SpN:Come The Night, 10/?

[roxy]

Title: Come The Night
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean, Dean/Angel, brief Dean/OFC
Rating:NC-17
Word Count: 3225
Spoilers: oblique reference to events in s5

Summary: this is (now) an AU treatment of season five, where Sam doesn't escape his fate and Boy King means just that. Dean once again enters hell to save his brother—not entirely voluntarily. When he returns to the world, everything's changed. He's lost Sam, the new world is difficult to navigate, and he finds himself saddled with an angry young man who elects himself to be Dean's guide.

Notes/Warnings: rape, dubious consent, extreme power imbalance. Some scenes are graphic. Feel free to ask if you'd like more info.

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icon by bethbetter


"Okay, so Sa—Brother doesn't come out, but he's been fighting a war for years and years, a war that doesn’t touch you. Who's he fighting?"

"Princes of Hell. After Lucifer was erased by Brother, there was this big old hole in the hierarchy that the upper echelon demons of hell are trying to fill. They've got these crazy alliances that break and reform all the time. Fucking bastards—crazy, bloodthirsty and only happy when they're tearing each other or us to pieces."

"I don’t get why there's fighting—I—" Dean almost chokes on what comes out his mouth next but considering what Dad had told him all those years ago and what Yellow Eyes' minions had told him whenever they were feeling chatty, he had to ask, as much as it sucked. "I thought that BP was the King of hell, that he was, y'know, the 'chosen' one?"

Angel rolls his eyes, mutters 'BP—Christe—' before answering. "Well, they say he came out of nowhere declaring himself the king of hell. At first it was just him and then something happened and the system broke into factions--some of the rats claim him as king and some of them are still trying to put their own boys in."

"Jeez, kid...you sound like you were up close and personal with that stuff." Dean's blood runs cold, thinking of this kid, this defenseless kid in with 'the rats'.

"Not really. This shit is old news for the most part. I did hear things, back when I was…you know. My masters were human, thank god, and never close to the court or anything. I never had to deal with…stuff, like some." His cup suddenly becomes incredibly fascinating. "Besides, like I said, it was years ago."

Dean finds it hard to imagine Angel living the kind of fucked up life that a slave's life must be. "I'm sorry…sorry you had to do that. If I'd worked harder, if we'd planned better…" If I'd done like Dad said, like Cas had said…

"Look, crazy bastard. It's not your fault. You had nothing to do with the way the world went, no matter what the bottle tells you, okay? I was a slave; you were—are--a madida old drunk. This shit what happens to us? Nomportah. Life happens."

"But you…what, worked in the fields or something? Little kid like you? That's—that's horrible," he says, thinking about the only kind of slavery he's ever learned about and Angel gives him a look that shouts 'stupid'.

"Kids don’t pull that kind of work, bru," he said, "they're for inside. Old people like you do the hard labor, like when they're past it, when they're not fresh anymore. Or if they've fucked up bad," he says and frowns

"Stop," Dean holds up a hand, "Just—not now. Tell me, tell me more about this place. Tell me about where we are."

"We're in the Western Sector…and, okay, there's us, Out Towns. Out because we're out of the line of fire. We got the ocean on one side, iron and silver mines on the other…um, we make the food. Plant it, sell it. Make the iron and silver they bring us into protections. …past us and the mines, heading inward, there's the grass lands, pretty much belong to the floating cities. They lead to and from Chronopolis. From there you can see the gates of Dys. Chronopolis is neutral, they deal with everyone, they invent new things, they fix old things--they sell slaves. They think they're better than everyone because of what they do. The machines, vehicles, people…almost everything eventually funnels into Dys--Dys lives off everyone, like a parasite. It's not a nice place," he snorts.

"Yeah. I guess. Well, I gotta go there, so if you tell me how, I'll be on my way."

Angel gawps at him like he's suddenly grown wings and horns. "What. The. Fuck. You don’t just—you don't just go there. It's not like you jump the tram and wave bye-bye, see you in a day or never again. Bru, you're on your own. Crazy ass."

Angel gets up and stomps out of the door, and Dean stares after. He catches Min staring from out of the kitchen, looking concerned, before she casts a look at him. Dean shrugs. no idea…

"He's right, bru," An old man at the next table breaks in. "It's stupid. No one wants to go there, not unless they're ready to sacrifice a lot, become the madida—and no telling if you ever get your soul back…" The old man voice drops as he goes, he's staring at Dean, peering closely. "You know, you always said you was his brother. And you do kind of favor him, now the dirt and the chin warmer's off…you really do favor him some kinda way…" the old man keeps staring, hard, like he wants to peel back his skull and look inside. "They say the real Winchester's got a price on'im… they say that's the thing Brother Prince lost…"

Dean leans over the table, planting his elbows wide and solid on the table, with a big smile in place. "How old would you say Winchester is now? How old are you?"

"So? The younger one never aged, looks as young now as he was then." A few people at the tables look in their direction, looking at Dean with new interest, and not just because he seemed to be clean and sober.

"Yeah well, the younger was the one with the power. The older one was just—there. Didn't have shit going for him, except a smart mouth. Odds are more than likely that fucker's dead and all other talk's just stupid rumor--right?" The old man nods and Dean snaps, "so maybe you wanna give the booze a rest, like I did. Save the few brain cells you got left. Bru."

Dean walks out and no one follows but figures he's got a day or less before someone is going to want to know for sure if he's Sammy's brother and if they know anything about Sam and him, then they know about the tattoos…which he's still got, as black and solid as the day they'd had them done. He rubs his chest as he trots along. Pain races across his skin, a flickering memory of hell plays in front of his eyes like his own private movie…Alistair peeling long strips from him, like his mom peeled an apple, only the face keeps changing, sometimes it's some weird…guy in a white tunic, sometimes it's Sam…skin falls but the tattoo stays….

Dean shakes his head hard and keeps walking, fast as he can to the hotel, hoping Angel will be there.

~o0o~

He is, sitting cross-legged on the bed; blankets wrapped around his shoulders and pulled over his head like a cowl, like he's in a nest. All Dean can see is his eyes and they're wet and wide like a little lost pup's—before surprised relief lights his eyes. Which lasts about a lightning second before he drags that perpetual scowl onto his face again. Were all fucking kids the same damn way at this age? Dean's annoyed but at the same time that familiar face makes him grin. He can't help it, he likes this little shit. Angel's eyes widen a bit more, he pinks up, does that mouth twist thing that says 'I'm not smiling, especially not at you.'

"So." Dean says.

"So, someone's gotta keep an eye on ya, it might as well be me. Make sure you don't end up soaked in piss and drowned in your own vomit in some back alley."

"Aw, you say the sweetest things. The way you're crushing on me? It's cute."

"What? Fuck you, old man!" It's way too easy to dodge the pillow Angel throws, he laughs as he does and drops down across the bed. When Angel doesn't kick him off he settles in, muses out loud. "Fuck. Tell you what, little brother, ever since waking up I've felt naked. I mean, naked without a gun, without anything. I'm tired of feeling like bait. I need to get my hands on a gun. And a good knife. You know where I can get one? And I need supplies, silver, salt, iron—"

Angel leans over and presses his giant paw over Dean's mouth. "Un-unh. First thing, we gotta get out of town. And then we can get gear. I got us somethin' else we need."

Dean blinks, startled—first that Angel touched him like that, and second—he'd called the kid 'little brother'. Dean's glad the kid didn't seem to notice. It felt…natural and then again not, to call him that.

Angel doesn't seem to notice Dean's little crisis at all. He pulls a burlap sack from under the bed and dumps a couple of canteens out, and some dried bars that look like handfuls of berries and grains and some other glop mashed into bars." Min gave me these—they taste like ass but they're good fuel. We have to take what we can get—I don't have time to get proper money together. You're going to have wait on the toys, though. Might be able to take care of that out by the mines."

"Fuck…all right. Thanks. Thanks, and don't worry about the money; I'll see what I can do about that."

Angel's eyebrows fly up. "Oh, really? And how you gonna do that…?"

"Yes, really and shut up. Come on, let's get out of here."

By the time they got to the edge of town, it was full dark. A few houses here and there, relics of another time, dotted the road. They pass a couple of dogs, and Angel pushes Dean to the side, hissing under his breath. Dean feels sick for a second, thinking that he's been found, that Sam's hunted him down, and he's terrified about what comes next, until the dogs turn their furry, happy faces to them. Their tails whip the air and they circle Dean and Angel, wiggling and bowing and trying to convince them it's playtime.

Angel takes off after them, chasing them back and forth, playing with them as Dean trudges on, convinced the kid's a head case. He does look kind of cute, knees and elbows working overtime as he chases the dogs, a startlingly wide smile bringing out dimples. Dimples. Go figure. Dean shakes his head. The kid would be a heartbreaker if he smiled once in a while. He finds himself smiling almost as wide when Angel aims one at him—a smile that comes his was by accident, Dean's sure.

The pathway/road is dark, and Dean wonders if the pole they pass is a non-functioning street light, but there's no globe at the top, only a little black box…he passes it and looks up, gets the impression of a flash of blue before it's gone. What the fuck… There was something about that flash that sent a shiver down his spine, but before can really dissect the feeling, he's distracted by the dogs and the kid colliding and ending up in a heap on the road, and that requires mocking….

Eventually the road peters out into nothing, barely a dirt track, and the friendly dogs turn back, and Angel watches them go back regretfully. Dean's sorry for a second that he's a poor substitute for the dogs. Angel watches them until they're smudges in the distance, shrugs and sighs before trudging on. All the playfulness that Dean wouldn't have been able to imagine the boy possessing if he hadn't seen it, was gone.


That night, they walk until they can't take another step and drop down to sleep without making a fire, without touching anything but their water. They roll their jackets up for a pillow, and Angel wraps himself around the burlap bag that holds their supplies—he falls asleep without a word. Dean takes a little longer to sleep. There's a feeling in him, a feeling that something bad was coming for him, sneaking up on him on little cat's feet and smiling, smiling.

~o0o~

Morning had come all too quickly, as far as Dean was concerned—any morning without coffee is too damn early--but at least it's going to be a good day for walking. It's cool, and a little overcast, so they're not walking into the sun or drowning in their own sweat. They'd slowed down a bit on the hiking, and now they're strolling through an allee, fruit trees trained to grow into an archway. The house the walk had been created for was long gone, not even rotted timbers to show where it had been. The trees are still healthy enough to bear fruit, at the moment they were in full bloom and the smell of the flowers was sweet and everywhere. Between that and the soft, steady, drone of bees, Dean feels a bone deep kind of relaxation, a little like he's dreaming while he's walking. The cool green light the thick growth of leaves let in made it feel even more dream-like, and for once, Angel's quiet just because he was being quiet. It's good, and they walk along like this for a long time. Well past afternoon, they take a break, share out a canteen. They talk now, Angel telling Dean what he knows about the floating cities, the traveling market place he's sure is going to help them.
"We can keep heading in this direction, past the mines," Angel says, "and it'll lead up to the head of the grasslands. Lucky for you, the City should be appearing soon, it's the season. They'll pass the Out Towns, and set up for a few weeks before heading on."

Dean asks how a town moves on—just what the hell was a floating city anyway--and Angel describes something like a cross between a bazaar and a caravan—"Oh, okay," Dean nods. "Like nomads. They move around the desert too. I like that idea. I never cared for staying in one place too long. Never could imagine how anyone would want to squat one place forever…hunh."

"We'll see if they'll take us on. Then we can travel with them to Chronopolis. Safer that way, and maybe make some money, too."

He stops and rummages in the bag, pulls out another bar and breaks it in half. Dean takes the bar and takes a bite—or saws off a piece with his teeth anyway. Kid was right—it tastes like ass. He chews as he walks along and thinks about what the kid said about making money…he'd seemed pretty confident he could…Dean looks him up and down and knows there's one way any kid can make easy money—he'd pulled that himself at Angel's age—older. Can't say he likes the idea, not at all…"Doing what?" Dean asks, narrows his eyes at Angel and the little brat grins like he knows where Dean's mind has gone.

"They always need people to dig outhouses and wells, unskilled labor always looked for. You and your muscles will keep us fed."

"And what are you going to be doing while I'm working?"

"Telling everyone I'm your kept man."

"Asshole," Dean snorts but laughs when Angel grins. "Bitch," Dean says.

Angel laughs out loud and kicks Dean behind the knee, runs when Dean's knee folds and he curses at Angel, promising to rearrange his face. Angel's laughter spirals up past that braying howl into a high pitched kind of yelp that reminds Dean of Sam, and he has to admit to himself that the kid is growing on him…good company, if Dean doesn't kill him first. "Run, you little bitch," he shouts,"—I'm gonna kill you!"

"Jerk," Angel yells back, laughter obvious in his voice, but that one word makes Dean seize up, he's frozen in the middle of the road, seeing something not there.

Where he is in his mind hurts, his whole body seizes up and aches down to the soles of his feet, with missing Sam so much…Sam's like a roaring empty hole right in the middle of him, and he swears he hears Cas screaming for him to find Sam and god, he wants to, he wants to desperately but part of him is afraid—his mind floods with love torture bleed cry ache Sam want hatelove

He wakes up with Angel's hands on his forearms, Angel's yelling his name and shaking him but it's not his name, not really—ROACHROACHYOUSHITROACH—"De! Hey, De, bru, come back here, come back here with me…fuck, he's doing it again, falling apart again—hey old timer, wakey, wakey—" he curses and stumbles back, hits the ground when Dean rips his arms out of Angel's grip. He's back in the world but for a slippery few seconds he was somewhere antiseptic and stainless steel that stank of old blood and alcohol….

"Shit--fuck you, asshole lokar, you broke my ass," Angel groans and kicks out at Dean when he tries to lift him from the ground. "Leave off, you crazy sonofa bitch.

"Damn it Angel, I'm sorry dude, really. Fuck. I don’t know what made me go off like that…"

Angel looks at him warily but takes his hand. Dean pats him down and the kid blushes bright red and kind of twists in Dean's hands. Dean grabs his chin as gently as he can and turns Angel's face to his. "Look, dude," he says, voice soft, doing his best not to freak Angel out. "Do me a favor, call me by my name, okay? Not what you guys have been calling me—shut up," he snaps at the beginning of a twinkle in Angel's eye. "It is Dean."

"Sure it is", Angel says, his hand coming up to cup Dean's for a second, before he drops it away like it's on fire. He looks at Dean, hard. "It is, isn't it? You're…but you're not him. You can't be him."

Dean looks away. "I need to get into that city, Angel. I have to see Sam. Or Brother Prince, or the Boy King, or whatever the fuck they're calling him. I have to fix him."

"Good luck on that. You really think he's going to let you walk in and, what, scold him? He's going to rip you into shreds-no matter who you think you are. And even if you was—that guy—there was a bounty put on his head—dead or alive."

Dean swallows against the taste of zinc in his mouth; the unpleasant way his mouth waters…"I think he already ripped me to shreds." He rubs his arms, unaware he slips his hand around his neck and rubs and rubs….

Angel grabs his hand and holds it in his own. "Dean," he murmurs, gentle and quietly rubbing, "Dean…"

Dean blinks, then grins ruefully. "Something you had to do a lot for me? Eh. Never mind. Where we stopping tonight?"

"When we get outside the mines, we can stop and sleep, eat…after that, we have to be careful."

"Great. Just please god, tell me there'll be real food soon."

"There'll be real food soon--oh wait—did you want me to tell the truth?"

"Fucking hate you, dude." Dean stalks off to the sound of Angel laughing in the background.








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Comments

[toldthestars.livejournal.com]

*le sigh* Momentarily pacified. I can't wait to see the things you've set up here--the caravan, and the floating cities--it's going to be wonderful! and then, knowing you, it's going to be awful--Sam probably has the city of Dys surrounded with kitten heads on pikes or something.

yay for updates!

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

Sam probably has the city of Dys surrounded with kitten heads on pikes or something.

That's so funny! and close, but they're not kitty heads....*whistles*

[boysinperil.livejournal.com]

I am enjoying this section so much - I love post-apocalypse and quest stories and this is great world building!!

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

Ah, thank you so much for reading this great big staggering thing! I hope it doesn't disappoint. it got kind of really weird as it went on...