The Kid, Part 21, Supernatural, PG-13

[phantisma]

Fandom: Supernatural
Title: The Kid Part 21 ( All of The Kid can be found Here)
Characters/Pairings: Dean, Sam, John, mention of Missouri, Castiel
Rating: PG
Genre: GEN (did you even know I could GEN?)
Word Count: 3436
Summary: Dean is 19, Sam is just shy of 15. John is 8. Sam and Dean talk about Castiel's offer, and Dean, predictably doesn't take it very well, but when Sam's growing gifts become a threat to his family, Sam may make the decision without his brother's consent.

A/Ns & Warnings: Um. This is at least partially varkelton's fault. De-aging fic.


Pretty art provided by fallen_for_lost







Sam stepped out of the shower, his hands still trembling a little after his encounter with the angel. He was stalling and he knew it. He was going to have to talk to Dean, he was going to have to make a decision.

He dried off slowly and dressed even more slowly. By the time he made it to the kitchen, Dean and John were sitting down, eating pancakes. John handed Sam a plate, grinning. Sam smiled distractedly and sat, not really eating or looking at either of them.

In his mind, the images of his mother and Azazel filled him, the taste of blood, the sound of his mother screaming. He could feel Dean's eyes and tried to look up. He didn't quite reach Dean's eyes before he sighed and looked back down at his plate.

John finished eating and let Dean wash his face before he was running off to the living room to watch television. Dean refilled his coffee cup and sat down again. "I thought you said no nightmares."

Sam inhaled sharply and nodded. "No, this is…something else."

Dean sipped at his coffee and watched him. "You gonna tell me?"

"You won't like it."

"I don't like any of this Sam."

Sam nodded, picking at the pancakes on his plate. "I know. I'm sorry I haven't…well, I've been…"

Dean's hand slid over the table and touched his. "What's going on?"

"Castiel." Sam said the name and caught the way Dean reacted, even without looking up at him. "He just…he came to me after you left my room."

"Son of a bitch." Dean pushed his chair back and stood. He paced back and forth for a minute. "I told him to leave you alone."

Sam snorted and sat back. "He's an angel, Dean. I don't think he takes orders from you." He shook his head. "I think he wants to help. I just…honestly, I'm scared." He dared a glance up. Dean had stopped pacing. "More now than I was before, if that's possible."

"Why? What did he do?" Dean was defensive, hands on his hips.

Sam held up his hands. "He showed me what happened to me when I was a baby…I saw…I saw Mom die, Dean." His breathe caught in his throat as it filled him again, her scream, the flames, her blood dripping from her stomach. Sam started when Dean's hand fell on his shoulder and he looked up at his brother. "I…the demon, he was there, in my room, and he…he bled…" Sam's stomach churned as he tasted it again. "He fed me blood, Dean…he said something to me, and put blood in my mouth, then Mom walked in and he killed her."

Dean's hand tightened and Sam found himself turning, burying his face in Dean's stomach while Dean's other hand stroked through his hair. He took a couple of shuddering breaths and pulled back. "But…he said that these…the visions and crap…that they were mine before…that the demon changed me, corrupted me somehow."

"Sam, we don't even know if he's telling you the truth." Dean sat in the chair next to him.

"I think he is. I don't know how to explain it. But I believe him. And…he says there might be a way to make it…better."

Dean's eyes narrowed, his face tightened. "You're making a face. I'm not going to like this."

"I already told you that." Sam said, though Dean was right, he wasn't going to like it. "The thing is, I'm almost more scared of his solution than I am of just making it all go away." He scrubbed his face. "He says I'm supposed to be some kind of warrior and…" He shook his head. "Honestly, Dean? I don't know. I just want the nightmares to stop. I want to sleep and not be afraid of every headache, every fucking shadow."

"Tell me what he said." Dean pulled a chair closer, sat in it and leaned in.

Sam licked his lips. "Well, he said he's not sure what it'll do."

"Sam!" Dean was getting exasperated with him.

Sam took a deep breath. "He wants to do the same thing that the demon did."

Dean sat back, blinking at him like he wasn't sure he'd heard him right. "The demon? He wants to…" Sam could see when it dawned on him, when he realized what Sam meant. "Oh fuck no." Dean stood suddenly, sending the chair toppling backward. "No. No, Sam. No."

He paced around the table and back to Sam's side. "Is he out of his fucking mind?"

"Dean, calm down." Sam said, standing himself and catching his brother. "I told him I had to talk to you, that I had to think about it."

"The answer is still no, Sam. No. Just…" Dean's hands dragged through his hair. "Haven't we been through enough? Our whole lives have been fucked over, and every time it seems like we might finally be getting it together…"

"But we're not." Sam said softly. "I'm not." He sighed and walked to the door to check on John. "I can't sleep unless you or John are in the room." He heard Dean's sharp intake of air. "Yeah, I know. I can feel you." He watched John jump from the chair to the couch and back again. "I'm not saying I want to do…what he wants. I'm saying I don't want to keep living like this. I can't keep living like this." He lowered his eyes and swallowed. "If I can't…if this is how it's going to be Dean, I'm going to break…I'm going to become the person I keep seeing in my dreams. I'm going to…" He shook his head, tried to pull himself up out of the desperation. "I don't want that."



They put the argument aside for the moment, and head out to the park with John on his bike and the kite he'd been bugging them to try, and it felt weird to Sam. He watched Dean untangle the string and wind it up around a stick. He couldn't remember the last time, before their father had become John, that they had spent the day doing anything like this. Their family days tended to revolve around training and target practice and researching.

The spring day was warm, reminding him that his birthday was just a few days away. It seemed hard to believe that John had been with them for two years, that Sam was about to be fifteen. Then again, so much had happened in those two years, some days Sam was half convinced it had been twice as long.

John laughed as the kite tanked on Dean and he ran after it, the sun bright and shining off his brown hair. Sam's breath caught in his throat, suddenly feeling like the air was choked with sulfur. He tried to call out to Dean, but no sound came. Clouds covered the sun. People were shouting, but Sam couldn't drag his eyes off of John.

He seemed to turn, his eyes growing dark as he grew, suddenly his father again. Sam turned on Dean, slashing at him, tearing into his skin, dropping him to the ground, he couldn't stop himself, like something was reaching through him, making him do it. All around them children were screaming and Sam's skin felt slick with blood. He lurched away, pulling at the heavy weight that seemed to hold him, like hands on his limbs, his throat, yanking him back, dragging him toward the dark that had swallowed up the sky, the sun, all that was behind them, all that was important.

Dean lay twitching on the ground and Sam screamed his name, reaching for him even as his father charged toward Sam, eyes flashing now and Sam held up his hands, screaming in rage and fear.

"Samuel." The voice was cold, cutting through him, wrapping around him. Sam was panting, flailing, but arms, strong and definite pressed around him, holding him as darkness swooped in.

"Sam?"

A warm hand touched his face, petting over him slow. The hand was shaking Sam realized slowly. He was wet, shivering. He opened his eyes.

Dean knelt next to him, his face bruised, his shirt torn. "Sam, can you hear me?"

Sam nodded, but regretted it instantly as pain lanced through him and panic nibbled at him. "Dean? What happened?"

Dean sat back, his eyes tracking to Sam's other side. Sam turned his head. John stood beside Castiel, his face turned away from Sam into the angel's leg. Castiel's hand stroked absently over his head. Sam looked back at Dean. "Did I…" He lifted a hand to touch Dean's face, but Dean pulled away.

Sam pushed to sit up, but Dean held him down. "Rest, Sam."

"It's raining Dean." Sam said, squinting into the rain that seemed to have come out of nowhere.

"Yeah, you won't melt." Dean pushed wet hair off Sam's face. "Just…go slow."

"What happened?"

"You freaked out." Dean said softly, glancing up at Castiel, then back down at Sam. "He…knocked you out before you could hurt anyone."

"Too late." Sam said, his hand reaching up for Dean's face again.

"I'll live."

"This time." Sam muttered, shoving himself up off the ground and climbing to his feet. "What the fuck did I do?"

"You were screaming about Dad and demons and you hit me, threw me into the damn slide." Dean said, following him up.

"How could I throw you?" Sam turned and looked at him. "Dean?"

Dean wouldn't look at him. "You didn't even touch me Sam."

Sam doubled over, holding his stomach as it churned inside him. "I could have killed you." One of these times he was going to. Sam knew it. He'd seen it enough times in his dreams.

"I'm fine." Dean insisted.

"You are not fine." Castiel said finally. "Samuel is correct. If you continue down this path, he will kill you."

"No." Dean put himself between Sam and Castiel. "You stay the hell away."

"Dean--" Sam pressed his hands against his temples, pressing against the pain that thumped through his head.

"It isn't right Sam."

"And this is?"

John sobbed and turned tighter into Castiel and Sam stopped to look at him. "Did I…did I hurt him?"

"No, Samuel. You did not." Castiel soothed a hand over John's head and slowly John lifted his tear-streaked face.

"The shadow-man." John said, his voice trembling. He reached for Sam, practically flew into his arms. "I saw him." Sam held him, overwhelmed as words and pictures flew at him. "He saw me, Sam. He saw me. He never saw me before."

"What the hell does he mean?" Dean asked.

Sam hushed, John, stroking a hand down his back. "Let's get out of the rain." He headed for the house, trusting that Dean and Castiel both would follow. He used the space to try to make sense of the jumbled images he'd gotten from John. He let them into the house, peeling John's wet clothes off him as they climbed the stairs. "Get into something warm, Johnny." Sam set him down outside his room and headed into his own to change.

By the time he got downstairs, Dean was pacing, still wet and Castiel stood, impassive by the door.

"Explain."

Sam nodded, then shook his head. "I don't know if I can. It got dark, then John was Dad, and I was…I killed you…or something killed you through me…and I couldn't stop it." Sam hugged himself, turning away. "Someone was dragging me into the black and I couldn't breathe and you were dead and…." He stopped himself, remembering what John saw. He looked up the stairs, but John's door was still closed.

"I saw John as Dad, so did Azazel." He turned to Castiel. "He knows that John is not just an average kid."

"That's why he comes after me." John's voice said suddenly from the stairs. Sam and Dean both turned to him, but his face had that distant look on it. "Why he comes to get my little boy…if he can't have you, he'll take…" John blinked and looked up at them. "I…I think…" He was frowning, trying to focus, but it was obvious that whatever thought he was chasing was elusive, slippery. "How can I be your father?"

Dean gasped and John tilted his head. "I'm not supposed to know…but I saw me, I saw me in Sam's head when the shadow man saw me and I saw the other John in his head before and I'm him and he's me and I don't understand."

Sam pulled his hands through his hair, it was all too much and he was drowning in it. He just wanted it all to stop. He felt a hand on his back and turned to Castiel. His blue eyes were filled with compassion, and Sam wanted desperately to believe that he could make it all better.

"If I do this, will John be safe?" Sam asked, looking the angel in the eye. "Will Azazel send the demons that have been looking for him?"

"I can not know that, Samuel." Castiel said, advancing a step.

"Sam, no." Dean came at them, but Castiel raised a hand and Dean stopped, like there was suddenly a glass wall between them. "Sam!"

He swallowed and took a step back, but Castiel followed. "When it's over…what…what will I be?"

"The same as you are now, a warrior for God." There was a knife in his hand, the blade flashing as he held it up, as he brought it to bare against his arm. Sam backed up a step, the chair suddenly behind him, catching him when he would have fallen.

Castiel reached for him, blood flowing down his arm. Sam could hear Dean, but all he could see was the red flow of redemption. Holding his breath, Sam leaned forward, mouth open. He recoiled at the first taste, but forced himself to swallow. It filled his mouth, white hot and slick, filled his senses. Castiel pulled away and Sam fell back into the chair, gasping as the fire sped through him, down to his stomach and out through his veins, racing his heart toward the dark…thundering at deafening volumes until he had to cover his ears, hold his head to keep it from exploding.

Black filled him, splashed with color, with light, vibrant, pushing and pulling him, tossing and twirling him until he wasn't sure which way was up or out, there was only the endless expanse of his brain, of the air.

Slowly he could feel the chair that held him, the clothes on his skin, the room around him. Dean. Even without opening his eyes, he could see his brother, solid, pure, strong. A column of good, of power so different from Sam. There was concern, fury, fear all washing through him as Castiel let down the wall and Dean surged forward, the wave of his emotion flooding over Sam.

"I'm okay." Sam said, his voice sounding strange.

Castiel was like a blaze of white. John was nearly white himself, bright and strong. His presence was big, as if he were still a man, and not the boy Sam saw. The world tilted when he tried to stand, but Dean caught him.

"You must rest now Samuel, let your body acclimate. I will stand watch. You will be safe." Castiel's mouth didn't move, but Sam heard him just fine. "I am a part of you now."

Sam wasn't entirely sure how they got up the stairs, but Dean eased him into his bed, his concern nearly palpable. "Don't be mad at me." Sam said, fighting to keep his eyes open. "Don't want to hurt you."

"Not mad Sammy."

He wanted to say more, but his body was heavy, his eyes sliding shut. The dark was softer somehow, sleep beckoning. Sam let it claim him, let it wrap around him and comfort him and he slept.



The house was quiet when he woke, the vague light of not-quite-morning coming in under the blinds on his window. He could feel Dean and John, both of them in their beds, though only John was sleeping. He could feel Castiel too, and he wasn't alone.

Sam sat up, breathing in deep. Everything shifted, the extra awareness falling back some, not as prominent. His body ached as if he'd been in a fight, but he stood, stretching. He had a deep, urgent need to relieve himself and padded out to the bathroom.

He was only half surprised to find Dean waiting for him when he came out. "You okay?" His eyes followed Sam, traced over his face, his body and back up to his eyes.

Sam nodded. "I feel good."

"I was beginning to really worry. You go from barely sleeping at all to not waking up for days and I--"

"Days?" Sam frowned a little, but that would explain why he felt so rested.

"It's your birthday Sam."

Days, like three of them. "Wow, I guess I really needed it."

"John's been going crazy."

Sam nodded. "It's okay. He'll be fine." Sam pulled Dean into a hug, holding him tight, relishing the solid strength of him. "We're all going to be fine now."

"What about the stuff Dad left us? The ritual?"

"I think Pastor Jim was right about the amulet, we should destroy it. Dad didn't understand how powerful it is. The demons want it for a reason." Sam glanced at John's door. "Does he remember?"

Dean shook his head. "Not really. Missouri says it may come back to him later, but for now, it's faded."

"Good. He's better not knowing."

"You're kind of freaking me out." Dean said suddenly. "Are you really…okay?"

Sam smiled. "Yeah, for the first time in a long time, Dean. I think maybe Castiel was right about this."

"Can it really be that easy?" They headed down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Easy?" Sam shook his head. "I have a lot to learn, Dean. One day Azazel's going to come back, and we have to be ready…and there's no guarantee I won't…" Sam looked away from his brother, the memory of what he could become spinning through him. "There's no guarantee I won't still lose it in the end."

Dean finished filling the coffee maker and turned to look at Sam. "So we train?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, we train, and we study and we learn and we do our best to make sure John gets to be a kid for as long as we can."

"That's a pretty tall order, Sam, and not what Dad had in mind."

Sam nodded again. "Well, it's time we realized Dad didn't know everything Dean, even when he thought he did, and…he's gone, and he isn't coming back. So we make the decisions now." Sam went about pulling out breakfast foods, suddenly starving.

"You know you're a lot like him." Dean said after a long time.

Sam looked at him, knowing there was a time he would have argued, would have said he was nothing like their father, but that time was long past. "I hope so, Dean. I hope I'm a lot like you too."

"I need to get to work." Dean poured himself a cup of coffee, sipping at it as he looked Sam over again.

"Go on, I got John. I'm thinking I've got a crapload of school work to catch up on."

"Oh, right. Matt came by. I told him you were down with the flu. He said to call him."

"Thanks." Sam buttered his toast and took a bite. "Seriously. Go on. I'll get John to school."

Dean grabbed him, hugging him tight. "Love you Sammy."

Sam grinned at him as he headed out of the kitchen with his coffee to get dressed. He went back to eating, not even looking up when Castiel sat down.

"You know it isn't over."

"Only just beginning." Sam said calmly.

"Azazel will come back, will try again."

Sam nodded. "I know."

"And the demons your father stole that amulet from, they will likewise continue looking for him."

"They can keep trying." Sam said, finally looking at Castiel.

"Do not get overconfident Samuel, it is nearly as dangerous as fear and anger."

"I'm a Winchester, Cas." Sam stood, clapping a hand to the angel's shoulder. "Demons that fuck with us get fucked up. It's not overconfidence, it's a promise."

"We will meet again, Samuel Winchester. Take care of those gifts you have been given, and guard yourself well."

"See you around." Sam didn't look to see him leave. He had work to do.





End Notes: This is the last chapter of this arc of this story. I fully intend to revisit this verse at a later time, but probably not for a while. Thanks to everyone who followed along!