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.
Dean was clearly slipping into a debilitating insanity. It was confusing to find him driving down the highways and byways of America, and not at home with Lisa and Ben. He didn’t understand what had prompted his charge to leave that environment. The woman and her son had been good for Dean. Their influence had started to rehabilitate his broken soul, but as suddenly as he had seemed to improve, he had just as quickly plummeted into disrepair.
It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to interfere, didn’t want to set his human friend back on the right track, but Dean hadn’t wanted him to be part of his new life. He had been unwelcome in the world of normality. So naturally he went to find his own solace elsewhere.
The loss of his friends was devastating. He had not had friends before, and their loss stung his very core. Bobby Singer had been a good man, practically raising the Winchesters in the absence of their father. He had been kind and knowing, unconcerned by the brother’s relationship. He had never gotten the chance to ask if Bobby had known what was going on, but he suspected that the man had known more than he had let on. Bobby had been a good hunter and a good man, and while he was sure that he was in a better place now, it hurt him to know the man was gone. He would have been invaluable to Dean in his time of need, a confidant that would have helped him work through Sam’s death.
Sam, the boy with the demon blood, vessel of Lucifer, and savior to the world. He wasn’t sure what he felt about the other Winchester. To him, Sam had been many things. He had started as an obstacle, some abomination that had latched onto Dean. But when he had met the man, when he had seen his awe at the sight of angels, his faith in his father, he couldn’t help but think that Sam wasn’t the abomination he had been made out to be.
Sam had stretched his faith, had pushed his boundaries. While Dean had made him step out of his shell, made him think for the first time in millennia, Sam had shown him true faith. No matter what fate had thrown in his way he had never, not once doubted in his father. Sam’s faith had never wavered, even when his brother had given up on him, even when he had gone to be Lucifer’s vessel.
Sam had helped him through his own crisis of faith. He had been there when his father abandoned him, and when Dean had forsaken them both. Sam had gently held his hand, stroking his feverish, drunken head and whispered sweet nothings in his ear. He had loved Sam for that. There had been no reason to do it; there had been no thought behind it, just this tortured man holding a fallen angel together.
In his own way, he had loved Sam Winchester. Everything he could ever be was wrapped up in Sam, and everything he could never hope to achieve was what shone brightest in the man. That night, before they confronted Dean, he had let Sam in. He had given himself fully to the human, even knowing that he would never return his affections. When they brought back Dean the next evening, he knew that it would be over. Sam would forever hold his brother first in his heart, but he was glad to have even this small glimpse into the man that would save the world.
So it wasn’t as if he didn’t understand Dean’s pain, as he watched him struggle to build a life with Lisa and her son Ben, it was just that he would never feel it as deeply as the human. He had wandered the world for a while, aimlessly searching for something he didn’t know he needed.
In the highlands he found the demon Crowley. For all his bluster, the pretentious King of the Crossroads was holed up in an old, decaying castle. The demon had his faithful hellhounds with him, who surrounded him the moment he entered the castle. Crowley sauntered down the hall and had seemed surprised to see him.
“And here I had thought you were dead,” he had said, snapping his fingers. The hellhounds bounded away. He had cocked his head to the side, curious as to the source of the demon’s information.
“Where did you hear that?” he asked, stepping towards the smarmy demon.
“A little birdie told me,” the demon had quipped. “Where do you think I heard it?” He pulled out a shiny soul from his breast pocket. He had gasped; Bobby’s soul was with the demon, how could he have possibly forgotten?
“You were supposed to return that,” he had said. The demon shrugged and put the soul back in his pocket.
“Now where am I supposed to return it? His body’s dead,” the demon Crowley had said. “You might as well come in, if we’re going to have this chat.” The demon turned and started to walk out of the hall, leaving him powerless but to follow.
“Fancy a drink angel?” Crowley had offered. “Craig, aged forty years. It doesn’t get much better than this.” He had shaken his head, declining the offer. “Your loss.”
“Why are you keeping Bobby’s soul?” he demanded. Crowley had given him a frustrated look.
“Right to the point, aren’t you?” he asked. “What else was I to do with it? You never know when a soul will come in handy after all. I might need this someday.” He took a sip of his drink. “At least I didn’t send him to the pit, which has to count for something.”
“It counts for very little considering who you are,” he had replied.
“Well then feathers, let’s make a deal,” the demon had smirked, placing his glass on the molding table beside him. “I’ll give you Bobby Singer’s soul, what will you give me in return?”
“I won’t kill you,” he had said, steel in his voice. The demon laughed at him.
“Darling, you’ll have to do better than that,” he said. “Let me propose something to you, both of us have been cast out. I can’t go back down there right now, and you’ve been ousted from up there, am I correct?” He didn’t say anything. “I propose a sort of truce. You help me, I help you. A partnership if you will.”
He had frowned at the preposterousness of it all. “Why would I help you?”
“Because I can help alleviate the pain of lover boy’s death, and if we play our cards right, we can make it so that this world runs exactly as it had before, my kind doing what they do best, and yours becoming one big feathery family again, minus some real pricks,” the demon suggested.
“What exactly do you mean ‘alleviate the pain’ of Sam’s death?” he asked, completely ignoring the mirth in the demon’s gaze.
“Well, now I would think that would be painfully obvious,” the demon told him, hand sliding up the angel’s arm.
“And you will let go of Bobby’s soul?” he asked, trembling under the demon’s touch.
Crowley smirked at him. “Definitely. You’re much more useful than him at this juncture, plus I’ll get the side benefit of claiming you all to myself.”
He frowned. “You are suggesting…”
“Oh definitely feathers, it’s a deal breaker if you don’t accept this single stipulation.”
A fine brow raised on the demon’s face. “Alright then. Let’s seal the deal.”
As he had found, Crowley was actually a good companion to have. His demonic nature may have been repulsive at times, but he was able to help soothe his aching wounds. He had thought that Lisa and Ben had done the same for Dean.
When Dean had gone off on his own again, he had been spurred into action. His first meeting with the human had gone nowhere. Dean had completely deflected his concern. He hadn’t felt rebuffed, but only concern, especially when he caught Dean staring at the seat beside him.
Their second meeting hadn’t gone any better. Dean had been confrontational from the start, lashing out at him the entire time. When his blaspheming went too far, he had lashed out. He regretted his actions on some level, ashamed that he had lowered himself to striking out at the man who had freed him, but he could not bear for anyone to speak thusly against his father. When Dean had confronted him about who he had been confiding in, fear chased him back into the waiting arms of the Crossroad King. Rejection was a powerful thing, and while he was very concerned about Dean’s mental state, his numerous look-ins having confirmed his belief that Dean was slowly going insane with grief, he knew he wouldn’t be able to deal with the rejection his choices might bring. For all his faults, Crowley was an ally, and even though his motivations were a mystery, he had made a deal and sealed it with a kiss.
His last visit to Dean had been disastrous. He had expressed his concern for Dean’s mental state and Dean had lashed out at him. He knew that Dean was seeing Sam, and he knew that Dean was starting to slip further and further away from reality. It seemed that Dean didn’t want to be free from the web of denial he was weaving and he wasn’t sure he wanted to cut him loose.
When he had confessed to partnering with Crowley, Dean had laughed. He had been so cruel, asking him to save a place in hell for him. He hadn’t wanted to, but he had asked Dean the only question that had mattered in that moment.
“Do you want the truth or something beautiful?”
Dean had blinked, pushed himself away from the angel and scrambled out of the room, giving Castiel his answer. He was back with Crowley within seconds, waiting for Dean’s time to end, and to make sure he didn’t end up doing anything too stupid.
~Do you want the truth or something beautiful?
Just close your eyes and make believe.
Do you want the truth or something beautiful?
I am happy to deceive you. ~