The Kid, Part 20 -- Supernatural, PG-13
Apr. 2nd, 2009 08:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phantismaFandom: Supernatural
Title: The Kid Part 20 ( All of The Kid can be found Here)
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, John, mention of Missouri, Castieli
Rating: PG
Genre: GEN (did you even know I could GEN?)
Word Count: 2253
Summary: Dean is 19, Sam is just shy of 15. John is 8. John gives Sam something to think about when he shows Sam one of his nightmares in a different light. Castiel offers to help, after showing Sam a piece of his past.
A/Ns & Warnings: Um. This is at least partially![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
varkelton's fault. De-aging fic.
Pretty art provided byfallen_for_lost
Sam finally had it all put together. He understood what his father had set out to do, even if he didn't understand all of the risks. He had a day picked out. Now that he really understood, he knew that it wasn't enough to be a demon holiday. There was more to it. The day of his fifteenth birthday. A full moon.
He had everything he needed. All he had to do was wait.
The problem was waiting was only making everything worse. The nightmares came more frequently. The visions were debilitating. He'd stopped telling Dean about them. In fact, he'd stopped talking to anyone about a whole lot of anything. Some mornings, he didn't even get out of bed to go to school.
It wasn't really that he meant to shut everyone out, but he couldn't talk about the pros and cons of a federalized healthcare system or the merits of Free Trade agreements or the history of ancient Rome like they mattered anymore. Not when he could see people dying, not when he could look at his debating partner and know that his father was abusing him, or at his teacher and know that he was sleeping with two different students.
He couldn't look at Dean and see anything but his constant state of worry, fear, fatigue. There was darkness everywhere he looked anymore. Everywhere but John.
Everyday John came into his room, climbed up on his bed and read him a story, just like Sam used to do for him. Everyday John talked to him about Mr. Turtle and the kids in school and his teacher and Dean.
When Sam looked at him, he could only see…well…sparkles. Just like John would say about Missouri or sometimes Sam.
"It's late, Johnny. You should get to bed." Sam said, though he really didn't want John to go anywhere. The nightmares and the visions didn't come when John was there.
John's hands were on his knees and Sam looked up, actually looked at him. "I need to show you something."
"John, I'm tired."
John pushed his legs together and sat straddling them. "I've been waiting for you to see it yourself, Sammy, but you don't, and I'm going to show you."
Sam adjusted himself and looked at John. He was very serious and maybe not as sparkly as he had been a few minutes before. "What John?"
"Last night you had a nightmare. I saw."
Sam started, not realizing John could do that. "Johnny, you should have told me."
He put one small hand on Sam's lips and shook his head. "I don't mind. Not the important part."
"Okay, what is the important part?" Sam asked, horrified that John would have seen any of what he'd dreamed the night before.
John moved until his face was very close to Sam's. "It was the same dream from before. You were alone. People were dead."
Sam shivered. They were dead because he'd killed them. Somehow he knew that. "It's always the same." The landscape was sometimes different, but the faces were all the same, all the people he knew and cared about.
"Want to know what I saw?" John's voice was softer now, breathy and when Sam looked his eyes were half closed. Sam swallowed and could feel John, could feel that he was seeing something. "Look Sammy, look what I saw."
Missouri had been trying to teach him, and sometimes he had the strength to do just what he wanted. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, opening himself up. He got a glimpse of devastation, burning, bleeding and it was just like his nightmare, but then he felt John, reached for him and the whole thing shifted.
Suddenly he was looking at himself, at the fire in his hand, at the anger on his own face. John pointed. Behind Sam was a shadow. It was behind him…not quite a man. Inky black darkness and it had Sam, a band of the dark around his waist, around his throat.
Suddenly everything vanished and John sagged in his arms. "Not inside you Sammy." John said around a yawn. "Not inside you."
"Shh…it's okay Johnny. I saw it." Sam held John to him, his small body feeling so light and warm compared to Sam. John's breathing evened out and Sam knew he was asleep, knew he should take the kid back to his own bed. He didn't know what it meant, wasn't sure what to make of the shadow or the way it held him, wasn't sure it even mattered that it wasn't inside him.
He closed his eyes, breathing in and feeling the rush of light that came from John. When he was like this, there was a familiar presence about him, a feeling Sam had never noticed until Missouri had helped him learn to feel things differently, using his gifts as well as his skin and emotion. He sighed, relishing the comfort of his father's presence in the little boy in his arms.
He woke to the door bursting open, to Dean's panic and John starting awake in his arms. "Dean?"
"John wasn't in his room." Dean said, sitting on the bed. Sam could feel his brother's heart racing as he sat up, stretching and surprised to find the sun streaming in his window.
"What time is it?" Sam asked, unable to see around John to find the clock.
"Almost eight." Dean responded, letting John climb into his lap. "John wasn't downstairs watching cartoons, and he wasn't in his room. I got a little scared."
John smiled. "I was with Sam. I helped him sleep."
"Is that right?" Dean asked, smiling for John, though his eyes showed Sam his concern.
"Not a single nightmare, right Sam?"
"Well, unless we're counting that thing with fairies…?" Sam said, rubbing his head. Somehow he knew that it had been John's dream, not his.
John giggled. "Angels. Not fairies."
"Whatever, they had wings." Sam stretched. He felt better than he had in months. "I'm gonna shower."
"Why don't you and I go make pancakes?" Dean said as he lifted John stood.
"With chocolate sprinkles!" John declared as Dean flew him out of the room.
"He makes a good father."
Sam jumped and whirled. Castiel looked at him as though Sam should have expected him. Sam shut his door and crossed his arms. "Do you mind?"
Castiel raised an eyebrow at him, but otherwise didn't respond. "What do you want?"
"You know what I want, Samuel."
"My name is Sam. And no, I really don't know what you want."
"I want you to fulfill your destiny."
Sam snorted and shook his head. "Destiny? Is that what we're calling it? No offense, dude, but I'd rather not."
"I do not speak of the visions, Sam, they are but one outcome of a future that is not yet decided."
"You're starting to sound like a fortune cookie." Sam said.
"I am here to help you--"
"You know, you keep saying that but so far, all you've done is give me a gun that I'm not even sure will fire and tell me not to do the only thing that seems to make sense to me. I'm getting better advice from my eight year old--John."
"Perhaps if you would allow me to finish speaking--"
"No." Sam shook his head. "You've got nothing to say to me that would change my mind."
"Fine, have it your way." Castiel was suddenly in his face, one finger pressing to Sam's forehead and the world tilted away. He was falling, flailing, then just as suddenly, standing in a darkened nursery, looking down at an infant. The baby batted its hands up at him, his whole being sparkling like John did. Castiel's hand was on his shoulder.
"What just happened?"
"I decided to show you, since you would not listen."
"Who is that?"
"That is you, Samuel." They moved as footsteps moved up the hall.
"Mom?" He recognized her from old pictures his father had kept. She padded across the floor in her bare feet, smiling down at the baby. One hand brushed over his forehead. There was a soft glow about her, not quite sparkly like John. She hummed a little and whispered goodnight, then left the room again. "Why here? Why this?"
"Patience." Castiel said beside him. There was a shadow at the door, a man moving into the room.
"Who is that?" It was very clear to see that it wasn't his father.
"That is Azazel."
Yellow eyes flicked to the corner where they were watching, as if it knew they were there. "Hey there Sammy." He touched the infant, then lifted his hand. With a flash of a knife, he pricked his finger, watching the blood well up.
Sam's heart was racing. "No. Stop him." He lurched forward, but Castiel held him in place.
"What is done can not be undone, Samuel. We are here to observe."
The bloody finger descended into the crib. Sam could almost taste the coppery tang of the blood as it filled the baby's mouth. Azazel's mouth moved, but his voice was too soft to hear. "What is he saying?"
"Only you and he know that, Samuel."
"John?" His mother filled the doorway again and Azazel turned, yellow eyes flashing. "You-" Her scream filled the air as she was pinned to the wall and dragged up toward the ceiling.
"No!" Sam lurched forward, almost breaking Castiel's hold on him. His mother's blood dripped from the ceiling, flames starting to nip at her nightgown. "No!" Anguish ripped through him and Sam turned in to Castiel, burying his face in the angel's chest. Arms closed around him, strong and warm and there was a brief feeling like wings enfolding them, then the world tipped again and when he breathed in they were standing once more in his own bedroom.
Castiel released him and Sam staggered to the bed, sinking onto it and lifting shaking hands to rub at his face. "Why?"
Castiel's hand was gentle on his head. "Because you needed to know."
"Know what?" Sam asked, willing away the burning tears.
"Azazel did not give you these gifts. They were a part of you before he came to you."
"Why did he…do what he did?"
Castiel's hand stroked over his hair. "We do not know for certain, Samuel. He corrupts the gift that God has given you, that much we know. We can not know the reason."
Tears spilled down his face and he curled forward to escape the gentle gesture of the angel's calming hand. "I don't want it."
"I know."
Sam curled in tighter, holding his stomach. "I'm afraid."
"I know." Castiel knelt beside him, his hand sliding down Sam's back now. "You are not alone, Samuel."
He couldn't hold back the sob, falling into the angel's open arms. "I don't want it to be true."
"It is much to ask of one so young." Castiel murmured and Sam got the sense that maybe those words weren't really aimed at him. Castiel held him while he cried. "It is much to risk."
There was a flutter nearby and Sam looked up. There was no one else in the room but Castiel. "Who…what is much to risk?"
"There is perhaps a way to make you stronger, to help you through this transition without losing you to the dark, without you relinquishing those gifts to which you were born."
Sam stood, moving away from Castiel. "There is? I'm not going to like it, am I?"
Castiel stood also. "As I said, it is much to risk, and I am uncertain of the outcome."
Sam wiped his eyes and took a deep breath. "Are you going to tell me?"
Castiel squared his shoulders, his incredibly blue eyes staring into Sam. "My blood, Samuel."
Sam felt his face pale and stepped backward. "You mean…like what he did?"
"It is not a deed done lightly."
"Will it make the visions stop?"
"No." Castiel stepped closer. "In fact, it may intensify them. It may speed up your development, make your gifts manifest more quickly."
"You mean there's more than this?" Sam asked breathlessly, stepping away again. Castiel followed.
"Much more, Sam. You were born to be a warrior. To fight."
"What if I don't want to fight?"
Castiel cocked his head, confusion evident on his face. "Would you sit and watch the innocent die?"
"No…of course not." Sam's back hit the wall and Castiel was still closing on him. "Wait. Just slow down."
"God has work for you."
"Yeah? Well maybe I have a question or two for him first." He held up his hands to hold Castiel at arm's length. "Just slow down. I can't just…I have to talk to Dean."
Castiel backed off a step. "Your brother does not appreciate my presence."
Sam choked on a dark snort of laughter and scratched his head. "It kind of runs in the family." He moved around the angel and took a deep breath. "Give me a little bit to think? Come back in a few hours. I want to…"
"Think?" Castiel supplied. He reached a hand to cup Sam's face. "Think on this Samuel Winchester. The battle is yet to come. That is years from now. This is only your gifts awakening, a task made dark and dangerous by Azazel's blood. I offer only to help restore the balance of dark and light within you." He stepped back and nodded. "I will return when you have had time to think."
Title: The Kid Part 20 ( All of The Kid can be found Here)
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, John, mention of Missouri, Castieli
Rating: PG
Genre: GEN (did you even know I could GEN?)
Word Count: 2253
Summary: Dean is 19, Sam is just shy of 15. John is 8. John gives Sam something to think about when he shows Sam one of his nightmares in a different light. Castiel offers to help, after showing Sam a piece of his past.
A/Ns & Warnings: Um. This is at least partially
varkelton's fault. De-aging fic. Pretty art provided by
fallen_for_lostSam finally had it all put together. He understood what his father had set out to do, even if he didn't understand all of the risks. He had a day picked out. Now that he really understood, he knew that it wasn't enough to be a demon holiday. There was more to it. The day of his fifteenth birthday. A full moon.
He had everything he needed. All he had to do was wait.
The problem was waiting was only making everything worse. The nightmares came more frequently. The visions were debilitating. He'd stopped telling Dean about them. In fact, he'd stopped talking to anyone about a whole lot of anything. Some mornings, he didn't even get out of bed to go to school.
It wasn't really that he meant to shut everyone out, but he couldn't talk about the pros and cons of a federalized healthcare system or the merits of Free Trade agreements or the history of ancient Rome like they mattered anymore. Not when he could see people dying, not when he could look at his debating partner and know that his father was abusing him, or at his teacher and know that he was sleeping with two different students.
He couldn't look at Dean and see anything but his constant state of worry, fear, fatigue. There was darkness everywhere he looked anymore. Everywhere but John.
Everyday John came into his room, climbed up on his bed and read him a story, just like Sam used to do for him. Everyday John talked to him about Mr. Turtle and the kids in school and his teacher and Dean.
When Sam looked at him, he could only see…well…sparkles. Just like John would say about Missouri or sometimes Sam.
"It's late, Johnny. You should get to bed." Sam said, though he really didn't want John to go anywhere. The nightmares and the visions didn't come when John was there.
John's hands were on his knees and Sam looked up, actually looked at him. "I need to show you something."
"John, I'm tired."
John pushed his legs together and sat straddling them. "I've been waiting for you to see it yourself, Sammy, but you don't, and I'm going to show you."
Sam adjusted himself and looked at John. He was very serious and maybe not as sparkly as he had been a few minutes before. "What John?"
"Last night you had a nightmare. I saw."
Sam started, not realizing John could do that. "Johnny, you should have told me."
He put one small hand on Sam's lips and shook his head. "I don't mind. Not the important part."
"Okay, what is the important part?" Sam asked, horrified that John would have seen any of what he'd dreamed the night before.
John moved until his face was very close to Sam's. "It was the same dream from before. You were alone. People were dead."
Sam shivered. They were dead because he'd killed them. Somehow he knew that. "It's always the same." The landscape was sometimes different, but the faces were all the same, all the people he knew and cared about.
"Want to know what I saw?" John's voice was softer now, breathy and when Sam looked his eyes were half closed. Sam swallowed and could feel John, could feel that he was seeing something. "Look Sammy, look what I saw."
Missouri had been trying to teach him, and sometimes he had the strength to do just what he wanted. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, opening himself up. He got a glimpse of devastation, burning, bleeding and it was just like his nightmare, but then he felt John, reached for him and the whole thing shifted.
Suddenly he was looking at himself, at the fire in his hand, at the anger on his own face. John pointed. Behind Sam was a shadow. It was behind him…not quite a man. Inky black darkness and it had Sam, a band of the dark around his waist, around his throat.
Suddenly everything vanished and John sagged in his arms. "Not inside you Sammy." John said around a yawn. "Not inside you."
"Shh…it's okay Johnny. I saw it." Sam held John to him, his small body feeling so light and warm compared to Sam. John's breathing evened out and Sam knew he was asleep, knew he should take the kid back to his own bed. He didn't know what it meant, wasn't sure what to make of the shadow or the way it held him, wasn't sure it even mattered that it wasn't inside him.
He closed his eyes, breathing in and feeling the rush of light that came from John. When he was like this, there was a familiar presence about him, a feeling Sam had never noticed until Missouri had helped him learn to feel things differently, using his gifts as well as his skin and emotion. He sighed, relishing the comfort of his father's presence in the little boy in his arms.
He woke to the door bursting open, to Dean's panic and John starting awake in his arms. "Dean?"
"John wasn't in his room." Dean said, sitting on the bed. Sam could feel his brother's heart racing as he sat up, stretching and surprised to find the sun streaming in his window.
"What time is it?" Sam asked, unable to see around John to find the clock.
"Almost eight." Dean responded, letting John climb into his lap. "John wasn't downstairs watching cartoons, and he wasn't in his room. I got a little scared."
John smiled. "I was with Sam. I helped him sleep."
"Is that right?" Dean asked, smiling for John, though his eyes showed Sam his concern.
"Not a single nightmare, right Sam?"
"Well, unless we're counting that thing with fairies…?" Sam said, rubbing his head. Somehow he knew that it had been John's dream, not his.
John giggled. "Angels. Not fairies."
"Whatever, they had wings." Sam stretched. He felt better than he had in months. "I'm gonna shower."
"Why don't you and I go make pancakes?" Dean said as he lifted John stood.
"With chocolate sprinkles!" John declared as Dean flew him out of the room.
"He makes a good father."
Sam jumped and whirled. Castiel looked at him as though Sam should have expected him. Sam shut his door and crossed his arms. "Do you mind?"
Castiel raised an eyebrow at him, but otherwise didn't respond. "What do you want?"
"You know what I want, Samuel."
"My name is Sam. And no, I really don't know what you want."
"I want you to fulfill your destiny."
Sam snorted and shook his head. "Destiny? Is that what we're calling it? No offense, dude, but I'd rather not."
"I do not speak of the visions, Sam, they are but one outcome of a future that is not yet decided."
"You're starting to sound like a fortune cookie." Sam said.
"I am here to help you--"
"You know, you keep saying that but so far, all you've done is give me a gun that I'm not even sure will fire and tell me not to do the only thing that seems to make sense to me. I'm getting better advice from my eight year old--John."
"Perhaps if you would allow me to finish speaking--"
"No." Sam shook his head. "You've got nothing to say to me that would change my mind."
"Fine, have it your way." Castiel was suddenly in his face, one finger pressing to Sam's forehead and the world tilted away. He was falling, flailing, then just as suddenly, standing in a darkened nursery, looking down at an infant. The baby batted its hands up at him, his whole being sparkling like John did. Castiel's hand was on his shoulder.
"What just happened?"
"I decided to show you, since you would not listen."
"Who is that?"
"That is you, Samuel." They moved as footsteps moved up the hall.
"Mom?" He recognized her from old pictures his father had kept. She padded across the floor in her bare feet, smiling down at the baby. One hand brushed over his forehead. There was a soft glow about her, not quite sparkly like John. She hummed a little and whispered goodnight, then left the room again. "Why here? Why this?"
"Patience." Castiel said beside him. There was a shadow at the door, a man moving into the room.
"Who is that?" It was very clear to see that it wasn't his father.
"That is Azazel."
Yellow eyes flicked to the corner where they were watching, as if it knew they were there. "Hey there Sammy." He touched the infant, then lifted his hand. With a flash of a knife, he pricked his finger, watching the blood well up.
Sam's heart was racing. "No. Stop him." He lurched forward, but Castiel held him in place.
"What is done can not be undone, Samuel. We are here to observe."
The bloody finger descended into the crib. Sam could almost taste the coppery tang of the blood as it filled the baby's mouth. Azazel's mouth moved, but his voice was too soft to hear. "What is he saying?"
"Only you and he know that, Samuel."
"John?" His mother filled the doorway again and Azazel turned, yellow eyes flashing. "You-" Her scream filled the air as she was pinned to the wall and dragged up toward the ceiling.
"No!" Sam lurched forward, almost breaking Castiel's hold on him. His mother's blood dripped from the ceiling, flames starting to nip at her nightgown. "No!" Anguish ripped through him and Sam turned in to Castiel, burying his face in the angel's chest. Arms closed around him, strong and warm and there was a brief feeling like wings enfolding them, then the world tipped again and when he breathed in they were standing once more in his own bedroom.
Castiel released him and Sam staggered to the bed, sinking onto it and lifting shaking hands to rub at his face. "Why?"
Castiel's hand was gentle on his head. "Because you needed to know."
"Know what?" Sam asked, willing away the burning tears.
"Azazel did not give you these gifts. They were a part of you before he came to you."
"Why did he…do what he did?"
Castiel's hand stroked over his hair. "We do not know for certain, Samuel. He corrupts the gift that God has given you, that much we know. We can not know the reason."
Tears spilled down his face and he curled forward to escape the gentle gesture of the angel's calming hand. "I don't want it."
"I know."
Sam curled in tighter, holding his stomach. "I'm afraid."
"I know." Castiel knelt beside him, his hand sliding down Sam's back now. "You are not alone, Samuel."
He couldn't hold back the sob, falling into the angel's open arms. "I don't want it to be true."
"It is much to ask of one so young." Castiel murmured and Sam got the sense that maybe those words weren't really aimed at him. Castiel held him while he cried. "It is much to risk."
There was a flutter nearby and Sam looked up. There was no one else in the room but Castiel. "Who…what is much to risk?"
"There is perhaps a way to make you stronger, to help you through this transition without losing you to the dark, without you relinquishing those gifts to which you were born."
Sam stood, moving away from Castiel. "There is? I'm not going to like it, am I?"
Castiel stood also. "As I said, it is much to risk, and I am uncertain of the outcome."
Sam wiped his eyes and took a deep breath. "Are you going to tell me?"
Castiel squared his shoulders, his incredibly blue eyes staring into Sam. "My blood, Samuel."
Sam felt his face pale and stepped backward. "You mean…like what he did?"
"It is not a deed done lightly."
"Will it make the visions stop?"
"No." Castiel stepped closer. "In fact, it may intensify them. It may speed up your development, make your gifts manifest more quickly."
"You mean there's more than this?" Sam asked breathlessly, stepping away again. Castiel followed.
"Much more, Sam. You were born to be a warrior. To fight."
"What if I don't want to fight?"
Castiel cocked his head, confusion evident on his face. "Would you sit and watch the innocent die?"
"No…of course not." Sam's back hit the wall and Castiel was still closing on him. "Wait. Just slow down."
"God has work for you."
"Yeah? Well maybe I have a question or two for him first." He held up his hands to hold Castiel at arm's length. "Just slow down. I can't just…I have to talk to Dean."
Castiel backed off a step. "Your brother does not appreciate my presence."
Sam choked on a dark snort of laughter and scratched his head. "It kind of runs in the family." He moved around the angel and took a deep breath. "Give me a little bit to think? Come back in a few hours. I want to…"
"Think?" Castiel supplied. He reached a hand to cup Sam's face. "Think on this Samuel Winchester. The battle is yet to come. That is years from now. This is only your gifts awakening, a task made dark and dangerous by Azazel's blood. I offer only to help restore the balance of dark and light within you." He stepped back and nodded. "I will return when you have had time to think."
