Fic title: Do You Want the Truth or Something Beautiful?
Author name: vampireifurita
Artist name: mulanreflection
Genre: Gen, Wincest
Pairing: Dean/Sam, some background Castiel/Sam, Castiel/Crowley
Word count: 26,732
Warnings: horror, disturbing imagery, violence
Summary: After Sam sacrificed himself to save the world; Dean had gone to Lisa just as he’d been asked. Things had been just fine until he started hearing music that no one else could hear and things just go downhill from there. With no one to turn to, bear witness to man lost at sea, in the throes of grief and unexplainable music that haunts him much like the memories of his brother.
A kiss woke him. Soft lips pressed against his own and he reveled in the simplicity of it. Opening his eyes as those lips pulled away, he smiled at her perfect face. She was everything he’d dreamed a woman could be, and nothing he’d ever planned for. He smiled at her and pulled her into him. She giggled as he pressed feather like kisses to her neck.
Coming down the stairs nearly forty five minutes later, he found Ben sitting at the table, pouring over a comic book.
“Mornin’ kiddo,” he said, ruffling the kid’s hair and moving to the fridge.
“’M not a kid,” he muttered, smoothing out his hair. Smiling to himself, he opened the refrigerator doors and started to pull out eggs, and milk.
“French toast sound good kid?” he asked as he pulled the bread out of the cupboard. Ben merely grunted in answer, too caught up in his comic to care.
Lisa came into the kitchen as he started to put the first slice on the griddle. She kissed the top of Ben’s head and came to stand next to him, ~I belong a long way from here~ wrapping her arms around his waist. He turned his head and gave her a kiss on the lips; Ben groaned and moved to sit in a chair facing away from them. He smiled, as did she, and then she moved away to get them all glasses and plates.
They sat together at the table in companionable silence, each of them eating there French toast. He had coated his in syrup, just like how he and Sammy had eaten it when they were young. Lisa had put blueberries on hers, and Ben was dunking his in a pile of powdered sugar. Lisa sipped at her orange juice, as did Ben and he drank his coffee, black.
He stood at the door and waved to them as they left, Lisa going to drop Ben off at school and then head into work herself. He smiled to himself and wondered when the world had gotten so good. He shut the door behind himself as he walked back into the house, making his way back to the kitchen to start cleaning up. Dishes were washed, countertops wiped down, and leftovers stored. Humming to himself, he made his way into the garage.
Flicking the switch to open the door, he navigated himself down the stairs, ~we were searching, through thrift store jungle~) through labeled boxes of memories (photo albums labeled Sammy, School trophies, miscellaneous school papers, and things from college), and around the covered boat of a car that had been sitting there ~found Geronimo’s rifle, Marilyn’s shampoo, and Benny Goodman’s corset and pen~ untouched since he had moved in. He grabbed his gardening supplies and placed them in his wheel barrel and headed out into the bright sunny summer day.
Sam greeted him on the driveway, smile on his face.
Together the brother’s Winchester made their way to the backyard. Same carried a shovel and Dean had a moment of déjà vu before coming to his senses. Shaking his head and laughing as Sam said something to him, they came upon his pride and joy: his garden. He waved at a spot on the left and indicated that Sam should start digging. The shovel tore through fertile earth, and black soil piled into the empty wheel barrel.
“You know something Sammy?” he asked, pushing his shovel into the ground to help his brother out. Sam merely hummed at him. “I never really believed that this would be something awesome.”
The soil was starting to get harder to dig out now; more clay was mixed into the brown dirt.
“I mean, you always talked about it sure, but I always thought you were off your rocker, because really, who would want a life outside of hunting?” he asked, laughter in his voice. It was starting to become hard to pierce his shovel into the earth. “I always thought you were off your rocker, totally batshit crazy.”
Sam didn’t reply to him, merely kept digging.
Once the hole was deep enough, they both climbed out, struggling to lift themselves out of the crater they’d created.
He stared down into the hole his brother had helped him out of, staring down at the man who was still down there. He crouched down and held out his hand to him, but Sam merely shook his head. He frowned and shook his hand, getting agitated with his brother. The sky darkened, a cloud passing in front of the sun.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing Sammy? I’m trying to help you out. I’m pretty sure Lisa will be pissed if it seems like I tried to bury you in the backyard.”
Sam only stared at him for a moment. “I don’t know why I’m here.” ~Well ok, I made this up~
“Because an idiot and won’t let me help you out of that hole.”
Sam frowned. “No, I don’t know why I’m here with you.”
That stopped him cold. He didn’t know what to say to that.
“I don’t belong here Dean. I told you to live this life, and that I wouldn’t be here to share it with you. Why am I here?”
“Because I don’t know how to do this without you. This is your wish Sam, not mine.”
“I just want you to be happy.”
“I can’t be like this Sam.”
“This is what I want for you; I want you to have this. This would make me happy.”
“Would it? It sure doesn’t look like that from here.”
He stared at his brother, realizing he would have to bury him in order to move on.
“Ok Sammy, if that’s what you want.” ~I promised you I’d never give up~
He sat at the table when it was done ~if it makes you happy it can’t be that bad~, staring at his dirt encrusted hands.
When Lisa and Ben came home, it was to a piping hot dinner, and meticulously set table. He smiled at them as they stared in awe and he glanced at the specter hovering in the door. Instead of a smile on his face, he merely looked sad ~if it makes you happy, then why the hell are you so sad?~, almost angry. Frowning he gestured for his new family to sit down. They smiled and laughed and discussed their days and he smiled at them in return.
They spent the evening watching TV after Ben finished his homework. They enjoyed their comedies and dramas. He hated procedural dramas, but Lisa loved them, so he suffered through one for her sake. Ben spent most of the crime drama asking questions about dead bodies. Lisa gave him a long suffering look, but Dean indulged him until he noticed that every descriptive word he uttered changed the appearance of the specter hovering just in his eye line.
After the kid went to bed, he and Lisa stayed up for a little while longer, enjoying each other’s company and talking about the events of her day. As they climbed the stairs together, her hand in his back pocket, he paid no attention to anyone other than her.
In the morning he woke up before Lisa and leaned over to wake her in a similar fashion as she had woken him the day before. When she climbed out of bed a few moments later, he watched her go, a small smile playing on his lips.
He stumbled down the steps into the kitchen and put a pot of coffee on. He grabbed a bowl and poured himself a bowl of cereal. When he opened the fridge to get the milk ~so why the hell is everything so wrong? ~ He spotted the French toast from yesterday. He pulled it out, popped it in the microwave and had in on the table all prepared for Ben as he came into the kitchen half asleep.
They ate together and then Lisa and Ben left. He wandered out the back door and stared at the mound of freshly dug soil mocking him in the middle of his garden. He turned his back on the yard and reentered the house. He made his way to the cabinet in the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of jack. The cabinets started to swing open and shut, glasses fell to the floor and cutlery was thrown across the room.
“What the hell?!” he exclaimed and scrambled out of the kitchen. The television clicked on as he stumbled into the living room, the channels flicking and the stereo blared out some 90s pop. He opened his mouth to yell at Sam to just fucking stop it already! But that wasn’t what came out of his mouth.
“If it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad. If it makes you happy, why the hell are you so sad?”
Bolting upright in his overly large single queen sized bed, his head throbbing in pain, he narrowed his eyes at the radio on his bedside table. That damned song playing at full blast. He reached out to slap it off, but it kept playing. Growing agitated, he pulled the chord out of the wall, but that didn’t stop the radio from playing.
“Son of a bitch!” he yelled. He changed his clothes as the volume increased and stuffed his things into his duffel before making a break for the door.