vampireifurita (vampireifurita) wrote,
vampireifurita
vampireifurita

  • Music:

I, Manface

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

Rating: R

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.

-------

It was almost like before, a motel room with two twin beds, and sitting at the little table eating breakfast with his brother. The laptop was open and Sam was pouring over whatever case he had found for them. He sat across from the giant in the rickety wooden chair, sipping his black coffee and shoving a doughnut into his mouth.

“What’ve you got Sam?” he asked after he had swallowed both doughnut and a drought of coffee. Sam didn’t even acknowledge his question. Frowning, he pushed the screen of the laptop down a little to look his brother in the eye, only to stare into empty bleeding sockets. Startled out of his chair, he backed away from the table, horrified.

“What’s your problem Dean?” Sam asked, brow furrowed, hazel eyes staring at him. Blinking, Dean cautiously approached the table. Reaching out, he tried to touch Sam’s eye, but got eyelid instead, but an eye was definitely underneath that lid. “What the hell dude?”

“Sorry …” he trailed off, righting his chair and sitting down again.

“Whatever. I found us a hunt a couple states over. Looks like a simple haunting, but get this…” Sam droned on and Dean only half listened to the various reasons they were going to rush over there and fix this problem. He was trying to reconcile what he had just seen with what was actually going on.

~ Before you know, I’m swept away

Watching my shadow eat off my plate ~

“Son of a bitch!” he yelled. Sam’s startled eyes bore into his wide, frightened eyes.

“Dean? Dean, ignore it,” Sam was saying, his cheeks steadily hallowing out as his body started to shrivel up. He backed away in fear until his back hit the wall and he was falling.

He woke up on the floor of his motel room.

~And I went to sleep the shell of a man,

I woke up the same to I slept in again. ~

“Son of a bitch!” he cursed, his throat as dry and raw as a piece of sandpaper. He stumbled into the bathroom and emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl. Clutching at the porcelain he tried to reconcile reality. Just a dream, it was just a horrible dream.

A knock at the door startled him out of his thoughts. He turned to look at his concerned brother.

“Dude what the hell? Did you drink too much last night? I thought that was impossible for you,” he said and moved to help him up. Holding on to his brother for support, he brushed his teeth and rinsed the taste of bile out of his mouth. “Come on big guy; let’s get you back in bed.”

~These eyes went bad trying to see lies

Got him drunk and I fell on the knife. ~

Squinting at his brother he tried to discern reality from delusion. Sam merely looked at him in return, tugging him over to his bed. As he was shoved down to sit on the lumpy mattress he noticed Sam’s hands, his white sickly hands. One of those hands ran across his cheek, the gesture meaning to be soothing but ending up making him feel sick. He tried to lean away from those hands, but they followed him, freezing his skin, feeling like the pricks of hundreds of pins. His side ached, the injury from the other night flaring up.

~Before you know these days are gone

A roman candle fired at dawn. ~

Sam coaxed him into lying down and it was all he could do to comply. He kept one eye on the window to the parking lot, watching vigilantly for a roman candle being set off. This song… this insane music was thrumming in his head, and it was nowhere near calming. This was starting to sound just as insane as…

“Dean?” Sam asked. Turning towards his brother, he noticed that the late night news was on. Snapping his head to the side to look out the window, the sky had turned almost black. The lights from cars on the highway zipped by, tiny fireflies zooming past one another trying to speed up the journey home. “Dude you alright?”

Nodding his head, but afraid to open his mouth to reply, he turned back to the television. A procedural cop drama was on. There was a dead body on the street. Those cops were the only people who could bring the killer to justice.

Squirming down the bed, and ignoring the way Sam’s side of the room had started to raise in temperature, light flickering against the wall, he resolutely closed his eyes to try to sleep. A burning hand brushed against his temple and sticky lips pressed against his cheek. “Night Dean.” The lingering feel of sticky wetness stuck with him all night long.

An explosion woke him in the morning. Darting from the bed, he rushed over to the window. Some kid was setting off fireworks. Disregarding his appearance, he stormed outside to confront him. Grabbing the kid’s shoulder, he turned him around, and came face to face with Sam. Eyes wide, he backed away from the crooked smile on that face, something in his brother’s appearance disturbing and skewed.

“How did you like that wake up call, inventive right?” Same asked, stalking after him as he backed into the open motel room. He was herded back to bed and fell on it when pushed.

~It was accidently discovered

You had cold blood running through your veins. ~

Hazel eyes bled into yellow and he tried not to shrink away from the hands pressing into his bed. The temperature in the room skyrocketed and he tried to gasp in a breath, valiantly trying not to hyperventilate. One enormous hand slid across the bedspread and up his side. It slid up his torso to rest at his collarbone. He could feel the searing hot flesh through his shirt and gasped at the feeling.

“I’m burning for you.” His eyes snapped to the flickering yellow above his. He wanted to reach out, wanted to touch, to reassure, but he could not as those eyes continued to shift. Those hands ran over his body, forcing him to arch away from their burning touch, which only served to upset the man above him. Hands fisted in his shirt and pulled him upright.

He was hauled out of the bed and tossed around the room. He bumped into the table, knocked over a chair and connected with the wall. A searing hot body was pressed against his back. Scorching hands pinned him in place while feet kicked his legs apart.

“Now who’s the bitch?” He struggled against the hold on him, assessing the situation. He snapped his head back without a thought, crashing into the taller man’s face, stunning him. Twisting in the hold on him, he turned around and pushed at the bigger man. When he gained some space he made a break for the door.

“I don’t think so Dean. Don’t think a simple head butt will keep you out of my grasp,” Sam’s cold, impersonal voice said. Hands grabbed him and swung him around towards the window. Barely catching the cocking of his brother’s fist, he ducked out of the way as Sam swung towards his face.

Glass shattered, blood flew, and the room instantly chilled. Frost covered the windowpane, and the blood pooling on the sill was starting to ice. Breathing ragged, his breathe fogged in the air.

~When you cut your punch on a broken window

And the blood froze like frost on the shattered pane

And you had a hunger growing inside you

That only bloodlust could ever fulfill~

“I told you that I didn’t burn hot, didn’t I?”

Eyes widening, knees giving out, he could only stare at the monster before him.

“Lucifer.”

“Indeed Dean. I hope you know that I’ve been waiting for this for a while now. It’s not that I have strong feelings against you; it’s just that it’s the principal of the thing. You helped lock me up again. You must understand that I cannot let that pass without recompense.”

Shuddering as that hulking figure approached him menacingly, he shrank away from his brother for what seemed like the first time. But this steely, unfeeling creature was not his brother, this was the root of all evil: Lucifer himself.

“Sam, please Sam…” was all that came out of his mouth as he was bodily picked up from the ground. He couldn’t find it in him to fight back as the devil moved him back to the bed. He was dropped limply onto the mattress, well aware that there was nothing he could do to save himself. All he could do at this moment was hope that Sam could regain control.

Frozen hazel eyes flickered as Sam’s hulking figure climbed on top of him. Massive hands trembled, breath shuddered, and teeth grit. Just looking at the devil made him realized that his brother was in there somewhere, trying to fight his way to the surface once more.

“Come on Sammy, come back to me,” reaching up a shivering hand, he touched freezing skin. He let his hand cup his brother’s cheek, caressing his jaw. His thumb ran over purple lips, smoothing over the silky flesh. His other hand wrapped around the back of his brother’s neck, spurred on by the lack of retaliation. Pulling his brother down, he pressed his lips to his brother’s.

Green eyes bore into hazel, hoping against hope that he would be able to recognize the change, or at least know there was no hope before it was crushed by the reality of the situation. Ever so slightly, so lightly that he wasn’t sure that it was actually occurring, the lips pressed against his returned the pressure. Eyes sliding shut in bliss; he tangled his hands in long chocolate hair and let his lips slide against Sam’s.

It took a few moments, but soon his brother was opening his mouth, and kissing him just as passionately as he was kissing him. Tongues glided against one another and ran over teeth. Taste buds flared with the familiar taste of brother and his head started to swim. It had been so long….

The sudden lack of his brother’s presence popped his eyes open. Sam stood before the mirror, staring at himself, unblinking.

“Sam?”

“I’m a monster Dean,” was all Sam said.

“No you’re not. All that? That was Lucifer, not you Sam,” he sat up straight and moved to his brother’s side, placing a hand on the small of his back.

“Lucifer burns cold Dean; half the things I did to you were when I was burning hot. Those things were all me.”

“No they weren’t Sam. You couldn’t control it. It wasn’t you, your eyes were yellow.”

“That just proves it Dean.”

“It doesn’t prove anything!” he shouted, desperate to deny any lie that fell from Sam’s mouth.

“We both know that I have demon blood in me Dean, blood that came from the Yellow Eyed Demon.”

“But you couldn’t help that! It happened when you were still a baby!”

“You said it yourself Dean, that you would kill me if I wasn’t your brother, that I am a monster.”

Stunned speechless he could only stare open mouthed at his brother.

“I tried so hard to make it right, to fix the world I’ve broken, but I haven’t fixed anything, have I?”

~You extricated yourself from the jungle

To try and temper that instinct to kill~

Sam’s hands came up from hanging at his sides and wrapped loosely around his neck.

“This is the only way.”

“Sam!” He shouted to the empty room. Frantic eyes searched the room for his brother. He wasn’t behind him, he wasn’t in the bathroom, and looking out of the pristine window, he could tell that he wasn’t outside of the hotel room. The second twin bed was still made and there was no sign that his brother had ever been here with him. He was alone.

Standing in front of the mirror, looking back at himself through the glass, he could see the hopeless despair in his eyes. The black circles under his eyes belied how little sleep he had been getting and his haggard appearance gave away how little he cared about himself now. He rubbed his hands over his face, letting them slide down to his neck, massaging the skin there.

The music started up again.

~Buried deep in the hot, hot sand

A portrait of your mother

Take those hands and kill that man

Standing in the mirror~

His hands tightened around his throat and he didn’t let go until he dropped unconscious to the floor.


Chapter 9
Tags: big bang '11, do you want the truth or something beaut, fanfiction, supernatural
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