I just answered my own question. Or did I? *head explodes*
(no subject)
5/25/09 11:21 pm (UTC)I think you are on the right track in all respects, my dear! *HUGS*
(no subject)
5/26/09 03:32 pm (UTC)Fucked beyond all telling.
FUBAR, even.
*hides*
Your brain, Ms. Thang, skeers me.
(no subject)
5/29/09 02:44 am (UTC)What an odd story to tell, hunh? My brain is kind of weird. :)
(no subject)
5/27/09 09:24 pm (UTC)...
What? Why are you looking at me like that!?
Did I mention I love this story?
(no subject)
5/29/09 02:44 am (UTC)