vampireifurita (vampireifurita) wrote,

  • Music:


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.



She didn’t know what she had expected when he had shown up at her door over a month ago, but it certainly wasn’t what she was dealing with now. There was something very wrong with him. Something had been broken deep down in his soul, and she was starting to realize she couldn’t ever think of fixing it.

In the beginning it had seemed that whatever was plaguing him might let him be free eventually, he had made great strides of improvement from the shell of a man on the foot of her steps to the man who had been living with her for two weeks. He had set his bag down by the door and had stepped over the threshold, heaving a great sigh. She had wrapped him in her arms, and had held him tight as silent sobs wracked his body. She hadn’t had the faintest clue as to what was wrong with him, but it was clear to her that he would be staying for a while.

She had picked up his bag and taken him to her bedroom, and laid him in her bed. She had sent her son to his room and made sure that he was asleep before rejoining the broken man in her bed. He had looked at her, and she had only seen how shattered he was in that moment, how much like a little boy he was inside. She had wrapped him in her arms and stayed up with him all night, listening to him apologize to someone who wasn’t even there.

When morning had broken, it was as if it had never happened. He deflected all her questions and closed himself off from her emotionally. A part of her knew that this was what would happen, but part of her was sad that he wouldn’t confide in her. But the small smile he had forced on his face when she made him breakfast was worth the slight setback.

That night, he had given her exactly what she hadn’t known she needed. His hands were gentle but firm, and while he didn’t say her name, she knew that she was the one to hold him after it was done. It seemed to sooth him, to settle some part of him that had been unsure. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time, so long as he stayed with her, she didn’t quite care what made him decide to do it. She didn’t learn how wrong she was until it ended.

In the morning she cleared out two drawers in her dresser for him. He put all of his clothes into one. He had frowned then and turned to look at her before lowering his gaze. He asked for some space in the closet instead, hoping to treat his other clothes the best that he could. She had told him it was a perfectly reasonable request and that she wouldn’t mind giving him a few hangers and a little space. He had given her a small smile and told her he was going to grab his other bag from the Impala. She smiled and said she’d be waiting for him right here with open closet space and hangers to spare.

The second set of clothing was much too big for him and she instantly realized what had happened. It hit her like a ton of bricks, the knowledge weighing her down, smothering any happiness she had felt at his arrival. Something terrible indeed had made him flee to her open, waiting arms. Something had broken this man’s spirit and she knew exactly what it was. She wanted to reach out and fold him into her arms, wanted to comfort him in the way that only a woman could, but she knew that he would only deny that he was in pain. He was a stubborn man, and she would be lucky if some day, years into the future, if he finally admitted what drove him into her arms.

She surreptitiously snuck out of the room as he reverently took the clothes out of the worn old duffle bag. She leaned against the wall outside of her room and looked in as he started to meticulously fold the overly large clothes. He took extra care with a blue shirt than he had with the rest, and she thought that perhaps it had a special meaning to him. He took his clothes laden hangers, the blue shirt resting on her bed, and hung them in the closet.

He sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the shirt he had left there. He brought it up to his face and inhaled. Her heart broke for him in that moment, distraught that this was all he had left of the brother who had been at his side for a lifetime. Placing the shirt back on the bed, he had pulled off his own shirt and slipped the blue shirt on. Balling up his own shirt, he tossed it in the direction of the hamper. She quickly slid out of the hallway and down the stairs, not wanting to be caught having witnessed him at his weakest moment.

In the following days she introduced him to the rest of her household, hoping to familiarize him with his new surroundings, but more often than not he would sit by the window and watch as the world passed him by.

It took her over a week to lure him outside. Once outside though, after moving his baby into the garage and covering her, he didn’t want to come back inside. He mowed her lawn and took it upon himself to make her yard the envy of the neighborhood. He pulled out the weeds in her garden, he mulched around her trees, and he even repainted her birdhouse one day. The tedious, exhausting yard work seemed to be doing him good. He had opened up to her, both emotionally and physically, and he had taken a real shine to Ben. The two of them spent evenings out in the backyard tossing a ball, or just sitting looking at the stars or talking about girls in the living room. She had truly started to believe that he would get over the death of his brother, and then the strange behavior started.

It started one day, just over three weeks in to his joining her family. He just wasn’t home when she and Ben returned from their daily toils. The car had been gone, and she had panicked. Thinking that he had left her, or had gone off in a terrible fit of sorrow to end his existence, she had a slight panic attack. She grabbed her phone to call him, only to realize she didn’t have his number. She went to the neighbors to see if they had seen him, but they all told her the same thing: he took the car out in the afternoon. When he showed up at her door at nearly midnight she had grabbed onto him and had never wanted to let go.

He had been nothing short of passionate with her that night.

Then there had been the incident with the radio. For the life of her she couldn’t figure out what had possessed him to destroy her radio. She didn’t understand why he thought it hadn’t been turning off, when that had been what had woken her before her alarm that morning.

That afternoon he had gone for a drive and in a seeming fit of rage had tossed his phone into the trees. It had taken him over an hour to find it in the trees, and then it was only to discover that he had pretty much destroyed it. He hadn’t made it home until one in the morning, refusing to tell her what had happened or where he had gone. All she could do was frown and offer him the only consolation he would accept.

It was after that incident that he had started to drink. It hadn’t been bad at first, but it seemed like something just pushed him over the edge and then suddenly he was drinking whiskey in broad daylight and chasing it down with gin. She had been lenient about it, understanding that he had needed something to dull the pain, but it didn’t take long for him to step over the line.

She had come back early one day since Ben had a half day and she didn’t want him to be alone with him since he was drinking. Departing work at 11:15 got her home just as Ben did, and together they had entered the house. And there he had been, sprawled out on the couch, an empty bottle in his hand. Ben had gone over to him before she could stop him, and kicked his leg. He had shot straight up, bewildered about what was going on. Ben had just frowned at him, clearly disappointed by this reaction. She sent him up to his room, telling him she would try to sober him up.

Fifteen minutes later she decided to just let him stay in the living room. He just wouldn’t leave. So she went upstairs to take a shower. When she came back downstairs ten minutes later she could only stare. The radio was off, the TV as well, and yet there he was, dancing around and singing to a song that was only in his head. It scared her to think that he might have gone over the edge. If he was starting to hallucinate music, it couldn’t be long before he would think he saw other things that weren’t there. How long would it be before he started to see the creatures he used to hunt? What would happen if his delusions made him think that they were creatures as well? Would he hunt them down?

She had gone upstairs and told her son to go out for the day, find his friends and spend time together. He had merely rolled his eyes and told her that he probably wasn’t going to sober up any time soon.

That evening he had gone too far. She had spent the remainder of the day helping him sober up, but apparently hadn’t done a very good job of it. He had gone up to tell Ben to turn down the music, and suddenly he was bursting through the door and throwing things at her son’s wall. It frightened her to think of what he could do, what kind of threat he would be posing if he could do these sorts of things without batting an eye. She may love him, but she did not want to be putting herself and more importantly her son at risk just for a man.

She had spent so much of her life waiting for this man. This man who had come into her life so suddenly, who had left just as quick. She hadn’t expected to feel this way for a man who had been just a one night stand. But as the years had passed, and she had settled down into her life as a mother, the idea of this man had become her favorite fantasy. Maybe that was all he had really been: a fantasy. She had never really talked to him, hadn’t really known him outside of bed, but she had known she wanted him.

Over the eight years they had been apart she had developed quite the fantasy. He would appear just as suddenly as he had before, he would sweep her off her feet with that debonair charm he had worked on her before, and the two of them would settle down into the life she had always hoped for.

Their next meeting didn’t go as planned, some crazy, impossible stuff came between them, but he had proven to her that her fantasies weren’t unfounded. He had indeed swept her off her feet with charm and had even saved her precious son. And then he was gone. Just as soon as he was back into her life, he was out of it.

It was only two years between their next visit, but even then it was enough for her to worry about him. This man who had saved them, who had saved countless others was planning something reckless and there was nothing she could say to stop him. She could only hope that whatever he was thinking of doing would not come to pass.

Shortly after, a broken man had come to her door. He had seemed so hollow, so empty of life, and she couldn’t help but take him in.

She had said her final goodbyes that morning, telling him she couldn’t allow him to stay here unless he got some help, but he wouldn’t agree to her terms. So he packed up his things, a mere two duffle bags worth of clothing. He looked so sad when he got to the door, so upset that it had come to this. “I’m sorry,” was all he said before he shut the door on their brief life together.

Tears flooded her vision, and her heart clenched as she heard the Impala roar to life. She made her way into the living room to watch him go.

The garden he had worked so hard on in the beginning had started to wilt, the ground hardening and the flowers drying out; she wasn’t sure she could fix it on her own. There was almost too much work for one person, and she wondered how he had managed to do as much as he had in the time he was here.

The stereo clicked on and she inserted a CD. Just for today she would feel sorry for herself, this would be the only time that she would mourn that which never was, and what never would be. Billy Holiday flooded the speakers, drawing out her inner pain. She sat heavily on the couch, letting the sound wash over her.

~All that I’ve know about happiness

I’ve found just being with you

Then I would find myself losing my mind

Over some careless thing you would do

Oh I cannot forget you

I know so well what is in store

A moment or two up in the clouds with you

Then back where I was before

No I don’t want to cry anymore. ~

Chapter 8
Tags: big bang '11, do you want the truth or something beaut, fanfiction, supernatural

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic
    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.