SPN fic: "on thy cheeks a fading rose" (Sam/Dean, PG)

[fannishliss]

title: "on thy cheeks a fading rose"
author: fannishliss 
rated: PG
warnings: breath play! spoilers for 5.22.   Dean/Sam, Castiel
words: 1500

disclaimer:  Thanks to Kripke and everyone at spn for their fantastic work. This story is NOT part of  the Promise verse.

Note:   This is my pinch hit sammessiah antichristmas fic for padfoot36, who gave a nice open request for any Sam/Dean (especially Antichrist!Sam), and Castiel, but not in a pairing or a threesome.  She also didn’t mind breath play.  :) This story is a flipside AU of my Promise verse—same setup, but playing out very differently.  In this story, Castiel is not the lover of Dean’s soul (as per her request for no Castiel/anyone!) that I believe him to be, and Sam is the Prince of this World, ready to take his throne.  Title from Keats’s “La Belle Dame Sans Merci.”  Soundtrack: Seal, "Kiss from a Rose" (the lyrics are perfect).

Warning:  breath play, underwater variety. Do not read if drowning freaks you out.

 

 

Castiel had him pressed back against Bobby’s counter. Dean froze, intimidated by the whip-lash sting of his wrath. “I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in. Stop him, or we will.” No camaraderie or trust—only the single-minded fury of a warrior of the Lord on a mission to wipe the tinge of evil from creation—and that included Dean and his abomination of a brother. He’d failed Sam, and now he was trapped in the Pit. “Sam’s where he should be – too willful, too strong -- he’d remake the world if he came back. Nothing can save him, and nothing should.” Dean’s fear of the angry Angel was nothing compared to his longing for Sam.  He’d give anything to have Sam back, anything – life, soul, body or breath.  “Thank you, Dean-- it’s enough--”  Sam’s voice, clear in his mind, jolted Dean with shock and hope, the image of Castiel torn through like tissue paper--

 

Dean sat up, a little dazed.  Moonlight shone in through the open window.  Full moon.  Sam had been gone almost six weeks.

 

Dean scrubbed his hands wearily across his face.  He searched behind his closed eyelids for memories of whatever dream had awakened him, but it was gone. He was wide awake, though, and doubted he'd be able to go back to sleep.

 

He checked the time.  3:37.  If he was quiet, he wouldn't wake Lisa.

 

He changed into running clothes and stole down the hall, past Lisa asleep in Ben's room.  Ben slept like a stone on his air mattress in Lisa's study at the end of the hall.

 

He slipped down the stairs and out the front door like a ghost-- not vengeful, merely an echo, leaving no trace.

 

The streets of Cicero were silent this late, in the still hours before dawn. Lisa's new house was in a quiet neighborhood of the little town, east of the reservoir.  Dean headed west.  He liked to jog on the public running path that ran along the shore.  He remembered the pathetic lake monster hunt that had originally brought him to Cicero. Instead of some cool swamp sasquatch, it had been a creepy little psychoactive toad that had melted into a smelly puddle of goo when Dean accidentally barraged it with rocksalt.  He’d met Lisa during his post-hunt drink in the roadhouse over on US 31.  It seemed a lifetime ago.

 

Nowadays he never did tequila for laughs.  Instead, it was whiskey, straight up, till he couldn't feel the burn.

 

The path led right along the shore of the lake, cutting between the big houses and their boating slips. Dean didn't much care for Cicero's lakeside houses. The changeling incident had shown just how oblivious people living inside the big houses were to the monsters preying on their neighbors. Civilians.

 

The moon shone down on the lake, peaceful at night, free of the speedboats towing tubes and waterskiers and daredevils on jet skis bounding across the surface of the reservoir.

 

Dean ran south, toward the dam.  He ran till all thoughts of Cicero, changelings, Lisa, Ben, and his failing, failing, failing at the civilian life he scorned was pounded out of his head by his rhythmic footfalls.

 

The moonlight glittered on the lake.   To Dean's eyes, the night was almost bright as day under the light of the full moon, but all the colors of day were leached to shades of gray, fading to deepest black.

 

Dean's steps slowed to a halt as he gazed out over the lake. The surface rippled and the moonlight flashed like a string of diamonds.  Dean stared.  The sparkling lake, the moon, the stars overhead -- it reminded Dean of traveling the road in Heaven -- the road he was meant to travel with Sam, but now Sam was in Hell, trapped there with Lucifer,  and he'd never return.

 

The light danced before Dean's eyes until it merged into a blur. 

 

Dean had sobbed out his horror at Sam's fate, pled with God and Castiel on Sam’s behalf to no avail, drunk himself into one stupor after another, tried his damnedest to keep the promise he'd made to Sam, but he could still see the pity and disappointment in Lisa's eyes at his drinking, his nightmares, and his string of rejections in the job hunt.

 

Usually a run would clear his head, but on this night, with the moon dancing bright overhead, and thunder rolling in the distance, the life Dean was trying for seemed utterly unreachable.

 

The glittering water seemed to beckon as Dean stared.  On impulse, he shed his shoes and clothes and waded in.

 

The floor of the lake was murky, but the water wasn't too cold. Dean dove in, swimming strongly away from shore. 

 

He rolled over onto his back and lay floating in the middle of the lake.  His ears were full of water, but he still seemed to hear peals of thunder, even though he hadn't seen any lightning flashing on the horizon. The sky overhead was still clear, brilliant with stars.

 

"Sam,"  Dean whispered, broken.  He floated aimlessly beneath an empty heaven.

 

"I'm sorry,"  he whispered, and dropped out of his float, submerging himself deep into the lake.

 

Eight feet, ten, fifteen.  He looked up, and the moon was a silver puddle on the surface.  Down, deep down in the cold, silent darkness was where Dean needed to go. 

 

The air in his lungs was buoying him up, and he let it all go. 

 

The silver rimmed bubbles floated up and burst.  He sank deeper. 

 

One breath in and it would be all over.  The Angels had no more reason to bring him back. Not even Cas would intervene this time.

 

His heart beat loud in his ears, struggling to circulate the little bit of oxygen still in his blood.  The urge to breathe in grew too much to resist.  Dean opened his eyes.

 

There in front of him floated Sam.  His brother stared at him, eyes dark and unreadable, hair floating eerily around his face.  His skin glowed silver in the faint light filtering down from the surface.

 

Dean gasped in shock, but before the water could rush in, Sam sealed his mouth to Dean's, his hand across Dean's nose, pinching it closed and covering his eyes. 

 

Dean struggled, unable to comprehend this thing that looked so much like Sam, but that filled his lungs with pure sweet air, the arms around him like iron.  In his gut, he knew it was Sam, even though there were so many other things that made more sense -- kelpie, mer-thing, shifter even.

 

Sam breathed air into Dean's lungs and the two of them hung there in the depths of the lake, still slowly sinking.

 

What'll it be, then, Dean heard in his head.

 

Dean gave an involuntary lurch, but Sam was twined around him like a vise.   He couldn't move-- see-- breathe -- Sam was all around him. 

 

SAM!  Dean screamed, his heart and soul, as ever, his whole life resonating just one frequency.

 

You brought me this far, Dean, but are you gonna hold out now? No questions, no excuses.  We rise from this lake, you belong to me, no matter what. 

 

Dean's heart thumped wildly.  Sam ... it was Sam ... but he couldn't be human...  Sam couldn't have escaped on his own from the Pit – and how was he breathing for both of them? Castiel had warned...

 

Whatever you need, I'll provide.  Don't worry about a thing, Sam said in Dean's head, the mischievous chuckle of a prank war, but edgier, darker--a laugh Dean knew as pure Sam, even though he'd never heard the like of it.

 

Without Sam, Dean knew he was no better than dead, above or below the surface. He loved his brother more than anything, consequences be damned.  

 

He relaxed in Sam’s hold and breathed in.   

 

Good, Sam thought.  Thank you, Dean.

 

Sam breathed for Dean, his kiss gentle but relentless.   The kiss was life or death to Dean now, and Sam would accept nothing but absolute surrender.  Dean yielded himself up, offering his mouth for Sam to enjoy, his body, lethargic and weightless, for Sam to slip against, hot as the caress of the water was cool. 

 

Time faded to nothing for Dean as all the world sank into blackness.  The hand over his eyes was Sam’s hand.  The body keeping him warm was Sam’s body.  The breath keeping him alive was Sam’s breath.  Nothing else was left to him, nothing else mattered, but Sam. 

 

Dean’s sorrows and regrets faded away as the lake and Sam’s kiss washed him clean.  Nothing remained but the joy of Sam’s return, of belonging to Sam, body and soul. For every breath that Dean yielded, Sam returned pleasure fourfold, till Dean’s whole universe was the bliss of Sam’s embrace.

 

I love you, Dean, Sam said.  His kiss possessed Dean, breath and life, spirit and soul.  Dean’s breath was Sam’s, to control as he would, Dean’s body, merely an instrument for Sam’s love to play upon.  Pleasure and dominion was Sam’s key, and Dean was unlocked, set free.

 

Sam and Dean rose from the lake, the new prince of this world leading his beloved by the hand. They were naked, and they were not ashamed.

 

 

 

Comments

[keerawa.livejournal.com]

The ending reminds me of a creation myth - lovely.

[fannishliss.livejournal.com]

high praise -- thanks so much! creation myths are kind of my thing :D

the last line is actually a direct quote from Genesis -- I forgot to thank the Jahwist in my credits! :P

[datenshiblue.livejournal.com]

Dark and sad and amazing! In that order!

:D

[fannishliss.livejournal.com]

thanks so much! I'm really glad you liked it.

[fannishliss.livejournal.com]

yay!

I try to pack my stories with subtleties, and I'm never sure if they come through. I wanted this to seem like a dream... but also, the end to have an ambiguity about the world being recreated around them.... I love antichrist!Sam ... but I don't think it means what everyone else means. :D

Do you remember my plastic boys? I just bought a refrigerator for them. = curtainfic?!?!